How ridiculous! she thought, and punched her pillow into submission. If the world thinks you're in trouble, they avoid you like a leper. If they think you're too busy, they beat down your door.

It was critical to keep the mythical beast fed.

Nick turned over, forcing Olivia to move toward the edge of the bed. Suddenly she heard the chime of her French clock from under the bed. Had she wound it by accident? Oh no.

"What's that?" Nick said in a sleepy voice.

Olivia panicked. "It's the apartment next door, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

He threw his arm over her side and pulled her close to him. "Nope," he said. "It's your clock. It's okay."

In the complete darkness of that tiny bedroom, she smiled and snuggled up against him. He knew her that well and he loved her still. She guessed he had some understanding of their financial situation as well. In a way she hoped he did. It would mitigate her guilt and fear. The facts weren't exactly buried. He could've picked up a bank statement from her desk any time over the past six months and given it a look. Had he done so? She could not presume to know the answer to that or anything else at four-thirty in the morning. It didn't matter so much then. His muscular arm around her torso and his gentle regular snoring took her away into a peaceful sleep.

The flight to Charleston was quiet and smooth, except that the seats were oversold and there was a lengthy struggle to coerce two pa.s.sengers to give up their places in return for a travel voucher. The value of the travel voucher increased every ten minutes until the pot was sweet enough for two folks to relent.

Their flight was on a somewhat larger plane and Nick seemed slightly less nervous than usual. But it also seemed as if every single pa.s.senger had brought more on board than they were allowed. Every seat and overhead compartment and the s.p.a.ce under every seat was jammed to capacity.

"How are you doing?" Olivia asked.

"I flew in a helicopter, you know. This is nothing."

"Right," she said and smiled.

Although he did wipe down his seat-belt buckle, his reclining b.u.t.ton, and his entire tray table with a Purell wipe. So did she.

"I saw something on television-Channel Seven, I think-that said this was a good idea."

"I believe you," Olivia said. "It can't hurt."

"I'm telling you, this is where germs are. When is the last time I got a cold or the flu? Tell me that."

"It's been a very long time," she said, smirking as discreetly as one could when confined to what seemed like a tuna can, seated next to the smirkee.

"And this is why," he said, holding up a wipe like Exhibit A. "Are you smirking at me?"

"Please! I would never! I think you're precious. That's all."

They landed in Charleston, retrieved their luggage, picked up the car keys from Ed at National, got in a brand-new white Ford Escape, and exited the airport. The day was very warm, and if you stood in direct sun for even a short period of time you would definitely get sunburned.

"It's hot," Nick said.

"Yes. I'll tell you what," Olivia said, blasting the air conditioner. "Flying on JetBlue between New York and Charleston is a breeze. I mean, I think it's as good as a commercial flight can be."

"Hmmm." Nick was quiet for a moment. "I'm listening to you, agreeing, and then my conscience gives me a kick in the head for even knowing the difference between what it's like to fly commercial versus private. Furthermore, my conscience thinks we sound obnoxious, especially when there are people starving in the world."

"Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d! You can't be serious!"

"I'm dead serious. What about Darfur? The Lost Boys?"

"Oh my G.o.d, Nick! Suddenly, you're like who? Francis of a.s.sisi? I'm not complaining about flying on a commercial airline. And flying private is not how I would spend my money. I fly private for business and only on occasion. When I do, and you come, you are the beneficiary of that as well!"

They were waiting to merge onto I-526 East to take them to the islands. Traffic was heavy.

"Boy! You're in some mood today! What's the matter?"

"Where in the world did all these cars come from? Well, herein lies the problem. It's just way too easy to step into Bob and Maritza's life and think of it as our life, that's all."

"It's true. Maritza never goes to TripAdvisor to shop for bargain fares like we do."

"That's right. I just think we're awfully lucky . . . no, extremely lucky to have such fabulous vacations as someone's guest, and we should be grateful, not guilty."

"My mother was a Catholic."

"Oh, please. You're the one who ordered the extra hollandaise!"

"Oh, remind me of my wretched excess."

"I'm only teasing. Do you want to grab lunch at the Long Island Cafe?"

"I think they'll be closed by the time we get there. We could get burgers at Dunleavy's."

"Burgers it is."

They rode around the block three times before finding a parking spot.

"The traffic on this island is getting ridiculous!" Nick said.

"No argument from me!" she said.

After a lunch of superb hamburgers with cheese, sauteed onions, and bacon and on the way to their new/old house, Nick said, "So, are we going to have our first dinner in our new home tonight?"

"Well, sure!" Olivia started to laugh. "Except, no dishes or pots and pans. Remember?"

"Right. And the movers are coming when?"

