G.o.d, he thought, sometimes women just aren't worth it. All that b.i.t.c.hing and whining for a piece of a.s.s? The price was just too high.

And, speaking of b.i.t.c.hing, he calculated how much longer he had to tolerate Colette. Forty-eight hours! He might have to wring her neck if she pushed him too hard. He had never touched a woman in anger in all his days, but Colette was enough to drive the Dalai Lama to do real physical harm.

Bob was in a sour mood and very worried for Maritza's safety. And he missed her. He admitted that to himself. He missed her. She was such a cheerful girl and always flitting and fluttering around, trying to do things to make him happy. Out of habit, he fixed himself breakfast from the buffet-a plate of toast, cheese, and a handful of red grapes. Maybe pancakes might make him feel better. No, he decided, too many carbs. He looked at his plate and thought, Well, toast has carbs. Grapes have carbs. Maybe they just seem more harmless.

So there sat Bob staring at the untouched plate and the coffee dregs in his cup when Buddy and Mich.e.l.le arrived for breakfast at about roughly the same time as Colette, Dorothy and Sam, and Olivia and Nick.

Colette looked around at the group and said, "Oh dear. Have Betty and Ernest lost interest in us?"

"Good morning, Colette," Bob said. "I'm pretty sure they are so horrified by us they can't wait to get off this boat and put us in their rearview mirror."

"They're a humorless pair," Colette said and sat down next to him.

"Morning, Bob! Did I see a police boat pulling away?" Buddy said.

"Yes, I had a visit from our police officer about half an hour ago."

"Did he have any news?" Sam asked.

"Not really. They found a few long blond hairs in the bow . . ." Bob brought everyone up to date. "And he decided to call the FBI."

"It's time for them to get involved," Sam said as though he had been involved with law enforcement all his life.

They all began to fills their plates and eat.

"I think," Nick said, "we need our own plan to find Maritza. There have been no calls for ransom money, correct?"

"Correct," Bob said, and pushed his plate away. "Not yet."

"What about a press conference?" Olivia said. "You have to eat, Bob."

"I hate the press," Bob said. "I don't have much of an appet.i.te."

"Who doesn't hate the press?" Dorothy said thinking of some negative write-ups her boutique had suffered in the Style section of The New York Times.

"I agree," Mich.e.l.le said thinking of how Wine Spectator magazine had killed her 2003 Chardonnays by rating them at an all-time low of ninety-two.

"Well, the press can be useful, especially at a time like this, you know, to flush out the bushes? If someone out there is holding Maritza against her will, a press conference might give them an impetus to cut a deal sooner than later," Olivia said, having had her fair share of good and bad press over the course of her career. "You just have to manage the PR yourself."

"Well, if anyone cares what I think, I'd say she's been gone too long if she's just having a temper tantrum," Dorothy said. "Sadly, I just don't get a sense of her spirit being nearby."

"What are you? A psychic now?" Colette said. "Spare us, okay?"

"Good grief, Dorothy," Sam said. "Don't start going all New Age on us."

Dorothy frowned. She just wanted a voice at the table, but ever since the advent of Colette, she couldn't get a word in edgewise.

Bob completely ignored her and Colette.

"I should probably discuss a press conference with the police first," Bob said. "I had another thought that maybe I should contact the American emba.s.sy in Majorca and they could tell me how to proceed. I thought by now these local police would've run her pa.s.sport number against U.S. Customs and Border Patrol, but I don't think it has even occurred to them yet. In fact, this idiot police officer asked me if I thought Maritza was having an affair!"

"That's ludicrous," Olivia said. "And you know what, Bob? I'd call the emba.s.sy right now and ask them to call the FBI just to be sure it happens."

"That's what I told him. And, you're right, Olivia. I'm going to."

"No kidding, and on the cover of every supermarket tabloid," Dorothy said. "Wife of Billionaire Missing in Mallorca! I can see it now."

"Oh, G.o.d," Bob said.

"What about the airlines?" Sam said. "Do you think she might try to get on a commercial flight?"

"Where would she go?" Bob said.

"Commercial? Please. I'm getting a rash!" Colette said.

"Colette? Don't be such a sn.o.b, okay?" Bob said, thinking he had been way too generous to his ex-wives, giving them shares in NetJets. "Should I tell them all how I met you thirty years ago?"

