“Marcia! How absolutely marvelous.” Jo leaned across the table to give her sister-in-law a kiss. “Congratulations, Babe, congratulations. Have you told your folks?”
“Not yet. I telephoned Babs and told her we’d like to come out tomorrow night. Can you and Michael come?”
“Sure we can.”
“Because Belle and Lawson are flying up from Nassau, and Dale has promised to be there too. We’ll surprise them.”
“Big Mike will blow his mind.”
“I guess he will. We’re taking Benny’s mother, too. We’ll have a surprise family party.”
“And I’ll prepare the food,” Jo said excitedly. “Over at the cottage where Babs won’t see it.”
To think that only a few days ago she had been the most miserable woman in New York.
TUESDAY 6 JUNE
Bognor, Connecticut
“Run, woman, run! Move your fat ass,” Big Mike shouted, then threw his racket into the air. “Christ! She’s missed it. Would you believe it?”
“Will you shut up, you big turkey? If you hadn’t played the ball right on to Neal’s racket when you had an open court…” Babs laughed as she went up to the net to shake Meg’s hand. “Anyway, you’d have beaten us in the end. You were just too good for us today. Thanks for a lovely game.”
There was applause from the gallery. Jo and Michael, who had arrived with the children and sat watching the final set, rose to greet the players as they came off the court.
“Lovely of you to call round.” Babs kissed her eldest son. “Let’s all go inside for a drink.” The court had been leveled out of the gentle slope behind Pinewoods, and the sun had begun to dip towards the surrounding trees. “Were you thinking of staying for supper?” Babs asked Jo as they walked down the gravel path together. “I haven’t anything very interesting in the house, as Mike and I had thought of going out. Could you come with us?”
“Bit difficult with the children,” Jo hedged. “But I’ve quite a nice lasagna ready at the cottage. I can pop back and fetch it, later. Won’t take me more than five minutes,” she lied, picturing the vast feast she, and Marcia had prepared and which the latter was looking after, while she and Michael paved the way for the big surprise. They had to be sure Babs and Big Mike were at home when Marcia and Benny walked in.
When the Robsons had left, still anxious to talk about their new purchase — they were leaving for the Bahamas at the end of the month — Babs and Big Mike went up to change while Jo and Michael went home’s to fetch the ‘lasagna’. The older couple suspected nothing, despite the children’s conspiratorial glances — they had been sworn to secrecy.
Half an hour later, Babs squealed with delight as Marcia dashed into the house and hugged her parents. “Sweetie! Don’t you look lovely. What a beautiful dress. And Benny! Wow!” She did a double take. “Don’t you look smart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before. You guys going to a party?”
Benny was looking distinctly uncomfortable — but Marcia had insisted.
Jo, Michael, Owen Michael, Tamsin and Dale crowded the doorway behind Marcia and Benny, and Babs stared at them too. “You’re all dressed up as well. What is this?” She looked from face to face in suspicion.
Jo prodded the shy and nervous Benny in the back, prompting him to speak. “Er… well…” he coughed and looked pleadingly at his beloved, who didn’t attempt to help — but smiled encouragement. “Well, Marcia and I-have-decided-we-want-to-get-married, and we’ve brought my Mom too.” Words spilled out in a rush, and an equally shy, short, plump, middle-aged woman in an obviously new, smart, two-piece, was dragged into the room from the hallway.
Big Mike leapt up to join the whirl of excited hugs, kisses and handshakes, beaming from ear to ear, while Babs’ eyes filled and she kept repeating, “I’m so happy I could cry,” while her husband made a grab for the car keys, saying, “I’m shooting down to the store for some champagne.”
“Not necessary, Dad.” Michael produced a huge cool-box from behind him. “Here we are, all chilled and ready.”
No one noticed Jo slip upstairs to the phone, and five minutes later the excitement started all over again as Lawson and Belle walked in.
