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"You can put me down as a guest author," Dexter says. "I'm not sure that the groups of women on this trip who love to read bodice-rippers are going to be impressed by me, but for you, I'll be there."
"We might raise eyebrows," Ruby warns. "After all, there was that picture of us together after the first time I came to Christmas Key."
"Oh, I'll take my chances. I'm not super concerned about becoming grist for the gossip mill." Dexter looks at his watch. "Okay, let's wrap it up here for now and talk later. I need to get some of these notes typed up and think about the next set of questions. Deal?"
"Deal," Ruby says. They sign off, Ruby closes her laptop, and she immediately dials her mother on the phone.
"Hello, darling girl," Patty Dallarosa says, sounding precisely the same as she always does when she greets her daughter. "How are you today?"
Ruby blows out a breath. "Hi, Mom. I need words of wisdom."
"I am a font of it, my love. Deliver your problem to me and I'll see what I can do."
"Okay," Ruby says, scooting around on the wooden chair to get more comfortable. She pulls her bare feet up under her and sits up straighter. "I've got two things: one, there's chemistry between me and Dexter North, and I think it's going somewhere."
"Are you sure you're my daughter? That doesn't seem like much of a problem, Ruby."
"Well, we're trying to keep things professional, but it's been a struggle. The other thing is that I'm still completely confused about what to do with the Etienne and Julien issue."
"Ah. That one has more teeth, as problems go." Patty pauses as she sighs audibly. "Any further word from the husband thief since you left France?"
"Mom. I'm trying to call her by her name. Jack obviously felt something for her, so I need to be respectful of that."
"You most certainly do not," Patty says with force. "Jack did whatever he damn well pleased, and you, my sweet girl, are under no obligations to walk around behind him, sweeping up the glass and setting everything right in his path of destruction."
"That's not how it feels," Ruby muses. "I still feel like everyone is watching me, waiting for me to do something wrong. To behave in a way that's not classy or White House-worthy."
"Sure. And they are."
"So then how do I act? How do I truly let myself bemewhen I'm no longer Jack Hudson's wife, or the First Lady, or someone whose actions reflect on the entire country?"
"Okay, I've heard enough to have an answer, and I'm gonna give it to you in a nutshell, sweetheart."
"I'm ready." Ruby nods as she takes in a deep, cleansing breath. "Hit me with it."
"First of all, you find a way to get this woman and her son out of your life. Insult them, find a lawyer to threaten them with something, or pay them off--doesn't matter to me how you do it, just banish them. You don't need this drama; it won't do good things for your skin or your posture. Trust me on this." Patty waits for a beat before going on, and Ruby can imagine her sitting at the dining room table of her house in California, sipping her early morning coffee. "Secondly, you kiss the boy. Sooner rather than later."
Ruby laughs at this, because of course her mother, she of the legendary love life, would say to plunge headfirst into a romance without gauging how deep the water is.
"But--"
"Nobuts, baby," Patty interrupts. "It's time for you to getoverJack by gettingundersomeone else."
Ruby barks a laugh. "Mom!"
"Hey, I speak from experience. You can take my advice or leave it, but Ruby," she says with a knowing smile in her voice, "I know you want to take it."
Molly
Molly doesn't want to let on to the rest of the book club women how tickled she is that they've called an "emergency meeting" only a week after the last one so that she can continue her story about losing the love of her life and sailing the world. Normally they meet every other week, which gives even the slowest readers time to finish the book they've chosen, but no one is even pretending at this point that they're going to talk aboutEat, Pray, Love, and Ruby has only asked that people bring cake and a beverage so that they can settle right in and start listening.
"Ms. Molly, you got a smile on your face that makes you look happy as a tick on a fat dog," Ephraim Jones says to Molly as he carts in yet another box and places it in a neat pile next to her cash register. "What gives?"
Molly glances in Ephraim's direction, shooting him an uncharacteristic wink. "Not too much--I just got a bunch of gals on the island wanting to hear me jaw about my life, and I'm amused."
"I bet you've lived a colorful one," Ephraim says. He pulls a navy blue bandanna from the back pocket of his cargo pants and wipes the sweat from his forehead.
Traveling around under the hot sun by boat in the middle of May and delivering items to various businesses has to be weary-making, and Molly can imagine that Ephraim, who is within a stone's throw of her own age, has probably lost a bit of energy since he started his business.
