“Here comes one!” James said. The plane landed right in front of them, like an actor taking a bow, and James applauded. “Safe landing!”
They watched planes land and take off for forty minutes. James applauded for both occasions and during the lulls he paged through his book, reciting facts about planes for Mack.
“Planes are heavier than air,” he said. “They need wings in order to fly. Planes have three kinds of motion: yaw, roll and pitch.” He moved his hand through the air and made a noise with his lips.
“You sure know a lot about planes,” Mack said.
“Yeah,” James said. “I know it all.”
Andrea was quiet, and finally she turned the key in the ignition.
James’s spine stiffened. “Is it time?” he asked.
“It’s time,” she said.
James pointed to the blue numbers of the digital clock. “It’s not time,” he said. “We have until eight o’clock. This says seven-forty-five. Right here, Mom, see?”
“We have a visitor,” Andrea said. “And Mack has to get the doughnuts so the rest of the people staying at the hotel will have their breakfast.” She pulled away.
“Get the doughnuts,” James said. “Getthedoughnutsgetthedoughnutsgetthedoughnuts.” He rocked back and forth.
“James,” Andrea said sternly, “we’re coming back tomorrow. And tomorrow we’ll stay until eight. Please don’t get upset.”
“Getthedoughnutsgetthedoughnutsgetthedoughnuts,” James said.
Mack leaned forward. “Thank you for letting me come with you today.”
“Getthedoughnuts,” James said. “Airport, then shower.”
“We have to get back to the hotel first, James,” Andrea said. “There’s no shower in the car.”
“Airport, then shower,” James said.
“That’s right, James. When we get to the hotel, you can take a shower.”
James rocked back and forth, saying under his breath, “Doughnuts, shower, doughnuts.” Mack caught Andrea’s face in the side-view mirror. She smiled weakly and shook her head.
When Andrea pulled into the Beach Club parking lot, she said, “Thank you, Mack, for coming with us. James, would you thank Mack?”
“Airport,” James said. “Then shower. Thank you.”
“Sounds like somebody wants to get in the shower,” Mack said,
“How could you tell?” Andrea said. She got out of the car. James was already headed for his room. Mack looked up at Bill and Therese’s house but saw no sign of stirrings and figured they were still in bed. Vance hadn’t arrived yet, nor Love, nor the new beach boys. Mack followed Andrea to her room. Andrea unlocked James’s door and James stripped his clothes on the way to the bathroom, including Mack’s sunglasses, which fell to the floor.
“I thought you had to get the doughnuts,” Andrea said. “Don’t make a liar out of me. James, close the door, please!”
The door closed and the water came on.
“I do,” Mack said. “But I feel bad for throwing off your routine.”
“Flexibility isn’t James’s strong suit,” Andrea said. “I should have thought of that before I invited you.”
“And you were quiet in the car,” Mack said. “Is everything all right?”
She picked up Mack’s sunglasses and fingered them idly. “Going to the airport is good for James but it sure is lousy for me,” she said. “I can’t help thinking that James will never be able to just choose a place off the map and take a trip there. He’s not safe in the world, Mack, and he’s never going to be. I’m the only person who’s going to love him enough.”
Mack hugged her. “You don’t know that.”
“For a while taking care of him was getting easier,” she said. “Now it’s getting harder. And seeing you makes everything worse.”
Mack held her at arm’s length. “Worse? Why’s that?”
“Because you make me remember that I’m not just a mother but a woman, with needs.”
“You’re not saying…”
“No,” she said. “I haven’t changed my mind about that.” She sighed. “I’m having a hard time switching into my vacation mode. I promise I’m going to try and relax, okay? I’m going to sit under my cool blue beach umbrella and read my trashy novels and watch James as he decides if it’s okay to go in the water. I’m going to order a couple of cheeseburgers from Joe’s Broad Street Grill and have one of the darling college boys deliver them right to my umbrella. I’m going to try and have fun, dammit.” She raised her face. “Do I say this every year?”
“Yes,” Mack said. “And every year you succeed.” He kissed her. If Maribel were a yellow zinnia, what would Andrea be? A red rose maybe, something a little more somber, a little more serious. “I’ll see you later.” He slipped from James’s room out the back door and looked both ways. No one was around. It took him a split second to remember about the doughnuts, to remember that he had a hotel to run.
The reason Mack forbade his staff to date the guests was this: It was distracting. It was distracting to work in the same place that the object of your affection lay in the sun, swam, showered, ate breakfast, and slept. Because you wanted to join them, because you wanted to check on them every ten minutes, because you wanted to have fun with them-slip under their umbrella, join them for a nap, share a bagel. But you couldn’t; you were at work. And so, Mack told his staff there would be No Dating the Guests. I’m making your life easier, he said. Trust me.
After all the years with Andrea, Mack had his distractions under control. She and James ate breakfast on their deck and Andrea, true to her word, rarely moved from her place on the beach, so Mack never wondered what she was up to. He did take a few more night shifts on the front desk from Tiny than usual, but he did this every June and Tiny never asked why.
Mack tried, most especially, to pay enough attention to Maribel. Nights he was home he took her out for dinner, he drove her down the beach to see the sunset, he made love to her with the windows open and the sounds of crickets floating around their dark bedroom. He tried not to think of Andrea while he was with Maribel, he tried not to think of Andrea’s sad gray-green eyes, but it was impossible. He wondered if he were acting like someone with a guilty conscience.
One night as Mack and Maribel had dinner at Le Languedoc, Maribel reached over and took Mack’s hand.
“I want to ask you something,” she said.
Instantly, Mack started to sweat. “What’s that?”
Maribel leaned in closer. “It’s less than two weeks until the Fourth of July. The summer is flying by. And I want to know if you’ve thought any more about the profit sharing.”
Mack blew out a stream of air. His body felt cool and tight. “Hmmmm.” Under other circumstances, he might have been angry with Maribel for pushing this issue, but now there was Andrea. Mack had told Andrea about the phone call from David Pringle, and about the farm. He told her he might ask Bill to profit-share and Andrea said, “I’m surprised he hasn’t offered it to you.” Mack felt the same way: that Bill should offer him part of the profits.
“I haven’t asked Bill yet,” he said. “I’m still thinking it through.”
“You have to give David an answer about the farm, Mack.”
“I’m aware of that, Maribel,” Mack said. “It’s my farm. I have until fall anyway.”
“Asking Bill about the profit sharing should make your decision clear. If he says yes, you sell the farm. If he says no, you run the farm.”
“Nothing is clear,” Mack said, although he realized it would seem that way to Maribel, or to anybody else for that matter. “I don’t know if I want to run the farm. And I don’t know if I want to sell it.”