The Best of Us

by Sarah Pekkanen

  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.”

  “Wonderful,” her mother had said, and then the complicated swirl of emotions that had washed over her face—relief, joy, and was that a bit of regret, too?—was gone. “I could use a cup of tea,” she’d said. “Will you have one with me?”

  Now Pauline glanced back down at her phone and read the weather forecast. The tropical storm was still heading in their general direction, but it looked like it would miss them by a hundred miles. Still, they’d probably get rain on Thursday and maybe Friday, too—heavy rain, not like the light afternoon showers that routinely refreshed Negril.

  She clicked through her mental inventory of indoor activities: They had the game room, of course, and she’d arranged for delivery of some first-run DVD movies. Plus she could have the sommelier come to the house for a wine tasting. No one knew it yet, but she’d instructed him to monitor everyone’s preferences. When they returned home, her guests would discover they’d each been delivered a case of their favorite wine, as a way of commemorating their week together.

  Still, she’d need to stay on top of the weather. Storms were notoriously unpredictable; this one’s direction could shift at any moment. She’d need to create a backup plan for that, too—they couldn’t stay on the water if things became dangerous. Jamaica was in the hurricane belt, after all. She’d find the name of the best hotel in town and book a block of rooms, just in case they had to leave quickly.

  “Everything all right, Ms. Glass?”

  Pauline glanced up to see the chef watching her as he hefted the final platter.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. She tucked her iPhone back into her purse. “We’re in Jamaica. How could it not be?”

  * * *

  “You are kidding me!” Allie shouted. “Really?”

  “I’ve never been on a helicopter in my life!” Tina squealed.

  “Jamaica is at its most beautiful at sunset,” Pauline said. “A spin around the island, then a late dinner at home. How does that sound?
Of course, if you’d rather stay here and rest, that’s completely fine, too. Everyone should do exactly what they want.”

  “No way am I turning down a helicopter ride,” Ryan said, as everyone added their assent.

  “They’ll be touching down within the hour,” Pauline said. “We’ll need two helicopters for all of us.”

  “I’m going to hop in the shower and wash off the salt water,” Tina said as she stood up.

  “I’m right behind you,” Savannah said, yawning.

  “Me, too,” Allie said. She reflexively reached for her dirty plate, but Pauline shook her head.

  “Oh, no, please leave that. It’ll be cleared away. You girls just go take your time getting ready.”

  “Ryan? You coming?” Allie asked.

  “Yeah, buddy, don’t you need to go primp?” Gio said, leaning over to elbow Ryan in the ribs.

  “Forget that,” Ryan said. “The only primping I’m doing is diving in the pool.”

  “My man,” Gio said, holding up his beer to clink against Ryan’s. “Gives us more time to toss back a few.”

  “Hoo-yeah!” Ryan shouted.

  Allie rolled her eyes. She loved Gio, but whenever Ryan was around him, her husband acted like he’d just gotten a shot of testosterone.

  She glanced over and noticed that since Tina had gotten up, there was an empty lounge chair separating Dwight from the other guys. He wasn’t excluded from their conversation, exactly, but the distance would make it harder for him to participate in it.

  Move over, she thought, but he didn’t.

  “Dwight?” Allie asked. “Do you need a cold one as long as I’m up?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

  She reached into the poolside cooler, then walked over and handed him a Red Stripe.

  “So, Dwight, you guys travel like this all the time?” Gio was asking in a loud voice.

  Allie smiled and began to go inside, but then Gio continued and she paused on the landing.

  “Must be nice. I mean, private planes, helicopters. You going to buy a train next? Just so you can cover every mode of transportation?”

  Something in Gio’s tone marred what should’ve been light banter. Was he drunk? Allie wondered, studying him. He was leaning back, one arm folded behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles. His position was relaxed, but the way he was staring at Dwight . . .

  A memory popped into Allie’s mind: Gio pushing a guy up against the wall at a college bar, a blue vein in his neck bulging as his forearm pressed against the guy’s throat, cutting off his air while a girl screamed and Tina pulled on his arm, yelling, “Gio! Stop!” The guy had pinched Tina’s behind, Allie remembered. And Gio would’ve really hurt him—Allie was certain of that—if the bouncers hadn’t broken his grip and thrown him out of the bar.

  Gio hadn’t seemed to be putting away too many beers today, but maybe she just hadn’t noticed. She had seen Savannah drinking a lot, though. Allie paused under the pretext of pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on one of the outdoor tables and kept listening.

  “A train. Yeah,” Dwight said. There was a little pause, then Dwight laughed, but he was the only one who did so.

  “So, Gio, buddy, how the hell do helicopters stay up in the air?” Ryan said. “It can’t all be in the propeller.”

  “Same basic principle as an airplane,” Gio said. He broke his stare at Dwight and turned to look at Ryan, and when he spoke again the tension had left his voice. “Seriously, man, you don’t know this? They get lift and thrust from the main rotor . . .”

  Allie exhaled and went inside. She should have known Ryan would defuse the tension; he was good at that. But Gio’s comments stayed with her while she showered and applied mascara and cherry ChapStick, and slipped on a long flowered skirt and white tank top. Finally she went downstairs and knocked on Tina’s door.

