Authors: Sarah Pekkanen
“Cappuccinos and lattes,” Tina had confirmed. “Plus fresh-squeezed juice.”
“I knew I should’ve married Dwight when I had the chance,” Savannah had cracked.
“Hey,
I’m
the one that made out with him,” Tina had said.
“Oh, my God, I’d totally forgotten about that!” Savannah had said. She’d winced and massaged her forehead with her thumb and index finger. “Remind me again. What happened, exactly?”
Tina had glanced toward the open door, then she’d moved closer, to sit on the edge of Savannah’s bed. “It was at that Pi Kappa Phi party right before graduation. Allie brought Dwight along, and Gio and I were fighting about something stupid. We were taking a little break.”
“Oh, sure, try and justify it,” Savannah had teased. This sounded juicier than she’d remembered.
“I started drinking tequila shots, which for the record, you should never do when you’re pissed off at your boyfriend,” Tina
had said. “I was in a crappy mood, and everyone else was dancing and having fun, and then Dwight came over to the bar to hang out with me. I poured him a shot.”
“The plot thickens,” Savannah had said as she mock-leered.
“I got really drunk—”
“Ah, the old tequila goggles excuse.”
“—and Dwight walked me home. He came into my room . . . Allie was still at the party. And he was so sweet. He took off my shoes.”
“What about your panties?” Savannah had asked, and Tina had thrown a pillow at her.
“Van! Shhh! Anyway, suddenly I realized I hadn’t kissed that many guys in my life. I mean, my high school boyfriend, and two boys in college before I met Gio. But that was it. And I felt like I was, I don’t know, maybe missing out. So I just grabbed Dwight and went for it.”
“Was it like kissing your brother?” Savannah had asked, wrinkling her nose. “I love Dwight, but the sex appeal bus completely passed his stop.”
“Actually . . .” Tina had said, drawing out the word. “His lips were really soft.”
“Seriously?” Savannah had felt her eyebrows lift toward the ceiling. She couldn’t believe she’d never grilled Tina about this before.
“Uh-huh. And he was so gentle. He kissed me really slowly.”
“I figured he’d be so eager he’d be all tongue and slobber,” Savannah had said.
“Van!” Tina had chastised her. “Not at all. He was a good kisser!”
“Well, well,” Savannah had said. “You know, he does have nice lips, come to think of it. Full.”
“I’m telling you,” Tina had said. Was she blushing? Savannah had considered her: Tina had been a fun girl in college, but
lately she’d seemed as worn-out as an old-time photo. Even her voice had changed—had become more reedy and anxious since she’d started popping out kids. Since they lived a few states apart, they didn’t see each other all that often, but every time they did, Tina had slipped a bit more. Comfort had long ago beaten the crap out of style when it came to her clothes, and her hair was always a mess.
But Tina looked different now. She wore a peach-colored cover-up with a V-neck that complimented her deep tan. Her eyes were bright, and she couldn’t stop giggling. Sure, she had a few more lines around her eyes and pounds around her middle, but it was as if the old Tina—or make that the young Tina—was finally back.
“Did you do anything else? Lunge for his package?”
Tina had laughed. “I wasn’t a hussy like you back then. We just kissed.”
“You’re blushing,” Savannah had said.
“I am not,” Tina had said as she turned redder. “It’s sunburn!”
“Who knew you had it in you, Tina Antonelli? You’ve got a smoking hot hubby and you made out with our millionaire host. It must be your fertile loins.”
Tina was holding her stomach and laughing so hard she almost fell off the bed. But then a sound had made her jerk upright: a knock on the open door.
“I figured you might need a cappuccino,” Pauline had said, bringing one into the room on a silver tray. “It was a late night.”
Savannah had sat up straighter. “How’d you know that’s just what I was craving? Thank you, Pauline.”
She’d glanced at Tina, who was displaying an intense interest in the fringe on a throw pillow.
“I’ll leave it on the nightstand,” Pauline had said. “Meet you in the dining room whenever you’re ready.”
Tina had kept her head down until the door clicked shut
behind Pauline. “Oh, my God . . . that was bad. She heard, didn’t she?”
“No way,” Savannah had said, even though she wasn’t sure. Pauline hadn’t looked at Tina when she entered the room, not once. And the door had closed a tad sharply.
