Three Weeks in Paris by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page A

amends, but he had not picked up. Nor had he returned his messages. At least, not hers.
    So be it, she suddenly thought. I must get on with my life, move on. I have to in order to save myself. Instinctively, Jessica felt that Gary Stennis would only drag her down with him. She paused in her thoughts, frowning to herself. There it was again, the frightening idea that Gary was on a downward spiral.
    “What a strange conclusion to come to,” she murmured to herself, then stood up and left the gazebo.
    Slowly, she walked up toward the house, through the beautiful gardens that had been planned and executed by one of the world’s great landscape designers from England. They were in perfect harmony with the new house, built where the old one, a Spanish hacienda, had once stood.
    In its place, shimmering in the sunlight, was a Palladian villa of incomparable symmetry and style. Built of white stone, it had the classic temple façade of arches and columns made famous by Andrea Palladio, the Renaissance architect.
    Jessica paused for a moment, stood gazing at the new villa, and realized once again how much it reminded her of one of the great houses on Southern plantations. But, as she well knew, these, too, had been Palladio adaptations, as were so many of those lovely Georgian mansions in Ireland.
    Jessica had hired an architect renowned for his expertise in Palladian architecture to design the villa, and she had worked very closely with him to achieve what she knew Mark liked and wanted. Inside, the central hall was the pivotal point, with all the rooms grouped around it for total symmetry, following Palladio’s basic rule.
    Once the house was completed, Jessica had decorated the interiors in her inimitable and distinctive style, using lots of pastel colors and cream and white for the most part. Her well-known signature was a room based on a monochromatic color scheme, the finest antique furniture and art money could buy, combined with luxurious fabrics, carpets, and stylish objects of art. Since Mark had given her carte blanche and an unlimited budget, she had been able to create a house of extraordinary beauty and style, and one totally lacking in pretension or overstatement.
    Walking along the terrace, Jessica opened the French doors leading into the library, and found herself coming face-to-face with Mark.
    “Where did you disappear to?” he asked, looking at her curiously.
    “You became so involved with your business call, I thought I’d better leave you in peace. I went for a walk.”
    “I didn’t need privacy, you could have stayed,” he replied, and sat down on the sofa.
    She took a seat on the opposite sofa and said, “I’m glad I put the gazebo down there on the bluff … I enjoyed a few minutes of perfect quiet, just whiling away the time, watching the ocean.”
    “It’s a great spot …” His voice trailed off, and he eyed her for a moment before saying, “You’ve looked awfully troubled all morning, Jessica. Want to talk about it?”
    “Not sure,” she murmured.
    “He’s been around the block too many times for you,and he’s—” Mark cut himself off, stared at her, suddenly looking chagrined.
    She stared back at him, her eyes wide with surprise.
    “I’m sorry, Jessica, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business. I overstepped the boundaries there.”
    “No, no, it’s okay,” she said swiftly, offering him a small smile. “I was staring at you only because I’d thought the same thing myself yesterday. I’m afraid Gary and I are at odds at the moment, and I’m not sure the situation will change.”
    “Leopards and their spots, and all that,” Mark volunteered, and shook his head. “I guess he’s drinking again.”
    “No, no, not at all, it’s not that,” Jessica was quick to say. “We’re at odds because of other things. To tell you the truth, it’s partially my fault. I’ve been so involved with my work in the last six months, I’m afraid I’ve neglected him