Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (39 page)

She giggled.

“Hey, have you been drinking?” He raised an eyebrow as he ran his hand down her arm. “Are you starting to have some fun?”

“Well, actually I met this nice man—” she started, but he put up his hand.

“Shhh, no details. I’m so happy you’ve gotten into the swing of things. I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to let go. It’s terrific, isn’t it? Crazy, but terrific.”

Rosie stopped short. Marcus thought she’d had sex with Sam. Worse than that, he was
happy
about it. Should she clear up the misunderstanding? He didn’t seem to want to know the truth. Was that how this thing worked? He would do what he did, and she would do something elsewhere, but they wouldn’t compare notes? Regular romance was so much more straightforward.

“Just tell me you had a good time.”

“I had a good time.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, angel. This vacation is so amazing. I love you so much, you know that?” he whispered, and kissed her. Pretty quick, Rosie knew that he wanted to do more. She kissed him back softly, but her mind raced. Where had his lips just been? Who had he kissed last? How had he kissed her? How did she compare? As her panic rose, her libido fell, and Marcus sensed her tension.

“Honey?” he asked her, their faces only inches apart.

“Oh, Marcus it’s those other girls, I can’t stop thinking about it. What you’ve been up to,
who
you’ve been up to.”

He stroked her cheek in an almost paternal gesture and rubbed her lips with his thumb.

“Shhh, baby. You think too much. Don’t give them a second thought. You know you’re my queen. You’re better and sexier,” he said and kissed her again, “than any of them.”

She didn’t want to think about the other women, but they kept floating in her mind’s eye. Was he with Sam’s wife, Cindy? Had he been with Fiona yet? Marcus pulled back and looked at her a little more seriously.

“Do you want to do this, or should I leave you alone?”

There was an edge to his voice that scared her. She worried that if she didn’t sleep with him right now, he would simply find somebody else. She jumped to her feet and pasted a smile on her face. Nobody was taking her man from right under her nose. Nobody.

“Come with me,” she said with an inviting smile and took his hand.

“Lead the way, baby.” The edge was gone and happy, flirty Marcus was back. They went up to their room together and she put all other thoughts out of her head and they had a great time in the oversized Jacuzzi bath in their suite. Rosie wondered if perhaps it was designed for four but didn’t suggest it in case Marcus thought it was a great idea.

When they were cuddling in bed together later, it felt good. Rosie decided her new friend, Sam, was right. Okay, he didn’t call it the Ostrich Plan, but it amounted to the same thing. He just ignored what his wife did on vacation. Rosie would do the same.

“Come on,” Marcus said, getting out of bed a little while later. “Want to go hang out by the pool again—maybe have a cocktail while watching the sun go down?”

“Sure, you go. I forgot to bring my cell phone down to the pool, and I see I missed a call from Mom. I’ll just listen to that because she’ll be on the plane now, but I want to call home and make sure Natasha’s okay.”

When she got the message from her mother about the volcano, the panic started. She tried and failed to call her back, so she called Cliff Road. That’s when Lily confirmed the volcano, her mom’s delayed return, and how she was stepping in to help. Lily assured her that she had everything under control. Naturally Rosie was distressed but had to accept the new situation and get on with her vacation. Lily convinced her that their Mom was in absolutely no danger, would be back soon and under no circumstances was Rosie to cut her holiday short.

She headed down to the pool to fill Marcus in on the home news. Then she lay back on the thickly padded lounger and looked around. Things were calm and serene because a lot of people had gone to get changed for dinner, or perhaps they were doing what she and her husband had been doing earlier. The heat had gone out of the day. There was no wind, so the air was very still. It was quiet, and she could hear the birds chirping. Maybe they’d been singing all day, but she hadn’t heard them over all the noise. The birdsong was nicer than all that ambient music. They sounded like they were in the palm trees and thick mango groves.

The pool boy gathered up the towels, and she glanced over at her husband. His eyes were closed.

Rosie let her eyes close, too, and enjoyed the feeling of the late sun on her face. She thought about her life. Lily had Natasha. Her daughter was safe and happy. Her husband was content, and she’d found Sam.

