by Anne Kemp
“What are you talking about?” Abby was honestly confused.
“Abby, his hours are rough for him. He’s training, well schooling, to be a vet. This costs money.” More silence, then she continued, “He said you were complaining about his getting up early and rustling around?”
“Maybe he meant when he slams the doors at 6:30 a.m.?”
“Either way, it’s apparent that you guys are the Odd Couple, at least from what he’s been saying in his emails to me.”
Unbelievable. Ben had been emailing her sister telling her it was Abby behind all of the living issues. She was watching Ben dance in the middle of a circle of ladies while Leigh went on to berate her.
“I need for you to be the adult, Abby. I want to put you back in the main house, but you need to be in the pool house for the time being. If there is a chance I can rent any rooms out, I need to take it. Ben now understands this and has agreed to be a little more . . . how do I say this? . . . forgiving of the circumstances. So, now, you need to be the one to strap on your boots and make it work.”
Abby could not believe what she was hearing. This explains the change in Ben’s demeanor. Leigh must have spoken to him and was probably paying him off to help “take care” of me. She wanted to scream, “You are being played!” to her sister, but refrained.
Abby felt the rage coursing through her body. She was still watching Ben as he danced around, toasting his friends from the rugby team. It was during one of these dance-toast maneuvers that he aimed his beer bottle in the air in a toast across the beach to Abby. Against her better judgment, she smiled a tight, “up yours” smile and raised her glass as well.
“Abby? Are you there?” Leigh was piping up again in her ear.
“Oh yeah,” Abby retorted. “I’m here.” There was no way she could let this fall to the side. Abby fired back, “You have been M.I.A., Leigh, at least to me. You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with down here with dear, young Ben. The fact that you would take his side without even speaking with me? It’s beyond reason. He’s a renter, for Pete’s sake.” Remembering the book she had found earlier in the day, she added for effect, “And I think he may be trying to steal from you!”
“Steal from me? Steal what, Abby?”
Abby was flustered. She honestly wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she was really mad at Ben. “I found your book, the one from Dad, The Great Gatsby. Ben had it shoved in with his things. There were some pictures, too. Leigh, I really think --”
“Abby. You think Ben is stealing from me? I’m sorry, but not Ben. I’ve never had problems from him. Ever.”
Abby couldn’t believe it. Her sister didn’t believe her. “Leigh, I tell you I think he’s stealing from you, and I find what is evidence and . . . Fine. Where’s your book, Leigh?”
Leigh was quick to stop Abby here. “I won’t hear any more of this. It’s petty, Abby. Be an adult. Stop behaving like a child.”
“Where’s your book, Leigh? And why are some of your things stored here? Did he swipe them, too?”
Silence on the other end. “Abby, I’m sure the book is here in the house, in fact I’m 100% sure that it is. I just don’t know where it is among my kids’ things, Daryl’s, your stuff . . . ”
“I know where mine is. I can tell you exactly where it is.”
“Abby, enough! I’m not going to listen to any more of these accusations. Suck it up.”
Abby felt like she had just been backhanded across the face. “But I’m your sister. Why are you not listening to anything I’m saying?”
Even in her pleading, Abby’s argument was falling heavily on deaf ears. The fact that Leigh was not even continuing the conversation told Abby that she had made up her mind already that it was all Abby’s fault. Why can’t I make her see my side? she thought sadly.
“Look, Abby, I have to go. Got a meeting in an hour. Just make sure you go easy on him and stay out of the way. You are there with a specific job: to help ready the inn for sale for me. Got it?”
Abby didn’t want to let it go. “But Leigh . . . ”
“Abby. Stop this. Now. Do you hear me?” Leigh spat this out as if she had just eaten a raw piece of meat.
“Loud and clear,” Abby spat back as Leigh disconnected the call.
Abby was still reeling from the conversation when Tracey came bopping over to her spot at the bar, the bonfire silhouetting her frame. There were people everywhere, and it was getting more crowded by the moment. Abby was feeling cornered and irked.
