All Summer Long

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  Olivia shook hands with Buddy, nodded to Michelle, and remembered Michelle’s world-weary attitude was one reason Nick did not care to travel with Bob’s friends. But Buddy wasn’t a total disaster. He was a successful dermatologist, and at least he was reasonably gregarious. How Michelle spent her spare time was anybody’s guess. Mostly she appeared to be marinating in a mood.

  “Got a very low ceiling out there,” Buddy said. “I hope we can get out!”

  “Yes, the weather’s not ideal,” Nick replied.

  They all turned at once to look through the large windows, but their focus was shattered by a juvenile screech.

  “It’s mine!” Gladdie exclaimed loudly. “Gimme it!”

  Gladdie jerked an iPad away from Ellen, who was perched with a beauty queen’s posture on the edge of the coffee table. Olivia looked at Nick’s face, which read, How many days will we have the pleasure of enduring your godchild? And when Nick read Olivia’s face, it said, My goddaughter is the poster child for birth control.

  “She sure loves that iPad!” Maritza said. “She’s just crazy about all these gizmos! Now, let’s share, Gladdie. Share!” Maritza repeated the share command until it seemed as if Gladdie would drive them all to guzzle liquor straight from a bottle. At last Maritza said, “Why don’t you come with me and let’s get some popcorn? Doesn’t it just smell so good? Smell the butter?”

  If we continue to reward bad behavior with food, Little Gladdie is going to have a weight problem someday soon, Olivia thought.

  Reluctantly, Gladdie handed the iPad over to Ellen and took her mother’s hand, stomping off in the direction of the snacks.

  Ellen became instantly engrossed in something on the iPad, Michelle was buried in her magazine, so the burden of social interaction was assumed by Buddy.

  “So, help me remember, Nick? Do you play golf?”

  “Oh, I putz around, but it’s not my passion. I like to fish.”

  Buddy said, “Humph. Well, I think fishing is admirable, but I don’t really have the patience it takes. You know, when I was a boy . . .”

  Buddy began to ramble about childhood summers in Maine and how his father forced him to learn to cast a line and how miserable he was sitting in the sun waiting for a fish that would never bite. Olivia’s mind began to wander. She looked around and thought about the other people coming and going there, and about the benefits of their wealth that they seemingly took completely for granted. A family with two very sullen teenage girls moved past her, and she thought, Wow, how much money would it take to make a teenager appear to enjoy traveling with her family? There is no amount, she thought, and while she sometimes regretted not having children, she thanked her lucky stars for sparing her children like them.

  Olivia helped herself to a peppermint Life Saver from the large bowl on the reception desk. Teterboro, like most private airports, offered generous amenities for waiting passengers, like hot popcorn or freshly baked cookies. Naturally there were hot and cold drinks, and on occasion there might be small sandwiches or candy. Passengers were free to avail themselves of any of these in addition to high-definition television viewing, wifi, and piles of current magazines and newspapers to peruse. There was no TSA, no preapproved known traveler line to wait in, no unruly bustle as there was at LaGuardia or Kennedy or Newark. When your group was assembled, you simply walked out on the tarmac with a crew member and boarded your plane just like you were taking a taxi, except that your vehicle had a price tag upward of fifty million dollars.

  The pile of luggage at their feet was growing. Anne Fritz and her partner Lola had arrived and were chatting with Maritza. They had matching olive-green metallic roll-ons. Olivia was surprised to see that Lola was so young, and she wondered for a moment if Nick would be scandalized by their company. And she kind of secretly hoped they would do something provocative. Poor Nick was bobbing his saintly head, listening to Buddy natter on.

  Maritza’s various stacked suitcases bore the signature of T. Anthony’s leather-trimmed red canvas collection, and Olivia guessed that the well-worn Louis Vuitton duffel bag belonged to Ellen. Olivia had the fleeting thought that Ellen probably planned to spend the holiday in a bikini, parading her lithe assets for Bob’s benefit. If she’d had children, Olivia would never have let someone who looked like Ellen even touch her child, much less live in her house. Another mystery. And then there was the Bemises’ luggage to consider. Their generic but efficient luggage was two matching black ballistic nylon roll-ons with oversize beige leather ID tags, probably to distinguish their bags from others when they flew commercially. Nick and Olivia’s bags were ancient tweed Hartmann pieces that Nick refused to part with because they still worked just fine. The importance of preservation was another quality of Nick’s that Olivia admired, but at the same time, she realized that if her clients felt the same way she’d never sell them anything new. Luckily, she was not in the luggage business.

