by Mary McHugh
4. Cook for twenty minutes.
5. Add salt and pepper and a cup of the wine. Cover, reduce heat and cook for another fifteen minutes.
6. Sprinkle with the red pepper flakes (remember, not too much—about ¼ tsp), and add the other half cup of wine.
7. Cover partially and cook for an hour and fifteen minutes. Stir every once in a while.
8. Enjoy!
Pat’s Tip for Traveling with Friends: Decide,
before you go, how much money you want
to spend on this trip and make sure your
friend agrees.
Chapter Five
Slow Down!!!
When Gini and I got to our room, I said, “You were right about your feelings about Lucas. You said you didn’t like him. Natalia practically accused him of killing Maria to keep from paying her alimony.”
“I don’t know, Pat. Seems a little drastic, doesn’t it? But I definitely didn’t like him—or that woman he was with on the beach. Who was that again?”
“I think her name is Yasmin. She said she was the hotel accountant. We can ask Natalia about her.”
I laughed. Thinking of Natalia always makes me laugh. “I can’t make up my mind about Natalia,” I said. “Is she really that ditzy, or is she a lot smarter than we think she is?”
“Hard to tell,” Gini said. “I know what you mean though. One minute she seems like an absolute idiot. The next she sounds really intelligent. I have a feeling that the clowning around is an act so that other people won’t realize how really smart she is. I’m sure she knows a lot more about what’s going on around here than she lets on.”
“Like when she was talking about Lucas. She sure doesn’t care for him.”
“She doesn’t seem to. Come on. Let’s go rehearse. Maybe we can find out more.”
We changed into shorts and sleeveless tops and went back to the piano bar to join the rest of our group.
Natalia, hair perfectly arranged, makeup restored to its full power, dressed in a white halter top and tight white pants, greeted us.
“Ah, Gini and Pat. Now we are all here. I want you to meet Felipe, who will play the piano for us, Joao, who is our trumpeter, Tiago on cello, and Mateus on drums.”
The musicians hung back a little, not sure of how to greet us. But our Tina shook hands and chatted a little with each one of them, and they relaxed a little. They didn’t really speak much English, but we managed to let them know that we appreciated them and were glad they would be playing for us. They were all in their twenties and thirties, with various shades of brown skin, from Felipe who was the darkest to Tiago who was the lightest.
“We will practice the samba first, yes?” Natalia said.
As usual, with Natalia, it was a statement not a question. She knew what she wanted and the rest of us followed along.
For once we had a floor big enough to move on without bumping into each other. The samba started and we moved with it. It was basically a step to the right and a ball change, with the left foot in back and then forward. It was easy to get into the rhythm and we abandoned ourselves to the music, swinging our hips Latino-style. Mucho hips. Natalia sang some song in Portuguese that kept using the word Copacabana, We didn’t really care what the words were. It was the acceleration of the samba. The excitement of it. The feeling that the music ruled us, not the other way around. It was exhilarating. We finished—sweating, laughing, and delighted.
Loud applause when we stopped. Miguel was standing in front of us clapping and cheering for us.
“Legal,” he said, pronouncing it lay-gah-oo, which Natalia said meant cool. “You will be a sensation tonight.”
“Thanks, Miguel,” Gini said. “I hope the temperature will be a little cooler too.”
“Me too,” I said. “I need a swim. Anybody else?”
“I come with you,” Natalia said. “Meet me by the water.”
“I want a cold drink,” Gini said. “All that sambaing made me thirsty. I think I’ll skip the swim for now. See you later, Pat.”
The others joined Gini at the bar. I headed for the elevator but noticed an elegant little gift shop off the lobby. Besides the tasteful jewelry on the counter, there were sandals, some cosmetics, bathing suits and cover-ups, and other small items guests might find appealing. I decided to try to buy another bathing suit. One more like the others I saw on the beach.
“Hola, senhora,” the pretty young girl behind the counter said. She had a beautiful smile that lit up her face.
