Some Like Them Rich Read online

  “Then he could be lying. About the food, I mean,” Lila interjected. “Why don’t we just have coffee here?”

  Not a morning person, Lila didn’t really wake up until noon. But after that she could hang with the best of them.

  “We could eat some of that food you bought,” I said. Lila smirked and childishly stuck her tongue out at me.

  “You can, but we need to be seen,” Jack said, including me in the grouping when the last place I wanted to be seen was the St. Romaine.

  “You can’t believe anyone is up at this hour.” Lila squinted. “What time is it any way?”

  “Lila, stop complaining. “Jack grabbed her hand and pasted a cup of coffee in it. The house was fully equipped if we wanted to use the kitchen, but I saw no reason for that unless we were entertaining. Jack didn’t cook often. She ate out a lot, and that accounted for her weight. I’d been taught to cook by my mother and grandmother. Lila could boil eggs and make a sandwich, and that was the extent of her kitchen skills. She’d explained that the food seemed to appear in her basket after Clay exchanged the broken one with her.

  “All right.” Lila finally agreed. “I guess it’s all right since you say the food is good, and if Amber didn’t spend the night with the manager, there’s no reason to stay away. I’ll go get dressed.”

  This was a mistake, I told myself as I slipped into cotton pants and a long shirt. I did not want to go to the St. Romaine, but I’d trapped myself by insisting that Don and I had not slept together. And that he wasn’t in the running for my affections or my plan.

  So again the three of us were off to the one place on the Vineyard I was loath to visit.

  “What are your plans for today?” Jack asked Lila after we were seated at a table near the wall in the hotel restaurant. The waiter had served her a full plate of hotcakes, dripping with butter and maple syrup and bacon on the side. It smelled wonderful. I was envious of her as the waiter set a bowl of fresh fruit in front of me. I didn’t think I’d be able to eat. I was still nervous about being in a place where Don Randall was likely to appear without notice. At any moment he could come through the door. And while I’d seen him on the beach, I felt there was unfinished anguish to be assuaged before we could meet without enmity being as solid as a rock between us.

  “I’m meeting Hank and we’re going antiquing.”

  “Hank?” I asked.

  “Antiquing?” Jack said.

  “What happened to the banker?”

  She frowned. “Richard? I’m not up to dealing with his family. The daughter is a bitch.”

  “So where did you meet Hank?” I asked. “And what is he—”

  “Worth?” Lila finished. She smiled. “Millions,” she whispered, leaning into the table conspiratorially. “He’s the latest winner of the mega lottery.”

  “Wow!” Jack said. “Aren’t you the lucky one.”

  “Amber, you’re awfully quiet. What are you doing today?”

  I had no real plans, but felt I needed to do something. This scheme was mine and I needed to get into it. “I thought I’d try parasailing.”

  “That’s a good idea, but it could be dangerous,” Lila said.

  “I have an idea,” Jack said. “Why don’t you fall in the water and act like you’re drowning. You can get one of those lifeguards to rush out and help you.”

  “Jack, I swim like a fish and a lifeguard is not exactly on my radar.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, defeated.

  “Hello, ladies.”

  I tensed at the voice. It was Don. When we’d entered the dining room, I’d deliberately angled for the seat next to a large plant and away from any view of the entrance. The subterfuge, however, was not strong enough to conceal me from him. I knew this would happen if we came to the hotel. I expected to see him—at a distance. I didn’t think, after this morning on the beach, that he would even speak to me, but apparently he wanted to shame me in front of my friends. My fingers curled under the table as I braced myself for his revelations.

  I’d slept with this guy, made fantastic love with him, but I didn’t know him.

  “Hello,” Lila said, her smile as chipper and innocent as a child’s.

  “Are you enjoying yourselves?” Don asked. I heard the poison laced in his voice. It wasn’t just an innocuous question, although Jack and Lila probably didn’t notice. But then they hadn’t sat on his lap and abandoned the world in his arms.

  “We are,” Jack answered for all of them.

  “And you, Ms. Nash? Has the Vineyard provided you with what you wish?”

  I heard the double entendre in his question. My two friends stared at me as though they were waiting for the answer, too. Both obviously noticed the formality of his address.

  “I haven’t been here that long,” I hedged. “I’m sure the summer will be an interesting one.”

  “There is a large group checking in tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be interested in meeting some of them.”

  There was a slight emphasis on the last word. By them he meant men.

  “Maybe,” I said, coldly. Then I turned and looked at him, speaking quietly so only he could hear me. “I am capable of making my own way. You needn’t bother with me again.” I turned back to my fruit bowl.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said as a good-bye. “Let me know if there is anything I can help you with.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when he walked away.

  “What a charming guy,” Lila said.

  “That’s only one side of him,” I said. Both of them looked at me, but I didn’t explain.

  At loose ends, I decided to see if I could find someone to play tennis with. If not, I’d use the ball machine. Pick-up tennis wasn’t a usual occurrence, but I needed something to pound. I was a sports-minded person. I’d gone through college on a diving scholarship, keeping up the swimming instead of joining a gym. I played tennis two mornings a week with another freelance writer who worked for the same greeting card firm I did.