"Tomorrow. Before ten."

"Well, good! So, I say let's put our things away and see what we can do to get ready for them."

"I'm sure the house is covered in dust. But Jason and his crew are supposed to be there wiping down every surface. We'll see."

"And maybe, at some point, we can have a nice walk on the beach?"

"You bet."

They turned into their driveway, stopped the car, and got out. The portable john was gone. The Dumpsters were gone. Holding their carry-on bags, they stood in the yard and looked up at the enormous white elephant they were about to call home.

"Sure is big," Nick said.

"It will shrink. Watch." What have I done? Olivia thought.

When the movers arrived, Olivia was ready for them. She directed the men with a roughly sketched floor plan of where she wanted furniture placed. By noon, it was starting to come together. Sort of. To Olivia it seemed spa.r.s.e, without her familiar belongings.

Maybe they won't make the minimums at auction and we'll get our things back! she thought.

"Did you say something?" Nick said, hearing her thoughts in the ethers.

"No. But I was just thinking that this place looks bare."

"Well, let's get everything all unpacked and then we can see what we have."

"I'm pretty sure it's going to look really naked, but big bowls of flowers and plants in all the rooms will help."

"I'd like to see you really naked," he said and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, Nick. You're such a teenage boy. You know, babe, this house is a lot bigger than our apartment was. We don't have nearly enough accessories to make this place look like home." And I can't afford to buy a doormat yet, she thought.

"Maybe I'll take up painting again and cover the walls with marsh scenes and egrets and magnolias."

What? Olivia thought and said tentatively, "Maybe. I didn't know you could paint!"

"Didn't I ever entice you with my etchings back in the day?"

"No, darling. Not me. That must've been some other googly-eyed girl."

"Oh. Sorry, dear. You know, there were legions of women before you. I practically had to beat them off with my umbrella!"

"I'm sure," Olivia said, and laughed.

Roni rolled in around one in the afternoon. Olivia went to the front door to greet her.

"You're here safe and sound! How was the drive?"

"Epic," Roni said. "I spent the night in Virginia Beach last night."

"You know, that's where Edgar Cayce spent the last part of his life. The Sleeping Prophet?"

Roni stepped over the threshold and into the foyer. Then she turned and saw the view of the water and Charleston harbor.

"Never heard of him. Holy cow. Well, now I know why you bought this place. This view is a killer."

"Thanks. I know. The house, however, is a bit of a disaster."

"Really? Well, at some point, you'll get it all fixed. It's a pretty big house."

"Not really. It's deceiving because it's elevated. You have to deal with floodplain FEMA maps down here."

"Right. So, after you survive this audit, you can renovate bit by bit."

"What audit?"

"The State of New York and the IRS would like to have a word with you," Roni said, reaching into her tote bag and pulling out two very serious-looking envelopes.

Olivia felt the blood drain from her face and thought she might faint.

"Oh, great. This is just what I need."

CHAPTER 7.

Ole!

A mountainous range of boxes were piled up in the kitchen all the way to the ceiling. Olivia sighed.

Roni said, "I got this."

Unpacking and organizing Nick and Olivia's kitchen consumed the remainder of the afternoon and would take at least one more day to complete. To Olivia's way of thinking, setting up the kitchen was the most heinous part of moving because the kitchen just wasn't a part of her soul. Olivia was good at laying out a s.p.a.ce, but Roni was a natural at organizing anything. Olivia was whirling from room to room, adjusting the distance between chairs and sofas, collecting boxes and packing paper to discard. The number of boxes was overwhelming.

"So, I started to tell you that Maritza called," Roni said to Olivia.

"Why didn't she call me? She has my cell," Olivia said.

"She said that she tried, but she couldn't get though. So did I, by the way."

"That would explain why my cell phone hasn't rung since I got here. This could be a major problem."

"No kidding. You might have to put a booster on your router, whatever that means."

"I'll get right on that," Olivia said, thinking, If cell phone reception is a problem for us, other people must have the same problem. I'll ask the neighbors who to call.

"Right. Anyway, two big things. One, she's looking at a possible house to buy on Nantucket, a big old monster. She wants to know if you'll fly up to meet her next week. You'll fly to Newark or LaGuardia and their plane will take you to Nantucket. It's just a consultation fee, though."

If she was hired to do the job, the consultation fee was deducted from her other additional charges. It was something she had to do or clients thought they could do the job on their own after watching the Property Brothers a couple of times. They would download software and give a plan to a construction company and act as their own general contractor.

"Well, I think, h.e.l.l yes! I'm repacking as I'm unpacking!" Olivia said, thinking, Yes, thank you, this could save my life for a while.