“Hola,” I said. “I’d like to find a bathing suit. So I’ll look more Brazilian. You know?”
“I know exactly what you mean, senhora,” she said. “Something like this perhaps?” She picked up a blue and green infinitesimal top with an almost nonexistent thong, which was probably blue and green too. I wanted it. I would never be able to wear it back home. If I ever ventured out on the beach in Harwich Port on Cape Cod, people would probably have me arrested. And anyway, I’d freeze to death in the cold Nantucket Sound. What the heck.
“How much?” I asked.
“Only one hundred and ten dollars, senhora. A real bargain.”
One hundred and ten dollars! For about six inches of material. If I had any sense, I’d just go upstairs and put on one of the bathing suits I brought with me. Luckily, I had no sense.
“I’ll take it,” I said. Well, I was in Rio. You were supposed to ignore all the rules in this city. You do realize how hard this was for me. Old stick-in-the-mud, follow-the-rules Pat. Not today.
I gave the girl my credit card, and she wrapped this overpriced, extravagant excuse for a bathing suit in a miniature Copacabana shopping bag and handed it to me. “Enjoy, senhora,” she said. She probably could have fed her whole family for a month on what that suit cost.
My guilty conscience that was always there ready to yell at me for anything my mother wouldn’t have approved of, tried to shame me all the way up in the elevator, but it didn’t seem to have the power to destroy me that it usually had. Must be Rio.
My cell phone was tootling as I entered the suite.
“Pat, it’s me,” Denise said when I answered. It was so good to hear her voice. I felt as if she were in the next room instead of back home in New Jersey. “What’s happening? How are you? How’s Rio? I miss you.”
“Hello, love,” I said. “It’s good to hear your voice. I just spent way too much on a teensy bathing suit, but I don’t care. Well, I almost don’t care. Tell me it was OK.”
“Of course, it’s OK, you ninny. I just wish I could be there to see you in it.”
“So do I, Denise. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “But your little cat, Eliza, keeps running to the door every time it opens to see if you’ve come home. She looks at me accusingly whenever it’s someone else. She thinks I’ve done away with you. She curls up next to your pillow every night. So do I, actually.”
“I love that little cat,” I said. “I miss her too. Give her a big hug from me.”
“I will, sweetie, but what’s this I hear about a murder in your hotel? Can’t you go anywhere without causing some poor person’s death?”
“How did you know about that?” I asked. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“It was on CNN today. ‘Murder at the Copacabana. ’ Sounds like a movie from the forties. Who was it, who did it, and are you safe there?”
“Don’t worry, hon,” I said. “I’m perfectly safe. Somebody killed our guide—poisoned her, I think—but we don’t know who did it yet. They don’t tell us very much. The police chief is very nice, but he doesn’t discuss the details of the murder with us. I don’t blame him. Listen, Denise, you have to come to this hotel. I mean sometime when nobody gets murdered. You and David. It’s incredibly beautiful. The beach is gorgeous—I’m on my way there now. You’d love it. And so would David. How is he?”
“He’s doing well, Pat, I’m happy to say. Since you came to live with us, you’ve been a tremendous help
giving him more confidence. He’s not so shy in school anymore. He’s taking part in more activities and making more friends. You did that. I’ll always love you for what you’ve done for him.”
“He’s a wonderful boy, Denise. I think of him as my son, too, you know.”
“I know,” she said. “Wish we were there with you now. Come home soon, my love.”
“I’ll be there before you know it,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Try not to cause any more murders,” she said and hung up.
I put on my new bathing suit. I checked my stomach in the full-length mirror. We’ve been eating so much fattening food here that I expected to see a little bulge over the thong. But I was OK. Must be all that dancing and sweating.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar in our suite. When I got to the beach, I saw Natalia’s red-blond hair down by the water. She was lying on a towel, like most of the women around her. I almost dropped my bottle of water when I saw her body. She was rubbing lotion on her legs, and I had to keep saying Denise’s name over and over to keep my cool.
