“So the only other option is that I’m trying to blackmail you?”
I’d reached the end of the salad bar. There was no way to continue this conversation without moving on to the dessert table, which brought with it the base instinct to smack George in the face with a cream pie. Tempting.
“What exactly is it that you fantasize I’d be blackmailing you to do, Amy?”
I wasn’t about to dignify that with an answer, so I just picked up my plate and left. Barely two steps toward my table, I froze. Malcolm and Poe had drawn up chairs and were squeezing into a heated argument about the current Democratic National Platform.
Oh, well. At least it wasn’t snorkeling. But between trying to keep up with the debate from folks who were way more politically savvy than I (Malcolm’s background gave him an unfair advantage, I think), and avoiding eye contact with Poe, I had a tough time following everything. Eventually, I gave up and resorted to familiarizing myself with the china pattern.
Some Spring Break. First, I’d almost drowned, now I was in the middle of a big steaming pile of awkward with approximately one-fourth of my companions. What else could possibly go wrong?
“Do you think the Gehrys will come to dinner?” Kevin asked.
“I doubt it,” Clarissa said. “He’d have to show his face in front of us, and he’s in as much disgrace with this club as he is with the rest of the country. I was surprised the Gehrys even let their son on the boat today, considering the risk.”
“What risk?” Jenny asked.
“Of one of us telling him exactly why they’re hiding out here,” Clarissa said, casting a quick glance in Demetria’s direction.
“You don’t think he knows?” Kevin asked.
“I doubt it,” Clarissa said. “At least, I didn’t get that impression this afternoon. And I heard the wife and kids left town before the whole immigration thing blew up. If your kid’s nanny was about to be deported in a huge public blowup, don’t you think you’d want to shield your child from all that?”
“If so, then it’s really shocking that Kurt Gehry would leave his son alone with your club,” Poe said. I didn’t dare look up. “Everyone knows how much D177 hates him. Why would he risk giving you that kind of ammo?”
Demetria didn’t miss a beat. “Why would it be our club in particular?”
“Only your club disavowed him,” Malcolm argued. “He’s still our patriarch, and thus, we’re still obligated to keep his secrets.”
“Come on, Malcolm,” I said, trusting myself enough to speak to my big sib, if not his friend. “Don’t tell me you like Kurt Gehry.”
“Who cares whether or not he likes that slimeball?” Demetria asked. “It’s not a society secret if it’s being looped on CNN.”
Malcolm only laughed and leaned back in his seat. “If it’s a secret from someone in particular, though, I’d say we have an obligation to a fellow knight.”
I noted the way his hand rested on the back of Poe’s chair. Was that a hint? Like I said, Malcolm was very well politicized. He knew how to make comments without making them.
And Demetria was no fool, either, though she misunderstood the message completely. Recalibrating her missiles, she turned to Poe. “Well, brother? Gehry screwed you over, too. Broke his oaths to you. Can you think of any reason to keep his secrets for him?”
Poe acknowledged her question with the ghost of a smile, but returned to his rice pilaf and said nothing.
“Well,” Jenny said. “There’s the obvious: It might hurt the kids. That’s one bit of advice that even the barbarians here would follow. You don’t say nasty stuff about a kid’s dad in front of the kid. Come on, Demetria. You didn’t go up to Darren this afternoon and say, ‘Hey, too bad about that nanny of yours, huh?’”
“True,” Poe said.
But Demetria wasn’t finished with him. “Okay, fine. No one here is into humiliating a child. But forgive me if I want to know exactly what’s going on in that family, and how they’re all dealing with the fallout.” She aimed her fork at Poe. “And I think you know more about it than you’re saying.”
“Forget it, Dee,” George said. “Poe would never go against the party line. He really likes having secrets. It’s the only way he can get anyone to pay attention to him.”
You could sense the shock around the table. It wasn’t like George to be so cruel.
But Poe took it in stride, meeting George’s gaze with a look that said, Do you really want to take me on? I had no doubt that Poe could out-insult anyone. Especially someone with so little practice as George. “Exactly. I’m always looking for attention. So flashy. Man, I’m obvious.” He looked at George for one second more, then returned to his food.
“Do you think they’re going to fix the boat railing before tomorrow’s snorkeling trip?” Clarissa asked, whipping out her best charm-school voice.
“We’re not going on that boat,” Ben answered, obviously more than happy to follow Clarissa’s lead. “One of the patriarchs brought a yacht to the island, and he’s lending it out.”
“Cool!” Clarissa said. She turned to me. “You have to come now. It’s not even the same boat.”
I didn’t care if it was the QE2. I wasn’t setting foot on a boat deck until it was time to leave, and that only by necessity. “Sorry,” I replied.
The conversation turned to other topics, and soon after, Poe finished his food and carried his dinner plate to the counter near the kitchen. I expected him to return to the table, maybe grab a cup of coffee, but he left the dining room.
And in that instant, my decision was made. I stood so quickly I almost knocked my chair over.
“Whoa, Amy,” Malcolm said, catching my chair by the armrest and righting it. “What are you doing?”
“I have to…” I trailed off. No, Malcolm. Don’t look at me like that. He made a grab for my arm, but I shook him off and headed after Poe.
He was out of the building and halfway across the path to his cabin by the time I reached the porch. In the fading evening light, everything had turned violet. The crushed shells beneath our feet, the grass, his shirt, his hair, the hands he was jamming into his shorts pockets.
“P—Jamie,” I said in a voice that wasn’t quite normal volume but fell way short of a shout.
He turned. “You’re going to slip up one of these days.”
“Well, I’ll expect you to keep track.” I jogged to meet him on the path.
“What do you want?” He cocked his head. “To thank me again?”
Give it a rest, Poe. “Whence the hostility?”
He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. It had been our default setting for so long that whenever we broke through and actually communicated, it was as if by accident.
Time for a change. “I was actually wondering if you were planning to go on that snorkeling trip tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not. Obviously.” Deep breath, Amy. “And I thought maybe if you were staying behind, we could hang out. You and me.”
He didn’t react, so I kept going.
“I have no idea what to do around here. I missed the tour. But you’ve been here before, so I’m sure you have some ideas.”
“It’s not that big of an island.” He pointed. “House, games, library, beach. Those are your choices.”
Ouch. Time to retreat. “Okay, well…”
“Eleven o’clock?”
What? “Okay.”
He nodded. “Meet me here. I’ll have something for us to do. Wear walking shoes.”
“Okay,” I said again.
He started to turn away, then stopped, smiled a little, ducked his head, and reached into his back pocket. “Amy, here.” He tossed me a small package. “Just in case.”
I looked down at my hand.
Life Savers.
10. Left Behind
