Page 20 of Old Flames

“Not necessarily,” Jules said. “Vicky doesn’t need his money.”

“But does he need hers?” Ayesha asked.

“Good question,” Sebastien said. “This economy is rough.”

“He’s a talented writer,” Jules said. “He’ll bounce back!”

“But does she want to be the trampoline he bounces back on?” Ayesha asked.

Vicky didn’t say anything, which Jules flagged as odd. She sat quietly, rubbing sunscreen onto her bare legs.

Later, the captain rounded them up and presented a brief exposé of the undersea ecosystem along with some blunt remarks. “Don’t touch the reef!” he cried. “Don’t trample over it. Don’t snap off a piece. It won’t bring you luck. It won’t cure your illness. For fuck’s sake, just leave it alone! If you touch it, it dies. This reef is the third largest in the world and supports a unique ecosystem. We want to keep it that way. That said, welcome on board and enjoy yourselves!”

Soon, they arrived at the site of a dilapidated lighthouse, its carcass rusting in the sun. Leo, shirtless, a nicotine patch on one arm, grabbed his snorkeling gear and, without hesitation, leaped into the sparkling water.

“I’m going in!” Jules announced. “Anyone care to explore the reef?”

Ayesha declined. “You heard the man. If you touch it, it dies. Maybe we should leave it alone, relax, grab a mimosa, and chat. We can explore the coral online. There are plenty of videos.”

“Oh, no,” Jules said, wiggling out of her cutoff shorts. “You got me out of bed. You got me on a boat. We’re going to see the coral. Suit up!”

“As the only certified diver here, I’d like to point out that we don’t need wet suits,” Sebastien said. “But I’m with Jules. Let’s go!”

“You were eager for this excursion,” Vicky reminded Ayesha, already fitting on a pair of fins. “Don’t half-ass it.”

They dove in with Jules taking the lead. The ocean absorbed her. Her perspective softened and blurred. Before she regained focus and marveled at the technicolor underwater world, before she swam among the schools of blue tang and yellowtail snapper, before a barracuda brushed her ankle, and she paused a moment to study but not touch the structure of the reef, a thought brought her up short. Her mother had been in her room last night. Vicky might have come and gone, but her mother had been there. She was sure of it. Her mother had shown up somehow, materialized from thin air, and sat at the foot of her bed. Jules hadn’t imagined it.

No . . . that’s crazy!

Am I going crazy?

The distress weighed her down, pushed her to the ocean floor.

She must have set off some alarm bells, because Leo swam over and caught her by the elbow. Through his goggles, she read the concern in his eyes. While he fussed with her snorkel, she wished there was some way to tell him that she wasn’t a newbie in need of constant supervision. Nor was she a city girl who’d never left the five boroughs of NYC. She routinely dove off cliffs and swam with dolphins. Could her eyes convey all this? Not likely, because he went one step further and reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. Jules felt instantly reassured. She was calm again, and last night’s dream (because what else could it have been?) vanished from her mind. Even so, she wiggled her hand free. She wasn’t used to this much attention. She didn’t want it, didn’t need it. Too much care and she could die. With her free hand, she motioned for him to follow her and took off, kicking.

The morning slipped by. They dove, splashed, snorkeled, sunbathed, sipped flat mimosas from plastic cups, snapped group photos, and left the captain with big hugs and tips. When they made it back to the marina, it was time for lunch. They crowded the patio of a seafood shack in Bahama Village and filled up on lobster rolls, slaw, conch fritters, and fries. Afterward, they started the slow procession back to the inn.

They looked nothing like a cohort of esteemed visiting scholars. With their crunchy salt-stiff hair, damp bathing suits, flip-flops slapping the hot pavement, they blended in seamlessly with the tourists.

Their group had splintered into smaller groups. Ayesha had joined Daphne, Dick, and Sebastien at the head of the line. Leo and Matty stuck together. Jules and Vicky were already trailing behind before Vicky wandered off to take a call. She was on her phone now, giving someone a piece of her mind. When she finally ended the call, she jogged to catch up with Jules and gently drew her farther away from the others.

“You’ll never guess,” she whispered. “That motherfucker gave away my cat!”

“To the Humane Society?” Jules asked, properly scandalized. Kit Kat was as part of her life as anyone’s. At home she had a bed in storage and a drawer full of treats for that fat, grumpy cat.

“To his cousin in New Jersey!”

“Why?”

“He had a last-minute invite to the Hamptons and took off!” she flared. “When I asked him how he could leave my baby with a stranger, he said it was ‘all good’ and pointed out that he and I are practically strangers. The worst part? He’s right! I’ve only known him a month. Why did I trust him with my baby? Kit must be so confused. All this because I didn’t want to leave him at the vet . . . or with Barbara.”

“Take a breath,” Jules said. “Maybe the cousin in Jersey is wonderful with animals.”

“That’s what he said, but what if they have a teenage menace who knocks off cats for sport?”

“Kit’s a killer. He can hold his own,” Jules replied. “Just in case, get their number. Ask for proof of life.”

“Not enough. I’m going to do the unthinkable.”