"Sure!" Sam said. "Buddy? You in?"

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone wanted to see what a personal submarine looked like, so they gathered up their things and all of them, including Ellen and Gladdie, followed Hank down to the marina, where a sixty-five-foot-long catamaran waited with five handsome, suntanned young men on its deck. Well, at least they seemed young to Olivia, and she knew she should be ashamed of her initial thoughts about them. She looked around, and sure enough, Dorothy and that s.l.u.t Ellen were licking their lips. Wouldn't it be great if Bob and Sam could catch these two in the sack with a couple of deckhands? She smiled at the thought of it.

Of the crew of five, four were on hand to operate the catamaran and the sub and the other fellow was the pilot for the sub.

"Morning! Welcome aboard!" the captain said.

"Mel! Say h.e.l.lo to Bob Vasile and his guests!" Hank said.

Bob and Mel shook hands, and then Mel shook hands with everyone else as they were introduced.

Sam and Buddy climbed onto the catamaran with Bob, Nick, and Hank. The ladies waited on the dock.

"What a beautiful boat!" Bob said.

"Thank you, sir," Mel said. "We're very proud of her."

"How fast can she travel?" Bob asked.

"Up to twenty knots. You could never launch and recover a Triton with any other boat as easily as we can with this cat."

"She sure is yar!" Maritza said, and the women looked at her as if she were a raving lunatic. "Excuse me, all you pickle p.u.s.s.es! Katharine Hepburn? The Philadelphia Story? The boat True Love?"

There was no name or term recognition to be found among the younger ones.

"I think I remember hearing about Katharine Hepburn from my grandmother," Kitty said.

"Me too," Lola said. "Didn't Katharine Hepburn cross-dress?"

"Not any more than Lauren Bacall," Olivia said.

"Who?" Kitty said.

"My grandmother talked about her too," Ellen said. "Isn't she dead?"

Olivia, Dorothy, Anne, Mich.e.l.le, and Maritza finally found that they had something in common-contempt for the unforgivably young and uncultured.

Ignoring the women, Bob said to Mel, "Take my two pals out first and I'll go later with Nick. I just want to have a look at the lift."

"Well, you ought to watch The Philadelphia Story sometime," Olivia said to the younger women. "It's a cla.s.sic."

"I'm afraid the issues of propriety might go straight over their heads," Mich.e.l.le said.

"It's an informative movie about being cla.s.sy," Dorothy said, directing her remark to Ellen. "It wouldn't hurt you to watch it."

Ellen gasped and for once was speechless.

"Like you know the difference," Lola said, in defense of Ellen.

"Stop it!" Anne said.

"Ladies!" Maritza said.

Good grief! Olivia thought but did not say.

Silence hung in the air, and the good-natured feelings of the morning sank to the bottom of the sea.

Maritza said, "I'm going on board. I'm dying to go on the sub! How about y'all?"

"Not me," Olivia said. "No desire. I'll watch the movie, though."

"Me either," Dorothy said.

Anne just stood there, jaw clenched.

"You don't want to go?" Lola said to Anne.

"Not at all," Anne replied. Anne was miffed because Lola took Ellen's side.

Women, Olivia thought.

"You go down three thousand feet and tell us how it is," Mich.e.l.le said to Maritza.

"Well then, I will!" Maritza said.

Bob, who had ears like NASA and the SETI Project rolled into one, turned back to Maritza and said, "You don't have to do this, Maritza. It's really a guy thing."

"Really?" She was about to argue and then remembered what Olivia told her about treating Bob like royalty. "Well, dahlin', you know best. But do you think I could just look at it? Just a peek?"

Bob melted from Maritza's obsequious response. If there was anything he caved in to, it was a good bootlick. Yeah, boy, a genuflect to his almighty power did him right in.

"Sure, sweetheart. Here, take my hand." Bob reached out to help Maritza board the catamaran. "Watch your step now."

Maritza turned around and winked at Olivia. "I'll be right back, y'all!"

Olivia relayed this anecdote to Nick later on during the c.o.c.ktail hour on the terrace of the Great House. There was a new mountain of caviar on the c.o.c.ktail buffet and plenty of smoked fish with a.s.sorted breads. Bottles of vodka stood in blocks of ice stuffed with herbs and the champagne bucket was filled with two bottles. Olivia wondered if Bob owned stock in Veuve Clicquot.

"So, Maritza actually wound up piloting the submarine with Bob as her pa.s.senger," Olivia said. "He's definitely a catch-more-flies-with-honey kind of man."

"Most men are."

"But I have to tell you, I'm exhausted from these women."

"Boy, that's completely understandable. They make you wonder, don't they?"

"What drives them to be so bitter?"

"Yes. And what else do they want that they don't already have? You know, I've always believed you have to get up grateful. Do you understand?"

"I think so, but tell me just what you're thinking."

"Well, if I wake up and my knees hurt, as you know they often do, I ask the Good Lord to know I'm grateful for everything else. Like just the simple fact of being here another day so that I can love you and love the world. Now, sometimes I might throw out a question about how my aching knees are a part of His eternal plan, but I don't ever really expect to get an answer."

"The minute you think you're in direct conversation with G.o.d, I want to know, okay?"

Nick laughed and said, "Sure. I'll do that."

Two chefs were nearby, slowly poaching sh.e.l.led Guinea chick lobsters and prawns in clarified b.u.t.ter in copper pots over an open fire. Dinner was set up on the terrace of the Great House. Again, it was beautiful enough to have been the scene of a small wedding.