Benny was left in no doubt as to the popularity of his proposal. His natural reserve was swept away on the tide of Donnelly enthusiasm and soon, with the added help of champagne, he was chatting freely, arm round his mother, explaining her generosity and all they planned to do.
Jo was busy organizing food from the car to Babs’ oven, but she had time to join in every few minutes. She loved watching people — speculating on what made them tick. Big Mike, Babs and Michael all relieved that Marcia was at last ‘going legit’, becoming respectable; Benny’s mother, Annie as she liked to be called, swamped by the noisy and affectionate welcome, trying to keep her end up with Benny’s encouragement; Belle, who couldn’t give a damn about respectability, thrilled by her younger sister’s happiness, and Lawson…but Lawson seemed to hang on the periphery of the fun, obviously preoccupied.
Babs followed Jo into the kitchen. “If I’d only known you were all coming I’d have gotten food in and ready, but I guess we’ll have to send the boys out for some takeaway, to feed twelve of us… Your poor lasagna can’t…?” She realized that Jo was grinning, and stopped. “What have you been up to?” she sniffed. “That’s not lasagna… why, that’s one of your lovely baked hams… and what’s under there?” She pointed to a large tray concealed under a dish towel.
Jo whipped the cloth away to reveal twelve halves of grapefruit, cut and piled with brown sugar steeped in sherry. “Those just need to go under the grill for a few minutes, the vegetables on, and the sauce heated.
Babs hugged her. “Jo, you are a doll. You’ve got it all organized. Say, have I got time to go up and change? I feel awful in these old pants.”
Her daughter-in-law laughed. “Babs, you make old pants look divine — but if you want to put on your mother-of-the-bride outfit, you go ahead. Nothing’s going to spoil if you’re quick.”
Minutes later Big Mike came into the kitchen. “Where’s Babs?”
“Changing. You’ve time, if you want to,” Jo assured him.
It was not an assurance he wanted. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Jo looked at the ancient sweater and cords. “Not too much, I guess, providing you’re not embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? Dammit, they’re clean…” He noticed a greasy mark over his stomach. “Well, nearly.”
“Where’s that beautiful jumper Marcia gave you for Christmas?”
“Not that purple and yellow monstrosity?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. She’d love to see you wearing it. She’s been so worried that you didn’t like it,” Jo coaxed.
“She’s damn right… oh, okay.” He grumbled off towards the stairs.
The meal was a great success. The table wasn’t built for twelve people, but they made it, Owen Michael and Tamsin, in smart suit and party dress, being allowed to stay up for the important occasion. After they had all held hands while Big Mike said grace, there were innumerable toasts and gradually the noise level rose as the wine took effect and everyone’s voice grew louder in an effort to compete with the rest.
“I have an announcement to make too,” Jo said, when she could make herself heard. “You’ll never guess who’s vacationing with us at Dolphin Point next month.”
They looked at her, and Michael drank some more champagne. “My husband,” Jo said, smiling at him.
“Son of a gun,” Big Mike said. “I never thought we’d get you down there again.”
“Well…” Michael said.
“Won’t that be during the Bermuda Race?” Dale asked his brother. “Well…”
“I’m so glad you’re coming down.” Babs squeezed Michael’s hand.
“Yeah. Well…” Michael looked at his father, and then at Lawson. Big Mike understood the glance, as did Lawson. Big Mike nodded, motioning him to wait.
&
nbsp; By 10.30 the children were virtually asleep in their chairs, and Jo took them up to bed. The others voted to clear away before taking coffee in the lounge; Benny and Dale collected glasses while the women dealt with dishes and leftovers.
“Cigar?” Big Mike asked Lawson.
“Love one.”
“Come and take your pick. They’re in my study.” Followed by Michael, he led Lawson across the hall into the small room lined with loaded bookshelves, to the comfortable armchairs arranged before his desk. “Sit down and help yourself.” He pushed a big silver box across the table, dropped into the swivel chair behind the desk, sat waiting as they all sucked vigorously for a few seconds. Then he said, “Well?”