“Hey! Come over here and have a drink with me. I have some friends I want to introduce you to.”
“Tracey, it’s not a good time. In fact --” Abby was gathering her things on the bar -- “I’m going to walk to the Royal Palms Casino and get a cab. I want to go home.”
Tracey stopped her from getting up. “Wait, don’t go yet. It’s a great night to be out. Stay and have fun. Please?”
“I can’t. Just tell Ben I left and I’ll see him either when he comes in and plays his guitar loudly like the drunk asshole he can be or in the morning when he slams the door and it wakes me up, okay?”
Abby grabbed her bag, threw what she thought was some EC down for the bartender and headed up the stretch of dirt road that led to the Royal Palms.
As she marched up the road, Abby was fuming. So, she thought, you emailed my sister. Saying I was causing the problems? Oh, you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to roll over and take this one lying down, Ben!
She was so busy plotting she didn’t hear his feet hitting the ground behind her as he came running up next to her on the path.
“Abby, wait!” He was out of breath when he reached her.
Abby’s eyes were filled with fury as she spun on him and let him have it.
“Wait for what, Ben? For you to do something else to make me feel like crap? Or perhaps you want to email my sister again to tell on me. Does that make you feel better? I’m such an idiot to think that today you were actually being nice to me. You’re an asshole!”
She was still marching up the road, except now Ben was keeping in time with her.
“What are you talking about, Abby? Emailing Leigh?”
Abby stopped and took one of the deep “in through the nose and out through the mouth” breaths that she seemed to do so much.
“Leigh just phoned. Said you had emailed her and told her I was being difficult,” she said as she looked Ben in the eyes. “What I need to know is if there is any inkling of truth to that statement.”
Ben looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes dropped to the ground, and he wasn’t able to maintain eye contact with Abby.
“Abby, I . . . ”
Abby held up her hand. “No ‘Abby, I . . .’ bullshit! What the hell, Ben? You email my sister with issues that are actually my issues, things I was trying to talk to you about, and say I’m the one causing all the problems? Do you realize she is my sister? The person who should be listening to me has now taken the word of a complete stranger. At least a complete stranger to me, and one --” she was wound up and going now -- “who has bipolar tendencies like I would not have ever believed.”
Ben looked like he had been whipped. His face read “I’m sorry,” and he had no fight in his demeanor.
“Abby, I can explain. First, you need to let me apologize. Then, I really want to explain . . . ”
“No, Ben. That’s okay. I don’t think I want an apology or an explanation at this moment. What I want is to go back home and go to sleep on my air mattress. Hopefully, I won’t have to patch another hole in it.”
Ben jerked his head up, grinning. “A-hole?”
Abby saw no humor. “Not ‘a-hole.’ A ripped-open hole from one of the untrimmed claws of your crappy cats. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to add one more issue to the Thanksgiving-sized plate of problems we’ve been having. No, I fixed the stupid hole. And kept my mouth shut.”
They had reached the taxi stand at the Royal Palms.
Abby was reaching in her purse for her wallet.
“By the way, Ben. That’s what adults do. We keep our mouths shut about the little things and broach the topics of the bigger ones. Not email our landlords to come and help us, please,” she spat at him, taunting him to argue with her. Abby realized that though she was making sense, she was sounding a little childish.
“Please, don’t take a cab. Let me drive you,” Ben offered.
“No.” Abby went up to the counter to make arrangements for her ride.
The man behind the counter eyed her up and down. He had heard Abby and Ben coming in the night before he had seen them. Their argument had been echoing, reverberating off the walls of the condos and hotels in the walkway.
“I know, girl. You want a cab. I hear ya moanin’ about it from over dere,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “Where you go to?”
Abby told him La Cantina, then asked the fare so she could make sure she had enough EC to pay. One thing she had learned from Cutty and Ziggy was to always pay in EC. Paying in U.S. currency made them think you were a tourist, and some locals loved to overcharge them.
