by Ball, Donna
My golden retriever role model had finally given up on the bichon—or perhaps had succumbed to the excitement of the trip and the soporific heat—and was stretched out under the table on his back, letting me rub his furry belly with my bare foot. “You know,” I observed to Miles, “I’m really very provincial.” That might have been considered stating the obvious, given the circumstances, but I was okay with that.
“So you are,” Miles agreed. “One of the things I like best about you.”
I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. It was Melanie who pointed out, “I don’t think that’s a compliment, Dad.”
“Of course it is. I’m provincial too.”
Melanie grinned at him around the straw of her virgin pina colada and inquired, “Am I?”
He pretended to think about it. “No. You’re more sophisticated than either one of us. One of the things I like best about you.”
Melanie giggled.
I liked seeing Miles in such a playful mood, and I could tell Melanie was enjoying his attention. I was starting to think this trip had not been such a bad idea after all. I sipped my own drink—also a virgin pina colada, which seemed to be made with ice cream and was actually better without the rum. “What I meant was,” I explained to Miles, “I don’t get out of the mountains nearly enough. It’s a pretty big culture shock. So why did you end up buying a place here?” I glanced around. “This doesn’t really seem like your kind of crowd.”
Not, I realized suddenly, that I had any real idea what his kind of crowd was. Until now, we had only been together in my world—dog shows, mountain hikes, small town fairs—and he had always been comfortable there. But what if this strange and shiny place with its sleek, bored-looking people was where he really belonged?
But he reassured me in the next moment with a shrug. “I got the property in foreclosure. I’ll sell it in five years for three times what I paid, meanwhile it more than pays for its upkeep in the rent I get from rich tourists. And the sailing is great.”
That reminded me of what I had meant to ask him earlier. “Miles, I’m curious.”
“Another one of the things I like best about you.” Behind his sunglasses, I could almost see his eyes twinkle, and Melanie giggled again.
I went on, “Is it customary to close down an entire section of the ocean when there’s a diving accident? Seems pretty impractical to me.”
“It is impractical, most of the time. But I suppose it depends on the circumstances. If the site is unsafe, for example.”
“But the driver didn’t say anything about that. He just said the authorities were investigating. I wonder what they’re investigating. Or do you think it’s just routine? Maybe it’s local policy to close the site after an accident.”
Maybe I didn’t mention that, in addition to my father being a judge, my uncle had been the sheriff of my small town for almost thirty years, a position my ex-husband now held. I had grown up around law enforcement, and thinking like a policeman had become a habit.
“Don’t ask me, sugar. I’m just a provincial boy from South Carolina, and I’m on vacation. Anybody up for dessert, or are you ready for some beach time?”
“Beach!” both Melanie and I chorused, and Cisco, sensing new excitement, got up so quickly he bumped his head on the table. He shook it off, ready for anything, and as soon as I found my shoes, so was I. I could still take a lesson from my golden retriever, and, after all, I was on vacation too.
~*~
The car wound its way up the side of a hill, through a set of wrought iron gates that opened automatically to admit us, and down a palm lined shell drive to a long, sprawling stucco villa surrounded by deep, marble floored lanais and sheltered by a red tile roof. A sweep of green lawn arced away from the entrance on either side, and a trellis draped in brilliant pink bougainvillea led the way to an expansive patio at the side of the house, where I got a glimpse of a shimmering pool.
I looked at Miles accusingly. “You said it was a condo!”
“I do have a condo,” he said, “but that side of the island is so crowded this time of year. The villa is much nicer.”
Melanie wrinkled her nose. “And sometimes the ladies take their tops off on the beaches over there. It’s gross.”
“Gross,” agreed Miles with a perfectly straight face.
“So you have two houses on St. Bart’s,” I clarified cautiously.
“No, I have a condo and a villa. The villa doesn’t have a hot tub, but it does have a pool. I hope you’re not disappointed.” He pushed up his sunglasses so I could see the smile in his eyes.
I said, pretending to frown, “I’ll let you know.”
The car glided to a stop at the porticoed front entrance and Melanie pushed open the door almost in the same instant, practically tumbling out in her excitement. “Wait till you see the pool!” she said. “It’s majorly cool!”
I grabbed for Cisco’s leash and missed as he bounded out behind her and the two of them raced across the lawn. “It’s okay,” Miles assured me. “Everything is fenced and gated. Just don’t give him the security code.”
I got out and took it all in—the rugged green hills behind us dotted with red-roofed villas, the turquoise sea spreading out below the velvet lawn, the shushing sound of the ocean, the breeze that tugged at my skirt and my hair. I felt whatever was left of the tension of the past few weeks melt into the place where sea met sky.
Miles put an arm around my shoulders. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he said. “This is what I wanted you to see. And this…” he turned me in his arms, pulling me close, “is what I wanted you to feel.”
I draped my arms around his neck and leaned in for his kiss, but it was not to be. I heard a splash, followed by Melanie’s delighted squeal of “Cisco!” and I winced, turning toward the sound. “Is he allowed in the pool?”
Miles gave a resigned laugh and followed as I trotted toward the pool area.
