All Summer Long: A Novel Part 11

"She's gross."

Olivia said nothing. She simply stood, her polite way of letting Maritza know that this session was ending. She could hear Nick rustling around in the bedroom. He was out of the shower and dressed for the day.

"I'd like to have breakfast," he said, coming into the sitting room. He cleared his throat, which he always did when he was annoyed. "Shall I wait for you or should I go on ahead?"

Maritza stood as well. She walked over to the bar and inspected her eyes in the mirror. "The swelling's going down. I've got to get moving too."

"I'll be along in ten minutes," Olivia said.

Nick arched his eyebrows, c.o.c.ked his head to one side, and gave her a look of suspicion and doubt.

"No! I will! Maritza is just leaving!"

"Okay, ladies. I'll see you in the Great House."

Nick left and Maritza turned to Olivia.

"Thanks, Olivia. You're like a walk on the beach."

"You're welcome, but for what? And pray tell, how am I like a walk on the beach?"

"I feel better. You know, my problem isn't solved, but I feel better! So thank you." Maritza gave her a hug and left. "See you later!"

Olivia stood in her doorway and watched Maritza make her way down the path toward the Great House. She wouldn't have wanted to go through what Maritza was dealing with for all the money in the world. But there was no real advice to give a woman whose husband was and had always been a philanderer. From Bob's point of view, he probably figured he was giving Maritza a lifestyle she would never have otherwise, his name, and a baby, and what else in this world could she possibly want? But Maritza wasn't sophisticated or cynical enough to say that gargantuan net worth was all she needed. She was innocent enough to expect love and nave enough to expect fidelity. In a normal marriage those things would not be too much to expect.

But Olivia had never seen Bob really love anyone or anything except his businesses and the bottom line, except a rare bone-in rib eye and an old Bordeaux. And Gladdie. That child brought out something in him that bordered on obsession. Over the years she had observed again and again that he didn't seem to care so much about how much money he made as he did about the win. Bob was a natural predator with a superspeed, calculating, and very sharp mind he used as a weapon.

After almost tripping over two small turtles on the pathway, Olivia found Nick alone in the Great House lobby with a silver pot of coffee and a downloaded copy of The New York Times. He stood as soon as he saw her and pulled out her chair for her to sit.

"Thank you, my love!"

"My pleasure," Nick said and took his seat, diving back into the newspaper.

"I nearly squashed some baby turtles on the way over here."

"I saw them too. You really do have to watch where you step."

They were alone in the cool morning air. The incoming tide was washing the sh.o.r.e with a predictable rhythm of low and gentle music. A beautiful blue-and-gold macaw sat on a branch in a nearby tree screeching Where's my food? while someone from the kitchen approached him with a small plastic tub filled with a few ripe mangoes and bananas. The bird hopped down, peered in, and devoured it all.

"This place really is a bit of a zoo!" Olivia said. "Did you order breakfast?"

"Not yet. I was waiting for you." The macaw began screeching again. "That's my friend Mac," Nick said. "He wants seconds, and he thinks the breakfast service is too slow."

"Well, he's wrong. He shouldn't complain. He's lucky to be here. Like us."

Olivia filled herself a cup, added cream, and gave it a stir. Nick continued to read.

"So, with all the hullabaloo last night, you never told me about the Hinckley or your golf game. How was it?"

"Fabulous," he said, and didn't look up from the newspaper.

"Nick?"

"Hmmm," he said.

"What has you so riveted? Did the world blow up?" She took a sip and waited.

"No, I . . . Sorry, dear. I was reading this article about a dispute over the borders of New Jersey and New York, which, as you know, has been a bone of contention since the American Revolution. It seems they've discovered a map that might settle it for once and for all."

"Well, it's about time. So, are you fellas playing golf today?"

Nick folded his paper and put it on an empty spot on the table. "I don't think so. Listen, I want to talk to you about Maritza and Bob before anyone else appears." Nick said.

"What is there to say? He treated her very poorly last night."

"Yes, he certainly did. But I had a thought that you might want to consider adding to your files."

"What's that?"

"What really shook Bob up last night was the thought of losing Gladdie."

"Well, of course! We were all upset. Where are you going with this?" Olivia asked.

"I think he has a highly developed idea of what's his and what he's willing to share. That's all."

"Hmmm. So you're saying he views Gladdie as his possession only."

"Something along those lines. Maritza said something about taking Gladdie and going home to her mother, which to my mind is just a general metaphor for female frustration. But that was when Bob blew his top. Remember?" Nick said.

"Yes, of course. I actually had a similar thought."

"Well, she just needs to consider the fact that if she wants out, he will fight her for custody. And somehow, even if it isn't in the best interest of the child, I believe he will win."

"Well, that's stupid," Olivia said. "It really is."

"I agree. Anyway, as to today's agenda? I heard some talk last night about taking the submarine for a spin."

"Oh! I had almost forgotten about that crazy thing! Maritza was very excited about it. To be honest, I pushed it out of my mind."

"It's supposed to be able to descend to some amazing depth."

"No thank you. Too claustrophobic for me. Besides, who knows if it's safe?"

"Well, I'd be curious to see what's down there. You know how I hate scuba diving or snorkeling. I mean, if a school of fish touched me, I'd have a heart attack. But this would be an absolutely antiseptic way to go have a look."

"Okay. You have fun with that! You'll let me know what you find, I hope?"

Nick laughed and said, "Let's see just how scary this thing is before we say yes or no."

"No, no. You're so much more brave . . ."

"I don't know about that."

A waiter appeared to take their orders.

Olivia asked for a poached egg on a dry English m.u.f.fin with a fruit plate.

Nick said, "I know I shouldn't do this, but I'm going to have the eggs Benedict again. And may I have some extra hollandaise on the side?"

"Of course, sir," the waiter said, smiling.

"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 Mich.e.l.le 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 s.e.x 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 sungla.s.ses with lenses tinted light enough to be worn indoors. People who wore dark sungla.s.ses 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," Mich.e.l.le said, showing no emotion one way or the other. "I hate drama."

"There's nothing to forgive, Maritza!" Buddy said.

Olivia thought Mich.e.l.le's breath carried a curious trace of alcohol, curious only because of the hour. She wrote it off to mouthwash. Frankly, if Mich.e.l.le 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 Mich.e.l.le smiled.

Mich.e.l.le 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 Mich.e.l.le 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 Mich.e.l.le, it was plain to see that Mich.e.l.le 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 h.e.l.l 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 pa.s.s three hundred feet, there is a whole other world to be explored. You'll see barrel sponges and all sorts of luminescent creatures, ma.s.sive 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."