The fare was around 40 EC; Abby went in her purse to get it out and realized she only had 20. She was rustling around in there more when she realized she had overpaid her bill at Pirate’s Bay with EC and U.S. dollars.
Abby turned around and saw Ben was still standing there, talking to one of the cabbies and watching her wrestle with her purse. She walked over to where Ben stood, nodded curtly at the cab driver and asked Ben, “May I borrow some money? I overpaid at the bar, and now I don’t have enough to get home.”
“You can go hit de ATM at de hotel.” The helpful cabbie pointed toward the Royal Palms.
“No, I want to ask my friend here if he has it, but thanks.” Abby realized how crappy she sounded, but she just couldn’t help it. “Seems he has a few things of my families he’s holding on to. Giving me cab fare shouldn’t be a problem.”
Ben was taken aback. “What do you mean by that, Abby?”
“I really don’t want to get into it now, but I may as well tell you I found the book, Ben.”
Abby had made the last statement so dramatically that when she looked up, she expected Ben to be wide-eyed and fumbling for an excuse. But when her eyes met his, they were blank.
“Book? What are you talking about?”
Abby shook her head. “My sister’s book. It’s from our father. I found it in the kitchen, shoved in a bag with a bunch of her things and yours. It has sentimental value, Ben!”
Ben’s face was twisted with confusion. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. If any of your sister’s things are mixed up with --”
Abby couldn’t hear his excuses right now. There will be plenty of time when I get up tomorrow to figure out why he has that damn book, she thought. So, as maturely as she could, she covered her ears and shook her head at Ben. “Not listening anymore. Done.”
“Let me drive you home, Abby. Please,” Ben begged her. “I really think you may be drunker than you think you are.”
Abby stared down at the sand. When she looked up at Ben again, her eyes pleaded with him. “Please, Ben. Let me go. I want to go home. Or at least go to the place I have to call home for the time being.”
This time, Abby’s face read of her feelings, clear enough that Ben saw it, too. The sadness, the hurt.
“Abby,” he began.
The look she gave him made him stop. Instead, he reached for his wallet and pulled out 40 EC and handed it to her.
“Should be more than enough to cover it,” he said as he grabbed her hand and put the money in her palm.
Abby nodded at him and whispered, “Thank you,” as she made her way up to the man at the counter who was coordinating her ride.
She climbed in the first cab that pulled up, glanced back at Ben and the other cabbie, and then strapped on her seatbelt. As a silent tear rolled down her cheek, she thought about how all she wanted right now was her apartment in Los Angeles, her home, her cat and her friends. St. Kitts was feeling more like hell tonight than paradise.
CHAPTER SIX
The kitchen of La Cantina could only be compared to an orchestra performing at the Hollywood Bowl on a summer’s night with Maria center stage as conductor. She was in the midst of making Eggs Benedict à la Ziggy (which meant the eggs were scrambled and not poached) and waffles with a topping of crème fraîche sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg served with heated maple syrup on the side.
Abby had come over for her usual morning coffee and was greeted by a stressed Maria as she entered the kitchen.
“Abby! Please, help me. Ziggy is busy trying to help some guests plan a day outing on the island and the other guests all want breakfast, right now at this very moment, and Buddy should be here soon to get started on the roof.” Her face was flushed and she was breathless as she moved from counter to stove and back again, balancing all of the duties hurriedly, but with ease and precision. “I’m in a time crunch.”
Abby nodded, grabbed two plates, and waited for her marching orders. Thank goodness I washed my face and pulled my hair back before I came over, she thought, as she used her butt to push open the swinging door that led from the kitchen into the dining area.
As Maria completed each order, Abby helped get the plates out to the main communal table for the early risers. Guests were seated not only in the dining area, but also in the living room, lazing around on the couches watching the news and drinking coffee.
Once everyone was fed, coffees refilled, and plans for tours and dives made, Abby, Maria and Ziggy all gathered in the kitchen to have their breakfast and coffee.