With him to keep her company, a week in the resort would be a lot easier—maybe even fun. She was very lucky to have found him and to have discovered “The No Club.” The more she thought about it, the more she decided she couldn’t possibly tell Marcus. If he wanted a no questions, no lies situation, that suited her just fine. Sam would be her little secret. She wasn’t breaking any laws.

Chapter 31 

A Near Miss

“Isn’t that breaking the law?” Popsy asked.

    “Making an illegal U-turn?” Sandra asked.

“That’s what she said,” Popsy agreed. “We must have come the wrong way.”

“Make an illegal U-turn,” the GPS commanded again in her robotic voice.

“Oh look, there’s one now.” Popsy pointed to the U-turn sign with a line through it.

Sandra heaved a sigh and glanced in her rearview mirror. “If you say so.” She swung into the right-hand lane. Then she pulled a sharp U-turn around the center island. There was a loud screeching of brakes followed by a honking horn.

“Where did he come from?” Sandra squealed when she saw the other car.

“Very rude man.”

At least the GPS was happy again. “Continue straight ahead,” it commanded, but the whine of a police siren told them otherwise. Instinctively, Sandra hit the brakes and pulled over.

“He’s right behind us,” Sandra said in surprise.

Popsy turned around. “I think he’s flashing his lights. Why does he want us to stop?”

“What? Oh great. That’s all we need,” Sandra moaned as the police car pulled to a stop behind her. She fumbled before she managed to find the correct button to get the window down.

“Hello there,” the police officer said when he got to her car.

“Hello, sir,” Sandra said, on her best behavior.

“Can I see your driver’s license, please?”

Shoot, I should have had that ready, Sandra thought. “Popsy, do you know where my purse is?”

“Back seat. I can’t reach it.”

“Can I get it?” Sandra asked, feeling a little nervous.

He nodded and stepped back.

“You’re not local?” he asked.

“Uh, no, we’re American. Well, I am. My friend was born over here, but she’s lived in America for a long time.”

The policeman looked into the car and over to Popsy, who smiled back and gave him a little wave. Sandra felt guilty just because she was talking to a cop. The car was a two-door, so she had to figure out how to get her seat to move forward.

“Tell me now, do they not have the same traffic signs in America?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The illegal U-turn sign. Is it the same in the States as it is here?”

Now Sandra understood. “Well, I know this sounds nuts, sir, but the GPS told me to make the U-turn. I don’t know why.”

“The GPS?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “You’re telling me the GPS told you to break the law?”

“No. It wasn’t like that. It said to make an illegal U-turn and then we saw one, so we did it. It’s taking us to Banagher.”

“It’ll take you to jail faster if you pull that stunt again,” he said. Then he laughed. “I’m sure it told you to make a legal one, not an illegal one.”

“Oh.” Sandra thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, that would make more sense. But I swear it sounded like it said illegal.”

“And tell me, if the GPS tells you to rob a bank in the next town, are you going to do that, too?”

“Sorry. I’m just beginning to realize how dumb that was.”

He looked over at Popsy. “You should have more sense if you’re Irish.” Then he turned back to Sandra. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you off this time because you’re tourists, and God knows we need them, but no more stunts like that, right?”

“Right.”

He nodded. “Wait till they hear about this one back at the barracks. Those GPS things are great, but don’t follow them blind. Remember to engage your brain at the same time. Yes?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“Right so. Drive safely now and enjoy the rest of your holiday,” he said, and headed back to his car. He was still shaking his head in disbelief as he drove off.

Popsy and Sandra burst out laughing and Sandra said, “I can’t believe I did that. I let a machine tell me to do an illegal U-turn.”

“Vacation brain,” Popsy said.

“What?”

“Vacation brain. That’s what Peter used to call it. When we went on holidays sometimes we just kind of tuned out and did dumb things. I think we have a touch of holiday brain.”

“Well, on the plus side, that means we’re really in the vacation frame of mind,” Sandra said, and then started the car up again.

