“Okay, I could do that,” Colleen mused. “It’s right down the street from our office, too. And besides, I’d better if I want to be able to see you other than waving hello in the mornings,” she teased gently. “Anyway, c’mon, let’s get rolling. It’s muggier than a hot sauna outside. Sooner we finish, the sooner I can take a shower.”

“I’ll vote for that.” Kerry looked up and grinned. “Know what I wish this place had? A hot tub.”

“Hot tub?” Colleen put her hands on her hips. “Well, hoity hoi hoi. Let me guess—does Dar have a hot tub, by any chance?” Kerry nodded with a rakish smirk. Her friend laughed. “I guess this is another good reason for you to tell your parents to kiss your ass when you go home for Turkey Day, huh?”

Kerry finished velcroing herself into the skates and stood up, balancing expertly. “I had a lot of good reasons before that, but, yeah.” She finally allowed a frankly happy grin to take over her face. “This kinda puts the nail in it, so to speak. I just hope I can find a way to do it without getting kicked out of the family.” Firmly putting aside worries about her parents, she shook her head and plodded over to the door, pushing it open. “Let’s go.”

DAR WAS GLAD to get out of the damp wind and into the cool, quiet peace of the condo. The cocktail party had been outdoors at Viscaya, and she was glad the less than perfect weather had given her a good excuse to get out of there early and escape the throngs of alternately fawning and sniping sales managers clustering around.


Tropical Storm 283

Eleanor had been particularly cutting, oozing up to her and telling her what a lovely young person Kerry was, and how she was going to do her best to steal her away and save her from having to suffer where she was. “She’s destined for bigger things than being your peon, Dar.” Then the woman had smiled at her.

Dar tossed her jacket down on the couch and kicked off her shoes.

“Wonder if you knew how close you were to being thrown into Biscayne Bay, Eleanor?” she remarked wryly to the air. “Toss, sploosh, whoops. Sorry, Mariana, I know that creates a mountain of paperwork.”

The cool tile felt good against her tired feet, and she paused a moment, flexing her toes before she wandered into the bedroom. She slid out of her skirt, hose, and silk blouse and into her baseball shirt and shorts with a feeling of utter relief, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton against her skin.

Humming lightly, she wandered into the kitchen and pulled open her refrigerator, peering at its vast emptiness with a pensive expression. “I’m gonna get teased tomorrow if I don’t put some stuff in here,” she muttered to herself, startled when a soft knock sounded at the door.

For a moment, her heart bounded, considering the possibility it might be Kerry, then she realized there was no way for the blonde woman to get on the island without them notifying her first. She felt curiously disappointed as she crossed the floor and peered through the small window in the door. “Evening, Clemente.” She opened it and allowed the short, round, always perspiring manager of resident services to enter.

“Good evening, good evening, Ms. Roberts. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I saw you pull in.” The man wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “The floor waxing people will be here on the island tomorrow, and you said to let you know the next time so you can have the tiles done in here.”

“Oh, sure.” Dar glanced around. “That would be fine. And, hey, listen, Clemente. Can I get your people to do something for me?”

“Surely. What can we do?”

“Shop,” Dar replied, “for groceries.”

Clemente waved his hands in a very Cuban manner. “Of course. Give me a list and I’ll have Rosalita pick everything up for you and put it away.”

“I don’t have a list,” Dar muttered. “Can she just pick up the normal stuff people have in their houses?” She glanced at the kitchen. “Just, whatever?”

The man’s brow crumpled like corrugated cardboard. “Ms. Roberts, I can’t have her shop for something I don’t know what to tell her to shop for.

What is it you need?” He peered at the kitchen. “Bread? Fruitas?”

Dar sighed and motioned for him to follow her. “Look.” She opened the refrigerator. “I need things other than this.” She lifted her hands and let them drop. “If I go, I’ll end up with a case of Oreo cookies, six gallons of milk, two tins of Edy’s ice cream, and a jar of peanut butter.”

Clemente covered his eyes. “Dios mío.” He rubbed his face. “You want…orange juice? Bananas? Soup?”

Dar thought. “Bananas are good,” she answered cautiously. “Uh, grapefruit juice. Maybe some English muffins?”

“Si, si.” Clemente pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled.

“Marmalada?”