As they ate, Abby told Maria about the events of the night before: the conversation with her sister, her discovery of Ben’s things mixed with Leigh’s and the argument that had ended her night.
Maria chewed thoughtfully, listening to Abby and letting her vent. When Maria did open her mouth to offer insight, Abby could tell she was being particularly mindful of the words she chose.
“Ben is a special bird, Abby. Not to say he deserves special treatment or that you deserved the treatment your sister gave you. It’s just that, well, there are two sides to every story. Be it an email or a stray book. Don’t jump to no conclusions, girl.”
Abby pondered her words, watching Ziggy as he shoveled his food into his mouth, washing it down with his mug of coffee and then getting up to refill all of their mugs. Talk about special birds, Abby thought as she grinned to herself.
“I don’t think I understand, Maria. Two sides? Like his side and Leigh’s?”
She shook her head. “No. Ben’s side of the story and your side of the story. Ever thought that they just may be different?”
Is she smoking crack? Abby thought. Of course they are going to be different. I’m a decent person and he’s an asshole. Done and done.
“I feel like I know what you mean, but I’m pretty sure my sentiments are going to be just the opposite of what you are intending to get across to me.” Abby sighed. “Just lay it on me, Maria, don’t hold back. Tell me what you see.”
Maria shot a look in Ziggy’s direction, and in one swift motion he took his coffee and disappeared from the room as if into thin air. Abby braced herself for Maria to let her have it. Maria was taking her time, stirring her coffee and staring at the swirly look of the creamer as it integrated into the murky depths of her mug. Abby couldn’t tell if she was gearing up for the kill or maybe calming herself down. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, Maria looked up at Abby and spoke.
“Sometimes, things happen for a reason, Abby. We never know what it is. It’s just the way of the world. You lost your job and you weren’t expecting to. Then you got the chance to come here. You come here and think you’re going to be in a nice house, dealing with a few things like papers, have a vacation, relax, then get back to life in L.A. Then you don’t; instead, you get --” she pointed to the pool house -- “Ben. And friends, like Cutty, Ziggy and me
.”
She took a sip of her coffee and looked intently at Abby.
“Has Ben told you about his problems with school?”
This surprised Abby, since Tracey had told her to keep it to herself.
“Well, he didn’t, but someone else told me.”
Maria nodded. “Not easy on him. Your sister knows that he has been through a lot, and she has actually helped him a lot. A lot more than even he knows. Did you know Leigh footed his bill for the hospital trip since his mom couldn’t afford the whole thing?”
Abby slowly shook her head no.
“If she didn’t tell you, then she doesn’t want you to know, I assume. Although, I hate to assume.” She winked at Abby. “It makes an ass out of you and me.”
Maria was grinning, and it made Abby smile as well.
“I know you’ve been thrown into the lion’s den or the fire or some sayin’, girl. But it’s time for you to adjust, just as Ben wanted to adjust, too. I knew he sent the emails to Leigh. In fact, she forwarded them all to me so I could talk to Ben and try to head off any issues here at the pass. And I thought that was what I did yesterday when I sat with him and we had a long talk about ‘Abby’s side of things.’”
Now it made a little more sense, Abby thought. It was like a puzzle, and Abby had just found another piece of it. “You talked to him yesterday, and that’s why he was friendlier. It wasn’t because Leigh told him to or he’d have to get out?”
Maria hooted with the very thought. “He’s paying rent, girl! She’s not letting him go anywhere as long as the roof is paid up. No, I --” she patted her chest and bobbed her head up and down -- “sat with Ben right at the pool there and we talked about being nicer to others because we don’t always know the whole story. Maybe I should teach a class and make you both take it.”
Abby felt less like a thirty-five-year-old and more like an eighteen-year-old who had just been scolded, but in the kindest way possible. She’s right, Abby thought. You never know the whole story. I jumped to a conclusion because of my own trust issues. Now, I look at his side. I come in, I want to take over . . . The poor guy never had a chance with me being such an aggressive “friendly” gal.