“The ball’s in your court, Big Mike,” Lawson said. “Dolphin Point is officially on the market as of now. So… we’re going to have to make a decision.”
“Big interest?”
“Some, already.”
“Local?”
Lawson shook his head. “A million US is a bit steep for the average Bahamian.” He grinned. “They’d hardly get foreign exchange for such a purchase, and if they don’t apply, questions might be asked as to where they got the money — like do they maintain an illegal American account?”
“I thought everyone down there was as corrupt as hell,” Michael remarked.
“There’s a lot of corruption, sure. But you still can’t be too blatant about it. No, our main interest is coming from Florida. The realtors over there are looking for some alternatives to those millionaire ghettos they have up in Boca Raton and Palm Beach. Once they get in the act…”
“So what d’you want from me?” Big Mike asked. “I’m thinking about raising the money, but I need another few weeks. And I want to have another look at the property.”
“And you’re not coming down until mid-July? It’ll be gone by then. Can’t you make it sooner?”
“No way. We’re up to our ears trying to float a stock issue.”
“Look,” Lawson said. “All it needs is a hundred thousand as a deposit. That’ll tie it up, Big Mike.”
“Which we lose if it doesn’t work out,” Michael commented.
“It has to work out,” Lawson insisted. “Look, did Big Mike give you the figures?”
“He talked about maybe a couple of million profit.”
“That was off the top of my head,” Lawson told him. “Since then I’ve been getting down to facts and quotes. Listen! I can lay electricity to that whole property for a hundred grand. There’s no water, but hell, no property in North Eleuthera has mains water. But I can build a cistern big enough to serve the whole area for another hundred, and a catchment area to serve the cistern for fifty — hell, just a big sheet of sloping concrete.”
“So we’re up to 250 grand on top of the million,” Big Mike pointed out.
“Sure we are. But then we split those 42 acres into quarter-acre lots. 168 of them. And you know what I reckon we’ll get for them, with water and electricity? Forty thousand dollars each. Work that one out.”
Big Mike pulled his calculator towards him, jabbed the figures. And whistled. “Six million, seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars.”
“That’s right. Five million profit. Half for me, half for you.”
Big Mike and his son exchanged glances. “We were thinking of a three-way split.”
Lawson hesitated, then grinned, and shrugged. “Okay, if I get my normal two per cent for every lot I sell.”
“Done,” Big Mike said. “I’ll have that $100,000 in your account tomorrow.”
Michael poured them each a glass of port. “Seems a bit unnecessary for me to come down at all,” he remarked.
They all drank coffee in the kitchen. “Now then,” Babs said. “Let’s talk about this summer. You going to honeymoon on Eleuthera, Marcia?”
“Well…” Marcia looked at Benny. “Would you be terribly upset if we didn’t, Babs? Actually, we don’t mean to marry until the winter. Right now we want to fix the house up first. Our house,” she added proudly.
“Of course I’ll be upset,” Babs said. “But I reckon you’re probably doing the right thing.”
“You can count us in,” Belle said, smiling at Lawson. She was dying to tell her mother and sister about the McKinley deal, but he had sworn her to secrecy until her father gave her the nod.
“I’ll be there,” Dale agreed.
“And Jo and Michael and the grandchildren,” Babs said. “Oh, it’s going to be such fun. How long is it since you were on Eleuthera, Michael?”
“Not since he started racing, seriously,” Dale observed.
“Seven years,” Michael said, thoughtfully.
“You’ll find it’s changed,” Big Mike said. “Boy, have I got some things to show you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael agreed.
He wasn’t entirely convincing, Jo thought. But he wouldn’t go back on his word. And she knew he would enjoy it, when he got there. She’d been feeling rather guilty about him, ever since Sunday night. But she knew she had made him do the right thing.
She smiled at them all. She hadn’t been so happy since her wedding day. And she felt the happiness was shared.