She looked up as I put my towel on the sand next to her.
“May I join you?” I asked.
“Please do,” she said. “You are very beautiful.” She sat up and held her lotion out to me. “Don’t burn that gorgeous body.”
Was she coming on to me or was I just imagining it?
She reached around behind me and unfastened my top. “Don’t hide them,” she said, very close to me.
Nope. I wasn’t imagining it.
“Uh, Natalia, I live with someone,” I said, refastening my bra. “And you know perfectly well topless bathing isn’t allowed on the beaches in Rio.”
“So?” she said, her eyes watching me. “Nobody will arrest you.”
I stood up. “I will,” I said. “Think I’ll go in the water.” I couldn’t handle this. This little bundle of joy was going way beyond the accepted limits.
She laughed. “I’ll be here when you come out,” she said.
I ran into the water and swam without stopping for a few minutes. The cool water felt heavenly. I tried not to think about Natalia. I might as well have tried not to think about my sunburned nose. How could I discourage her without insulting her? I must have given her some signal without meaning to that I was open to her advances.
This wasn’t like Captain Chantal, the chief of police in Paris, to whom I was attracted when we were there. She and I were both involved with other people, so we were careful to keep our relationship friendly. She was even coming to New York to stay with Denise and me in a couple of months. But Natalia. She was an entirely different smorgasbord. I had to turn her off somehow.
I swam back to the shore, slowly, smoothly, figuring out what I would say.
I lay down on my towel and said, “Natalia . . . I . . .”
She sat up and patted my hand. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not trying to seduce you. I know you’re involved with someone else. But you can’t blame me for trying. You’re so attractive. And that’s some suit!”
I was relieved. I sat up too. “Thanks for understanding, Natalia. Denise and I are very close. But there’s no reason you and I can’t be friends.”
She smiled. “Count on it, honey,” she said.
We both lay back down and soaked up the Rio sun. It was life restoring. I thought Natalia had fallen asleep, but after about ten minutes, she said, “Did you know Maria was having an affair with Miguel?”
I pushed my sunglasses up on my forehead and looked at her. “The hotel manager? No. Tell me.”
Natalia moved closer and said in a low voice, “They didn’t even try to hide it. Sumiko—you know, Miguel’s wife—was furious. But Sumiko was having an affair with the hotel doctor—Dr. Souza—so she didn’t really care. She was just mad that Maria and Miguel were so open about their fooling around. She didn’t like being humiliated.”
“How did Maria die?” I asked. “No one has told us that.”
“They’re not sure,” she said. “They think she was given some kind of drug, but there was no trace of it in her body. They just found her lying there on her bed. At first they thought she must have had a heart attack, but the medical examiner said no. They really don’t know what killed her.”
“That’s weird,” I said.
“Everything in Rio is weird,” Natalia said, laughing her musical laugh.
If I didn’t love Denise . . .
“I thought you were from Rio,” I said.
“No, from São Paulo. It’s much better than Rio.”
“What do you mean?”
“São Paulo is a serious place. Cosmopolitan. Smart people live and work there. Rio is just for fun, for vacations, for fooling around. Sort of like the difference between New York and Hollywood. You get things done in New York. Hollywood is like a temporary break from the real world. Know what I mean?”
“Sure. But as a singer, I would think you’d prefer Rio.”
“Oh, I live here because that’s where I get the most work. But as a place to spend my life, I prefer São Paulo. As soon as I get enough money saved, I’m going back there.”
“Do you have family there?”
“My dad and my sisters.” Her face closed down. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about her family.
“We’d better get back,” I said. “We have to eat, dress, and dance, and I’m all icky.”
“Want me to help you with your bath?” Natalia said, dodging my swipe at her with my towel. “Kidding, just kidding.”“
We went back to the hotel and Gini had already changed into a pale green silk dress that was perfect with her dark red hair.
