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As Ruby picks up her travel bag and follows Holly, she can hear Bonnie and Bev chatting about family stuff and she smiles, secretly thrilled that her own trip to Christmas Key has afforded Bev the opportunity to visit with his cousin.
"I understand you're meeting with Dexter North," Holly says in a hushed voice as she walks Ruby to the door of her room. Banks swipes his key card and lets himself into his own room with a nod at the women, disappearing as the door closes behind him. Ruby knows the protocol: if she's ready to go anywhere, she'll call him.
"I am." Ruby smiles at Stella and reaches out again to touch the baby's bare toes. She's adorable, with deep dimples and bright eyes, and there's a yearning in Stella that she knows will someday soon manifest as a desire for grandchildren. But for the moment, she's still unwilling to admit that she's even old enough to be a grandmother.
"He's such an interesting character," Holly says, taking off her baseball cap and handing it to Stella so that she can fold the fabric in her hands and chew on the brim of the hat. "Dexter bought one of our tiny homes here about six months ago, and now he shows up on Christmas Key a few times a year and takes his laptop everywhere he goes. He's friendly enough, but he's always writing something, so we mostly just stay out of his way."
Ruby smiles and shifts her bag from one hand to the other, still holding onto the key card.
“I’m sorry,” Holly says, looking at her feet as Stella throws the Yankees hat on the ground with a giggle. “I’m sure people meet you and just babble on and on. Please, go in and enjoy the room. Let me know if there’s anything at all we can do to make your stay more comfortable.”
Ruby bends at the waist and picks up the Yankees cap, handing it back to Stella. “You aren’t babbling,” she assures the younger woman truthfully. “We’re just chatting. I can’t wait to see the whole island, and I will definitely let you know if we need anything.” She turns her attention to the baby. “And thank you for the personal escort to my room, Miss Stella.”
Christmas Key is just as magical as Ruby has heard it is. After a short rest in her room, she and Banks borrow the B&B’s golf cart for a few hours and drive around the outer edge of the island, along a street called December Drive, stopping to look at the beautiful, crystal clear water, and white sand. And on the north side of the island, they slow down to look at a cluster of “tiny homes” with little front porches, window boxes filled with colorful flowers, and views of the water. She assumes that this is where Dexter North lives.
Banks brings her all the way around to the island’s only real restaurant, the Jingle Bell Bistro, and they park in the sandy, unpaved lot as the sun starts to inch lower in the sky.
As promised in his email, Dexter North is waiting at a table on the restaurant’s huge porch at six o’clock; he stands as Ruby approaches.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Dexter says, shaking her hand as he holds her gaze. “And I so appreciate you making the trip to Christmas Key, which is my own private version of paradise—minus all the candy canes and tinsel.” He gives her a lopsided grin. “I would have never dreamed of asking you to come all the way out here, but it’s the perfect place to talk.”
Dexter has already stepped around the table to pull out Ruby’s chair and she sits as he slides it in. There are eyes on them, though the porch isn’t full of diners or gawkers. Banks settles at a table about ten feet away with his back to the water.
“The trip was no problem at all,” Ruby assures him, still measuring every word that comes out of her mouth. After all, she has no clue what Dexter is already formulating in his head. What’s his angle? What information will he pry from her if she has a glass of wine and starts to feel comfortable? Instead of letting her guard down even an inch, Ruby puts her elbows on the table and leans forward, her eyes boring into his hotly. “I wanted to meet face to face and find out what you’re after.”
Just then, a woman with a deep Irish accent approaches holding two bottles of water, one a clear glass bottle of still water, the other a green glass bottle full of bubbly San Pellegrino.
“Welcome to the Jingle Bell Bistro,” the woman says formally. “We’re thrilled to have you here. Could I start you with a glass of water, or perhaps a bottle of wine?”
Dexter and Ruby both ask for San Pellegrino and a few minutes to decide, then pick up their menus like two cowboys at a shoot-out at high noon, each eyeing the other to see what the next move is.
Once they’ve both decided on the shrimp and grits—a pile of yellow corn grits covered in Key West pink shrimp, heirloom tomatoes, crispy bacon, mushrooms, and red gravy, and a bottle of chilled Prosecco, which Ruby promises herself she’ll only sip—they eyeball one another again. It feels like a standoff.
“So,” Dexter says, pausing so the sound of the surf and the crashing of the waves fills the silence between them. The Irish woman who took their order circles the patio, stopping by the few other tables to talk with her customers. Everyone is studiously ignoring Dexter and Ruby. “So,” he begins again. “What’s your life like now?”
Ruby blinks twice. “Now?” She isn’t used to being asked about her own life. In fact, she’s far more accustomed to being asked about what it was like living in the White House, how many of her outfits she got for free while she was First Lady, and what Jack liked to wear when he wasn’t in the public eye (gym shorts, a beat-up Harvard t-shirt, and a pair of leather slippers, for the record, but Ruby would never share that).
“Yes,” Dexter says, leaning back slightly as their server approaches with an uncorked bottle of Prosecco, which she pours into two large wine glasses.
“In a big glass, just like they serve it in Italy,” the Irish woman says, pouring with a flourish. She sets down a basket of bread and butter. “And this is the soda bread my husband’s grandmother made when he was a wee lad. Secret recipe,” she says with a wink, walking away before either Dexter or Ruby can comment.
“My life now, is…” Ruby squints out at the water for a second, then looks back at him. “Quieter. I own a small bookshop on Shipwreck Key, and I bought a house there. My girls are both currently staying with me, and I fall asleep most nights reading a book.”
“Mine?” An amused smile quirks at the corners of Dexter’s full lips. He’s even more handsome than in the photos Marigold pulled up on her phone, and for their meeting, he’s chosen a pale blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of navy blue dress shorts. His hair is wind-swept, and he smells—even from across the table—deliciously like soap and aftershave.
“Yes, yours,” Ruby admits. “I’m sorry to say that I did fall asleep while reading it, but not because it was boring.”
“It’s never a compliment when a lady falls asleep during your best work,” Dexter says, looking entertained but also like a little boy who’s getting away with saying a naughty word in front of a teacher.
“I’m sure it’s a rare occurrence that a woman falls asleep with you on her chest,” Ruby assures him, lifting her eyebrows just slightly as she reaches for her glass of Prosecco.Dear God,she thinks,you’ve been in Dexter North’s presence for ten minutes and already you’ve slipped into innuendos and doublespeak.Sip, sip, sip, Ruby,she reminds herself,don’t guzzle.She needs to not let the bubbles go to her head. “Or with your book open on her chest, that is,” she adds after an intentional beat.
Dexter’s face cracks and he laughs out loud. “Indeed. So you’re living on Shipwreck Key, which I’ve yet to visit. Lots of pirates?”
Ruby tips her head from side to side. “A few. Mostly pirate-themed shops and pirate street names. Scallywag Street. Landlubber Lane. Very charming, and the people are wonderful. I’m making friends.”
“With the pirates?”
“Yes. And with the women. I’ve formed a book club, and I’m building a little community for myself, which is what you do when you start over somewhere new, right? I mean, you kind of have to.”
