Souvenir. Therese Fowler
Caribbean version. It could be a reality show.
Marie-Louise said, ‘That one, it’s in Terres Basses – “lowlands” en français. It is très exclusif.’
For three-point-five million US dollars, it ought to be, he thought.
‘That’s where we were looking yesterday morning,’ Val reminded him.
‘Alors, there is a view of the Caribbean Sea from the stone pool and spa – so nice for romantic soirées, no?’ Marie-Louise smiled her ingratiating smile. ‘But if you get company – maybe your real estate agent, yes? – you have four guest rooms, three baths – and your kitchen, well, it is magnifique!’
He fought to keep from rolling his eyes. Marie-Louise reminded him of the kinds of women he tried hardest to avoid. She would make an ideal host for his imaginary reality show, he decided, viewing Caribbean properties with wealthy couples and booting off the islands anyone whose net worth turned out to be less than ten million dollars.
‘Carson loves to cook, right, Car?’ Val said.
‘“Loves” might be a little strong.’
‘He’s being modest. He’s terrific in the kitchen – his Thai food is killer. Men should be self-sufficient, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, oui,’ Marie-Louise said. ‘They must cook and clean and make the money – it’s what we do, non?’
‘Equality,’ Val said, nodding.
‘L’égalité,’ Marie-Louise agreed, both women looking at Carson.
‘I’m all for it. I’ll cook, and Val can do the dishes.’
‘Not!’
‘Spoken like a twenty-first-century princess.’ Carson smiled. He’d known how Val would respond – she was useless in the kitchen, capable of little more than pouring cereal and pouring wine. It was part of her charm.
‘The Princess de la Mer,’ Marie-Louise declared.
Val took the fact sheet from him. ‘And this house looks like the perfect princess hideaway. What do you think, Car? Want to go see it?’
He considered what might happen if he said no, if he told her he thought dropping any million on a vacation house felt ridiculous and unreal and contrary to what his life was about – not that he could fully define ‘about’; he considered how her smile would falter, replaced by confusion over his uncharacteristic – to her – behavior. She’d never seen him pessimistic or witnessed one of his ‘philosophical jags’, as Gene liked to call the lapses into dark introspection that seemed to sneak up on him now and again. He hadn’t had one since hearing that Meg’s mother had died so suddenly last September, just before he and Val met. Val wouldn’t know what to do with that Carson, much as he usually didn’t know himself. And maybe it was unfair to marry her without her having witnessed one of the spells – though he’d told her about them. Maybe he should make her see his full range, first.
Or maybe, in marrying her, he would effectively short-circuit his melancholy side and they’d live happily ever after. He stood, reached for Val’s hand, and said, ‘Let’s go.’
A few minutes later he trailed the women down a flagstone path to where the real estate agent had parked her late-model Mercedes. The reality of his surroundings – the ridiculous blue of the Caribbean sky, the palm trees so perfect they hardly looked natural, the sculpted shrubbery, the flash of the $79,000 diamond on Val’s left ring finger as she swung her arm – this reality was not the one he had planned for, growing up. It was not the reality he thought he was built for. Yet here he was. He trusted that if he tracked all his life’s events or decisions in the long sequence that had led him to this moment, this reality, it would all make sense. It had to: he was getting too jaded, too tired of the rock-star life to maintain its status quo. This vivacious young woman in front of him in her faded denim short-shorts and snug pink tank wanted to marry him. She was, if not exactly the sort of woman he once thought he’d spend his life with, a very appealing alternative. So, barring brain damage or death, in four weeks they’d return to the island with wedding apparel, parents, and friends, and get the deed done.
Maybe then, he thought as he held the car door open for Val, he could put the past behind him for good and all.
When Kyle called her Saturday night, Savannah pretended to be busy with family – her dad’s birthday gathering, she lied. Rachel had taught her by example how to string a guy along at first, to get him more interested. ‘But, thanks for calling! Sorry I can only talk for like ten minutes,’ she said.
‘Nah, that’s cool. Nice that they still like having you around.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, wishing they truly did. This morning it seemed like her mom wanted anything but her company, and her dad spent the whole drive to Rachel’s on the phone. ‘So what are you doing?’
‘Thinkin’ of you.’
‘Seriously,’ she said, turning on her stereo, low, so he’d hear background noise.
‘Way seriously. I think about you all the time. I feel like we … you know, like maybe we belong together.’ He laughed. ‘You think I’m a dork, right? But it’s just … you have this amazing effect on me. I can’t wait to see you in person.’
She tried not to give away how flattered she was, though from the sound of it, he didn’t need more stringing along. From the sound of it, he was hooked. What a relief; she wasn’t good at all the boy–girl game-playing that came so naturally to other girls.
‘Yeah, well, I’m really looking forward to seeing you, too,’ she said. ‘Where should I get a room?’
They talked about hotels, and then he asked if she was getting a rental car from the airport.
‘Oh – well … do I have to? Because, um, it’s kind of a hassle driving in Miami, right?’ Especially without a license to allow a person to rent a car in the first place.
‘True,’ Kyle said. ‘I usually let one of my brothers do the driving. So whatever – we can pick you up.’
‘Or there might be a shuttle.’
‘Or you can, you know, bunk with us at my brother’s place, right? If you wanted to save some bucks, I mean.’
‘I can afford a hotel,’ she said. She knew enough to not plan to stay in an unfamiliar city with someone she’d met over the Internet, no matter how great he seemed so far. ‘Thanks, though.’
She asked him about his brothers (he had two, both older and both ‘making the parents proud’), and then they talked about what sorts of things they could do in Miami, including topless tanning, if that was her thing. Not that he was expecting it, not at all. And no, it wasn’t exactly legal. But girls did it. ‘If something like that appeals,’ he said, ‘well, you’re so gorgeous you could fit right in with the other babes on the beach.’
Gorgeous. No one ever called her gorgeous before.
She was savoring the compliment when Kyle said, ‘So, I want to make sure you really do have the bucks for the trip.’
‘Yeah, definitely,’ she assured him, wanting to sound independent, mature. ‘I’ve got tons of money in savings –’ cause my parents, they’re paying for school.’ This wasn’t a lie, they were paying for her private high school. And they’d be paying for college when the time came. ‘So yeah, money’s no trouble. What about you? If you needed, I could help you out.’
‘What, me? Hey, no, I’m good.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked. He sounded like he was trying to cover.
‘I