It was, as Melanie had promised, spectacular. The crystal blue rectangle was positioned in the center of a giant expanse of weathered teak, its infinity edge disappearing into the horizon at the exact point the ocean met the sky. I couldn’t help wondering how that must appear to the golden retriever who was so happily paddling across the surface of the water now just as though he had every intention of swimming out to sea. The deck was lined with ten or fifteen luxurious chaises upholstered in bright yellow with turquoise pillows, and underneath a shady gazebo there was a dining area with a circular banquette upholstered in turquoise with bright yellow cushions. I could picture myself sitting here, gazing out over the ocean and sipping something cool and tangy, for the entire week in perfect contentment. The golden retriever swimming in the pool was optional.
I went over to the steps and called Cisco out. Melanie said, “We should have gotten him some pool toys while we were in town. Hey! I saw a dog paddling a surf board on You-Tube once. I bet we could teach Cisco to do that.”
“As long as you teach him in the pool. He’s not ready to catch the big waves yet.”
Cisco felt the steps under his paws and Melanie leaned forward to grab his collar as he climbed out. Of course, the minute he was on dry ground he shook water everywhere, soaking Melanie and grinning when she squealed. Everybody loves a dog with a sense of humor.
I was faster to back away than she was and only got a few water splotches on my skirt, but I could tell it was going to be a long week unless we figured out some way to keep Cisco out of the pool. And I had only brought one quick-dry dog towel.
Miles said, “Run get some towels from the bath house, Mel, and dry him off before you come in the house.” He touched my shoulder lightly. “I’ll show you your room. And, ” he added over his shoulder as we turned toward the house, “no going to the beach without an adult.”
“I know, I know,” she replied, wiping her wet glasses on the hem of her shirt, which only made them wetter.
“And Cisco is not an adult,” I felt compelled to add, and she giggled.
; The entire back wall of the house was made of glass doors, which were now open to the sea breeze and a sleek steel-and-granite kitchen that could have been lifted from the pages of a magazine. There was a marble-floored-living room encased in the same drop-dead views of ocean and sky as we had seen outside, furnished with low white leather sofas and tangerine accents. The bedrooms were up a single flight of open teak stairs enclosed by cable wire and flooded with light and blue sky from the tall windows that surrounded it.
“There are five bedrooms up here,” Miles said, “and a nanny’s room downstairs. Mel is down the hall, and here you are.”
He opened the door to a large airy room with buttercup yellow walls and polished mahogany floors. In the center of the room was a tall four-poster bed dressed in a French provincial yellow and red floral comforter with red pillow shams and a bright red cotton throw arranged in a perfect triangle over one corner of the bed. A table held a vase of fresh flowers and a crystal dish of chocolates. Next to my bed there was an ice bucket containing individual bottles of mineral water and a bottle of champagne; there were wine glasses and a plate of fresh fruit on the night stand. At the foot of the bed was a Cisco-sized dog bed upholstered in the same pattern as the comforter, with a bright red dog blanket artfully arranged across one corner. And next to it was a silver dog dish embossed with raised bones, with a matching dish filled with water, a few ice cubes still floating on top.
I couldn’t help laughing out loud with delight. “Miles, this is unbelievable!”
“Do you like it?” he asked, pleased. “I thought you would.”
“Are you kidding me? Champagne, chocolate…a custom dog bed!” I went from one surface to the other, touching each one, as happy as a puppy in a dog park. “Silver dog dishes!”
“They’re probably plate,” he admitted. “The concierge service fixed it all up for you when I told them there would be a dog. They went all out for Pepper, too, when we brought her down last winter.”
I went out onto the deck, inhaled the sea view, and waved down to Melanie, who was vigorously rubbing Cisco down with a towel on the pool deck below. “Be sure to dry his feet,” I called, “or he’ll track wet paw prints all over the floors.”
Melanie waved back in acknowledgement and Cisco did his funny little three-legged dance while she started drying his paws one at a time.
“They’re marble,” Miles reminded me. “They can take it.” He nodded his head toward another set of open doors a few feet away. “That’s my room, by the way.”
“Oh,” I said innocently. “We share a balcony. How nice.”
“And convenient,” he pointed out. “In case you should, you know, need anything during the night.”
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t,” I replied, deadpan. “I mean…” I turned back to the room and spread my arms. “You’ve thought of everything. What could I possibly need?”
He caught my hand. “Come on, you haven’t even seen the best part.”
“I thought this was the best part,” I teased him, indicating the adjoining rooms.
He stopped and cupped his hands around my neck, looking into my eyes, touching his forehead to mine. “No,” he said. “The best part is seeing you here, laughing, not worrying about dogs or competitions or training classes or other people’s problems. Not getting shot at or threatened or stranded on a mountaintop or nearly blown up or run over by a truck on your own front porch. The best part is being normal for a change.”
I forced an uncomfortable laugh. “If this is normal for you we have even less in common than I thought.” But he was right. My life did tend to be filled with drama, and not all of it was of my own making.
I resolved, right then and there, to try to be more normal. At least for a week.
He kissed my nose and stepped away. “The best part,” he reminded me. He swung open a door and gestured me inside.