"Oh, I think we all remember that Colette was Elaine's ma.s.seuse," Dorothy said.

"Oh! That's right," Mich.e.l.le said, with a very wide grin. "I don't know why I kept thinking she was a manicurist."

Olivia had had it with political correctness and the simultaneous lack of it. These women never gave her ten cents worth of business anyway, except Colette, who had just given her a job, and she was the one who needed the biggest smack. She said, "Listen, we need a plan. I want us to get Maritza back today! We just can't sit back and let the authorities handle this."

"I think we all agree on that," Nick said.

"Who made you the queen of the world, Olivia?" Colette said.

"Olivia happens to be a dear family friend as well as a well-respected businesswoman and Gladdie's G.o.dmother, so knock it off," Bob said. "What are you thinking, Olivia?"

"Same as you. That this police department is thinking locally. Have they checked all the hotels to see if anyone like Maritza has checked in?"

"I'm gonna guess not," Bob said.

"Shouldn't they be doing that?" Buddy asked.

"You'd think so," Sam said.

"It's time or past time to open this thing up globally," Olivia said. "Bob? I would call the emba.s.sy this instant, tell them everything you know, and give them the police officer's contact information. I'd give them Maritza's pa.s.sport number and her cell phone to check her calls in and out and then I'd think up a statement. Word it carefully and get on television and beg whoever has Maritza to let her go. Or if she's not being held, I would just beg her to come back or to at least let us know that she's all right!"

"You know something else you might do is to send some crew members over to the island-as many as you can spare-to check hotels, restaurants, bars, even the hospital and the jail," Mich.e.l.le said. "I mean, she has to be somewhere! Check public parks and hiking trails? After all, when Gladdie went missing on Necker, they had a plan to cover every square inch of the island."

"Thank you, Mich.e.l.le. I knew you were a team player," Bob said. "You know, I still can't believe this happened."

"It's a bitter pill," Nick said. "And deeply troubling. If anything like this ever happened to Olivia I'd lose my mind." Then Nick reached over to Olivia and squeezed her hand.

"Yes, but these are good ideas. I've just been numb with shock. But that's over now. It's time to act," Bob said, and one of the crew refilled his cup with hot coffee. He looked at her and said, "Ask the captain to see me right away, and please bring me a pad and pencil, okay?"

"Yes, sir," she said and hurried away.

Once Jack got to the table, he sat with Bob and Olivia and they began to make a list. Within the hour a dozen members of the crew were on the launch headed to the island with local maps and a plan to search specific areas. The emba.s.sy had been called, the local police pledged their full cooperation with the investigation, and the information was on its way to U.S. Customs, the FBI, and every major airline, including ones that flew to the Middle East, South America, China, and smaller domestic Spanish commuter airlines. Once all that information was released, Bob's phone began to explode with calls from the media. The New York Times, the London Times, USA Today, El Pas, El Mundo, and others. Next to call were CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, and the BBC. Olivia took down all their numbers and promised to call them back with the details of the arrangements for the press conference.

They wanted a statement, a picture of Maritza, an interview with Bob, so many questions . . . had they ruled out pirates? Suicide? Abandonment?

Olivia asked the manager of the Hotel Torre del Mar to give Bob usage of their largest meeting room to have his press conference. They graciously complied. By two-thirty that afternoon, Bob was on the launch with Olivia, Nick, Sam, Dorothy, Mich.e.l.le, and Buddy. He told Jack that if he heard anything from the crew to let him know at once. Right before they boarded the boat, Betty and Ernest finally emerged from their rooms and asked for an update. Bob told them everything that he knew and invited them to come to the conference if they wanted to.

"Oh, my!" Betty said. "I think it's best for me to stay put right here."

"Me too. I can't really help anyway. All I can do is pray," Ernest said.

"Ernest, I know that you and Betty think we are all a bunch of screwb.a.l.l.s, and we might be, but we are doing everything in our power to find my wife. Anyway, help from a higher power would be wonderful, and believe me, your prayers are deeply appreciated."

"You believe in the power of prayer?" Betty said.

"Yes, but more than that, I believe in the power of G.o.d. I love my wife and I need her in my life. Now more than ever."

It was decided to take the press conference out of the realm of the yacht so that if she had been kidnapped, the kidnappers would not ask an exorbitant price for Maritza's freedom and return. It was just a practical consideration that did not work.

