Hurricanes in Paradise (6 page)

“Of course we are. With a week this packed, why not throw a hurricane on top of it?”

“I’ll keep my eyes on it. We’ve already had quite a few cancellations for the week, though.”

“Well, let’s do everything we can to be prepared. There are always those determined few that won’t leave regardless.”

“Yeah, I hear they can be pretty headstrong when it comes to vacating early on a vacation.”

“Can’t blame them. I figure if they’re willing to make the reservation during hurricane season, they’re risk takers anyway.”

Mia laughed. “Got quite a few of those here, it seems. See you later.”

“Thanks, Mia. Great job. Really.”

“It’s my pleasure, Riley.” And she left.

Riley looked at her watch. She had fifteen minutes to go grab Gabby. That would give her time to call Jeremy. If they were in the path of a hurricane, she didn’t want her daughter in it.

* * *

Riley clicked the Weather Channel off and went back into the kitchen. Macaroni swirled in the hot, salty water like synchronized swimmers in a pool. “Angel girl. Come in here for a second. Mommy needs to tell you something.”

Gabby bounded into the kitchen, wearing her pale pink leggings and pink leotard, and plopped onto a barstool at the counter. “I know. I know. Melissa’s coming to watch me tonight. That’s the only time you cook macaroni and cheese.”

Riley laughed as she twirled the wooden spoon through the cloudy water. “Yes, and Mommy’s very sorry. But there is something else I have to tell you. Daddy is coming in early to get you. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“But you said he’s coming in next weekend.” Her voice began to tremble slightly.

Riley turned the burner off and set the spoon down in the ceramic spoon holder by the stovetop. She walked around the bar and knelt down, turning her body toward Gabby. She placed her hands on top of Gabby’s stocking-covered legs. “Hey, I know. I know. But listen. It looks like there’s a storm coming through here, and Mommy doesn’t want you to be here for it. So Daddy is going to take you the first part of your vacation instead and I’ll have you during the last part. It’s like we’re doing a swap!”

Gabby threw her arms up, her dramatic abilities about to be unleashed. ”But my ballet recital is tomorrow night! I can’t miss it! I’m the star!”

Riley stood and laughed. “You won’t miss your recital, angel girl. Daddy is going to stay here for it and then you’ll leave when it’s over. So this way he gets to see it too.”

Gabby’s eyes widened, as if this might be a good trade-off. Then the crocodile tears ran effortlessly down the side of her small face. “But I’ll miss you,” Gabby said, biting hard at her lip, clearly trying to make her tears stop flowing.

Riley hated it when Gabby thought she had to be strong. She leaned over and wrapped her baby in her arms. “Hey, sweetie, listen. Mommy will miss you too. But you know what? When you get back, I’ll see if I can take an extra day off and we can spend the whole day together.” She tried to keep the lilt in her voice.

“But if I’m going away to be protected, who is going to protect you?”

Riley felt that one right in her chest. She hated that Gabby thought she had to protect her. “Hey, hey . . .” She held Gabby’s precious round face in her hands. “Mommy will be fine. Remember I’m always protected. Right?”

“Yes, angels. They protect us both.”

“Yes, so no worrying about Mommy. And if I have to leave, I will leave. But I have to take care of the guests here too. And some of them won’t be leaving.”

“You promise if it gets super bad that you’ll come to South Carolina with me and Daddy?”

She held her baby against her chest. “I promise. If it gets super bad, Mommy will come to South Carolina to be with you.”

* * *

The quiet was all around Tamyra when she finally opened her eyes. They burned as she blinked. She lifted her upper body off the floor and sat there in the strange hotel room. In front of her was a view of the ocean that would take most people’s breath away. But to her it was just water beating against sand only to displace it forever. Just like she felt. Displaced. Two months ago she had known everything the next few years of her life held. A new job. A new husband. A whole new life.

Today she knew one thing about her life: it held death. Granted, death comes for everyone. But most people don’t live with it as a vise grip around their necks. Most give it a passing thought when they hear of a friend’s sickness or a parent’s death. But it wasn’t a passing thought for her. For her it was a neon billboard that never went to sleep. And the knowledge of it had displaced her. The mere revelation of her illness had displaced the ring from her finger, the man from her side, the people from the guest list. And the uncertainty of life had displaced her from living it. Right now she just wanted to survive it. Life, that is. Today. She just needed to survive today.

Her stomach rumbled. Her eyes blinked hard and turned toward the clock. Five thirty. She hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. She pressed her hands against the carpet and raised her body off the floor while pain shot through her leg from the stationary position. She grabbed her makeup bag from her carry-on and walked into the bathroom to let warm water flow over a soft white washcloth. She wrung the water out and patted the wet cloth across her face. Her eyes were almost swollen shut. She pulled Visine from the makeup bag and tilted her head back, letting the wet drops flood her eyes.

She blinked as the drops careened down her face and then wiped them with the warm washcloth. She hoped her concealer was a miracle worker. She studied her tank top in the mirror and deemed it neat enough, even though the nap on the floor had been brutal to her shorts. She ran her hands down the front as a makeshift iron, studied her efforts, and declared them good enough. She grabbed the denim jacket draped over her suitcase and stuck her room key in her back pocket. When she had pulled three pills from the refrigerator, she walked out the door in search of dinner.

