Chapter Seven
Awake at six o’clock, I was jogging on the beach by six thirty. The sun was just coming up over the horizon. Although the air was warm, it wasn’t yet hot, and the humidity was still low. It felt good to use my muscles after the weakness from the heatstroke yesterday.
The beach was serene at this time of day. There were a few early birds hunting for shells. A man and woman held hands while strolling barefoot in the low surf. I noticed a group of joggers in the distance ahead of me.
Darby must have come in late last night. I had shut the door between our rooms when I turned my lights out at midnight and never heard a sound from him. My heart was heavy when I climbed into bed. I couldn’t hold back tears. Mick didn’t answer his phone when I called, and I didn’t leave a message.
The ocean had a calming effect on me, and I could think more clearly in the fresh morning air. I would try again today to talk with him. My anger was gone, and I was missing him with an intense ache in my heart. Because I had run away instead of facing my troubles, I wasn’t one hundred percent in vacation mode, and I longed to be back home. Back home in Mick’s arms, if that were possible. I needed to know that I had nothing to do with his marriage breaking up. And what if his teenage son resented me for being in his father’s life? We still needed to talk it all through.
I pulled up suddenly and stopped. What was that? I had just heard a loud, sharp crack to my right in the sea oats at the edge of the sand. I suddenly felt cold, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I looked across the grasses but didn’t see anything obvious. There was no movement other than their gentle sway in the breeze. I looked around the beach and everything was as it should be. The events of yesterday must have set me more on edge than I realized.
Darby was right. I was acting paranoid. The joy of the jog was now gone. I took off my running shoes, tied them together by the laces, and slung them over my shoulder. I turned around and walked in the surf back to the hotel.
Darby was in the lobby reading a newspaper when I walked in.
“Hey, good morning, Sunshine,” he said. “Want to join me for breakfast?”
I smiled. “Let me grab a quick shower, and I’ll meet you in the restaurant.”
I ran to catch the elevator.
Thirty minutes later, we were sitting down to pancakes, sausages, and orange juice.
“What did you do last night?” I asked with my mouth mostly full. “You came in late?”
“I did,” he said, nodding and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I had dinner at the seafood bar next door and stayed for the duration.” He smiled and shook his head. “There was a party in the back room, and the people at the table next to mine invited me to come along.” He paused for effect before saying, “I came in second in the karaoke contest.”
“Get out!” I squealed, shoving him on the arm. “I had no idea you were a singer.”
“I’m not,” he said, laughing. “The adult beverages were flowing. I think I almost won the whole darn thing because I kept adlibbing words to songs and making them about people at the party. It was fun.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see it,” I said. I tried to picture the scene. “I would bet you almost won the whole darn thing because you smiled that big smile of yours at everybody.”
He turned his big smile on me and asked. “What did you do last night? Did you feel good enough to get out for a bite to eat?”
“Oh my gosh! I almost forgot to tell you. Skinny Guy knocked on your door. I swear, I completely freaked out.”
“You’re kidding?” he asked, puzzled. “What did he want?”
“How would I know?” I asked. “I didn’t answer the door. I was scared out of my mind.” I lowered my voice. “But, Darby, he wasn’t creepy looking like I imagined he would be. He was actually kind of good looking, like a young Marlon Brando. Did you ever know or date someone like that? Maybe he had shorter hair when you knew him. Why would he be knocking at your door?”
“No,” he said. “I’m sure I don’t know him. I don’t know why he would have been at my door.”
“Think for a minute,” I said, prodding him. “Could he have ever been at your apartment? There was something familiar about him.”
“Absolutely not,” he said adamantly. “You know I don’t have many visitors, so I’m positive he’s never been there. Susan, I don’t know him,” he insisted. “You saw his face here, or on the beach, or at the races, and you didn’t realize you were looking at him”
“You’re probably right,” I said. I knew I needed to back off. I didn’t want to push this too far and upset him. “But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I still think he was the one who ran us off the road. And then to see him at your door…” My statement trailed off. “Something’s up with him.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him. I promise,” he said without conviction. “What do you want to do today?”
I knew he was placating me, but I dropped the subject. “I think I’ll take a break from the sun. If you don’t mind, I’d like to do some shopping this morning, and then I want to check out a racquetball club I found in the phone book. It’s just north of here a couple of miles. Do you have plans for the car? Should I take a cab?”
“You can take the car,” he said and popped the last bite of a pancake into his mouth. “I’m going to spend most of my time at the hotel pool today. I want to check out the cabana boys.”
My mouth fell open. I was surprised he shared his intention.
“I’m just kidding,” he said, laughing. He pulled the car keys from his pocket. “I’ll work on my tan, swim, drink pina coladas, and then maybe take advantage of some of the spa facilities.”
“You can check out the cabana boys if you want,” I said, putting the keys in my purse. “But save some of those big smiles for your date tomorrow night. What’s his screen name anyway?”
“You know how cheesy screen names can be,” he said. He fidgeted and looked down at his watch.
“Tell me,” I insisted and shoved him on the arm again.
“Ok, but promise you won’t laugh,” he said.
I only half nodded.
“It’s Purple Flamingo,” he said.
I laughed loudly. “And you wanted to talk to a guy who thinks he’s a purple flamingo because …?” I left the question hanging.
“No,” he scoffed. “I wanted to talk to a guy who was discussing chicken marsala recipes on a food forum. He’s actually an accomplished chef but decided cooking wasn’t the career for him. As it turns out, he loves Florida nightlife and enjoys performing at the restaurant. I guess it’s quite a gig.”
We were finished eating. The waiter brought the bill for Darby to sign. We had agreed when we first arrived that we would charge everything to his room, and then work it all out when we were home again.
We left the restaurant and headed toward the elevators. He pushed the button for seven. “Have you called Mick yet?” he asked.
“I tried last night,” I said with a shrug. “He didn’t answer. I don’t know if he deliberately ignored my call, or if he really wasn’t available.”
“I’m sure he was unavailable,” Darby said sympathetically as he slipped his arm around my shoulder and gave me a light squeeze. “Don’t read too much into it. If he calls, answer your phone. Otherwise, call him later.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll do that. Will I see you for dinner this evening?”
“Of course. How about a pizza?” he asked. “There’s a place over by the Yacht Club that was featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. Want to check it out?”
“Sounds great,” I told him.
He stepped into the elevator. I gave him a little wave good-bye before the doors closed and said, “I’ll see you later.”