Back at the pool, Jed and Kathleen were now swimming slow crawls up and down the length of the pool. Jerry was lying on the lounge his wife had occupied, facing the sea. From this angle, Susan couldn’t tell if he was napping or just watching the water. But it was obvious that no one needed her. Small boys, so thin that their cutoff jeans were in danger of slipping from their hips, were out on the gazebo dropping nets in the water and pulling them up, full of shimmering silver fish. Curious, Susan turned around and headed in that direction.
Two middle-aged couples were sitting on chairs placed along the deck leading to the gazebo. They shared two small tables. One was covered with half-filled glasses; on the other, one of the women was playing a lackadaisical game of solitaire. “I thought we were going to play bridge,” she was saying as Susan passed by.
“After lunch,” one of the men said.
“After my nap,” the other man added.
The two women exchanged glances. “Perhaps,” the one who had just ended her lonely card game said to the other. “Perhaps we should go see what there is to buy in the gift shop.”
“I thought you bought the place out yesterday,” growled one of the men, reaching out for his glass.
“Yeah, well…”
Susan hurried on, unwilling to allow other couples’ squabbles to mar her vacation. For a resort that advertised itself as one of the most romantic spots in the world, there sure seemed to be a lot of bickering going on.
The boys who were fishing turned out to be island natives, not related to the resort’s guests. They were thrilled to have an audience and explained that their relatives-older brothers, Susan gathered-would be using what was caught for bait to catch “the big fishes off the boats.” Their fishing was energetic, messy, and highly productive. In minutes, they had filled three plastic buckets with fish. They then took a moment to show Susan and another woman who appeared in the gazebo shortly after her the long, thin fish that swirled through the water beneath the dock, causing the smaller baitfish to flee out to sea. “Barracuda!” one of the boys yelled. “You see, you swim with barracuda!” Laughing loudly, the boys ran back toward the shore, the water in their buckets splashing out and wetting the legs of the card-playing women as they passed by.
Susan stared down into the water and realized that, in fact, she may have been swimming with those ugly things. She worked to remember the little she knew about these fish. Certainly they cleared the area of smaller fish, but would they go after people swimming in the same water? She’d try to remember to ask James when she saw him again. She leaned her arms on the railing and stared down into the water.
“Don’t worry. They’re not sharks. They don’t attack people.”
Susan had been joined by the tall blond she had seen out here early this morning. Now the woman was wearing white linen slacks and a bikini top that barely covered her ample tanned breasts. She was carrying a long batik scarf.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Susan admitted. “I’d hate to stop going in the water on our second day here.”
“Don’t. I find the water in the Caribbean to be like satin-warm, smooth, delicious to swim in.”
“Yes. I guess. I’ve only been in for a few minutes,” Susan admitted, remembering her tumble off the kayak only a few hours ago.
“Well, don’t let those fish keep you out. I like going in late, after dark.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Susan asked. “I mean, what about ocean currents, and black sea urchins, and jellyfish?”
“They’re all there, but the risk just adds to the pleasure sometimes, don’t you think?”
“I-no, not really,” Susan said.
“Well, people are different, aren’t they? I love it.” She turned and looked back toward the beach. “I must be leaving now. I’m meeting someone.”
“I-I’ll see you around, I guess,” Susan said to her.
“Yes, you will. Of course you will.” The words floated over her shoulder, and her exit left Susan squinting into the sun. She felt as though she was watching someone play a part. And the actor’s face was definitely familiar. Where had she seen this woman before?
FIVE
It began as the worst massage ever. Lourdes had strong hands and knew what she was doing, and although Susan’s shoulder felt better almost immediately, she found it difficult to relax while someone else was talking. And Lourdes had a lot to talk about-starting with her previous client.
Lourdes was waiting for Susan on the deck of the Henshaws’ cottage-early, she explained, because her last client had failed to show up for her appointment. It was happening more and more, she continued while setting up her massage table. Susan had retreated to the bathroom to undress. When she reappeared in the bedroom wrapped in one of the heavy terry cloth, one-size-fits-all robes the resort provided, Lourdes was still complaining about being stood up.
“I don’t make the appointments. I am told where to go to, what time to show up, and I do what I’m told. Always I do what I’m told. I was brought up poor, but I was taught to be reliable. Some of these rich people who come here could use a little training in reliability.” She stopped smoothing out the towel she had laid on the table, looked at Susan, and apparently realized who she was complaining to. “Most of our guests are wonderful people, you understand. I don’t complain about them.”
Susan smiled. “I understand.”
“And since you are on time, you benefit from the guests who are not so responsible. You lie down on table now, please.”
Susan did as requested, squirming about until she was comfortable and placing her head on the pillow Lourdes offered. She had barely closed her eyes when Lourdes started talking again. “Of course, there be guests who other guests not like. It not just me. Everyone here is complaining about them. They noisy and they bother the other guests. They demanding. They get up early. They stay up late. They hog the best seats.”
“What are the best seats?” Susan asked.
“Many of our guests prefer to sit on the patio between the pool and the bar. It is small. Only a half a dozen lounges and few tables will fit there comfortably. This group has claimed them since last Sunday-the day they arrive. They sit there and play cards in morning. They sit and play cards in afternoon. At night, when the dark come, they sit in bar at big corner table that everyone like and they play more cards. Cards. Cards. Cards. They do not even bet on who win. Can you believe that?”
“I guess,” Susan muttered.
“Cards not problem. No one care if they play. But they take best places. They make many guests unhappy. And unhappy guests need care, need to be made happy. Everyone must work twice as hard. Guests must be happy. Unlike staff. No one cares about unhappy staff.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s true.” Susan yawned. “The sun always makes me so sleepy.”
Lourdes didn’t take the hint. “We work and we work. And when we do a good job, we have a job. But if anything go wrong. No… if nothing go wrong and someone-some guest-complain, then we don’t work. There are not many places to work on island, not on this island.”
Susan decided that a change of subject was in order. “Have you always lived here?”
“Yes. Always. I leave island to study, then I come back to work.”
“Where did you go to school?” Susan asked, realizing she had to say something now that she had started the conversation going in this direction.
“On St. Thomas. They have very good massage school there.”
“Oh.” Susan had been thinking high school, maybe college. “How long were you there?”
“Two weeks. Our training was thorough, quite thorough.” As if to prove her point, Lourdes increased her energetic kneading of Susan’s left thigh.
“My legs may be a bit sunburned,” Susan said.