  Entering the clubhouse, I went to the service desk and asked the desk clerk if there was anyone looking for a game or just wanted to hit some balls.

  “I’ll hit with you.”

  For the second time that day, I tensed over the voice. Stepping away from the desk and out of earshot of the kid who looked like he spent his days on the court and his nights on the beach, I said, “Don’t you have to work sometime?”

  “Yes, but I’m free for the next hour or so.” Taking my arm, he led me to the door. “I have a reserved court.”

  “Don’t you have a partner?”

  “Normally I play with a doctor friend of mine, but she had an emergency call.”

  Just my luck, I thought. But the word she caught my attention. I hadn’t thought of there being a she in his life. That was stupid, I told myself. The man was gorgeous. Of course there was a she. There were probably a lot of shes. And if he made love to them, the way … I stopped myself from completing that thought. The memory of it was mine and mine alone. I wouldn’t let the knowledge of other women intrude on what I considered mine.

  Taking my racket out of its case and opening a can of balls, I didn’t wait or ask if he wanted to play or just hit. I wanted to pound, and it was good Don was on the other side of the net. I wouldn’t have to imagine him there.

  I served the first ball. Don smashed it back to me. It went by so fast, I hardly saw it and had no time to react to it.

  “Love-fifteen,” he called. I heard his message. We were playing a game. If that was the pace he wanted to set, I was up for it. The next ball had all my power in it. Surprise showed on his face as it hit the ground fully within bounds, but out of his range to pack it back to my side of the net.

  “Fifteen-all,” I called.

  We traded back and forth. I ran and hit, trying to kill the ball with my racket. Don did the same. Sweat poured off me. My hair had fallen down and wet tendrils smacked me as I rammed the ball across the net. I’d reached a zone, but each time my eyes connected with Don
’s, my anger was renewed and I hit the ball even harder. I wondered which one of us would give out first. I was determined it wasn’t going to be me.

  We kept it up for longer than an hour. “Game and set,” I shouted.

  Don’s skin was shiny as he stared across the net. He pulled a ball from his pocket and got in position to serve it. Neither one of us looked as if we were going to end the competition. A crowd gathered and was watching us. Applause erupted after each point, regardless which one of us won it. I ignored them and their applause. I wasn’t playing for their approval or satisfaction. I was trying to pound Don into the earth.

  As one of my balls hit the court and skidded out of Don’s range, Jack walked out on the court, standing on the middle line at the net and looking back and forth at me and then Don.

  The cessation of movement had me breathing hard. I leaned over, my hands on my knees as I sucked oxygen into my lungs. My body was hot, my sweat glands unable to keep up with the anger infusing my system. Chugging air as if it was liquid, I finally stood up and walked toward Jack.

  “I don’t know what you two think you’re doing,” she said before I could speak. “But this is not the way.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” I said, taking a breath between each word.

  Jack left her position and walked to within earshot of me. “Amberlina Nash, this is Jack.” She placed her hand on her breast as if she needed to identify herself. “I’ve seen you play before, and I’ve never seen this much intensity. If that is what this man does to you, then you two need to talk, not try to beat each other to death.”

  Don came up at that moment.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave now. I have to shower before going to work. Nice game. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” With that he walked away. I checked to see if he had the strength to walk normally or if his body had taken the same beating as mine. There was no indication that anything more than a simple game of tennis had occurred.

  His cordial good-bye did nothing to appease my temper. We weren’t friends, as indicated by the short war we’d waged. I knew it was a battle, one that had been interrupted by Jack’s appearance. Despite the logic of her words, I knew the war would continue.

  The crowd realized the drama was over and with whispered conversations they left, returning to their previous positions. I knew we’d be the topic of speculation and gossip for the rest of the day.

  Jack held a bottle of water toward me. I took it and drank the contents in one long swig before gathering my things from the side of the court.

  We returned to the house together. I had driven to the tennis club, but Jack drove back.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again,” I said as she parked in the driveway.

  “Then let me get you another water. You must be totally dehydrated by now.” Jack went to the kitchen as I hobbled into the living room. She joined me, carrying three bottles of water. Two of them she handed to me. I drank one and opened the second bottle, taking a long drink.

  “Talk to me, Amber. This behavior is out of character for you.”

  I would have loved to talk to Jack about this, but I didn’t know what was happening. “Jack, nothing was really going on. We started hitting balls and then things got competitive. You know how I am with a challenge. I couldn’t let him think he could have the upper hand.”

  “Are you sure that was all that was going on? You looked as if you would die before you gave up.”

  I defended myself. “So did he.”

  “So did he,” she conceded. “This is why I believe you two should have a talk.”

  “Not a good idea.” I took another drink to buy myself some time. “I met him on the beach this morning.”

  “You did. You didn’t mention it when you came in.”

  “You and Lila were so intent on where I’d spent the night, I didn’t want to give you additional fuel. But you were right. I did spend the night with him.” I stopped, taking another drink. “He assumed we’d started something.”

  “And he wanted to continue it?”

  I nodded. “I told him I didn’t want to see him again.”

  “And he took that as a challenge?”