"My mouth is actually watering," Nick said.

"Baby boy, lobster poached in b.u.t.ter isn't exactly on the Mediterranean diet!"

"This is a special occasion," he said. "So, tell me again about the women?"

He listened to her with one ear, and at every pause in their conversation he raved about the submarine ride again, about which he was more excited than anything else, except speedboating around the Caribbean in the Hinckley Craft. Oh, and the jet that brought them here. And their Balinese bungalow. And the food. Did he mention the helicopter?

"Nick?"

"Yes, my turtledove?"

"How are you ever going to adjust to the simple life on Sullivans Island?"

"I'm an easy man, Olivia. Don't you worry about me. By the way, did I tell you what my friend Bob told me about a new hotel in Fiji that's being built? He wants to go and take all of us!"

"Your friend Bob? No. Do tell," Olivia said, almost smelling the special fragrance of sulfur that comes only with spiritual corruption. Nick was on the threshold of the dark side.

"Ah, Olivia. Come on. He's a good guy to his friends. Right? Anyway, it's called the Poseidon Undersea Resorts. It's actually underwater. The entire hotel is under b.l.o.o.d.y water!"

"That's what I'd be afraid of."

"No, no! It's safe! You can lie in your bed and watch dolphins and every kind of fish swim right by the gla.s.s walls! It has a hundred-seat restaurant and a bar and everything you can think of. Isn't that amazing?"

"Amazing. I hope it's fabulous, because it needs to be to get me to travel with these women again. I'm telling you, I can't wait to get away from them. Too negative. Day three and I'm completely worn out. I can have a business lunch with Maritza five days a week if I need to, you know? Much easier and same mission accomplished. I mean, it's not like any of the others would give me any business."

"I hadn't thought much about the other women, other than the obvious. You're right. Rough crowd. I'm sure they're not much company for you. They can't be. The women on Sullivans Island are a lot nicer."

"We'll see about that. And Maritza is a sweet girl, but I'm old enough to be her mother! I mean, I don't mind her confiding in me, but gosh, this is hardly a vacation."

"Well, I'm sorry to know that." Nick looked down and then back up at Olivia's face. "I hope you don't mind that I'm having-actually, I'm surprised to admit this-the time of my life. This is so much better than the trip we took with them to the Amalfi Coast." Nick noticed that Olivia's goblet was bone dry. "May I get you something stronger? A vodka martini?"

"Yes, please. At least one of us should be having a grand time. This is just too much work."

"Well, when we get home, let's head straight to Charleston. Say! Isn't that Bob's boat in the harbor?"

Sure enough, Le Bateau de l'Amour was at anchor about five hundred yards from the beach.

"Yes. Yes, it is! I wonder if we are leaving?" she said, and hoped it was a sign that they were.

"I have no idea," Nick said.

"Well, a trip to Charleston sounds wonderful."

Over dinner Bob announced he felt the need for change in atmosphere. They didn't know and would not find out if it was because of the issues between Maritza and Ellen or what. But they would be leaving in the morning.

CHAPTER 6.

After He's Seen Paree

Back in Manhattan after a brief cruise around the Caribbean, Olivia and Nick stood on the curb outside their apartment building and watched the moving van pull away. Their remaining possessions were on their way to Sullivans Island, South Carolina. After they finally agreed on what to keep or sell, their rugs, ceramics, and paintings found their way to a storage facility of Sotheby's. All of it was appraised, photographed for the Sotheby's catalog, and stored in antic.i.p.ation of an August estate sale. Some other items-personal possessions and winter clothes mostly-were sent to her office on East 58th Street, where Roni and Olivia spent much of the last week in a whirlwind hurrying to finish the conversion of the two small rooms that were being used for mountains of samples and office supplies into an acceptable bedroom and sitting room.

"This is truly bittersweet," Nick said as they watched the van make a right turn onto Second Avenue. "Okay! That's it! It's all gone!" Nick turned to Olivia and found the same quizzical sadness in her expression that he was feeling. "Gosh, I feel so weird about this all of a sudden."

"Me too. I have a sinking feeling. Well, we have our pied--terre, thank goodness, or I think I'd weep."

"Amen. Olivia? I think the pied--terre was a good idea."

"I know you had your doubts."

"Not any longer. I realize I need to be weaned from Manhattan. If I just jumped on a plane to Charleston, never to return, I think I'd feel like I was missing a limb."

"Well, that's the thing, isn't it? You love this city, you hate this city. When the cab's right there or you can get that eight o'clock table at La Bernardin or can snap up those two tickets in the orchestra to La Traviata at the last minute, you wouldn't want to live anywhere else on earth."

"Yes, that's true. And heaven forbid some terrible disease gets you, the best medical care in the world is at your fingertips."

"But!" Olivia was about to launch into a litany of complaints against New York City.

Insane cost of living. Fierce winters. Gridlock. Tourists. Terrorism. Crimes of every kind. Overcrowding. Potholes. Pollution. Compet.i.tion at every turn, whether it was for a promotion at work you landed over your best friend or successfully grabbing that last Ha.s.s avocado at Citarella. People have been killed for less in New York. It was a coldhearted jungle.

"Yes, indeed. I know those buts all too well! Well, for a time we'll have the best of both worlds."

"I'm actually looking forward to this new chapter in our lives." Olivia said. "It's going to be very interesting to see how we settle into Dixieland."