  “Okay! Let’s load ’em up! Where’s Daniel?”

  Bob Vasile—the king, the demigod, the alchemist—had arrived, and with him came with all the swagger and booming machismo that one human body could possibly contain without imploding. His sheer presence raised the temperature of the room.

  “Dahlin’!” Maritza called out.

  Olivia was still standing by the desk watching as at the sight of Bob, Maritza lit up like a miniature version of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. She hurried to his side. Bob assessed her from head to toe, grabbed her, and gave her a fast smooch on her cheek. Then Olivia saw his eyes travel to Ellen, who practically purred under his gaze. Olivia felt a sudden and strong urge to give Ellen a good smack right across her insipid face. Fortunately, Bob’s eyes did not linger on Ellen but moved around to welcome his other guests.

  “Hey, Buddy! You’re looking good for an old dog! Hey, Michelle! We need to talk about our Chablis production! Olivia! Beautiful as ever! How is my mega-talented almost sister? So glad . . . well, hey, Nick! How are you, my learned friend?”

  This went on until the last guest had been greeted and told how glad Bob was to see them. Bob’s son Daniel and his girlfriend, Kitty, were the last to arrive.

  “He’s gay,” Nick whispered to Olivia.

  Olivia gave him a pinch on his arm. “Hush! No, he’s not. He’s a hopster.”

  “Hipster. Brooklyn hipster.” Michelle said, suppressing a snide laugh, having overheard them. “That’s how they all look. Her too.”

  Daniel was wearing super-tight clothes, and his longish hair and thin beard was unkempt. He had also had no visible means of employment for as long as Olivia had known him. Kitty was a pastry chef, and her body art began with a cupcake parade from her left bicep to her wrist. Her right arm was covered in tattoos of a KitchenAid, mixing spoons, wedding cakes, and an old version of the cookbook The Joy of Cooking. At least she had a job. Their look was beyond Nick’s comprehension, although he’d taught many students who looked like that at NYU. After all, Nick had carefully studied the Beat Generation, and they dressed like weirdos too. In his opinion.

  Bob gave Daniel a dressing down for being late. It didn’t bother Bob in the least that everyone heard him.

  “Can’t you tell time?” Bob growled.

  Daniel didn’t flinch.

  “Sorry, Dad. Traffic.”

  “Bullshit. Leave earlier,” Bob said curtly.

  “I thought Sam and Dorothy were coming,” Maritza said, looking around as though the couple in question might be hiding behind a potted plant, but the group knew she wanted to lighten the mood.

  “They’re meeting us there,” Bob said. “Sam had a tournament in Miami.”

  “Oh, okay,” Maritza said.

  Sam was Bob’s golf pro. He and his wife frequently traveled with Bob and Maritza, especially to warm-weather destinations.

  “Okay! Here’s the deal. We’re taking the jet to the Beef Island Airport on Tortola, and then we’re going to helicopter over to Necker. Any questions?” There being none, Bob boomed again. “Okay
then. Let’s get this show on the road!”

  Olivia noticed small beads of perspiration as they sprang up on Nick’s brow.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered, knowing the announcement of helicopters had to have struck terror into her husband’s sweet soul.

  “Yes! I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” Nick managed a weak smile. “Tell me the truth. Bob doesn’t have a death wish. Does he?”

  “Seriously? He’s about the last person alive with a death wish.”

  “Okay. Of course.”

  As though the magical music of the Pied Piper had begun streaming through the terminal, everyone got up and identified their luggage to the porter, who put it on a trolley and wheeled it out to the plane. They showed their ID to the pilot just to reassure him they did indeed have valid passports and continued to where the gleaming white Gulfstream G650 stood, door open, stairs lowered to meet a small red rug on the tarmac. Above the tail number was painted a small Black Angus steer next to a bottle of red wine, Bob’s restaurant logo. Once they boarded Bob’s plane, they would be swept into a life few even knew how to imagine.