“No, Sandra, the plus side is that we didn’t get thrown in jail for dangerous driving. That really was a close one. We got lucky.”

“Lucky is good.” Sandra smiled. “I like ‘lucky.’ Let’s stay that way.”

“You’re on,” Popsy said and smiled back.

Earlier, they’d left The Four Seasons as arranged, and when they got to the airport, they spoke to the airline about when they could realistically fly home. The attendant said she was sorry, but she couldn’t give them an exact timeframe and advised them to keep watching the news. As soon as it was safe, air travel would recommence.

Then they’d picked up a little car for the next part of their adventure. It was much smaller than Sandra was used to, but the price difference was enormous. She’d wanted to get a high-performance car for their road trip, but it would have cost several hundred Euros a day more, and Popsy wouldn’t let her. She’d reminded Sandra they were poor, to which Sandra replied she kept forgetting and it was nicer to be rich.

A little while later, they loaded up their own suitcases into the tiny trunk of their little silver two-door Toyota Aygo. It was a tight squeeze, but they’d managed. The only confusion was when she’d had gotten into the passenger seat and Popsy had to remind her where it was.

Sandra had said they’d be fine once they hit the open road, and they were—right up until they got pulled over.

Popsy said, “Thanks, Sandra.”

“What for?”

“Coming up with this
Thelma and Louise
plan. For getting us out of the city and into the real Ireland. It’s so good to be here and it was all your idea—coming to Ireland in the first place, and then coming to Banagher once the plane was delayed. I probably would have parked in The Four Seasons and worried myself silly until the airport opened again. Even if that’s tomorrow, it would have been such a waste of a day. This is much better, so thank you.”

Sandra smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Popsy.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time they got to Banagher, and they were thrilled with the town.

“I had no idea it was on the water,” Sandra said admiring the town’s marina.

“Or how pretty it is,” Popsy said when they drove over the enormous bridge that spanned the river.

“I wonder what river this is.”

“It’s got to be the Shannon,” Popsy said as she looked out over the blue shimmering water. “If I still have any of my school geography. It’s Ireland’s longest river.”

“Even I’ve heard of the Shannon. What about the Liffey? Isn’t that the one Dublin is on?”

“Go you.” Popsy punched Sandra’s arm. “You know your Irish geography.”

“Oh, look! There’s a B&B sign. Let’s see if we can get a room.”

The lady who opened the door to them was very nice, but she couldn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just the season is usually quiet around now, and I thought it was a good time to get some work done.” As if on cue, a husky builder came out of the house and walked past them with a bucket of cement powder.

“You could try Mrs. Miller at The Boathouse. It’s a pub, to be honest, but they have a few guestrooms, too, so she calls herself a B&B. It’s usually pretty busy, but being a Monday, you might be lucky. Of course, there’s also the hotel in town, The Brosna.”

They got the directions for both, but once they were back in the car, they agreed that since they were on a budget, they’d make for the B&B. What they hadn’t anticipated was how fortunate they were to find The Boathouse. There was no way they would have come across it without the directions.

They soon realized why. The Boathouse was difficult to find by road but easy to reach by water. From the front, the house looked fairly unassuming. A small hanging sign announced The Boathouse was established in 1967. The woman who ran the place must have been a fantastic gardener, because early flowering tulips and waves of daffodils bloomed along the little pathway up to the front door. The grass was cut short and a little gnome held a placard that said WELCOME.

There was lots of room in the driveway, so Sandra left the car there and they headed in together. First, they walked through a small porch with two armchairs. As Sandra looked back over her shoulder, she wondered why anyone would bother to sit there. The garden was pretty enough, but beyond that the view was of the small country road and then a big field. It wasn’t exactly jaw-dropping scenery. The front door of the house was inside the porch, but it was ajar so they went inside without ringing the doorbell. The room they entered was a bar.

Small tables furnished the place and each had four little barstools. They’d been recently wiped down with a cloth because there were still damp streaks visible. The corner table was larger than the rest, and it had built-in benches. Along the back wall was a bar counter made of deep mahogany.