“You know, Nick, you may think I’m a stinker to say this, but for someone who’s swearing he wants to live without all the trappings of a foodie life, you’re sure rocking the hollandaise.”
“Rocking the hollandaise?”
“It’s what the young people say.”
“Ah, well. Life is filled with contradictions, my dear.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “What can I say?”
Soon everyone in their group was there except Bob and Maritza. Buddy and Michelle and Anne and Lola had already had breakfast in their room. Gladdie was sitting with Ellen at a distance from the group, eating blueberry pancakes. Was Ellen avoiding everyone? Dorothy was cooing over Sam, who had probably read her the riot act. Anne and Lola were dressed in tennis whites. Daniel and Kitty made an appearance at last. He was wearing super tight jeans and a T-shirt with flip-flops, and she was wearing some kind of loose retro baggy dress and rubber sandals. They looked pale and exhausted, asked for a plate of anything or dairy-free green smoothies and some gluten-free toast, just nothing with a face—no bacon, sausage, eggs, or fish.
How much sex can you have? Olivia thought.
Nick, who knew exactly what she was thinking, replied, “Evidently, a lot.”
Olivia gave him a teasing pinch on his arm. He read her mind on occasion and her face often, and it always surprised her. Or maybe he was just thinking the same thing. Neither of them remarked on the request for gluten-free toast. They merely exchanged knowing looks. Did the entire human race suddenly develop celiac disease? I mean, did they? Please.
Bob waltzed in, but his cell phone rang and he waltzed out again to take the call, giving them a wave. Maritza appeared, dressed in a colorful print top over a swimsuit with sandals. Olivia thought she looked great. Dorothy eyeballed Maritza and sucked her teeth in disapproval. Everyone ignored Dorothy. In addition to her top, which was probably designed by Pucci, Maritza wore a very large-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses with lenses tinted light enough to be worn indoors. People who wore dark sunglasses indoors got on Olivia’s nerves. What are they hiding? A drug habit? A black eye?
“Y’all? Please listen up for a minute.”
Everyone got quiet.
“I just want to say something before the day gets away from us. I am truly sorry about my hysterical behavior last night. I was so frightened over Gladdie that I said some things I really didn’t mean. And I don’t want to ruin this wonderful holiday because of my nerves, which seem to get a teensy bit out of control without my permission. So please forgive me. And let’s go back to just having fun? Please?”
“That’s sure okay with me,” Michelle said, showing no emotion one way or the other. “I hate drama.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Maritza!” Buddy said.
Olivia thought Michelle’s breath carried a curious trace of alcohol, curious only because of the hour. She wrote it off to mouthwash. Frankly, if Michelle wanted to drink herself into the grave, it was of no concern to Olivia. After all, the reason she was in their midst was purely and only business.
“Maritza?” Anne said. “You don’t have to worry about what you said or about ruining our good time! Any one of us would’ve been completely unhinged if our child had gone missing.”
“Thank you, Anne.” Maritza said with a very theatrical show of relief. “I appreciate your kindness so much, you just don’t know.”
“Jesus,” Lola said, with a look of disgust. “Gag.”
“Lola!” Anne said and whispered, “Hush.”
“Oh, brother,” Dorothy muttered loud enough that everyone heard.
“Shut up, Dorothy,” Sam said quietly and then spoke up. “Maritza? No one blames you for anything. Kids are just kids and they do these things! It’s all okay.”
“Thank you, Sam. You sure are a sweetheart.”
Sam walked over and gave Maritza a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t mind Dorothy,” he whispered to her.
“Ignore her,” Buddy said. Buddy gave Maritza a hug, and even Michelle smiled.
Michelle would have agreed—if anyone had asked her, which they did not—that Maritza might be a ditz, but she also thought that Maritza had taken an unfair amount of undeserved grief from Bob the prior night and from almost everyone else in general. I mean, even if you don’t care for dogs (which is legitimate), that doesn’t mean you like to see them abused. This is approximately the level of concern Michelle held for Maritza, which was ten times the amount Dorothy had and untold multiples of what Ellen felt. Anne and Olivia were on the payroll, and therefore any sentiment flowing from them would always seem disingenuous and misplaced. And Lola, Daniel and Kitty had other priorities.