  But there were things the group did know, such as not to sit in the first seat on the left facing forward—that was Bob’s seat. He would sit there with Maritza in the opposite seat facing him. Who would be asked to take the seats on his left remained to be seen. Ellen and Gladdie? Buddy and Michelle? But certainly not Olivia and Nick or Anne and Lola, and most likely not Daniel and Kitty, who were already headed toward the back row.

  “Sit by me, Daniel,” Bob said surprising everyone.

  “Why? Am I in trouble?” he said.

  “Hell, no,” Bob said, and slapped Daniel on his back. “I just want to spend some quality time with my son. Is that okay with you? Sorry I barked at you.”

  “Sure, sure!” Daniel said and took the seat opposite Bob. “It’s okay.”

  “I want to sit with Mommy!” Gladdie cried out. “Mommy! Mommy! Let go of me!”

  Kitty the Canvas and Ellen the Incumbent stood in the center of the aisle, unsure of what to do, and Olivia had the thought that if her goddaughter was going to screech for the next four hours, she was going to need massive earplugs and a lot of Grey Goose. And Gladdie may have been unconsciously trying to knit the immediate family together in seats that matched their rank, but Bob was calling the shots.

  “I’ll tell you what, Miss Gladdie, girl of my heart,” Bob said, “you sit with Ellen for the takeoff and then you can sit in my lap! How’s that?”

  “That is just about the sweetest thing I have ever heard,” Maritza said.

  Hearing this, Ellen rolled her eyes upward and emitted an ungracious sigh.

  “Kitty? You sit here opposite Daniel so I can get to know you a little better.”

  Bob was being very congenial.

  “What about the rest of us? I mean, I didn’t realize we were going to have seat assignments,” Ellen said.

  Everyone got quiet for a moment, surprised by her tone. Then Buddy spoke up.

  “Yeah, this is Delta Airlines. Can I see your boarding pass? Ha-ha! Funny, right?”

  “Sit with us,” Michelle said.

  That was the end of that. Anne Fritz and Lola had barely said a word, but wasn’t Anne’s assignment to observe?

  Olivia and Nick settled themselves in the very back row where they had sat on prior trips and were relieved not to be in the middle of the brewing fray. There would be plenty of time to make polite chitchat over the next few days. And with any luck an opportunity would arise to casually mention that she had some open time for new projects.

  Nick wasn’t even particularly frantic about sanitizing his seat-belt buckle, the recliner button, or the burled walnut tray with its gold fittings.

  “You have to think that they totally disinfect this plane, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Nick wasn’t even particularly fearful of the flight because it was a known fact that Bob was meticulous about the care and maintenance of his plane. And helicopters. And boats. And well, everything he owned. At least that’s what he told himself. Again.

  “You okay?” Olivia said.

  “I’m absolutely fine,” Nick said quietly to Olivia. “Actually, this has all the earmarks of a perfect getaway. But I must say, I’m surprised he doesn’t use a hovercraft to get from Tortola to Necker. There has to be less risk.”

  “Instead of a helicopter?” Olivia said, and Nick nodded. “It’s only a thirty-five-minute hop. I’ll hold your hand.”

  “I’m fine. To be honest, I swallowed half a Xanax about an hour ago.”

  “Well, anxiety is what they’re for, sweetheart.”

  “I brought some bottles for us to taste,” Michelle announced. She passed a large canvas tote bag to Bob, who passed it to the steward. “Four reds and four whites.”

  “That was awfully nice of you, Michelle,” Bob said. “Thank you.”

  “Always thinking of you, darling,” Michelle said and—God save the queen—she smiled.

  Olivia caught Anne Fritz’s eye, and they looked at each other, wondering if Michelle was now or had ever been on the receiving end of Bob’s affection. Or was she on the launch pad? One never knew when considering Bob and his personal history. And Michelle’s face was inscrutable.