“Here’s to the summer,” she toasted. “It’s going to be just great.”
FRIDAY 9 JUNE
Park Avenue
Two days later, Ed told her that Kiley had agreed to give Richard an extra five minutes on Friday evenings following the early newscast, to chat about the weather, and about hurricanes in particular; he had been encouraged by Anthony down in the Caribbean, even if Anthony, after briefly reaching Category One in the Gulf of Yucatan, was now fading fast. “So,” Ed said. “If you’re serious about doing those interviews with the ‘man in the street’, you’d better get with it.” He had raised no objection when she told him she wanted to cut down her office hours, and do more work at home, but a project was a project. Jo was momentarily taken aback. She had not actually planned out how she would go about it; interviewing the man in the street was not her forte. Normally her meetings were with people used and eager to be interviewed, set up by the magazine. So how did one buttonhole some perfect stranger and get his opinion on something as remote as a hurricane? Then she realized that she had at least one natural starter, Washington, the giant black man who had worked as porter in the apartment block ever since she had first lived there, and who had once told her how he had been frightened as a child in Florida by tales of the 1926 storm.
“Couldn’t hardly happen, nowadays,” he said, when she asked him about it again. “They have all that sophisticated gear to tell everybody days in advance what’s going to happen.”
“So living in South Florida wouldn’t bother you, now,” Jo persisted. “Even if you know that by the law of averages Miami has to get hit again by a big one some day?”
“Depends on whereabouts I’d be living, Mrs Donnelly. Think maybe I’d get worried if I was one of those rich folks out on Miami Beach. My son and his wife took his mother and me down to Miami on a holiday two years ago…”
“Yes, I remember you telling me about it.”
“Didn’t think too much about hurricanes at the time, but now you mention it, I don’t see how they’re going to get all those people off that sandbank, over the causeways, in time — even with plenty warning. And that’s if everyone moves kind of quick. You know what folks are, Mrs Donnelly. They won’t make up their minds to go until the last minute, and then there’ll be one big traffic jam and panic and everything you can think of.”
“Washington, have you ever thought that a hurricane might hit New York, one day?” Jo watched his face as he considered the question.
“Nope,” he said at last. “Never came into my head. Hurricanes don’t get this far north.”
“Only because the water’s too cool. But suppose one year warm water spread up here, as it must have done the year Gloria came so close?”
“Heck, I remember her,” Washington said. “Jees, that was something, eh?
But she was a kind of freak, wasn’t she? I guess anything in the world can happen.”
“And if it happened once, it could happen again, couldn’t it?”
“I guess it could, ma’am. But you don’t get freaks very often. I wouldn’t expect to see another Gloria in my lifetime. And she didn’t even hit us, Mrs Donnelly.”
“She only just missed us,” Jo reminded him. “Well, I hope you’re right that it can’t happen again for a while, because I’ve been told it’s quite possible. If a hurricane were heading this way, what would you do?”
The automatic glass doors swung open and a man crossed the foyer. Washington got up to speak with him, returned to call one of the apartments, and directed him to an elevator. When he sat down again, he shrugged. “Hard to say.”
“Suppose warnings were out on TV, that one was coming straight for the Battery, would you leave town?”
He nodded, slowly. “Yes, ma’am, I reckon I would. If there was going to be a big one coming straight at us, I reckon I’d do just that. Get the wife and my daughter and little one, and call my son to do the same. Yes, reckon we’d all drive off to stay with my brother until it was over.”
Again the automatic doors opened to admit several people, and Washington stood up.
Jo got up too. “Looks like you’re going to be busy for a while, so I’ll leave you now. NABS will be doing a short feature on hurricanes after the Friday forecasts at six o’clock. I’d be interested to hear what you think of them, some time. And thanks very much for the interview, Washington. I’ll let you have a copy of the magazine when this article is printed.”
Her Name Will Be Faith Page 7