“Support for Maritza’s plight appears to be building,” Nick said quietly.
“Yes, one teensy grain of salt at a time,” Olivia said.
“Hmmm,” Nick said. “Hardly enough to sustain her.”
“Or anyone,” Olivia said.
Hank, the general manager, appeared for a group chat to pique their interest in other daily activities, including the submarine. “How is everyone this morning?” he asked.
“Fine as wine in the summertime!” Maritza said, which of course caused eyes to roll. There would be zero tolerance for homespun anything. When she realized she sounded like Minnie Pearl from the Grand Ole Opry, she added, “Thank you for asking! Isn’t this a beautiful day?”
Who could argue with that?
“Yes it is! Now, ladies and gentlemen, besides windsurfing, waterskiing, aerobics, yoga, tennis, and swimming, I want to tell y’all about our submarines. I think we are the only resort in North America that offers them. Ours is a top-of-the-line Triton, an eight-ton fully submersible vessel that descends to a depth of thirty-three hundred feet, going down a few hundred feet per minute. It takes a pilot plus two other guests, and if you’d like, our pilot can show you how to operate it on your own. It uses just a simple joy stick, so easy a child could maneuver it, although I’m not trying to give our young Miss Gladdie any ideas!”
“I wanna subbereen!” Gladdie said, loudly enough to rankle the collective nervous system.
“She doesn’t even know what it is, but she wants one,” Maritza said. “That’s my girl!”
Great, Olivia thought, and when she made eye contact with Michelle, it was plain to see that Michelle agreed.
Everyone turned their eyes to the tiny imp with the milk mustache and laughed. She was full of beans again and ready to raise hell nonstop for the next twelve hours.
“I hope you slept well,” Maritza said to Ellen, and winked at Olivia.
Olivia thought it was good to see that Maritza wasn’t kowtowing to Ellen.
Hank continued. “So, what’s particularly exciting about this submarine is the depth to which it can go. The island is surrounded by reefs, and while I’m a big fan of scuba diving, it can take you down only so far. And once you pass three hundred feet, there is a whole other world to be explored. You’ll see barrel sponges and all sorts of luminescent creatures, massive six-gill sharks and other kinds of deepwater fish. Just a couple of years ago the Triton was used to film the first giant squid ever seen in its own habitat. It’s very exciting, and we are super excited to share it with you.”
“Is it dangerous?” Sam asked.
“Not at all. The Triton has a perfect safety record. One hundred percent safe. One hundred percent dry. Triton subs take over twelve million people a year on trips and they’ve never had a problem.”
Bob had returned and got in on the tail end of the conservation.
“Sam, why don’t you and Buddy take the first ride and then I’ll go on a ride with Nick. I’ve got to make a call.”
“Sure!” Sam said. “Buddy? You in?”
“Yes, sir!”
Everyone wanted to see what a personal submarine looked like, so they gathered up their things and all of them, including Ellen and Gladdie, followed Hank down to the marina, where a sixty-five-foot-long catamaran waited with five handsome, suntanned young men on its deck.
Well, at least they seemed young to Olivia, and she knew she should be ashamed of her initial thoughts about them. She looked around, and sure enough, Dorothy and that slut Ellen were licking their lips. Wouldn’t it be great if Bob and Sam could catch these two in the sack with a couple of deckhands? She smiled at the thought of it.
Of the crew of five, four were on hand to operate the catamaran and the sub and the other fellow was the pilot for the sub.
“Morning! Welcome aboard!” the captain said.
“Mel! Say hello to Bob Vasile and his guests!” Hank said.
Bob and Mel shook hands, and then Mel shook hands with everyone else as they were introduced.
Sam and Buddy climbed onto the catamaran with Bob, Nick, and Hank. The ladies waited on the dock.
“What a beautiful boat!” Bob said.
“Thank you, sir,” Mel said. “We’re very proud of her.”