  When the plane reached forty-one thousand feet and after a light meal of various cheeses and charcuterie with fruit, warmed baguettes, and generous pours of wine, they all began to nod off. Bob said there would be a feast for them on the island, so there was no reason to eat very much on the flight. Maritza had a blanket pulled up over her shoulders and Gladdie rested in Bob’s arms, fast asleep. As Olivia made her way to the powder room, she had the surprising thought that Gladdie did look angelic, sleeping there on her father’s chest, seemingly without a care in the world. She remembered reading somewhere how it was a good thing to give birth to a stubborn child, that such children became leaders, not followers. That was probably true. Maybe she would ask Anne, Maritza’s psychiatrist. This would give her something to talk to her about. And she looked at Daniel and Kitty, sleeping soundly with earbuds in their ears, and correctly assumed that Bob had not made small talk with them thus far and probably would not at all.

  Olivia resettled herself in her seat, climbing over Nick, who was sleeping as well. As she refastened her seat belt, she thought about how nice it was to see him so relaxed on an airplane, even if it did require medication. Nobody’s perfect, she thought, and looked around her, reflecting on the others on the trip and what their relationships were to one another. Some of them seemed to belong together, but other couplings struck her as unsuitable or odd.

  Michelle was at least eight if not ten years older than Buddy. Michelle didn’t look anywhere near fifty. Olivia had to imagine she was Botoxed and Restylaned within an inch of her life. After all, Buddy was a dermatologist. In fact Olivia thought it would be a miracle if they got through this trip without Buddy’s offering her some kind of a shot. Usually after a big meal with a lot of wine, he got to the point of inspecting her face and everyone else’s too. Then the offers would follow: he could enhance their appearances, just smooth that stubborn jagged crater between their eyebrows—at no charge, of course. Olivia thought it was the height of all crust to bring along whatever he brought along as though they were going to a Tupperware party. Somehow it took the shine off the moment. For her, anyway.

  She reclined her seat to the sleeping position, hoping to get comfortable enough to catch a power nap. Anne and Lola? Well, they were a strange pair, separated by more than a decade too, more like mother and daughter than lovers, but she didn’t know them and decided to reserve judgment. After all, wasn’t Nick much older than she was?

  There was no question in anyone’s mind that Maritza and Bob were a god-awful match. But Maritza was determined to please Bob, and he enjoyed the worship even if it turned out to be true that she no longer exclusively held his heart. But who would ever hold the heart of a man like Bob? If a man�
��s not happy with one billion dollars, why would he be happy with one woman? Bob, rare bird that he was, would never tolerate a cage.

  Soon the plane began a nearly imperceptible descent, the complete opposite of a commercial jet. There were no hot-dog bankings to the left or right, no ear-popping drops in altitude, and no announcements. Just a quiet landing as though the plane had kitten feet and was coming in on a goose-down duvet.

  A customs officer boarded the plane and collected their passports. He left and returned a few minutes later.

  “Have a nice stay,” he said, and handed all the passports to Bob.

  “Tough security here,” Bob said, laughing, but only when he was certain the customs officer was out of earshot. After all, he thought, there was no point in getting security people excited.

  “Nice landing,” they all said to the pilots. “Thanks for a great trip!”

  The helicopter’s passenger seats were three across, and there were headsets available so that they could talk to each other if they wanted to. Bob, Maritza, Ellen, and Gladdie were the first group to take off.

  “I’ll hold my princess,” Bob said, referring to Gladdie, but he seemed to be smiling at Ellen. It was impossible for Olivia to tell exactly where his eyes were because of the darkness of the lens of his sunglasses. “See you folks with a bottle of cold champagne in just a few minutes!”

  Little Gladdie was pretending to be asleep, hanging over Bob’s shoulder like a thirty-pound sack of potatoes and making snoring noises. Olivia thought, There is simply no end to this little girl’s charms.

  The second helicopter’s rotors began to turn and Buddy, Michelle, and Daniel’s girlfriend, Kitty, climbed on board. When the first helicopter returned, Nick and Olivia boarded for the short hop with Lola, and Daniel would bring up the rear with Anne Fritz and one of the pilots. Odd that Kitty didn’t travel with Daniel, and Olivia tucked that piece of info away. Maybe it was to promote camaraderie.

  Nick seemed calm enough, Olivia thought, although he kept a tight grip on her hand and inhaled less frequently than she thought was normal. The water below them was sparkling and turquoise. As Necker Island, surrounded by coral reefs, came into view, Nick began to get excited.