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  “Morning,” he called back.

  Olivia winced, knowing Nick wasn’t happy. Maritza did have an unfortunate knack for dropping in at inopportune moments. And this was really a business trip for Olivia, not a vacation, so Olivia could not object. In her heart, Olivia knew that Maritza had no clue that she was overstepping the professional boundaries.

  Olivia went to the bar area and took two glasses from the tray. “Here. Let me take that.”

  Maritza handed her the container and Olivia wondered what Maritza was doing with a carafe of juice in the first place when the staff-to-guest ratio was easily ten or more to one. Nonetheless, she said nothing about it, because what would that prove? She filled two glasses and gave one to Maritza.

  They touched sides of the glasses, as though it was a toast to something, and took a long drink.

  “So, what’s going on?” Olivia said, taking a further sip. “Everything okay?”

  “How could it be? I haven’t slept all night.”

  “Last night was pretty unnerving for everyone,” Olivia said. “The main thing is that Gladdie was found unscathed. Come, let’s sit outside.”

  They each settled into an armchair on the terrace and drew in a deep breath of the morning air.

  “Of course, but after that, all I can think about is how Bob threatened me. Olivia, my husband threatened me in front of everyone! He acted like a beast! That’s no way to treat somebody you’re supposed to love!”

  “I think that in the heat of a moment people say things they don’t really mean,” Olivia said. “Don’t you? I know I’ve done it.”

  “Bob doesn’t love me anymore, Olivia. It’s as plain as the nose on my face.”

  Olivia was quiet for a few moments, considering what Maritza said.

  “That’s not true. I completely disagree. Has Bob been undergoing any kind of unusual stress lately?” Olivia put her glass down on the side table.

  “Are you kidding? It’s the only kind he has! He’s opening restaurants in Napa and Sonoma and one in La Jolla. He’s on the phone and emailing around the clock.”

  “The poor man,” Olivia said, wondering why she didn’t have the job to design their interiors. But she hadn’t done commercial spaces in aeons. Maybe that would have to change.

  Maritza removed her sunglasses to reveal red, swollen eyes. “Honey, poor is the only thing he isn’t. I don’t understand him anymore. Tell me what to do, Olivia. You’ve known Bob since forever. I have to do something, Olivia. Or I’m going to lose him. Or maybe I already have lost him.”

  Olivia got up, grabbed a bar towel, and soaked it in the ice bucket, which was magically always filled. “You haven’t lost him, Maritza. Let me tell you a story about Bob that most people don’t know. It might help you understand why he is so driven.” She twisted the wet towel over the bar sink, folded it, and handed it to Maritza. “It will also help you to forgive him.”

  “Thanks. I’m all ears,” Maritza said, leaning back into the cushions of the chair and covering her eyes with the cold, damp cloth.

  “I’m telling you this in the strictest confidence, Maritza. You cannot tell him I told you, okay?”

  “Deal! I swear on my daddy’s grave!”

  “Okay. When Bob was a child, his family was very poor.”

  “I know all about that,” Maritza said. “They immigrated to the United States after World War II.”

  “Right. But I mean dirt poor. They came to Boston with the clothes on their back and a few hundred dollars. Sometimes they ate onions for a week. Because his mother didn’t speak the language, she was reduced to cleaning houses to put food on the table. This was a dignified woman who was a math teacher. His father, who was a pretty talented commissioned muralist, suddenly had to put up plaster walls in the homes of rich people. Then his father fell off a scaffolding, broke his back, and couldn’t work for almost a year. They nearly starved except for the generosity of their neighbors. But Bob was just a kid and he didn’t have any sense of the reality of their poverty. All he knew was that Christmas was coming and he wanted Santa to bring him a bicycle. All his friends had bikes and he wanted one so he could fly through the streets with the other boys.”

  “Well, Lord love a duck. He was just a kid.”

  Olivia did not know what Lord love a duck meant or if it had anything to do with anything. Most likely? It was merely an unfamiliar southernism. Olivia continued.

