“I didn’t mean to make anyone worry-especially this anyone. I thought I would be back before the kayakers returned,” Jerry said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulder and pulling her closer.
“How is the beach?” Jed asked, grabbing a paperback from the pile by the bed.
“Gorgeous. We should all head up there after lunch, but right now I’m going for a quick dip in the pool and then taking a nap. I’m exhausted.”
“Must be this fresh air,” Susan said, following her husband’s example and choosing some reading material before following him out of the cottage. “I’m planning on reading for a while, swimming for a while, and then, perhaps, I’ll feel as though I deserve to nap,” she explained.
“James reserved the four lounges right outside our cabin for us,” Kathleen said, heading in that direction.
“That’s awfully sunny. Why don’t we sit down by the pool? Those umbrellas will keep us from getting baked,” Jerry suggested.
“I think there are only three lounges available down there,” Susan said, counting.
“I’ll take a chair and you three can lie down,” Jerry offered, starting off to the pool. “Last one in the water buys the rum punch!” he called back over his shoulder.
Jed hurried after his friend, but Susan waited a moment. Kathleen didn’t seem in a hurry to join them. “Kath? Are you coming?” she prompted when her friend didn’t move.
“I…” Kathleen looked up toward the bright blue cabin she and Jerry shared. “I think I’ll call home first. I just want to make sure Jerry’s mom knows where I keep the-the boxed fruit juice.”
“Are you all right?” Susan asked.
“Yes. Definitely. I just want to make sure everything at home is okay. You know how it is.”
Susan smiled. She did know. It was sensational to be away from your children for a while, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t missed. “We’ll see you down by the pool then.”
The freshwater swimming pool had been built on a large deck overlooking the ocean. Lined with bright blue tiles, the pool had a mosaic of a coconut palm tree decorating its bottom. Jed was busy arranging the beach towels to his satisfaction. Jerry was already in the water, lying on a bright orange float with his eyes closed. Susan chose a coral-colored lounge near her husband and looked around for a side table to place between them. An attractive, young black man, who apparently could read minds, appeared with two side tables and put one on either side of the Henshaws. “Did you have a good kayak trip?” he asked politely.
“Yes, excellent.” Susan smiled up at him and placed her book, sunglasses, and two tubes of sunscreen on the closest table. “Don’t you think we should be tipping all these helpful people?” she asked her husband, when they were alone again.
“Why don’t we tip them all on the day we leave? Otherwise we’ll be passing out money every time we turn around.”
Susan leaned back in her seat, adjusted her sunglasses, picked up the latest Katherine Hall Page mystery, sighed twice, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
When she woke up a bit later, she was vaguely aware of being in a strange place. The skin across her shoulders was hot from the sun, but the air was soft and balmy. She picked out familiar voices from the hum around her. Jed and Jerry might be on vacation, but they seemed to be discussing a colleague from the office. She opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. Everyone had his or her own way to relax. If they wanted to chat about the problems they had left behind, fine. She had her own ideas. A notice on the dresser in their cottage had explained how to make reservations for a massage. Her arms, stiff from the few hours she’d spent paddling around in the kayak, could use some special attention. She stood up, plopped her straw hat on her head, adjusted her pareo around her waist, and, deciding that she didn’t need shoes, headed back to their cottage.
It was close to noon and even those guests who ranked sleeping late high on their list of vacation priorities were up and about. Each chair or lounge seemed to be filled or about to be filled, with colorful beach towels, open paperbacks, and half-finished drinks waiting for their occupant’s return. Susan walked slowly. Everything was painted in brilliant colors. But the blue paint couldn’t compare with the hue of the sky. The azure sea sparkled in the sunlight. The palm trees rustled slightly in the sea breeze. An enterprising photographer could have pointed his camera in any direction and labeled the resulting photograph paradise. Susan realized she was completely content. She glanced back over her shoulder. Jed and Jerry were still talking. Kathleen had moved her chair under an umbrella and was apparently absorbed in her book.
The maid had cleaned up their cottage, and Susan quickly found the notice of spa services available. Massages-Swedish and deep muscle-could be had day and evening. Reservations were required and could be made in the gift shop.
The gift shop was small, but carried just about all the necessities, from sunscreen to après-sun crème to Solarcaine, as well as lots of luxury items. A tall, elegant black woman was stationed by the old-fashioned cash register.
“May I help you?”
“I understand this is the place I make reservations for a massage?”
“Yes.” She pulled a large leather-bound book from underneath the counter. “Do you prefer a male or a female?”
“A woman, if that’s possible. Is there someone available this afternoon?”
“Let me see… yes, Lourdes could take you at three. Her specialty is Swedish massage, but if you prefer something different…”
“No, that would be lovely. Where does she give them?”
“Right in your room. She has portable massage tables. If that’s okay with you, I could make the appointment.”
“Three o’clock is perfect!”
“Then you can expect Lourdes at three-or perhaps just after the hour. Sometimes one of her clients keeps her talking and she runs just a bit late. I always say Lourdes knows more about what goes on here at Compass Bay than anyone on staff.”
Susan smiled. “Then I know whom to ask if I have any questions.”
The woman laughed. “I said she knows, not she talks. Many famous people come to Compass Bay-musicians, politicians, actors, and such. No one keeps his job if he talks about them to the press or other guests.” The cordial expression on her face vanished, making Susan feel as though she had been caught doing something wrong.
“I can understand that,” she quickly assured the other woman. “I wouldn’t want anyone talking about what I’m doing. Not that I’m doing anything wrong,” she added quickly. “Or even interesting, for that matter…” She realized she was babbling, and the gigantic orange sun hat hanging above the cash register provided a change of topic. “How much is that hat?” she asked quickly.
Five minutes later she left the store, one hat in hand, another on her head. Having no intention of looking like a hat salesman for a minute longer than necessary, she hurried back to her cottage. Noticing that the door to the cottage Jerry and Kathleen shared was open, she glanced inside. A tall woman wearing immaculately pressed white slacks was leaning over the bed. Susan smiled. The room she shared with Jed had been made up hours ago, but in a resort where the guests stayed for multiple days, housekeeping probably had to be very flexible. She had noticed a couple of maids replacing damp beach towels hung over deck railings with clean, dry ones late last night. This was just what every woman needed, she realized, twenty-four/seven maid service. Her own cottage was sparkling and neat, and she tossed the horrible orange hat on the batik bedspread. She would figure out what to do with it later. Perhaps she could donate it to one of the charity sales that organizations in Hancock were so fond of holding. If, that is, she even managed to get it back to Hancock. It certainly wouldn’t fit under her airplane seat or in the overhead compartment. She could, she supposed, always wear it.