Part 20 (2/2)
All of those organizations had boards, and those board members were her target audience. Boards of trustees existed because they were able to offer the organization oversight, social and professional connections, and yes, money. Usually board members were people of a certain means. People of a certain means used interior designers. And if joining a few nonprofits at an upper level of members.h.i.+p didn't bring her a few clients, she would hire a public relations firm, one who would see to it that she attended the right benefit galas, who would be sure she was photographed for the right newspapers, and who would perhaps help her place a feature article in the right magazines-like Charleston Home + Design, Coastal Living, or Garden & Gun. She wasn't in the kind of business where she could open a storefront and hang out a s.h.i.+ngle. Although there was always the pipe dream that a retail business that sold her private label of home furnis.h.i.+ngs might be fun. Whenever she toyed with the idea, Roni would immediately talk her out of it.
”Really? You want to stand on your feet ten hours a day and fight with little old ladies over how long your candles retain the scent? You want to deal with shoplifters and credit card companies? And inventory? You want to work on weekends and holidays?”
Olivia laughed then to think of Roni and how she expunged any poetic notion Olivia may have had about working retail right out of her head. It was another reason Roni was so important to her. She kept Olivia's chickens in the vicinity of the coop.
It was nearly five o'clock when Nick returned. Actually, Olivia heard water running, and unsure of what this sound meant, she followed the sound to its source outside. When she leaned over the porch railing, there was Nick rinsing his feet with a hose. He was sunburned and as salty as any sailor could be.
”Somebody left us a hose!”
”Well, good! How was the fis.h.i.+ng?” she asked and wondered, Are we going to start bathing in the yard? This was exactly why we need a footbath, she thought.
”Come down here, woman, and look in the bucket! Look in the bucket!”
Olivia descended the steps, excited to find out what her Nick had captured from the sea. In the bottom of what would become known as Nick's Fis.h.i.+ng Bucket, were two small fish, flopping around in the muddy salt water, begging for mercy. They could not have fed supper to a medium-sized housecat.
”Is this dinner, sweetheart? Or supper?”
Nick began to laugh and laugh. His belly was bouncing slightly and his eyes were tearing.
”Oh my G.o.d in His beautiful heavens! No! It's bait! Real sportsmen catch their own bait.”
”Oh!”
”I'm just going to cut them up and throw them in the freezer. If we weren't going to Nantucket tomorrow, I'd go back out there and use these little babies to get my big fish. How was your afternoon?”
”Well, I think it was productive.” More productive than yours, she thought but did not say.
As long as he came home happy, she didn't care if he caught anything at all.
”Good!”
He rinsed his hands, dried them with the hem of his very stinky s.h.i.+rt, and pulled her to him. He smelled like man sweat and the ocean. She was unaccustomed to the odor and resisted his embrace like the damsel fights the evil duke's advances in a bodice-ripping novel.
”Nick! Jeez!”
”Too manly for you?”
”Wasn't last night enough?”
”It's never enough!”
She broke free and shuddered from head to toe. ”Baby boy? You need a shower!”
Nick gave a rowdy laugh and Olivia hurried back inside, hoping he'd take her out to dinner. She didn't feel like shopping, then cooking, and then cleaning up when they had to pack for Nantucket as well. And they had to get up in the morning at an unG.o.dly hour.
”I'm just warning you, sweetheart,” Olivia said later, taking a bite of her crab cake at the Long Island Cafe. ”Maritza is obsessively fretting over Colette coming to the wedding. You're going to get an earful.”
”If she torments me with her incessant nattering, I shall break into the conversation and give her a lecture on the most obscure battles of the Civil War.”
”That should take care of the problem.”
Armed with a plan of resistance, they flew to Newark the next morning on the six A.M. flight. Nick wiped down the germy spots around his seat, buckled his seat belt, and promptly went to sleep. Olivia realized then that they should always fly at the crack of dawn because Nick wasn't alert enough at that hour to get nervous. She dozed off and on, and when she heard the pilot announce their beginning descent she gently nudged Nick.
”Wake up, sweetheart,” she said softly.
”What?”
”We're landing,” she said.
When they touched down, Olivia texted Maritza.
Landed! On our way to Teterboro. Can't wait to see you!
A moment or two later, Olivia's cell phone pinged.
Can't wait to see y'all too! I'm here waiting! Maritza pinged back.
”I'm exhausted,” Nick said in the taxi. ”I got too much sun yesterday.”
”Yes, your face is really red. Be sure to drink a lot of water today. You can snooze on the plane, but I'm working. Unfortunately I'm on the job.”
”You don't think it might be rude if I go back to sleep?”
”At this hour? No, sir, I do not. She's not sensitive about things like that. Besides, she's going to want to harangue about Ellen and Colette. If you're sleeping, she'll feel freer to speak.”
”Where are we staying?”
”The White Elephant.”
”I've stayed there before, but it was years ago.”
”Oh, really? With whom?”
”Oh, some little tart with big b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I can't recall her name. Long time ago.”
Nick was looking out the window, but Olivia could tell by the back of his ears and his jaw that he was stifling a laugh.
”You know what, Nicholas Seymour?”
”Yes, my precious pet?”
”You're lucky that I'm the kind of girl I am.”
”Yes, I am.”
”Another kind of woman would've shot you in the face for a whole lot less.”
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