  “Exactly. His parents couldn’t come up with the money for a new bike, but they found someone who was willing to sell a used one.”

  “It was probably stolen,” Maritza said.

  “Who knows? Maybe. Anyway, they got this bicycle, painted it black, and put a bell on the handlebars. On Christmas morning, it appeared by their tiny little tree with a red bow on it.”

  “So was he thrilled?”

  “Yes and no. It was obvious to Bob that it was used. I imagine the paint job might not have been so great and I’m sure Bob was very astute, even as a youngster. But he knew it wasn’t from Santa. Sadly, it was the moment he realized there was no Santa Claus, and he felt guilty over what his parents must have sacrificed to be able to give him even this poor, used bicycle. In any case, he had his bicycle.”

  “So did he cry or something?”

  “Bob? Bob cry? Never! Well, never, according to him. He toughened up, hugged his parents, and quickly carried the bike down five flights of stairs to the street. His parents were right behind him, frightened for his safety, begging him to be careful.”

  “I’m sure!”

  “Well, you see, Bob had never been on a bike before, except for riding on the handlebars or a crossbar with one of his friends. But he had such passion for the bicycle that in his mind, he had already traveled every street and alley in the entire city of Boston. He completely understood the concept of directing the bicycle by turning the handlebars, and he knew to rotate the pedals to propel it forward. Never was there a boy more mentally prepared to take on the challenges of a bicycle than young Bob Vasile.”

  “Well? What happened?”

  “He got on the thing and took off like he’d been riding bikes his entire life!”

  “Amazing!”

  “But he had never given a thought about how to stop.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Exactly. He plowed into a pile of garbage cans, went flying, and had to get ten stitches in his head.”

  Maritza sat up and removed the wet cloth, refolded it, and said, “Good luck finding a doctor on Christmas morning.”

  “I’m sure. I don’t know the details on that part of the story, except that his father beat the stuffing out of him; you’d have to ask Bob.”

  “His father spanked him on Christmas?”

  “Oh, I think his father disciplined him frequently. But soon he was back on his bike with all the other boys and zipping all over the streets of Boston.”

  Maritza covered an eye with the cold cloth, applying some pressure to relieve the swelling, and looked up at Olivia with the other. “And why is this story going to make me forgive Bob?”

  “Because all the other boys knew how to jump their bikes over this particular creek and Bob did not. But rather than be called a sissy or something worse, like getting beaten up, Bob gave it a try. Well, the creek was wider than he thought, and the water was colder and deeper. He lost his bike and nearly drowned in the process of trying to find it.”

  “How terrible! Didn’t the boys help him?”

  “No. They left him. So Bob had to go home, freezing and soaking wet in the middle of March, and confess what happened to his parents.”

  “And his daddy was mad?”

  “Furious! I’m pretty sure he got a whipping that day too. I know his father called him some pretty terrible names for years, like stunade, which I think means idiot. Anyway, after his mother dried him off and got him into clean clothes, he and his father went back to the creek with a rake they borrowed from someone to try and fish the bicycle out.”

  “What happen
ed?”

  “They pulled out six bicycles!”

  “Oh! How wonderful!” Maritza laughed.

  “Yep. So, Bob and his father fixed them all up and sold them.”

  “No wonder Bob is like he is. The entrepreneur.”

  “Yes. Even then. He learned all about disappointment, tenacity, and ingenuity at a very young age. And that you shouldn’t ever have to depend on anyone.”

  “And not to get caught doing something stupid.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How did you hear this story?”

  “Well, when Nick and I were dating and Bob was single we used to have dinner now and then. One night he drank three martinis and told us all these wild colorful stories about growing up on the other side of the tracks. If he knew that I told you this story, you’d have to find another decorator.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess because he doesn’t want anyone to know how humble his beginnings were. We were sworn to secrecy.”

  “Pride. Pride is a sin.”

