“Oh, right,” Holly said, grabbing her backpack and heading for the front door. “I can see it now—spring break in Amish Country! We could make cheese and go on buggy rides! Hey—you could be our chaperone, Mom! I can’t wait to tell Hannah! This spring break is gonna totally rock!”

“Bye, honey.” Gail got the words out just before Holly slammed the door behind her. She chuckled to herself as she pulled out a brown skirt and beige blouse from her closet, thinking that it wasn’t all that long ago that she’d tried the same thing with her own mom. And lost. Gail ended up spending her senior-year spring break in the backseat of Tommy Brancovicci’s beater 1981 Gran Torino, which, come to think of it, was nothing but a shark attack on dry land.

As she dressed, Gail ran through the day’s schedule in her mind. She taught her Intro to American Lit class at nine and her Honors Hemingway Seminar at two, with student conferences from ten-thirty to noon. She was meeting Kim for lunch—it had been far too long since she’d seen her best friend. And she had a department meeting at four and had to pick up the dry cleaning on the way home. Oh! And she should swing by the campus print shop for her new business cards, so she could proudly tell the world who she’d become: Gail Chapman, PhD.

She shook her head at the irony of it. The heck with Holly and Hannah! What did two impossibly young and free girls need with a vacation? Gail was the one who’d earned a spring break!

She froze. Holly’s sarcastic proposal began echoing in her head.

Chaperone?

Maybe her daughter was onto something.

GAIL PICKED AT HER CAESAR salad with a fork, trying to summon the courage to answer Kim’s question. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing…”

Her best friend laughed. “Come on, Gail. I’ve known you for thirty of your thirty-six years on the planet. There’s nothing left to be embarrassed about. We’ve gone through sex, love, money, heartbreak, divorce, parenting, various career crises and Curtis’s embezzlement trial. How could your choice of vacation destination be embarrassing?”

Gail looked up at Kim and shrugged. “We’re talking my dream vacation, right?”

Kim nodded. “Right.”

Gail took a deep breath. “Well, the one place I’ve always wanted to go—you know, like my ultimate fantasy getaway—is Key West. And I figure now is the perfect time. The girls get their spring break and I get my trip of a lifetime.”

It took exactly one second for Kim’s face to go from excitement to stone-cold disappointment. She shook her head back and forth and closed her eyes. After taking a moment to compose herself she said, “Is this a Hemingway thing? Because if this is a Hemingway thing, I swear to God I’ll—”

“Not completely.”

Kim put her hand on Gail’s arm. “Key West is wild, honey. It’s the home of street parties and dangerous smugglers and all-you-can-drink booze cruises.”

“I realize that, but the girls would have restrictions and a curfew,” Gail said. “They’ll be heading off to college soon, anyway, and I figured this will give them a taste of freedom but with adult supervision.”

Kim looked dumbfounded.

“What?” she asked.

“I was referring to you, Gail.”

She waved Kim off. “Oh, you know I’d never let anything happen to me.”

Kim roared with laughter, drawing the stares of some of the other diners at their favorite lunch spot near campus. “That’s what I’m worried about, Gail—that you wouldn’t let anything happen to you, that a trip to Margaritaville would be completely wasted on you, that you’re going there solely for some kind of Ernest Hemingway geek-fest!”

It was Gail’s turn to laugh, and it felt good to laugh that hard. Kim’s reaction didn’t surprise her, and Gail couldn’t fault her friend. The whole idea did sound suspiciously work-related. But it was the truth—for as long as she could remember she’d been fascinated by the lore of Key West, the city’s wild and romantic history and, yes, its connection to the romantic Papa Hemingway legend. He’d written some of his best work there, after all.

“If I went to Key West I’d find a way to relax a little,” Gail assured her.

Kim sighed. The waiter came by to refill their iced teas, which gave her a chance to study Gail carefully until he was out of range. “I know what your version of relaxation is,” she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

“Books. Reading. And if you’re feeling like a really naughty girl, you’ll write notes in the margins.”

Gail giggled.

“That wasn’t intended to be funny.”

Gail rolled her eyes. She knew Kim meant well, and there was certainly a seed of truth to what she was saying, but this was all fantasy anyway. She had no idea if she could get a hotel room for herself and the girls at this late a date. She had no idea how much it would set her back. She had no idea if the girls would even agree to this plan. Most of all, she wasn’t exactly the world’s most spontaneous person, so this whole flight of fancy was way out of her comfort zone.

