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“Our bride-to-be?” Hazel glances over at me. The breeze kicks up her hair so it’s dancing around her face, and there are a million things I’d rather be talking about, but unfortunately, my uncle’s future can’t wait.
I nod. “How well do you know her?”
“She starred in one of my brother’s movies, a couple of years ago,” Hazel replies.
“And?” I prompt.
“She’s… professional,” Hazel says, her voice tactful. “Very dedicated to her job. She’s always on time, ready to go, no diva behavior while the cameras are rolling.”
“But when they’re not?”
Hazel shrugs. “She’s an actress.”
“You’re going to have to translate Hollywood speak,” I tease her. “I don’t know what that means.”
Hazel smiles. “Just that she can be a little… temperamental, that’s all. But it’s understandable,” she adds. “I mean, I can’t imagine what it’s like to be famous, and have everybody watching all the time. Paparazzi stalking me to the grocery store, and exes lined up to sell their story to the tabloids. It must be a nightmare.”
“She seems to be coping just fine,” I reply dryly. “There aren’t any paparazzi at the resort… but Avery still hired a gaggle of photographers to come for the week. She’s been posing for photos with her bridal party all day.”
Hazel searches my face. “You don’t like her,” she says, matter-of-fact.
I sigh, feeling guilty. “I wanted to,” I offer. “When Uncle Robert called me up and told me he was getting married, I was happy for him. But Avery?” I sigh again. “She’s young, and ambitious, and marrying a billionaire twice her age. There’s a word for women like her.”
“Gold digger?” Hazel says, giving me a look over the rim of her sunglasses.
“You said it, not me.”
She smirks. “So, I suppose your uncle is the innocent victim in all of this?” she asks playfully. “He couldn’t help but be ensnared by her youthful breasts and endless thighs?”
I clear my throat. “I’m not going to comment on Avery’s, um, assets.”
Hazel giggles. “Good plan. But still, Robert’s the one making a choice too, here,” she points out. “There are plenty of amazing age-appropriate women around, lawyers and doctors, and real estate moguls, but I don’t see him takingthemto all those red carpet premieres. Hell, there are plenty of bombshell actresses his own age he could date, but he’s not chasing after Salma, or Julia, or Sandra, is he now?”
“I think they’re all married, but I get the point,” I admit, grinning. “Still… my uncle means the world to me. I just hope he’s not making a big mistake he’s going to regret.”
“That’s the thing about other people’s mistakes”, Hazel replies, with a sympathetic look. “You can’t stop them, you just have to be waiting with a shoulder to cry on and a bottle of bourbon when they finally come to their senses and realize what they’ve done.”
I’m not so sure that’s my only option here, but we soon arrive in the main town, which is set by the harbor; the buildings painted in colorful shades. It’s busy with locals and tourists, and Hazel directs me through the narrow streets until we reach a hectic open-air market, full of food vendors and produce stalls.
“The kitchen manager gave me a list of their regular suppliers,” Hazel says, hopping down from the Jeep. “Fingers crossed, we can replace all the stuff Chef Boo ran off with.”
“Where would she put it, anyway?” I wonder, following Hazel through the crowds. “I mean, if you’re going to make a quick escape, you’d think a few crates of lobster and filet mignon would slow you down. Unless she had a partner waiting, and this was all an elaborate heist scheme, to make off with forty pounds of wedding cake, and a few hundred hors d’oeuvres.”
Hazel snorts with laughter. “You know, your mind is an interesting place,” she says, and I’m just glad she can’t read it right now.
Because I can’t help wondering what kind of underwear she’s hiding under that silk, this time.
If I wasn’t impressedby Hazel’s skills of charm and persuasion, I would be now. In no time at all, the woman hits up every major vendor, sweet talks them into submission, and secures all the food we need for the feast tonight – and the rest of the week.
“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver,” she beams at the fish guy, so warm and lovely, that the grizzled old man is putty in her hands.
I don’t blame him. I’m feeling pretty malleable myself, watching Hazel in action.
“Anytime. Is there anything else you need?” he gazes at her adoringly. “Skate? Conch? Some fresh crab? I could take you out on the boat in the morning, get the catch fresh. Him too,” he adds reluctantly, giving me a look.
“That’s so sweet, but you’ve done more than enough.” Hazel shakes his hand enthusiastically, before following me back out into the market.
“OK, we have the hogs, fish, and enough produce to feed a vegan commune,” she says, checking her phone. “I think we’re all set for the feast.”