  “I didn’t think so. I mean, I knew he was angry, but he seemed to accept it and go about his business.”

  “No man does that,” Jack said. “You should know that.”

  “It was a one-night stand,” I said, trying to convince myself more than Jack. “It’s not like we had a relationship.”

  “Then he comes over at breakfast,” Jack said. “Don’t think all that formality masked the tension between the two of you. I don’t think this plan of yours is working out for you.”

  “We’ve only been here a few days,” I said, but I knew Jack was right. It wasn’t working for me. “Things will get better,” I answered. “I can steer clear of Don Randall.”

  “That might be the best thing.”

  It was the only thing, I thought. The man was driving me mad.

  Chapter 8

  This was not Brooklyn. I didn’t have to pinch myself to know that. If this had been Brooklyn, I wouldn’t be so self-conscious. I looked good. Both Amber and I knew clothes and we knew brands. I had been fitted by some of the best women in Saks Fifth Avenue. My clothes fit perfectly for a woman of my size. I just wasn’t used to being stared at so openly. I couldn’t tell if the looks were admiration or plain stares.

  I smiled, as Amber had told me to do when this happened. I’d frowned at her, skeptical that anything would come of this summer. But she was so positive. That’s how Amber was when she came up with these ideas. God knows what married life would be for her. Would she ever stop thinking of schemes to achieve something?

  And would this one work for me?

  I hoped so. I wasn’t tall and thin like Amber or beautiful and willowy like Lila. I was the fat one, the one that didn’t have a hope of snagging a guy in a bar if I was with either of them. But they were my friends and here, on the Vineyard, we would not be a trio. We were individuals who could inhabit the same space, but not be required to spend all our time together.

  I’d wanted to plan something I could do with Amber to keep her mind off her encounter with Don Randall. I suppose I wanted to protect her in my own way. However, she’d seen through my plan and gone out on her own.

  And this is how I found myself alone, walking along the beach. Well, not in the sand. I was walking along the road. The beach was on my left. Half a dozen men looked at me. I wasn’t wearing a bathing suit. I had no intention of going in the water and I was self-conscious of how much skin I had to show. So I wore one of the new outfits—shorts that didn’t ride up in the front, looking like an ill-fitting over blouse and creating a wedgie in the back. I topped them with a scoop-neck shirt and a short-sleeved jacket. According to the woman in the plus-size department, it was elegant and understated. The impact would be irresistible, she’d said.

  I was beginning to think she might be right.

  I was no longer in a residential area. The houses gave way to shops and tourists. People moved in and out of the stores. I window-shopped, stopping to check out the sea-related jewelry in one store, the summer outfits in another.

  I opened the door of one. It had shot glasses with Martha’s Vineyard written on them under a standard picture of the beach, collectible spoons, back scratchers, decorative plates, pillows, and T-shirts. I bypassed them all, going straight for the revolving stand of postcards.

  I selected six or seven with pictures of Martha’s Vineyard by day and by night, photos of the Inkwell, making it look larger than it was. There were the houses on the Bluff, which I found irresistible and bought several of, along with some stamps.

  Near the front door was a mailbox and behind the shop were several umbrella tables. I went out and looked for an empty place to sit and write out the cards. All the tables were filled. Most had a family or a couple sitting there. One had a solitary man who was also writing on postcards. I started to
turn around and head back to the house to write the cards, but taking a deep breath, I decided to approach him. I only wanted to share his table, not give birth to his children. And this was an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone.

  “Excuse me,” I said as I reached the table. “Is it all right if I write my cards here?”

  He smiled and nodded, extending his hand in friendship.

  “Thank you.” Sitting down, I put the small bag with the cards and stamps on the table. I searched for a pen in my purse. I was sure I had one, but I couldn’t find it. I kept searching, sure it was there.

  “Here, use mine. I have another one.” My eyes went from the pen in his hand, angled toward me, to the man holding it. He had nice brown eyes and a sweet smile. He looked like he could have played football in college, but his fingers were rough when I took the pen and they brushed mine. I wondered what he did. Would he make the cut according to Amber’s criteria? He smiled at me, and I returned it.

  “Thanks again,” I said.

  Pulling the cards out, I looked at one, thinking about who to send it to and what to say.

  “That’s a lot of cards. You must have a lot of friends missing you. Do you always send that many when you travel?”

  I looked up again, surprised that he was speaking to me. I’d sat down to share the table, not to pick him up or have him pick me up. The thought, however, sent shivers down my spine.

  “I don’t travel much, but I liked these. I’ll probably take some of them home with me.”

  “To remind you of your vacation?”

  I nodded, suddenly remembering that I was supposed to be a socialite and admitting that I didn’t travel much was a blunder.

  “Everyone collects something—Lladrós, pearls, art, diamonds. I collect postcards.”

  “And friends, I assume.” He pointed toward the cards.

  I smiled. “You can never have too many of those.” “All guys, I’m sure.”

  I recognized a come-on when I heard it. “There is no special man at the moment.” That I got right, fully in character now. I checked him for interest, wanting to see if he was coming on to me, hoping that he was, but unable to read anything in his expression.