  “Personally? I think it’s so interesting how we are all shaped by our childhoods. Listen, Bob can be completely charming, and you know it.”

  “When he wants to be.”

  “Maritza, men like Bob just want to feel like big shots. They want to win every game and take home the biggest fish. They want you to think they’re truly awesome and they are, but they want your complete adoration. What Bob has accomplished in his life all on his own is absolutely incredible. But deep inside him there’s still that little boy who found out the truth about Santa on Christmas Day, who had to be fed by neighbors because he was too small and skinny, whose father whipped him with a belt when he felt like it, and who lost his beloved bike in a creek.”

  “So he’s permanently screwed up?”

  Sometimes Olivia wondered about the actual size and functioning capabilities of Maritza’s brain.

  “No, sweetheart. He’s permanently insecure and cannot bear the thought of other people having power over him, and he’s terrified of failure. He would not make a good loser in any situation. And this includes losing you and Gladdie. Poverty can be mortifying, you know.”

  “So what are you telling me, Olivia?” Maritza put the cold cloth on the side table.

  “Bob loves you and he loves Gladdie. But on some days and in certain situations, it might seem like he loves himself a bit more, especially when his insecurities jump into the forefront of his mind without warning. It’s how alpha men are, Maritza. They can’t help it. They see the world only through their own eyes. And men are always going to do just what they want to do. But in my heart I really believe Bob loves you.”

  “So I should just sit back and smile and pretend he’s not screwing the nanny?”

  “No. You should remain focused on your relationship with him, not his with her.”

  “Can you say that again?”

  “Treat him like a king, Maritza. Treat him like a king. And to the extent you can, pretend Ellen doesn’t exist.”

  “And what should I do about Dorothy?”

  “Oh, dear. What to do about Dorothy? Well, first, she’s really Sam’s problem. Isn’t she? And other than that, I guess I’d try to see the humor in it. Bob’s not interested in her.”

  “She’s gross.”

  Olivia said nothing. She simply stood, her polite way of letting Maritza know that this session was ending. She could hear Nick rustling around in the bedroom. He was out of the shower and dressed for the day.

  “I’d like to have breakfast,” he said, coming into the sitting room. He cleared his throat, which he always did when he was annoyed. “Shall I wait for you or should I go on ahead?”

  Maritza stood as well. She walked over to the bar and inspected her eyes in the mirror. “The swelling’s going down. I’ve got to get moving too.”

  “I’ll be along in ten minutes,” Olivia said.

  Nick arched his eyebrows, cocked his head to one side, and gave her a look of suspicion and doubt.

  “No! I will! Maritza is just leaving!”

  “Okay, ladies. I’ll see you in the Great House.”

  Nick left and Maritza turned to Olivia.

  “Thanks, Olivia. You’re like a walk on the beach.”

  “You’re welcome, but for what? And pray tell, how am I like a walk on the beach?”

  “I feel better. You know, my problem isn’t solved, but I feel better! So thank you.” Maritza gave her a hug and left. “See you later!”

  Olivia stood in her doorway and watched Maritza make her way down the path toward the Great House. She wouldn’t have wanted to go through what Maritza was dealing with for all the money in the world. But there was no real advice to give a woman whose husband was and had always been a philanderer. From Bob’s point of view, he probably figured he was giving Maritza a lifestyle she would never have otherwise, his name, and a baby, and what else in this world could she possibly want? But Maritza wasn’t sophisticated or cynical enough to say that gargantuan net worth was all she needed. She was innocent enough to expect love and naïve enough to expect fidelity. In a normal marriage those things would not be too much to expect.

  But Olivia had never seen Bob really love anyone or anything except his businesses and the bottom line, except a rare bone-in rib eye and an old Bordeaux. And Gladdie. That child brought out something in him that bordered on obsession. Over the years she had observed again and again that he didn’t seem to care so much about how much money he made as he did about the win. Bob was a natural predator with a superspeed, calculating, and very sharp mind he used as a weapon.