Pictures of Bob's yacht wound up in the news anyway, and by nightfall, Bob's face was on every news channel around the world. The world of the ninety-nine percent watched in amazement as Bob Vasile wept like a baby while professing his love for his wife. Before they went back to the boat, they all had a drink at the hotel's bar.

Bob and Mich.e.l.le read the wine list and debated the merits of a Corton-Charlemagne versus a French Sancerre.

"I'm getting tired of white burgundy," Mich.e.l.le said.

"We'll have a bottle of the Sancerre," Bob said to the bartender. "Maritza loved Sancerres."

"Please don't speak of her in the past tense," Olivia said.

"You really love her, don't you, Bob?" Sam said.

"Yeah, I never saw you cry, man," Buddy said. "You must be really hurting!"

"It was a bit much for me to endure," Colette said. "I mean, honestly!"

Bob stared at Colette and choked up again. "You know what? We're a bunch of hard-core cynical b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, all of us-except Nick and Olivia."

"Olivia is less cynical than I am," Nick said.

"We're not so perfect," Olivia said. "I have my cynical moments."

"I didn't say you were perfect," Bob said. "I just said you weren't hard core."

"Oh, I feel much better." Olivia smiled.

"I have to explain this to you guys and I'm having a hard time because it's something I just realized I felt! Here's this beautiful young girl, Maritza, who tells me she loves me . . ."

"She was a dirty nasty gold-digging wh.o.r.e, if anybody wants the truth here," Colette said. "I'm glad I don't have to look at her stupid face anymore."

"Jesus, Colette. How can you say things like that?" Olivia said. "What on G.o.d's earth has made you so evil? I can't stand another minute of this. You need to shut your mouth right now!"

"I don't take orders from you, Olivia."

Olivia said, "I'm saying no one is well served with this kind of indecent talk."

"Oh, bug off, Olivia. This has nothing to do with you. Besides, aren't you the one who's out of line to speak to me this way?"

"Find yourself another decorator, Colette. I quit."

"You can't quit! You're fired!" she said.

"Go shove it, Colette!" Olivia said, and it was on the loud side.

Nick stepped over to Olivia's side and put his arm around her shoulder, giving her a squeeze.

Bob lost his cool, but he didn't raise his voice.

"You know what, Colette? I don't know when you got so bitter and mean, but you're just awful. You're horrible. I want you to go over to the police station and tell them that you're leaving town. Then I want you to take the launch, get your stuff, and get the h.e.l.l off my boat. I hope to G.o.d I never have to be in the same room with you again for the rest of my life."

She stood and stared at him, just seething with anger.

"I ought to tell the press what you're really like."

"I ought to tell the police you had plenty of motive."

Colette took a step back in shock and struggled to speak. "Go to h.e.l.l, Bob. You broke my heart and ruined my life."

"I didn't ruin your life, sweetheart. You ruined it yourself."

With that, she finally turned on her heel and began to leave the bar.

Bob called after her. "And after today your NetJets shares are canceled!"

Bob laughed and Olivia laughed with him.

"NetJets shares? Oh, Lord, Bob! Now, there's a real knife in her heart. I'd applaud, but it's probably in the worst possible taste," Olivia said.

"No, it isn't," Bob said. "Go right ahead."

There was light applause from the gang and Bob took a bow. Then Olivia took a slight bow and they applauded again.

"I'll always have work for you, Olivia," Bob said.

"Thank you," Olivia said.

"Anyway, I started to say earlier, before I dealt with my charming ex-wife, is that along came Maritza, beautiful, smiling Maritza, and all she wanted to do was make me happy. And now I've lost her. She was the one person in my entire life who really loved me for myself. She was kind and sweet and just so d.a.m.n nice. Every day. And I love her. I just realized it today when I faced all those cameras. They told me to just speak from my heart. I realized that I love her and I don't want to live without her. And even if she doesn't love me anymore because I've been an a.s.shole to her, which I have been, I'm going to make her love me again. So how's that? At long last Bob Vasile is really dead in love. But if she's found dead, I don't know what I'll do."

"Oh, Bob! Don't think that! We're going to find her!" Olivia said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

Nick, of course, smiled and produced a perfectly pressed handkerchief. He offered it to Olivia.