* * *
Lena and Isabella sat in their bathing suits in the sauna. Lena didn’t much care for any room designed specifically to make one uncomfortably hot. She was even less fond of jumping into the bracingly cold pool immediately after. But Dr. Elore had suggested it to Isabella the previous summer as being good for her complexion, and even though Lena pointed out that Dr. Elore’s PhD was in ancient history, not dermatology, it had become a daily late afternoon ritual.
“Why won’t you tell me anything about this new pool boy?” asked Isabella. The heat challenged even her perkiness. In the sauna, the best she could manage was vivaciousness.
“There isn’t much to tell,” said Lena dismissively. “I only just met him this morning.”
The thing about being vivacious was that it sometimes led one to poke at topics another person clearly wished to avoid talking about.
“Where’s he from? Where does he go to school? Is he single?”
“He’s from the city but moves around a lot. He goes to a different school every year, too. Honestly, looking at his résumé, I wouldn’t have hired him. But he’s somehow acquainted with one of your father’s friends.”
“So he has connections,” said Isabella. “How mysterious!”
Lena wiped the excessive sweat from her forehead. “Why do you keep pushing this?”
Isabella pouted. “Because it would be a lot more fun to pine over Franklyn if you had someone to pine over as well.”
“Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I found young Mr. Kean attractive. Even so, I am not the kind of girl who pines.”
Isabella rubbed her sweaty hands together. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little encouragement. He might be handy to have around this summer.”
“Use him, you mean?” asked Lena.
“Of course! What other purpose do boys serve? You can use them for all sorts of things—carrying, building, fixing, remembering. And some of them are quite nice to look at.”
“There are practical and aesthetic advantages to the idea of keeping one on hand,” admitted Lena.
“Just think about it. Are you ready to jump in the pool?”
The women’s sauna opened out to the locker rooms. Lena and Isabella walked past a cluster of elderly naked women and toward the pool. As they neared the entrance, they heard the distinct scratchy tones of Ms. Nalone.
“The reason your son is still single is because he’s a clumsy nerd who never takes his nose out of a book!”
“Well,” came the flat tone of Dr. Elore, “the reason your son is still single is because he’s a brutish lout who can hardly form a coherent sentence!”
“Is it that time already?” asked Lena.
“I hope they haven’t started throwing things yet,” said Isabella.
The two girls hurried out to the pool deck. Ms. Nalone and Dr. Elore stood glaring at each other. It appeared they hadn’t thrown anything yet, but that phase wasn’t far off. This was particularly unfortunate for Arlo, who stood between them, directly in the line of fire.
He held up his hands. “Now, ladies, please. Let’s just take a moment to calm down.”
“Eggheaded sow!” yelled Ms. Nalone.
“Withered bimbo!” yelled Dr. Elore.
“What is that boy doing?” muttered Lena.
“Being brave and heroic,” said Isabella, and gave her a nudge.
“Heroism is overrated, and bravery often accompanies stupidity,” said Lena. “Besides, he won’t be much use if he’s knocked unconscious with that bottle of wine.”
“I’ve always thought of a ninety-eight sauvignon blanc as rather light,” said Isabella.
“I’m afraid the bottle will hurt the same, regardless of the grape and vintage.”
With two hands, Ms. Nalone held the bottle of wine by the neck, ready to bring it down on Arlo’s head if he didn’t get out of the way. But he stood steadfastly between them. No, Lena corrected herself. “Steadfast” sounded far too appealing and complimentary. He stood obstinately. Yes, that sounded more disagreeable.
“Bimbo, am I?” Ms. Nalone snarled. “I’ll crack that egg head of yours wide open!”
“I doubt your withered arms even have the muscle mass to swing that bottle!” said Dr. Elore.
“Do something, Lena,” said Isabella. “We don’t want poor Arlo to get hurt.”
Lena sighed. “I suppose I must.”
“That’s it, you pompous, bloated tick,” shouted Ms. Nalone. “Let’s settle this once and for all!”
“Agreed!” Dr. Elore shouted back.
“Now, ladies.” Lena stepped coolly into the fray, beside Arlo. “This simply won’t do.”
“Don’t try to stop me!” said Ms. Nalone, hefting her wine bottle.
“Naturally not,” said Lena. “But if you’re going to settle this once and for all, as you suggest, then you should do it properly.”
Ms. Nalone’s bottle lowered slightly. “Properly?”
“A duel, of course,” said Lena. “I assume you’ll name your sons as your seconds. Shall I ask Arlo to fetch the pistols?” She looked first at Ms. Nalone, then at Dr. Elore, both of whom seemed nonplussed by the suggestion.
“Why … I…” spluttered Ms. Nalone. “I’ve never fired a pistol in my life!”
“That would be somewhat of a disadvantage,” agreed Lena. “Should I have him fetch the rapiers instead? It’s a bit old-fashioned, but far less likely to be fatal. Generally, duels with swords result in minor dismemberment at worst.”
“Dismemberment?” Dr. Elore’s large eyes widened further behind her glasses.
“I shouldn’t worry too much, doctor,” said Lena. “They have made astonishing strides in prosthetics these days.”
“But … I’ve never fought anyone with a sword, either,” said Ms. Nalone.
“I don’t see how that should make much difference,” said Lena. “After all, I doubt you’ve ever fought someone with a hundred-dollar bottle of wine. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that, regardless of the outcome of the duel, should the bottle break, it would be charged to your room.”
“A hundred dollars?” Ms. Nalone looked down at the bottle.
“Yes,” said Lena. “So it would be preferable if you selected a more appropriately durable weapon. What will it be, then? Spears? Bow and arrow? Knives?”
Ms. Nalone stared at her.
Lena turned to Dr. Elore. “It appears Ms. Nalone is deferring to your choice, doctor. Gallant, under the circumstances. What is your weapon preference? If you want to keep the bleeding to a minimum, may I suggest something blunt, such as billy clubs? Or perhaps baseball bats. It is baseball season.”
Dr. Elore looked pale.
“Well, if neither of you are willing to select a weapon, we will need to postpone the duel.”
“Yes…” said Ms. Nalone. “I suppose we must…”
“Agreed,” said Dr. Elore.
There was a long pause while everyone stared at one another. Nothing like this had ever happened before at the Hotel del Arte.
Brice appeared in the doorway. He looked around, noting the oddly subdued tone. “Is everything all right?”
“Perfectly,” said Lena.
“Great. Well, everyone, it’s time to dress for dinner.”
The entire pool deck took a collective breath.
“Thanks for the assist,” Arlo said to Lena, as the guests headed into the hotel to change into their evening wear.
“Assist?” asked Lena.
“Yeah. I mean, I had it under control, but I appreciate the help.”
Lena was about to inform Arlo that he’d had absolutely nothing under control. But as she looked into his smiling face, a lock of curly hair dangling over one eye, she recalled Isabella’s suggestion. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to expend some effort. So instead, she smiled. “It was courageous of you to step in like that on your first day. Dumb. But courageous.”