“How fast can she travel?” Bob asked.
“Up to twenty knots. You could never launch and recover a Triton with any other boat as easily as we can with this cat.”
“She sure is yar!” Maritza said, and the women looked at her as if she were a raving lunatic. “Excuse me, all you pickle pusses! Katharine Hepburn? The Philadelphia Story? The boat True Love?”
There was no name or term recognition to be found among the younger ones.
“I think I remember hearing about Katharine Hepburn from my grandmother,” Kitty said.
“Me too,” Lola said. “Didn’t Katharine Hepburn cross-dress?”
“Not any more than Lauren Bacall,” Olivia said.
“Who?” Kitty said.
“My grandmother talked about her too,” Ellen said. “Isn’t she dead?”
Olivia, Dorothy, Anne, Michelle, and Maritza finally found that they had something in common—contempt for the unforgivably young and uncultured.
Ignoring the women, Bob said to Mel, “Take my two pals out first and I’ll go later with Nick. I just want to have a look at the lift.”
“Well, you ought to watch The Philadelphia Story sometime,” Olivia said to the younger women. “It’s a classic.”
“I’m afraid the issues of propriety might go straight over their heads,” Michelle said.
“It’s an informative movie about being classy,” Dorothy said, directing her remark to Ellen. “It wouldn’t hurt you to watch it.”
Ellen gasped and for once was speechless.
“Like you know the difference,” Lola said, in defense of Ellen.
“Stop it!” Anne said.
“Ladies!” Maritza said.
Good grief! Olivia thought but did not say.
Silence hung in the air, and the good-natured feelings of the morning sank to the bottom of the sea.
Maritza said, “I’m going on board. I’m dying to go on the sub! How about y’all?”
“Not me,” Olivia said. “No desire. I’ll watch the movie, though.”
“Me either,” Dorothy said.
Anne just stood there, jaw clenched.
“You don’t want to go?” Lola said to Anne.
“Not at all,” Anne replied. Anne was miffed because Lola took Ellen’s side.
Women, Olivia thought.
“You go down three thousand feet and tell us how it is,” Michelle said to Maritza.
“Well then, I will!” Maritza said.
Bob, who had ears like NASA and the SETI Project rolled into one, turned back to Maritza and said, “You don’t have to do this, Maritza. It’s really a guy thing.”
“Really?” She was about to argue and then remembered what Olivia told her about treating Bob like royalty. “Well, dahlin’, you know best. But do you think I could just look at it? Just a peek?”
Bob melted from Maritza’s obsequious response. If there was anything he caved in to, it was a good bootlick. Yeah, boy, a genuflect to his almighty power did him right in.
“Sure, sweetheart. Here, take my hand.” Bob reached out to help Maritza board the catamaran. “Watch your step now.”
Maritza turned around and winked at Olivia. “I’ll be right back, y’all!”
Olivia relayed this anecdote to Nick later on during the cocktail hour on the terrace of the Great House. There was a new mountain of caviar on the cocktail buffet and plenty of smoked fish with assorted breads. Bottles of vodka stood in blocks of ice stuffed with herbs and the champagne bucket was filled with two bottles. Olivia wondered if Bob owned stock in Veuve Clicquot.
“So, Maritza actually wound up piloting the submarine with Bob as her passenger,” Olivia said. “He’s definitely a catch-more-flies-with-honey kind of man.”
“Most men are.”
“But I have to tell you, I’m exhausted from these women.”
“Boy, that’s completely understandable. They make you wonder, don’t they?”
“What drives them to be so bitter?”
“Yes. And what else do they want that they don’t already have? You know, I’ve always believed you have to get up grateful. Do you understand?”
“I think so, but tell me just what you’re thinking.”
“Well, if I wake up and my knees hurt, as you know they often do, I ask the Good Lord to know I’m grateful for everything else. Like just the simple fact of being here another day so that I can love you and love the world. Now, sometimes I might throw out a question about how my aching knees are a part of His eternal plan, but I don’t ever really expect to get an answer.”
“The minute you think you’re in direct conversation with God, I want to know, okay?”