“The door was open! She was standing right there! She totally heard,” Tina had moaned. She’d flopped backward on the bed and covered her eyes with her arm. “She thinks I’m going to make a play for her husband. Do you think she’ll say something to Dwight?”
“Oh, come on,” Savannah had said. “She was probably flattered.
I’d
be.”
“You know, I never told Gio,” Tina had said. “I mean, we were on a break! And it was just kissing. Shit, what if she says something?”
Savannah had rolled her eyes. “Come on, you think Gio would really be upset about a kiss from fifteen years ago?”
“He can be a little jealous,” Tina had said. “Not that he has any reason to be. Things between us are great, really.”
Savannah had reached for her cappuccino and taken a long sip, already a little bored with the new direction of this conversation. She could taste the Splenda; how did Pauline know it was her preferred sweetener? She must’ve asked Allie, or maybe she’d just intuited it. That woman could send Martha Stewart into intensive therapy for feelings of domestic inadequacy.
“Savannah? What do you think I should do?” Tina was nibbling on a fingernail.
“Stop it,” Savannah had said, batting Tina’s hand out of her mouth. “You just got a manicure, for Christ’s sake. Look, it’s no big deal. Pauline didn’t hear, and if she did, it’ll probably give her a giggle. It’s already over. Now let’s throw on bathing suits and go hit that boat.”
She’d known her voice sounded brusque, but it was ridiculous,
really. Tina thought this was an actual problem? She’d just said it herself: Things with her gorgeous husband were great. And it wasn’t as if Savannah hadn’t noticed the way Gio had pulled Tina onto his lap in the hot tub, and the look they’d given each other as they left “to get another drink,” before they’d returned ten minutes later.
Remembering it now, Savannah glanced back over at Tina and Gio beside her on the boat. His hand was resting on her bare thigh. That man was a stallion; how come she’d never noticed that before, either? Or maybe she was just so horny that every guy around looked good to her now. She lifted her arms over her head and stretched her midsection toward the sky, feeling a satisfying little pop in her spine. Did she imagine it, or had the young crewman done a double take?
She had five more days to get laid, she reminded herself. Not a lot of time, but then, she’d always liked a challenge.
The crewman pulled in the sail in preparation to slow the boat before they dropped anchor while Pauline pointed out the snorkeling equipment and told everyone a beautiful tropical reef lay just ahead of them. All she needed was a red umbrella and she’d be the perfect tour guide, Savannah thought.
Savannah was the first one to grab a mask, slip on fins, and drop into the sea. For a few minutes, she floated on her back, letting the cool water bubble up over her shoulders as thoughts flitted through her mind like silverfish.
In another few months, she’d meet her divorce lawyer to sign the final papers. Gary would be there, too, of course, with his attorney by his side. Would he marry The Nurse as soon as he was free? What would it feel like to see him again? Savannah wondered if there would be a last gesture, like a final overpriced latte, a good-bye cocktail, or a farewell fuck. Whatever it was, she decided, Gary would pay for it—in one way or another. She wouldn’t consider sleeping with him, except she loved the idea
of Gary going back to The Nurse with Savannah’s perfume all over him.
And then . . . and then she’d figure out what to do with the rest of her life. Maybe she should sell her house—downsize to a cute condo closer to the heart of the city. One thing for sure: She wasn’t going to join a knitting club or start baking bread. She’d take up something sexy, like snowboarding. Maybe she should plan a winter trip to Vail.
Someone splashed into the water next to Savannah, and she glanced over. It was the young crewman. A wide smile broke apart his face and revealed a dimple in his right cheek. His teeth were white and perfectly straight.
“I’ll lead you to the reef, if you’d like,” he said, a light Jamaican accent lending an uptilt to his words.
Savannah held his eyes for a long moment. “Oh, I’d like,” she finally said.
* * *
It had been another flawless day, Pauline reflected as she glanced at the platters of hors d’oeuvres the chef was preparing: pan-seared baby crab cakes, mini London broil sandwiches on sourdough croutons with spicy mustard, tropical fruit skewers, and a trio of tapenades—olive, eggplant, and red pepper—with garlicky crostini for dipping.