* * *

Laine looked at her watch. She had been sitting in the same chair on the veranda of her suite for almost four hours. Mitchell’s words pounded afresh with each wave that crashed onto the sand. She had officially heard him say, “I won’t call you again” well over three thousand times now. Her OCD wasn’t a great traveling companion in moments like these. She lifted herself from the cushioned chair and walked over to the small refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a can of Coke, grabbed a small glass from the velvet-lined drawer beside the refrigerator, and fixed herself a drink.

The ice cubes clicked together as her bare feet walked across the stone floor, onto the carpet of the bedroom, and into the closet, where the valet had left her bags. She had motioned him in earlier with a wave of her hand, told him to put her things in the closet, and had gone back to Mitchell’s voice resounding in her head. She had no idea when the valet had left. When she stepped into the closet, she saw her clothes were neatly hung. He had obviously been there a little longer than she had realized. She selected a simple gray sweater that hung to her thighs and a pair of black leggings, then walked into the bathroom. She turned the silver shower lever to blistering and decided she might be a few minutes late. Laine Fulton was never late.

* * *

Riley sat at the bar and stared at the bubbles that swirled around in her glass of Dr Pepper, a lime bobbling against the surface. Her acrylic wedge heels clicked against the metal of the barstool as they moved to the music that filled the electric environment.

Riley sat snugly beneath a wooden trellis that held the goatskin covering above the bar. She looked toward the other end of the bar where a group of young men stood crowded together with their oxfords, crisp shorts, suntanned faces, and amicable spirits aided by the spirits they held in their hands. She loved to watch her guests; they came in with visible stress, and as each day passed, the tension flowed from their bodies. It was part of the magic that the Atlantis held. One of the men shifted slightly, allowing Riley to catch a glimpse of Tamyra seated at the bar.

Riley was relieved to see her. She hadn’t realized that she had been slightly anxious over the well-being of the young woman. She glanced at her watch. It was ten till six. She ran her hands down her dark-wash blue jeans, straightened the bow that fell softly at the neck of her sleeveless purple silk blouse, picked up her glass, and headed in Tamyra’s direction.

* * *

Winnie closed the book she had been reading and studied the picture of the majestic mansion on the cover. She had saved the book for her trip. When she retired from teaching, she had spent years catching up on pleasure. Now that she was back to educating, she didn’t have much time for pleasure. So if she did nothing but read the ten books she’d brought along with her, it would be worth the trip. She turned the book over and studied the face of Laine Fulton. Fair-complected, clear green eyes, movie-star cheekbones and lips, almost-white blonde hair that barely clipped the top of her shoulders, and a soft smile that seemed to resonate contentment. She had been one of Winnie’s favorite writers for the last ten years. Her novels were full of everything from intrigue to romance, and her range of characters as broad as Winnie’s denim collection.

She got up and walked into her suite, setting the book down on the coffee table. She picked up the small frame that she had set out when she arrived. She studied Sam’s face and smiled. Every time she saw him, it was as if she were seeing him for the first time. And she’d never forget that first time. It was a Fellowship of Christian Athletes meeting at the University of Tennessee, where they had both attended. She had gone because she had a fondness for both athletes and fellowshipping. What she never expected was Sam. He came in wearing a UT T-shirt, and when she saw his gorgeous green eyes, she sang a chorus of “How Good Is God.” It wasn’t until they had been dating for six months that he realized the only reason she had even attended that night was to meet an athlete. But by then he was so crazy about her, he didn’t care.

When he took her to his hometown of Nashville, he introduced her to the Ryman Auditorium, Patsy Cline music, and bowling at the Melrose Bowling Lanes. He taught her what a real gentleman was, how a lady should be treated, and how to control herself until her wedding night. When the wedding night finally came, she attacked him like a kenneled puppy, and he had loved every minute of it. And for the last fifty years she had loved every minute of him.

She set the frame down and looked out over the ocean. She pushed back against the tears that rushed to the surface as she closed the sliding-glass door. It sealed off the sound of the ocean like a tomb and she sealed off her tears like she had since the day she had placed Sam in his. She glanced at the clock on the DVD player. It was 5:55, and her stomach announced it was starving. In the bathroom, she ran her stubby fingers through her hair and dotted her lips with some hot pink lipstick. She picked up her room key, stuck it in the Vera Bradley Raspberry Fizz handbag she’d brought, and wandered out in search of beef.

4

Saturday evening . . .

Tamyra’s hand twirled the straw inside her glass of Perrier, and Riley knew she was completely unaware that anyone was around.

“Mind if I sit down for a minute?”

Tamyra’s head darted upward, and Riley pretended not to notice the puffy eyes staring back at her. “No, um . . . sure . . . that’s fine.” She shifted slightly in her seat.

Riley pulled the stool out, set her Dr Pepper on the counter, and ran her hand across the tortoise-and-seashell top as she climbed onto the barstool. “How has your day been so far?”

Tamyra managed a smile. “Nice. It’s beautiful here. The room . . . everything . . . just really beautiful.”

“I’m so glad. Did you go out to the Cain pool today? It’s our adults-only pool.”

Tamyra lifted her glass and took a sip. “No. It’s been a really long week, so I took a nap when I got in.” The Southern accent peeked out with her last words.

“You’re from Savannah, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Any layovers?”

“Just one in Miami.”

“Well, hopefully, you’ll feel better by tomorrow and you can begin to enjoy some of the wonderful things around here. But I’m glad you got out this evening; the food here is fabulous.”