I looked around at the pleasant tiled walls and porcelain fixtures. “A bathroom? I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve seen them before.”
Without a word, he extended his arm toward what appeared to be the shower cubby. I stepped inside and into a lush tropical garden with the sky for a roof and cedar plank walls. Bromeliads bloomed from moss baskets that hung from the walls, and a veil of trailing vines dotted with tiny fragrant white flowers hid the shelves that held soap, sponges and shampoo.
“It’s a Balinese outdoor shower,” Miles explained. “This side of the house is built into the hill, so all the bedrooms have them. Cool, huh?”
I turned to him, grinning. “Do you know what I like best about you?”
“Hard to say.” He drew me close, eyes smiling. “There’s so much to choose from.”
I looped my arms around his neck. “That you still think things like this are cool. This is the best vacation ever, Miles. Thank you for making me come here.”
“It hasn’t even started yet,” he pointed out, still smiling. “It only gets better from here.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” I tilted my face up for the kiss I’d been waiting for, confident that was one promise he would have no trouble keeping. In the middle of paradise with two of my favorite people and my dog, what could possibly go wrong?
That was when I heard a woman’s voice calling from outside the room, “Miles! Darling, are you there? It’s me!”
~*~
THREE
Miles drew away from me slowly, a look of rather abashed resignation on his face. I simply stared at him, frozen in place. The voice came again, closer now.
“Miles?”
That voice definitely did not belong to Melanie.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” And, raising his voice, he called out, “We’re here, Mom!”
I was so shocked I actually stumbled as he pulled me forward.
I had never met Miles’s mother, although I had talked to her briefly on the phone once or twice when she was babysitting Melanie. Perhaps because Melanie called her “Grandma”, perhaps because I knew she had to be in her late sixties, I had always pictured a plump, pleasant, gray-haired woman in an apron. The woman who came into the room from the balcony could not have been further from what I imagined. She was slim and fit looking, with shoulder-length platinum hair, gorgeous cheekbones and sparkling green eyes. She wore a long watercolor chiffon beach caftan over her swimsuit and gold sandals with kitten heels. She came toward us with hands extended, a smile lighting up her whole face.
“Darling, you look wonderful! It’s so good to see you!”
Miles caught her up in an embrace, lifting her off her feet, and she laughed and pounded his back. When he set her on her feet again, she turned to me, still beaming.
“And you’re Raine,” she said, and grasped both my hands warmly. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I’ve already met your canine friend, and he’s every bit as charming as Melanie described. He shook my hand with his paw!”
“I, um, it’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Young,” I managed.
“Rita,” she insisted, and gave my hands a final squeeze before releasing them and turning back to Miles. “I set up drinks by the pool. Melanie has gone to change into her suit, she says you promised she could take the dog to the beach. Come down when you’re ready,” she added with an airy wave over her shoulder as she left the room. “So glad you’re here, Raine!”
I hardly knew what to say, or to think. What kind of man brings his mother on vacation with his girlfriend? The same kind who brings his daughter, I supposed. But were we really at the stage where we spent family holidays together? What was it supposed to mean, that he would even take me to meet his mother, much less take me twelve hundred miles from home to spend a week with her? And why hadn’t he told me? What kind of man does that?
Finally I managed, “Your mother is, um, nice.”
“I thought you’d like her,” he agreed easily. “She came in yesterday to open up the house. By the way, all the bedrooms share the balcony.”
I
tried very hard not to glare at him. Apparently I wasn’t particularly successful, because he raised an admonishing finger and said, “Don’t start.”
My smile was stiff. “Start what?”
“Start with what does it mean when a guy invites his girl on vacation with his mother, are we ready for this, am I rushing things, blah blah. My mother is here because I like having her around and I thought it would be good to have someone to look after Melanie if you and I wanted some private time. End of story.”
“I’m glad you invited her,” I said, as genuinely as I possibly could. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
“That one’s easy.” He kissed me lightly. “You never would have come if I had.” He gave me a light pat on the bottom and added as he left, “Get changed. I’ll see you downstairs.”
I watched him go with a small incredulous shake of my head, then went to find my swimsuit. Even in paradise nothing was perfect, I supposed.
~*~
My green maillot swimsuit had last been worn white-water rafting down the Nantahala River, and was looking a little frayed around the seat. The only other swimsuit I owned was a cute little patchwork plaid bikini that I had bought a couple of years ago when I’d thought I might be able to get in some pool time while attending an Association of Pet Dog Trainers conference in Orlando. There was no way I was wearing that to have drinks with Miles’s mother, so I put on the one piece and the only cover-up I had brought—a big white shirt that did what it was supposed to do but wasn’t nearly as glamorous as the one Miles’s mother had worn. I almost reconsidered a trip to one of those fancy shops downtown, but only for a moment. I packed my beach bag with bottled water and Cisco’s folding travel bowl, pick-up bags, a dog towel and a people towel; sunscreen, a tennis ball, a floating flying disc, bug spray, dog treats, my phone, my camera, and a lightweight sand mat for Cisco to lie on. I grabbed my hat and sunglasses, hoisted the beach bag over my shoulder, and I was ready to go.