Part 40 (1/2)

”Dear G.o.d!” Bob said. ”I'm completely stunned! I'm so dreadfully sorry! What a terrible shock! What can I do?”

”I don't know,” Olivia said. ”I don't know where to start. I don't even know what I need.”

”Well, look, if you need money or legal help with the estate or anything, Olivia, you know Maritza and I are totally in your corner,” Bob said. ”You can't go through this alone and you don't have to. And don't forget we've got Le Bateau de l'Amour!”

That wasn't right for Bob to say. It didn't make any sense. In fact, nothing made any sense. But she couldn't stop weeping.

The EMS team asked her if Nick had practiced a faith, and when she said his mother was Roman Catholic, they told her they would take his body to somewhere in Mount Pleasant. A funeral director would call her in the morning to determine whether he wanted to be cremated or buried and to make all the other decisions.

What did he say? Olivia wondered, forgetting his words as soon as she heard them.

If your husband left a will, it would be a good idea to find it. Perhaps his wishes were spelled out for her. They said they were sorry and they told her to go inside the house to a place where she couldn't see his body being taken away.

”Go hide your eyes,” a man said.

”What?” Olivia said. ”Why?”

Her neighbor gently took her arm and led her to the kitchen and tried to engage her in small talk while simultaneously expressing condolences.

”This is the worst night of my life,” she told him. ”Please, tell me your name again. I'm sorry. I can't hold anything in my head right now.”

”I'm Jack, but it's okay. You've had a terrible shock. Can I get you a gla.s.s of water or something? Whiskey? Champagne?”

Jack was the name of the captain of Bob's yacht. It was a nice name with a solid ring to it. And this Jack seemed awfully nice. But this wasn't the time for champagne!

”Yes, thank you,” Olivia said. ”Water would be nice.”

Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and began shaking her, gently at first and then more insistently, shaking her and shaking her almost like she was a ragdoll.

”Ms. Ritchie? Wake up, ma'am. We're in Charleston.”

”What? What? What? Where am . . . Oh! G.o.d!”

She almost jumped out of her seat. It was the worst nightmare of her life. She was covered in perspiration.

”Are you all right?”

”No! Yes!” She looked at him with crazy eyes of panic and wondered if he was telling her the truth. Her dream had been so vivid! So vivid and so terrifying! ”Yes, I'm fine.”

She was not fine.

”Here, why don't you just sit for a moment. I'll get you a gla.s.s of water.”

There was a car waiting for her, another considerate gesture of Bob's. Or maybe it was Maritza who thought of it. It didn't matter. She had been taken care of by Bob, who truly was a new man. At least for that one day. Time would tell, she thought. It was after ten o'clock at night and it might have taken a long while for a taxi to arrive. Wait! Had she not dreamed this? In any case, she was glad to see the waiting car.

While driving to the island she called Nick's cell phone and there was no answer. She left him a message. He was probably fast asleep and the phone was on the other side of the house on its charger or on mute.

It was right before eleven when she arrived at home. Her driver carried her bags and boxes to the door for her.

”Thanks so much! Good night!”

”Any time,” he said.

She didn't ring the doorbell because there was a good chance that Nick would be asleep at that hour. The house was in complete darkness, which was odd. But he did not know she was coming in that night. Or did he? His new habit was to rise early and chase fish. She smiled thinking about that. The door was locked, so she dug through her handbag for her keys and let herself in. She took the food to the kitchen and dropped it on the counter and then she took her suitcase to the bedroom, careful not to make any noise that might wake Nick.

To her surprise, the bed was still made. She turned on the overhead light. Nick was definitely not there. Suddenly she was alarmed. Where was he? At this late hour?

”Nick! Nick!” She called his name loudly, not caring then if she woke him up. Maybe he had fallen asleep on a sofa? Or in his leather chair?

He was not in the bathroom or his study or the living room. She turned on lights as she went from place to place. Maybe the porch? She hurried outside, and there he was in his favorite rocking chair wearing his new fis.h.i.+ng hat. She was so relieved.

”Nick? Hey, baby! I'm home!”

There was no response. Was he asleep?

She was doubly panicked as she hurried around him to wake him. He was slumped to the side, fis.h.i.+ng hat askew, stain on his s.h.i.+rt. This was her dream. Oh G.o.d. Was he dead?

”Nick? Baby? Wake up. I'm home.”

As though he had been holding his breath for weeks, here came a long whoosh of an exhale. To Olivia's enormous relief, Nick was very much alive.

”Well, hey there! I missed my woman! Come here to me.”

He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her face.

”Oh Nick!” She burst into tears.

”Whoa, Nellie! Hold on there! Whatever is the matter?”

”Oh! I had the most vivid and terrible dream.”

”Come on, now. I'm here with you and everything is okay.”

”I know, I know.” Olivia said and realized again how tired she was. ”Thank G.o.d you're okay.”

”Rough trip?”

”Maritza gave Bob religion. I brought you tomatoes.”

”Ah, my lovely girl! Let's go make a sandwich.”

Epilogue.

Labor Day, Nantucket Olivia would never find better friends than those she had. She knew it and she treasured each one of them, especially Roni, despite her youth, and Bob and Maritza. And life's curve b.a.l.l.s didn't always result in a black eye. The first thing that happened in that very tumultuous August was that Roni's mother finally gave up the ghost. Olivia flew to New York and did everything for Roni that she could. To be honest, Roni was more relieved than bereft. Her mother had suffered so terribly for so long.

And things between Roni and Jason had gained sufficient momentum and heat for her to move to Charleston. She found a small apartment in the historic district south of Broad Street and moved in. Next, the old salts on Nantucket who had decided they couldn't part with their twenty-six-million-dollar white elephant changed their mind. Their matriarch who held the deed died too, and suddenly the heirs were screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder for their inheritance. Bob picked up the bargain for a mere twenty. The real estate business was good, but it wasn't that good.