“Let’s push on to Maryland,” Sylvia said. “Maybe the sun will be out there.”
• • •
Maryland turned out to be much sunnier, and when we crossed into Ocean City, Sylvia saw a sign that made her let out a girlish squeal, or at least as girlish as a masculine-sounding voice could get.
“Parasailing! I’ve always wanted to go parasailing!”
The place with the advertisement was located on the bayside of Ocean City and, after Sylvia found a place to park the huge RV, we found somewhere to change into our suits.
Cindy, her tummy bulging slightly in her suit, settled down on a beach towel on the sand. Cindy had somehow managed to hide her pregnancy from Eddie—I suppose because she’d gained so little weight in the first trimester—but I was sure if he saw her now, he couldn’t help knowing.
“Aren’t you going to try it?” Sylvia asked.
“No, thanks,” Cindy said with an easy smile, inhaling deeply. “It’s enough just to be here, see the water, smell the air.” She patted her belly. “And I don’t think Junior would much like Mommy flying up in the air like that.”
“Who’s going first?” Sylvia asked.
I could see she was itching to go. “Why don’t you?” I suggested. “You’re the one who’s been doing all the driving.”
I didn’t have to ask her twice.
I sat on the towel with Cindy and Diana, watching as the tiny boat took Sylvia out to the center of the bay. When she came back, exhilarated, it was my turn.
Once the boat had me out as far as Sylvia had gone, I was strapped into a tiny carriage seat and, almost instantly, I was soaring five hundred feet above the water. It was scary going up that fast but, once I got used to it, I didn’t want the ride to end.
“Your turn,” I said to Diana, when the fun was over.
“Oh no, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look at me. I’m so big, I’d probably break the tow rope in two. If I don’t die from the fall, they’ll sue me for damaging their equipment.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “They take up people who weigh far more than you every day.”
“Do you really think so?”
I was losing patience. “Just do it,” I said.
When Diana returned, laughing so hard it was contagious, I was glad I’d insisted.
“That was marvelous,” she said, throwing her arms around me. “For the first time in my life, I felt weightless! I wish I could do that every day.”
It was funny. Even though Diana was a handful of years older than me, I always felt as though I were the older of us two. Now, as I felt her warm hug, I remembered again why I’d liked her so much in the first place, something I’d forgotten in recent weeks.
Maryland was such a happy place for us after the parasailing, we resolved to stay overnight and get an early start the next day.
• • •
Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina.
By the time we got to the Georgia coast, what with stops for Cindy to empty her pregnant bladder and for the rest of us to eat, it was after dark again. As we pulled into the sandy driveway, there was a car already there on the concrete slab that served as the parking spot, a rental car. It was a black Jaguar. The beach house itself was raised a story above ground on large wooden piers, I guess in case of flooding. And, on the weathered wooden staircase leading up to the door, was a man with longish blond hair, dressed in inappropriate-for-the-beach business attire, who I recognized from the publishing trade magazines.
“Dirk!” Diana cried, hurrying over to the man in question who rose, enveloping her in a big hug.
“Diana! Let me look at you! You look even better than the last time I saw you, truly marvelous.” He let go of her and turned to me. “And you must be Lise, my author. So wonderful to finally meet.” Instead of accepting the hand I held out, he enveloped me in another one of his big hugs. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, my girl.” Taking in the other two, and Cindy’s belly, he said, “And you must be Cindy. And Sylvia, of course. I’ve seen The Rude Chef, and I’d know you anywhere.”
Cindy looked stunned, as though she’d been hit by a truck, which Dirk was in a way, while Sylvia settled for a terse, “Charmed. I’m sure.”
“But, Dirk,” Diana said, drawing his attention back to her. “What are you doing here?” Funny, even though she asked the question with an innocent expression, her eyes were almost too wide, too innocent. Did she invite him? Did she know ahead of time he’d be here?
“The conference is done as far as I’m concerned, so I thought I’d pop over to see you since you did say you were arriving today, but Tybee Island is a lot farther from Atlanta than I thought. Do you know it took me several hours to get here? I thought you’d never come! I don’t suppose you mind putting an old Englishman up for a day or two or more?”
“No, of course not,” Diana said, fumbling the key we’d picked up from the booking agent along the way into the lock. “There are three bedrooms, so we women will sleep two in each and you can have the third. I’m sure no one will mind.”
As Dirk followed Diana in and Cindy followed them, Sylvia turned to me. “Great. Who let the fucking rooster in the henhouse?”
Diana
Dirk got the best of the three bedrooms.
It only seemed fair, since two were of equal size while the third was massive, and if two of us women had gotten that bedroom the other two would have been resentful.
I was hoping for Cindy—she was so easygoing—or even Sylvia. But Sylvia called first dibs on Cindy—they had that whole mother/daughter thing going on—so I got stuck with Lise.
Funny, to use the word “stuck” about the one woman in the three I’d formerly felt closest to, and yet that’s exactly how I felt. The bedroom had one double bed, not even a queen or king. She’d probably hog all the sheets and spend whatever waking moments there were before sleep passing judgment on me.