Yet, despite all that, Gail hadn’t been able to get the idea out of her head since getting dressed that morning. Something about it felt right. Maybe it was time she did something out of her comfort zone. Maybe it was time to live a little.

“You need to get out, Gail.” Kim took a gulp of her tea, as if fortifying herself to finish her thought. “You’re the poster child for deprived women everywhere. You need to go out and get funky on the dance floor. Have a couple cocktails with umbrellas in them. You need to enjoy the company of a handsome man of dubious character who makes your legs weak.”

Gail shook her head. “You know I’m only interested in someone who’s honest and loving. The rest of that stuff isn’t important.”

“Whatever you say,” Kim said, displaying the same doubtful look Gail got every time she swore off chocolate forever. Again.

“Perhaps I need to refresh your memory,” Gail said, stabbing at her salad with a little too much wrist action. “The last time I fell for a handsome man of mystery I got pregnant and ended up pledging my troth to Bernie Madoff Jr.”

Kim’s giggle turned into a sigh. “Fair enough,” she said, “but life isn’t over for you, Gail. Don’t cheat yourself like that. You’re still young. There’s a whole world out there. A whole world of men.”

Gail pretended to be fascinated with her romaine lettuce.

“How long’s it been since you had any fun?” Kim asked.

Gail looked up and answered matter-of-factly. “I went out for a beer with some of the other professors a couple of weeks ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

She groaned, realizing that Kim wasn’t going to let her off easy today. Her friend was well aware that it had been two years since she’d had any kind of sex and six years since she’d had decent, meaningful sex, or at least what she’d told herself at the time was decent and meaningful. A few days afterward, Curtis admitted to his multiple fidelity “slip-ups” and expressed his desire to become her ex-husband. Soon after that, he was arrested for embezzling nearly two million of his investment clients’ dollars.

“Besides,” Gail told Kim. “I’m not sure how much weak-kneed dancing I’d be able to do. If I went to Key West I’d have Holly and Hannah with me, remember?”

Kim shrugged. “You could find a way. All you’ve done for the last five years is teach, work on your dissertation, raise Holly, worry about money and fall into bed exhausted at night, only to do it all over again the next day. You deserve to cut loose a little.”

Gail rolled her eyes. “Fine. Maybe you’re right.”

“Hell yes, I’m right!” Kim smiled, as though it was all settled. “Go have your spring fling in Key West, then. And I’m truly sorry I can’t get away from work to go with you. Do you think you can handle those two girls by yourself?”

“Of course I can,” Gail said. “The three of us will have a blast together.”

JESSE DOMINIC BATISTA cradled the cordless phone under his chin while he made his morning patrol of the cottage grounds. As he listened to his agent’s long-distance lecture on the importance of meeting deadlines at this crucial comeback point in his career, he scanned the small yard that fronted Margaret Street. In his left hand he clutched a plastic trash bag and a paper sack for recycling. He used his Playtex-Living-Glove-encased right hand to snag the empty beer bottles from the grass. As usual, they’d been tossed over his privacy wall during someone’s late-night stroll home from the Duval Street bars. Jesse opened the wrought-iron gate to scan the sidewalk for any trash, cigarette butts or the occasional condom wrapper.

It was official. Spring break had come to Key West.

Jesse straightened, using the latex glove to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. He repeated his position to his agent. “Tell them I need two more weeks, Beverly,” he said into the phone. “Tell them it’s real simple—if they want a manuscript, they can have it today. If they want a good manuscript, they’ll have to wait two weeks.”

Jesse heard Beverly produce another heartfelt sigh before she updated him on his latest mediocre sales figures and a movie studio’s bid for his screenplay.

“I’ll get back to you in a couple of days about everything. Promise.” Jesse said his goodbyes and hung up, shoving the phone into his pocket.

Since he was already on the sidewalk, he decided to pick up the trash in front of his absentee neighbor’s house, a cute craftsman bungalow rental shaded by two old palmetto trees. Being Saturday morning, he knew the current invading horde would soon be heading out. Then the cleaners would swoop in to do their magic—scrubbing bathrooms, hosing down porches, cleaning the pool and wiping down the inside of the fridge. By late afternoon, a new group would move in, thrilled by the charm and comfort of their temporary island home, excited that their vacation stretched out before them, days of azure skies and eternal ocean followed by nights of booze, music, food and laughter.