“What on earth is going on here?” Dr. Elore appeared with crossed arms, her formidable brow folded over the top of her thick glasses. Brice stood beside her, looking apologetic. “Franklyn, what do you and Miss Ficollo think you’re doing?”
Franklyn and Isabella broke apart, embarrassed.
Brice hurried over to Arlo and Lena, who had regained some of the space between them. “Sorry! Zeke brought us back. I guess too soon.”
“Not at all,” said Lena. “I texted him a few minutes ago to bring you.” She turned to Franklyn’s mother. “Dr. Elore, you know perfectly well what they’re doing, and it should come as no surprise to you since your son has been in love with Miss Ficollo for years.”
“It is a surprise,” said Dr. Elore. “Because I expressly forbid him from seeing her.”
“And why is that?” asked Lena.
“It’s none of your business, but if you must know, she is simply not smart enough for him.”
“Mother!” Franklyn placed an arm protectively around Isabella. “Must you be so insensitive?”
“How do you know she’s not smart enough?” pressed Lena.
“Her grade point average, of course,” said the doctor, “which she freely admits to being a mere three point five last quarter.”
“But do you know why it was a three point five?” asked Lena.
“Oh, Lena.” Isabella blushed even harder than before. “I don’t know if we need to go into all that…”
Lena inclined her head to Isabella. “I hope you will forgive my boldness, Miss Ficollo.” She turned back to Dr. Elore. “The reason she received a three point five is because she walked out on her Women’s History elective. The teacher was a man, and his view of women’s history was so narrow that he did not even acknowledge Rosalind Franklin as being instrumental in the discovery of DNA. Miss Ficollo found his perspective troubling and met with him privately to ask that he broaden his views. The teacher refused. Of course, Miss Ficollo could have accepted the class for what it was, or she could have changed her elective. But she couldn’t bear the thought of such narrow-mindedness in the vaunted halls of education. So she staged a walkout, and three-fourths of the class, both girls and boys, followed her. The teacher failed them all in retaliation, but because of Miss Ficollo’s bold actions, he and his course are now being reevaluated by the school administration.”
Dr. Elore turned to Isabella. “Is this true, Miss Ficollo? Is the integrity of education so important to you that you would sacrifice your own grade?”
“It is, Dr. Elore.”
The doctor looked at her son. “Franklyn, it appears I owe you an apology. Your taste in women is impeccable.”
“Does this mean…?” he asked.
“You and Miss Ficollo have my blessing.”
“Oh, Franklyn!” said Isabella.
“Oh, Isabella!” said Franklyn.
And the kissing began again. Dr. Elore decided this would be an excellent time to forge ahead and locate the picnic on her own.
“You promised I wouldn’t have to watch this,” Brice said to Arlo.
“Don’t worry,” said Arlo. “Soon you’ll be far too busy to notice.”
“What does that mean?” asked Brice.
But before Arlo could answer, a raspy female voice said, “What the hell is this?”
Everyone turned to the north corridor, where Ms. Nalone and Vito stared at Franklyn and Isabella. Ms. Nalone looked horrified, while Vito looked overjoyed. Behind them, Zeke stood with a quiet smirk on his face.
“I just … don’t understand!” continued Ms. Nalone. “Miss Ficollo, you prefer nerdy Franklyn over my Vito?”
“Well…” Isabella glanced awkwardly at Vito for a moment, then to his mother. “I love Franklyn. And it isn’t as if Vito has shown any interest.”
“See?” Ms. Nalone turned on Vito. “You missed your window!”
“Oh well,” he said dryly.
“Why have you been so impossible? It’s like you’ve purposefully set out to deny my wishes! Do you hate me that much, that you’re willing to throw away this gem of a girl just to spite me?”
“Forgodsake, Mother, it’s not about you at all!” Vito said. “It’s because I’m in love with Brice!”
Ms. Nalone’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. It seemed likely that a riot of emotions would have contorted her face, if not for the aforementioned Botox injections. “Vito, that’s absurd!”
“Why, Mother? Are you homophobic?”
“Of course not, dear. Homophobia is terribly out of fashion,” said Ms. Nalone. “What I object to is you falling in love with a resort manager. What kind of living is that?”
Brice, by this time, had turned a shade of red typically reserved for tomatoes. “Ms. Nalone. If I may speak for a moment not as the staff manager of Hotel del Arte but as a man, plain and simple, I can assure you that if Mr. Nalone and I were to enter into a relationship, I could provide him with the lifestyle he is accustomed to.”
“But what about me?” said Ms. Nalone.
“Mother…” Vito looked stricken.
“Excuse me?” asked Brice.
“Who will support me?” demanded Ms. Nalone.
There was a moment of total silence.
“If you need money, Ms. Nalone,” said Isabella tentatively, “I’m sure my father would be happy to find some employment for you.”
Ms. Nalone could only stare at her in horror.
“If I may,” said Lena. “There is a more pressing question than Ms. Nalone’s employment viability.”
“What question is that?” asked Franklyn.
“We have established that Vito is in love with Brice. We have established that Brice is able to support Vito in a lifestyle to which he is accustomed. What we have not established is whether Brice wishes to do so.”
“Thank you,” said Brice. “It’s—”
“So presumptuous!” said Arlo. “Do you all think the staff of the Hotel del Arte are here to cater to your every whim?”
Franklyn, Isabella, and Vito looked at each other in confusion.
“Of course not,” said Isabella. “I cherish my friendship with Lena immensely.”
“I don’t know how I would have gotten through all these summers without Zeke’s silent but unflagging support,” said Franklyn.
“And I would never assume Brice cares for me as I do for him,” said Vito.
“Good!” said Arlo. “Because he doesn’t!”
“Wait a minute—” said Brice.
“First of all,” continued Arlo, “Hotel del Arte staff are expressly forbidden from getting romantically involved with guests.”
“Are they?” asked Isabella.
“I don’t recall seeing that in the employee handbook,” said Lena.
“Not expressly, no…” admitted Brice. “It’s more of a … uh, guideline?”
“So it’s not a rule!” said Arlo. “So what? Because our own sweet Mr. Ghello isn’t even interested in dating you, Mr. Nalone.”
“I didn’t say that…” said Brice.
“Because he’s straight!” said Arlo.