As it were, she didn’t hog all the sheets, but she did snore a bit. I suppose it was all that smoking she still did on the sly.
The rental house, despite only having three bedrooms for the five of us, turned out to be even better than expected. Sylvia quickly made herself at home cooking meals for everyone in the kitchen, and Cindy discovered the game room with a pool table, dartboard, and other amusements. Cindy looked a bit strange, bending over the table with her slight bulge of a belly to shoot against herself, but she seemed so at peace in those moments, we all volunteered to let her teach us how to play.
Funny thing about Cindy too: She didn’t appear to grasp why we were all there, that it had to do with saving her. Instead, she seemed mystified every time she wondered aloud about calling Eddie and Sylvia suggested she wait until some nebulous “later.” When was Sylvia planning on saying something?
Having Dirk there was a huge revelation. Even though I liked him when we met in London, and I really loved the e-mails we’d exchanged since, particularly the racier ones, I always thought he came across as spoiled and would have expected him to want us four women to wait on him hand and foot. And yet it wasn’t like that at all. The first few days we were there, he made himself extremely useful: going back to the house to get more drinks for everyone when the cooler on the beach ran out, placing cushions under Cindy’s feet when she complained of her ankles being swollen; he even offered to help Sylvia with the barbecue!
Which, of course, she refused.
But that didn’t seem to deter Dirk in the slightest. If he couldn’t offer practical services, he would question the others about their lives. I’d once read an article in a women’s magazine that said one of the best ways to get others to like you is to ask questions about them, to show an interest in what interested them rather than nattering on about your own life. I’d never known if it really worked before, but it certainly appeared to be working for Dirk now. The—women that would include me—were eating out of his hands.
Well, except for Sylvia.
“He makes me feel like a bug under a microscope,” I heard Sylvia say one night while she and Cindy were in the kitchen doing the dishes. “Why does he want to know about my sister? Why does he want to know about the TV show? And asking you about Eddie and the baby—the guy’s a fucking sponge! What I’d like to know is, when he wrings his spongy self dry, what’s going to come out?”
I would have made my presence known, leapt to Dirk’s defense, but sweet Cindy saved me from it.
“What are you worried about,” Cindy said with an easy laugh, “that he wants to write a book about us? He’s just being nice.”
Still, I saw that quarters were getting tight there for the five of us, and it was time I did something proactive to temporarily remove two of us from the equation.
• • •
“I was wondering,” I said to Dirk, catching him alone on the deck that circled three sides of the upper story of the house, “what do you say to dinner out tonight?”
“Funny you should mention that. I just asked Lise the same thing. It’s so hard to get any talking in about the book with everyone around all the time.”
I’m sure my face must have fallen dramatically. But then I felt his hands on my shoulders.
“And of course,” he said, “I was going to ask you to join us.” Then he kissed me lightly on the lips. “I haven’t had nearly enough time alone with you these past few days. After all, you’re the reason I’m here in the first place, right?”
So, as twilight fell that night, I put on the best outfit I’d brought with me: all white and gold, echoing what I’d worn the first night I met the three other women in the bookstore, only this time the clothes I was wearing were designed to fit a woman approximately one hundred pounds lighter. I felt very good about myself until I saw Lise come out a few minutes later, also wearing white, only in her case it was a sarong-style dress and the woman in that dress was a good sixty pounds lighter than me. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so keen anymore.
“Are my two ladies ready?” Dirk said, offering each of us an arm. Then to Sylvia and Cindy he said, “I suppose I should say don’t wait up since I have a notion these beautiful women are going to keep me out very late tonight.”
And then we were gone.
• • •
The restaurant was packed. We’d grown so isolated at the house, even though of course we saw other people on the beach each day, I’d forgotten there were a ton of other people vacationing too.
“I made reservations,” Dirk said, “but it looks like there’ll be a wait anyway. Shall we have a drink in the bar?”
The bar was crowded too, but a man with a wild case of sunburn gave up his seat when he saw Lise.
“No, thanks. I’ll stand,” she said when she saw there wouldn’t be places for all of us, which, I suppose, was nice of her.
Once we had our drinks, Dirk turned to Lise.
“I’m really liking the changes you’ve made to the novel,” he said, “but it doesn’t feel as commercial as it did before. I think it would be a great big error if you tipped over too far into the literary.”
“How so?” she said earnestly.
Dirk barked an amused laugh. “Oh, you know, all that politics you’ve included. Do you really think the average reader cares how the Swiss elect their presidents?”
“That’s not literary,” Lise said, “it’s technical detail. And, anyway, I imagine the Swiss care how their officials are elected.”
“Well. If you think your audience is the Swiss…”
“If you don’t like the politics, and it’s a political satire, then what do you like?”
“Well, I still like the part where she sleeps with both presidents on the same night. I like that part very much.” He knocked back the rest of his drink. “Onward and upward. You’ll get there. I’m sure by the time I’m done with you, your book will be perfect.”
Whatever Lise murmured in response, I didn’t hear it, but it practically sounded like a simper.