  After almost tripping over two small turtles on the pathway, Olivia found Nick alone in the Great House lobby with a silver pot of coffee and a downloaded copy of The New York Times. He stood as soon as he saw her and pulled out her chair for her to sit.

  “Thank you, my love!”

  “My pleasure,” Nick said and took his seat, diving back into the newspaper.

  “I nearly squashed some baby turtles on the way over here.”

  “I saw them too. You really do have to watch where you step.”

  They were alone in the cool morning air. The incoming tide was washing the shore with a predictable rhythm of low and gentle music. A beautiful blue-and-gold macaw sat on a branch in a nearby tree screeching Where’s my food? while someone from the kitchen approached him with a small plastic tub filled with a few ripe mangoes and bananas. The bird hopped down, peered in, and devoured it all.

  “This place really is a bit of a zoo!” Olivia said. “Did you order breakfast?”

  “Not yet. I was waiting for you.” The macaw began screeching again. “That’s my friend Mac,” Nick said. “He wants seconds, and he thinks the breakfast service is too slow.”

  “Well, he’s wrong. He shouldn’t complain. He’s lucky to be here. Like us.”

  Olivia filled herself a cup, added cream, and gave it a stir. Nick continued to read.

  “So, with all the hullabaloo last night, you never told me about the Hinckley or your golf game. How was it?”

  “Fabulous,” he said, and didn’t look up from the newspaper.

  “Nick?”

  “Hmmm,” he said.

  “What has you so riveted? Did the world blow up?” She took a sip and waited.

  “No, I . . . Sorry, dear. I was reading this article about a dispute over the borders of New Jersey and New York, which, as you know, has been a bone of contention since the American Revolution. It seems they’ve discovered a map that might settle it for once and for all.”

  “Well, it’s about time. So, are you fellas playing golf today?”

  Nick folded his paper and put it on an empty spot on the table. “I don’t think so. Listen, I want to talk to you about Maritza and Bob before anyone else appears.” Nick said.

  “What is there to say? He treated her very poorly last night.”

  “Yes, he certainly did. But I had a thought that you might want to consider adding to your files.”
>
  “What’s that?”

  “What really shook Bob up last night was the thought of losing Gladdie.”

  “Well, of course! We were all upset. Where are you going with this?” Olivia asked.

  “I think he has a highly developed idea of what’s his and what he’s willing to share. That’s all.”

  “Hmmm. So you’re saying he views Gladdie as his possession only.”

  “Something along those lines. Maritza said something about taking Gladdie and going home to her mother, which to my mind is just a general metaphor for female frustration. But that was when Bob blew his top. Remember?” Nick said.

  “Yes, of course. I actually had a similar thought.”

  “Well, she just needs to consider the fact that if she wants out, he will fight her for custody. And somehow, even if it isn’t in the best interest of the child, I believe he will win.”

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Olivia said. “It really is.”

  “I agree. Anyway, as to today’s agenda? I heard some talk last night about taking the submarine for a spin.”

  “Oh! I had almost forgotten about that crazy thing! Maritza was very excited about it. To be honest, I pushed it out of my mind.”

  “It’s supposed to be able to descend to some amazing depth.”

  “No thank you. Too claustrophobic for me. Besides, who knows if it’s safe?”

  “Well, I’d be curious to see what’s down there. You know how I hate scuba diving or snorkeling. I mean, if a school of fish touched me, I’d have a heart attack. But this would be an absolutely antiseptic way to go have a look.”

  “Okay. You have fun with that! You’ll let me know what you find, I hope?”

  Nick laughed and said, “Let’s see just how scary this thing is before we say yes or no.”

  “No, no. You’re so much more brave . . .”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  A waiter appeared to take their orders.

  Olivia asked for a poached egg on a dry English muffin with a fruit plate.

  Nick said, “I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’m going to have the eggs Benedict again. And may I have some extra hollandaise on the side?”

  “Of course, sir,” the waiter said, smiling.