They’d come back from the snorkeling trip two hours earlier, and the rest of the group had immediately collapsed onto cushioned lounge chairs by the pool. Everyone seemed relaxed and cheerful, Pauline noted with approval. And although Savannah had embarrassed herself on the boat, at least she was behaving now. In fact, Pauline thought, peering out the window to check, she seemed to be asleep. All that flirting must’ve worn her out.
Pauline held back a snort, remembering how Savannah had
asked the crewman, who looked like he was barely out of high school, to rub sunscreen on her back.
Even Gio had noticed, teasing Savannah when the crewman moved away. “Stella? You trying to get your groove back?”
Instead of being embarrassed, Savannah had thrown back her head and laughed. She was completely shameless, and the worst part was, she seemed to revel in it. Even her bikini was over the top—it was a metallic gold with slim chains linking the tiny triangles of fabric. Compared to what the other women were wearing, it seemed like a cry for attention. No,
cry
was too subtle—that bathing suit was an air-raid siren.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Chef,” Pauline said, turning back to the food. “Shall we serve these poolside, maybe with a few pitchers of water with sliced lemon in case people are feeling dehydrated? There are plenty of tables, and everyone looks so comfortable there now . . .”
“My pleasure.” He smiled and began to carry out the platters.
Pauline glanced down at her iPhone and noticed a new call had come in, from her mother. She hadn’t left a message, though. Pauline couldn’t remember if she’d told her mother they’d be away this week or not. She’d return the call later, she decided.
Pauline felt pleasure mingle with pride as she thought about her mother’s life now: The gardeners were back, the house had been redecorated, and her mother had just flown with two friends to Monte Carlo. Pauline had also taken over all the bills related to her sister Therese’s care, of course.
She thought about how her mother’s face had transformed when Pauline and Dwight had returned from their honeymoon to Tokyo and Pauline had handed her mother a plain white envelope. Sweet Dwight, who’d gotten so excited about the anime cartoons and sumo wrestling match they’d seen on their trip, had never asked for a prenup. Of course Pauline hadn’t brought up the subject, either. During their engagement, she’d
slipped into handling their finances as naturally as she’d taken over everything else in their lives.
When she’d mentioned to Dwight that she wanted to help her mother, he hadn’t hesitated. “Of course,” he’d said. “Whatever she needs.”
“You’re so good to me,” Pauline had said, meaning every word. Some of the wealthy people she knew from her work in the art world were unbelievably stingy, seeming to feel that they needed to hold on to their money lest someone try to wrench it out of their hands. But not Dwight. For a man worth so much, he cared surprisingly little about his bank account.
Inside the envelope Pauline gave her mother was a blank check. Her mother didn’t open the envelope then, but she knew. Pauline would never forget how her mother’s face had become ten years younger in the space of an instant. She’d tucked the envelope into her purse; then she’d turned to Pauline and studied her for a long moment.
“Are you . . . happy?” she’d finally asked. She’d nibbled her lower lip while she waited for Pauline’s answer—which was strange, since Pauline had had the same nervous habit as a girl. Her mother had been the one to train her to stop doing it.
But Pauline had merely answered the question. “Of course. Blissfully.”
Her mother had nodded. “I always worried . . . I just thought, with your father gone, and Therese needing so much . . . Well, I knew it would take a special man to accept that kind of responsibility.”
Pauline didn’t tell her mother that she hadn’t been completely honest with Dwight about Therese. He knew she had an older sister with birth defects, but he didn’t know the severity.
Sort of like Down syndrome,
Pauline had murmured when she first brought up Therese.
But why is she in an institution?
Dwight had asked.
A lot of people with Down syndrome live independent lives
.
Pauline had been unable to meet his eyes then.
It’s . . . well, she also can’t easily walk, or talk much.
The lie had caused a lump to form in Pauline’s throat, and her voice had roughened around it. Dwight hadn’t pressed her for any more details, not then. He’d just looked at her for a long moment and nodded. She’d been vague about Therese’s location, too, implying that she was in a facility much farther away—“up North,” she’d said, which was technically true, even if Therese was twenty miles away instead of three states. It seemed simpler to keep the parts of her life revolving around her husband and her sister completely separate.
“Mom.” Pauline had started to reach for her mother’s hand, but she and her mother touched so rarely that the gesture felt unnatural, and she’d stilled her arm. “Everything is okay. Really.”