When we got to the table, the waitress having finally called our party’s name, I could almost see Dirk debating whose chair to pull out first. The awkward moment went on so long, we finally just all sat.
“This sea air really improves one’s appetite,” Dirk announced, opening the heavy menu.
“I know what you mean,” Lise said, following suit. “I may just have to order one of each.” Then she proved her point by ordering for an appetizer the crab Louie, which sounded very fattening to me with all that sauce and made me resent her very much as I ate only the lettuce from my shrimp cocktail.
The drink from the bar, on top of which I was piling glass upon glass from the bottles of wine Dirk kept ordering, was going to my head. Their conversation, all about bloody damned books, swirled around me like just so many words. I kept trying to get a word of my own in edgewise, and Dirk was always encouraging whenever I did manage, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being a third wheel on someone else’s date.
I said as much to Lise after he excused himself to use the bathroom.
“Do you think you could flirt any heavier?” I said.
Her eyes were a picture of innocence. “What are you talking about?” she said. “He’s my agent.”
“Well, there are three of us here. And you already have a boyfriend. Have you forgotten all about Tony?”
“Tony? I’m not married to Tony. Besides, I have the feeling Tony and I are finished. Have you forgotten about Dan?”
“Do you have to be so childish about it?”
“Do you?”
She had a point, I thought, but just barely.
I would like to say it got better from there, but it didn’t. My resentment grew as she ordered shrimp with lobster sauce to my large green salad—hold the dressing—and intensified as she and Dirk split a large piece of something called Death By Chocolate as I drank one more glass of white wine.
Nor did it get better when we returned to the house. Sylvia and Cindy were already asleep. Cindy’s pregnancy hormones no doubt kicking in, while Sylvia was used to going to bed early from running her catering business. So Lise and I silently resolved to see who could wait the other out with Dirk.
We retired to the game room with more wine, figuring if we made too much noise there, at least we’d be far enough away from the sleeping quarters we wouldn’t disturb the others.
For a drowsy minute, I was sure Lise would outlast me, but then one of the many rich things she’d eaten for dinner must have kicked in, and, with a pained look on her face, she made fast for the bathroom.
No sooner was she gone, then Dirk sidled closer to me on the overstuffed sofa, draping his arm along the back.
“I was sure we’d never get a moment alone together,” he said.
I burped; unladylike, I know. Then I said, “But I thought you liked Lise?” I was still feeling burned about dinner. “You could barely stop talking to her all evening.”
“Of course I like Lise,” he said easily. “She’s my client, sort of, isn’t she? But she’s not close to me, not like you are.” He tightened his arm around my shoulders.
I have to admit, it felt good. And it felt even better when he commenced nuzzling my neck. It had been a long time since Dan had nuzzled any part of me. Worrying that Lise might return soon and steal him away again, I sought to come up with something that would hold his attention.
“I was thinking,” I said as Dirk nuzzled my neck.
“Yes?”
“All of my friends are so fascinating. I’ll bet there’re books in each of them, perhaps more than one. Lise, of course, is already working on hers. But perhaps Sylvia could do a cookbook tie-in to her show or possibly a memoir about losing her twin sister; that sort of thing is always popular. And then there’s Cindy, who has the whole abused-girlfriend/single-mother/up-by-her-bootstraps thing down pat. Book her on that Oprah of yours, and, with that face of hers, she’d be worth a million pounds.”
I had to pause so I could barely stifle a burp.
“I
don’t think it’s quite that easy to get on Oprah,” Dirk said.
“No? Perhaps not. But it would still be marketable, don’t you think?”
“I suppose. People love reading about pretty people with problems. In fact, you could say there’s a whole cottage industry around it: PPPs–Pretty People Problem books. What are you getting at?”
It was tough to concentrate at the moment—the neck nuzzling was that good—but I had to get my point across.
“It has to do,” I said, “with what I once wrote you in an e-mail about me possibly doing some work for you. How’d you like me to be your talent scout? I could start with my friends…” Then I thought of something. “But don’t you already have a thriving agency?” I said. “You probably wouldn’t want my help.”
“Of course I have a thriving agency.” He laughed. “But I’m pretty sure the Duchess of Windsor once said that one can never be too pushy or have too many successful clients. I’m always looking for new talent.”
“Well, if you really think it’s a good idea…”
He kissed me on the lips.
“If you really think I could be of service to you…”
I heard Lise’s step just as the overabundance of wine attacked my own stomach, causing me to follow her precedence with a mad dash to the loo. As it turned out, the food got her, the wine got me.
I can’t honestly say who won that night: Lise or me. Did he kiss her as he had done me, as I vomited up my chardonnay? She certainly seemed smug when I saw her the next morning at breakfast.
All I know is, by the time I got done tossing my lettuce in the loo, I was feeling too gross for anymore kissing. And when I woke briefly in the middle of the night because my mouth was dry as shoe leather, Lise was in bed beside me, snoring.
And her bloody feet were cold.
Sylvia
Here’s the recipe, just in case you want to try it at home:
4 very different women
1 male “literary” agent
The Sisters Club Page 23
