“You said yes.”
“It’s complicated,” Maribel said. “We’ve been together for six years. You understand that.”
“Not really,” Jem said. “Not really at all.”
“Jem,” Maribel said, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to trust that I know I’m doing the right thing.”
“Because you’re in love?” Jem said.
“Yes,” Maribel said.
“And what does being in love feel like?” Jem asked. “Does it feel like when you’re with the person you’re the best version of yourself and when you’re not with the person your insides hurt?”
“I don’t know, Jem,” Maribel said gently. “It’s different for everyone.”
“And does that person become the only person who matters, and no matter what you can’t stop thinking about her. Is that what it’s like, Maribel?”
“Jem…”
“Is being in love finally realizing why we were put on this earth? Is it when everything starts to make sense?”
“Jem,” Maribel said. What could she possibly say? He was right. “Yes, Jem.”
“Yes,” Jem said, “I thought so.”
“You’re not in love with me, Jem.”
There was huff on the other end of the line. “I wish you were right,” Jem said. “I really wish you were.”
“Jem…”
“I have to go,” Jem said. “I have to get to work.” And with that, he hung up, and Maribel, who thought nothing could squelch her happiness, stared at the dead receiver. She closed her eyes and wished his pain away. She knew just how he felt.
The next evening, Mack and Maribel went to dinner with How-Baby and Tonya at Kendrick’s, on Centre Street. How-Baby reserved the back room for just the four of them; a magnum of Dom Perignon chilled on the table. Mack had been very careful not to say anything to How-Baby about his engagement to Maribel or his decision about the job, but from the looks of things, How-Baby already knew. Or maybe this was just his superconfidence shining through: live as though everything was going to go your way. When Mack took his seat, though, he started to enjoy it: the private, candlelit room, the waiter pouring him a glass of Champagne. There was already the sense that things had changed.
How-Baby raised his glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he said. “To you charming young people. Maribel, you are positively glowing, and Mack, that makes you one lucky man.” How-Baby winked.
They all clinked glasses and sipped the Champagne. Maribel was glowing-she hadn’t stopped smiling since Mack proposed. When they were home alone, she talked about nothing but the wedding. Mack was tickled to see her so excited, although the idea of a wedding disheartened him. He had no family to speak of; he would invite Bill and Therese and Cecily and Lacey Gardner. He felt a pang of guilt. The people he loved best, the people he would soon be leaving. He looked across the table at How-Baby and Tonya. His future.
“I have a toast as well,” he said. How-Baby raised his bushy eyebrows. The man knew, he just knew. “First of all, I’m proud to announce that Maribel and I are getting married.”
Tonya squealed and grabbed How-Baby’s arm. “You darlings!” Her beehive tipping dangerously close to the candle flame. “That is brilliant! We’re so happy. Aren’t we, How-Baby?”
How-Baby clapped his hands. “Congratulations! Maribel, my sources tell me you just landed the most eligible bachelor on the island.”
“I sure did,” Maribel said. “He’s the answer to my prayers.”
Mack laid his hands on either side of his dinner plate. “And I’ve thought about your proposition, Howard.”
“Have you, now?” How-Baby said.
“I have,” Mack said. He wondered what it would be like working for a guy who always sat on top of the world. Did the man ever falter, ever have a bad day? The Rangers had lost both halves of a doubleheader that very afternoon, but How-Baby was as smooth as ever.
“What did you decide?” How-Baby asked. “Did you decide to join the team? Or will you remain loyal to the Beach Club?”
“I’ve decided to join the team,” Mack said.
Tonya squealed again. How-Baby rounded the table to shake Mack’s hand.
“Good for you, Mack! I promise you won’t be disappointed. You’ll be our new travel and hospitality manager, answering directly to me. Tomorrow you show me your W-two from this year, and I will triple your salary.” He grabbed a fistful of Mack’s shoulder. “Welcome to the big league.”
“It was a hard decision to make,” Mack said, reaching for Maribel’s hand under the table. “My job at the Beach Club is the only job I’ve ever had, unless you count some construction work or helping on my father’s farm.”
“That’s right,” How-Baby said. “I forgot about you coming from the heartland. Where is it? Indiana?”
“Iowa,” Mack said.
“Do your parents still farm, Mack?” Tonya asked.
Mack paused. A new job meant starting over, explaining his circumstances, letting other people know him. He wished he could just say yes.
“My parents were killed in a car crash when I was eighteen,” he said.
Silence. Always, when Mack told this part, there was silence. He longed for Bill and Therese, because with them there wasn’t a need to explain.
How-Baby looked up from his menu. “Did you have a good relationship with your father?”
“I did,” Mack said. “We had a very good relationship.”
How-Baby nodded. “I can tell. Know why? Because you’re a good kid. A team player. If I should be so fortunate as to meet your father someday in heaven, I’ll tell him he raised a fine young man.”
Mack looked at Maribel; her eyes were shining.
“Thanks,” Mack said.
“Did you consider what your father would have thought about changing jobs?” How-Baby asked. “Did you maybe even have a conversation with him about it?”
“I figured he would tell me to do what was going to make me happy, and to go where I was wanted.”
“You’re wanted in Texas,” How-Baby said. “We’re going to take good care of you.”
7 The Eight Weeks of August
August 1
Dear Bill,
Suffice it to say, I am someone who has made mistakes, and in buying the hotel, I am trying to remedy them. You may think I intend to raze the hotel and build trophy homes instead, or condominiums. Although that would be most lucrative, that’s not what I propose. I want to keep the hotel as it is.
From what I gather of recent developments, you’re going to have a real shake-up in personnel. I hate to capitalize on another man’s misfortune, but in this case, I can’t help myself. I raise my offer to 25 million, along with the promise that the Beach Club and Hotel will remain intact.
Don’t be daft, Bill. Take the money.
S.B.T .
NOTE SCRIBBLED IN FRONT DESK NOTEBOOK
(TINY’S HANDWRITING)
Beware the eight weeks of August!
Love and Vance lay next to each other in Love’s twin bed, naked. They had just made love for the eleventh time. Late last night, Love took her temperature and checked it against her temperature from earlier in the week. It had risen three degrees; she was ovulating. Now she propped her legs on the footboard of the bed. The conception books recommended fifteen minutes of repose to give the sperm a fighting chance.
Love and Vance had been dating for four weeks, ever since sitting on the roof of the hotel on the Fourth of July. Their first real date was a few days later. Vance borrowed Mack’s Jeep and took Love to Eel Point to go clamming. Vance made his own clammer out of a piece of PVC pipe. It had handles and two holes punched into the sealed end. He chose a spot in the wet sand near the water’s edge, and sank in the open end of the pipe. He put his thumbs over the holes and pulled up. When he released his thumbs, a column of sand fell from the pipe, along with four cherrystone clams. Love picked the clams up, rinsed them, and put them in the clamming bucket. She felt as if they’d struck gold.