  “Come in!” Tina called, and Allie opened the door. Tina was on the phone, having either an imaginary conversation with George Clooney or a real one with her children, judging from all the “I love you”s and kissing sounds. Allie sat down in an oversize chair to wait. The French doors were open to the breeze, and an arrangement of delicate purple orchids in a vase sat atop the dresser across from the bed.

  “Ice cream sundaes after dinner?” Tina was saying. “You’re so lucky! Yup, just a little while longer . . . Okay, sweetie . . .”

  Allie smiled. She’d talked to her mom right after the snorkeling trip, and although she had sounded a little tired, her mother had insisted everything was fine. The teenage babysitter was a big help, and all the kids were getting along beautifully so far.

  “Oh, do I love your mother,” Tina said as she put down her cell phone. “My kids sounded happy!”

  “Of course they are,” Allie said. “Just like you are, right?”

  “I think I’m a little too happy right now,” Tina said. “I can’t believe we only have five days left.”

  “Don’t think about that,” Allie said. “Just concentrate on the now. That’s what Buddhists say is the key to joy anyway.”

  “You’re right. So what do you think is really going on with Savannah and Gary?” Tina asked as she reached for a comb and began to untangle her mass of wet curls. “I tried to ask her today on the boat, but she kind of brushed me off. She’s not wearing her rings, but sometimes she doesn’t. She once told me she takes them off when she plays golf or works out and never remembers to put them back on.”

  “I started to ask, too, but then Pauline walked up to us, and I didn’t want to bring it up in front of her,” Allie said. “Do you think he really had to work this whole week?”

  “Even a doctor gets time off,” Tina said. “Especially for a free trip to Jamaica. I mean, unless he got offended because Dwight was paying for everything and he didn’t want to come because it was an insult to his male ego. Lotion, lotion, where’d I put that bottle of lotion? No, something else is going on between the two of them.”

  Allie reached for the Lubriderm on the table next to her and handed it to her friend. “Tina? Does Gio feel weird about that, too? I mean, about Dwight paying for everything?”

  Tina stopped moving. “Why do you ask? Does Ryan?”

  Allie shook her head. “No. I mean, not that I know of. He understands it’s a gift Dwight really wants to give us.”

  Tina finished moisturizing her legs before she answered. “Things are . . . really tight for us right now,” she said. “Gio’s worried he might lose his job.”

  “But he’s so good at it!” Allie protested.

  “Yeah, but so were the guys who got laid off last winter,” Tina said. “And if his company doesn’t land another big project soon, it won’t matter how good he is. And you know he wants our kids to go to private Catholic school, and it’s ridiculously expensive. So we decided they can’t, and I think on some level Gio feels like God is going to be angry with him. You know how old-fashioned Gio is. It’s just how he was raised.”

  “So he feels like he’s not providing well enough?” Allie asked. “Even though you have a nice home and you’re raising four kids?”

  “I don’t think he feels that way all the time,” Tina said. “It’s . . . well, seeing everything Dwight has, especially right now . . . I mean, Dwight was just this shy little twerp in college, and now he’s this hotshot. And the crazy thing is, Dwight didn’t even work that hard to get his money! It all came from an idea!”

  “It was more than that,” Allie corrected. “He started a great dot-com company. Everyone thought it was going to be the new UPS.”

  “I know,” Tina said. “And I agree, the idea was brilliant. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be able to click a computer button and have anything from Chinese food to wine to DVDs—or all three—delivered within thirty minutes?”

  “So that bothers Gio, too? That he feels like Dwight got lucky?” Allie asked. “Because no one knew the dot-com bubble would burst.”

  “Seemed like Dwight did,” Tina said. “He cash
ed out a lot of his stock right before it happened.”

  “See? It was more than luck,” Allie said. “Maybe he sensed it was coming. And it’s not like he doesn’t work. He’s always dabbling in new things! He started that company to develop new apps, and he’s got some rental properties in Breckenridge . . .”

  “I don’t know, Al, we haven’t even really talked about it.” Tina sighed. “Gio said something last night, a little jab about Dwight’s prissy gold Rolex. It wasn’t hard to figure out where it was coming from.”

  “What did you say?”

  Tina shrugged. “I ignored it. Why? Do you think it’s a big deal?”

  “I don’t know,” Allie said, choosing her words carefully. She didn’t want to stress Tina out, not now, when she was finally getting to relax. “But you might want to reassure Gio about how well he’s doing, if it’s a sensitive point. Everyone has different emotional triggers, and even if they don’t make sense to the rest of us, it’s important to respect them. I’d just hate for Gio to feel even a little bit badly when this trip is supposed to be a fun vacation for you two.”

  Tina crossed the room and gave Allie a hug. “You know why I love you? Because you care so much about everyone else. Now let’s go grab a glass of wine and jump aboard that helicopter.”

  Allie stood up, feeling as if she hadn’t conveyed the urgency she was sensing about Gio’s feelings.

  “Let me just throw some gel in my hair. I’m going to let the wind dry it,” Tina was saying. “And how about tonight we dance on the beach? I feel like dancing again! That was so much fun last night!”

  Allie forced herself to tuck away her worries, and she reached for the bottle of lotion Tina had left on the nightstand, intending to smooth a little on her hands. But it slid out of her grasp and bounced off the floor.