Nick laughed and said, “Sure. I’ll do that.”
Two chefs were nearby, slowly poaching shelled Guinea chick lobsters and prawns in clarified butter in copper pots over an open fire. Dinner was set up on the terrace of the Great House. Again, it was beautiful enough to have been the scene of a small wedding.
“My mouth is actually watering,” Nick said.
“Baby boy, lobster poached in butter isn’t exactly on the Mediterranean diet!”
“This is a special occasion,” he said. “So, tell me again about the women?”
He listened to her with one ear, and at every pause in their conversation he raved about the submarine ride again, about which he was more excited than anything else, except speedboating around the Caribbean in the Hinckley Craft. Oh, and the jet that brought them here. And their Balinese bungalow. And the food. Did he mention the helicopter?
“Nick?”
“Yes, my turtledove?”
“How are you ever going to adjust to the simple life on Sullivans Island?”
“I’m an easy man, Olivia. Don’t you worry about me. By the way, did I tell you what my friend Bob told me about a new hotel in Fiji that’s being built? He wants to go and take all of us!”
“Your friend Bob? No. Do tell,” Olivia said, almost smelling the special fragrance of sulfur that comes only with spiritual corruption. Nick was on the threshold of the dark side.
“Ah, Olivia. Come on. He’s a good guy to his friends. Right? Anyway, it’s called the Poseidon Undersea Resorts. It’s actually underwater. The entire hotel is under bloody water!”
“That’s what I’d be afraid of.”
“No, no! It’s safe! You can lie in your bed and watch dolphins and every kind of fish swim right by the glass walls! It has a hundred-seat restaurant and a bar and everything you can think of. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Amazing. I hope it’s fabulous, because it needs to be to get me to travel with these women again. I’m telling you, I can’t wait to get away from them. Too negative. Day three and I’m completely worn out. I can have a business lunch with Maritza five days a week if I need to, you know? Much easier and same mission accomplished. I mean, it’s not like any of the others would give me any business.”
“I hadn’t thought much about the other women, other than the obvious. You’re right. Rough crowd. I’m sure they’re not much company for you. They can’t be. The women on Sullivans Island are a lot
nicer.”
“We’ll see about that. And Maritza is a sweet girl, but I’m old enough to be her mother! I mean, I don’t mind her confiding in me, but gosh, this is hardly a vacation.”
“Well, I’m sorry to know that.” Nick looked down and then back up at Olivia’s face. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m having—actually, I’m surprised to admit this—the time of my life. This is so much better than the trip we took with them to the Amalfi Coast.” Nick noticed that Olivia’s goblet was bone dry. “May I get you something stronger? A vodka martini?”
“Yes, please. At least one of us should be having a grand time. This is just too much work.”
“Well, when we get home, let’s head straight to Charleston. Say! Isn’t that Bob’s boat in the harbor?”
Sure enough, Le Bateau de l’Amour was at anchor about five hundred yards from the beach.
“Yes. Yes, it is! I wonder if we are leaving?” she said, and hoped it was a sign that they were.
“I have no idea,” Nick said.
“Well, a trip to Charleston sounds wonderful.”
Over dinner Bob announced he felt the need for change in atmosphere. They didn’t know and would not find out if it was because of the issues between Maritza and Ellen or what. But they would be leaving in the morning.
Chapter 6
After He’s Seen Paree
Back in Manhattan after a brief cruise around the Caribbean, Olivia and Nick stood on the curb outside their apartment building and watched the moving van pull away. Their remaining possessions were on their way to Sullivans Island, South Carolina. After they finally agreed on what to keep or sell, their rugs, ceramics, and paintings found their way to a storage facility of Sotheby’s. All of it was appraised, photographed for the Sotheby’s catalog, and stored in anticipation of an August estate sale. Some other items—personal possessions and winter clothes mostly—were sent to her office on East 58th Street, where Roni and Olivia spent much of the last week in a whirlwind hurrying to finish the conversion of the two small rooms that were being used for mountains of samples and office supplies into an acceptable bedroom and sitting room.