“Wow!” she said when she saw my bathing suit. “Pat? Is that you? You look fantastic. Is that suit new?”
“Yeah, I got it in the shop downstairs. Oh, Gini, it cost a hundred and ten dollars! My mother would kill me.”
“Your mother is dead,” Gini said. “You’re allowed to spend a hundred and ten dollars on a bathing suit if you can afford it.”
“Actually, I can’t really afford it. But there’s something about Rio that . . .”
“I know what you mean,” Gini said. “Everything seems to be accepted here.”
“Good thing we’re only going to be here a few more days,” I said, “or I’d be broke. Go ahead down to the restaurant if you want, Gini. I’ll shower and dress and come down later.”
“I’m not sure I can eat any more after that lunch today,” Gini said. “But Miguel said we have to try the moqueca—a seafood stew—even if we only take a couple of bites. We don’t have to dance until nine so I’m going to try it.”
“I thought Luiz was going to give us the picadinho he made for us today in the kitchen.”
“I guess he changed his mind and wanted us to try the moqueca,” Gini said. “I’ll eat anything he cooks. He’s a genius.”
“Yeah, who cares?” I said, going into the luxurious bathroom. “We may never have the chance to eat moqueca again.”
“Rio is having a really good effect on you, Pat,” she said and left.
I showered and slipped into my favorite blue lace dress, white stilettos, and dangly pearl earrings and went downstairs to the Pergula Restaurant, an elegant dining room overlooking the swimming pool.
Everyone was seated, including my new friend, Natalia, who was next to Yasmin, the woman Gini and I met at the beach the day before. Her eyes, without the sunglasses hiding them, were so dark they were almost black.
She was much friendlier today than she had been at the beach. “Boa noite, Pat,” she said, wishing me a good evening and reaching over to shake hands with me. “Did you have a good swim?”
“Boa noite,” I said. “Yes, fine, thank you. This beach is probably the most beautiful I’ve ever been to. And the water is just the right temperature—not too cold.”
“I know,” she said. “I sneak off for a quick swim every chance I get.”
“What do you do here?” Janice as
ked.
“I’m in charge of finances,” she said. “Sort of a glorified accountant. I don’t really have a title.”
“We couldn’t get along without her,” Miguel said, stopping by our table to greet us and put his hand on her shoulder. “We are looking forward to your performance tonight, senhoras.”
“We’re looking forward to your moqueca, Senhor Ortega,” Tina said. “But could you please ask the chef to give us small portions. We don’t want to waddle instead of dance.”
“Small portions it will be,” Ortega said. “And just a small caipirinha to start. It will make you dance even better.”
“Six caipirinhas and one water, please,” our thoughtful Tina said, glancing at me.
The manager left us, and Natalia, sexy in a red, backless dress, asked, “Did you like the trip to Corcovado, my little Hoofers?”
We all talked at once, telling her how meaningful it had been for us.
“I’ll never forget it, Natalia,” I said. “It was truly memorable.”
“Where are you taking us tomorrow?” Mary Louise asked.
“To another mountain—Sugar Loaf. There are beautiful gardens and a view of the city you won’t want to miss.”
“Sounds like a great place for photos,” Gini said, raising her caipirinha the waiter had just put in front of us in a toast. “Vive Rio!”
We all toasted Rio, and I sipped my water while the rest drank their cocktails. Sometimes I get really sick of water, and this was one of those times. I motioned to the waiter. “Do you have anything more exciting than water that doesn’t have liquor in it?” I asked him in a low voice.
“Why don’t you try some coconut water and lime juice?” he asked. “Many of our Muslim friends who do not drink enjoy that.”
I almost kissed him. “Yes, please,” I said.
He returned in a few minutes with my coconut water, which was deliciously refreshing.
“I want to see some of the nightlife in Rio,” Janice said. “You know, Natalia—some nightclubs and stuff. Will you give us a tour of those?”
“Anytime you want,” she said. “That’s my specialty.” She grinned.