284 Melissa Good

“Apricot is okay, or grape.” Dar considered. “Oh, and some tea.”

“Pekoe, China?” Clemente inquired.

“The kind you put in a cup and drink,” Dar replied wryly. “Just some bags. If they have herbal stuff, that’s good.” She drummed her fingers on the counter. “They have strawberries?”

“Si, Driscolls.” the man answered, making a note. “They have a nice box today. The big ones, si? All laid out like roses, very nice.”

She flashed him a grin. “Get me a box of those…and two big bars of milk chocolate.”

She gave him a few more items, then watched him leave, sighing as the door closed behind his round figure. “That’s taken care of.” She found herself grinning in anticipation of seeing Kerry’s face when she actually had something more than milk to offer her. She got herself a glass, and checked the terminal, seeing the blinking mail-waiting flag. “Mail.”

“Dar Roberts, seven mail, none urgent,” the terminal replied, displaying the screen.

She reviewed them. “Read six.” Her face was already creasing into a smile as her eyes saw the author.

Sent by: Kerry Stuart

Subject: Party

Time: 7:34 PM

Hey…

Just wanted to drop a note to say hi. Hope the party went well. You were right about Eleanor, she was all over me like white on rice at the meeting, and if she didn’t tell me twelve times I was wasted where I was, she didn’t say it once. I haven’t been buttered up that bad since some Young Republicans found out who my father was when I was in high school.

Wonder what she’d do if I told her I’d rather work for Moammar Kadafi than her? At least with him, you know where the knife is coming from. And he’s cuter. She smells like slightly rancid make-up foundation.

Anyway, she made a particularly disgusting joke about you, and I think she’s testing me to see if I tell you about it. So I’m not going to. But I did pull the plug out of her remote control while she was doing the

presentation, so she looked like an idiot for about ten minutes while she was standing there clicking fruitlessly and nothing was happening.

I am ashamed to say I enjoyed that a lot.

See you tomorrow.

K

Dar burst into laughter, putting her cup down to keep from spilling it, and leaning over the counter. “Oh god.” She snickered, imagining the progressively more frustrated Eleanor pounding the buttons. “Oh god, I’m sorry I missed that.” She gasped, still chuckling. “Reply,” she told the Tropical Storm 285

machine. “Audio record,” she added, with a grin.

“Hey, Kerry...it was worth having to suffer through that damn party just to get home and read this. Whenever I see her in a meeting from now on, I’ll remember the image you put in my head of her clicking on that stupid remote she loves so much and getting frustrated.”

Dar paused.

“Hope you had fun Rollerblading...I’ll, um, see you tomorrow after my appointment. We’ll see if that little jaunt up in Orlando made any difference. I think it did, because I haven’t had a headache since the storm.”

During another pause, she could feel several thoughts struggling to get out and be voiced, but the words just wouldn’t come to her.

“Anyway, have a good night.”

Dar stared at the screen a moment, then sighed. “Send.”

She chuckled softly as she scanned the other messages, none of which really required her attention before the morning. She took her milk and wandered out onto the porch, where the breeze blowing out against the waves was growing steadily cooler. Dar settled into one of the padded deck chairs and propped her feet up against the stone railing, leaning back and gazing out over the water.

The soft sound of the surf crashing against the seawall lulled her, as she idly watched the stars wink overhead. “Star light, star bright…” she murmured. “What would you wish for, Dar? Hmm?”

Prudently, the stars remained silent.

The phone buzzed softly inside, and Dar jumped, shaking her head a little to clear it before she ducked inside and grabbed the wireless receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Kerry’s voice sounded wry, yet amused.

“Well, hello,” Dar replied, taking the phone with her and resuming her seat. “Didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. I just answered your mail.”

“I know. That’s how I knew you were home,” came the answer, along with a slight chuckle. “I, um…just wanted to make sure you didn’t freak out when I come in looking like a Klingon tomorrow. I had a close encounter with a truck.”

There was a split second of dead silence, then Dar sat up straight, her heart pounding. “W-what? Are you all right? What happened? Did you get the license plate number?”

“Dar! Dar, slow down,” Kerry interrupted quickly. “No, no, it was parked at the time. Behind the bakery. Colleen and I usually go down there and reward ourselves with a doughnut after we finish. I was coming around the corner and didn’t realize a delivery truck was parked right in front of me.”