What Happens in Paradise(17)

“They have lakes,” Huck says. “Great lakes. You can fly-fish.”

Adam looks so relieved that Huck’s afraid the boy might try to kiss him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought I’d do,” he says. “In the summer.”

Huck lights a cigarette and inhales deeply. “So you’ll leave in May, then? Or June?”

“A week from Tuesday,” Adam says.

A week from Tuesday, Huck thinks.

“Oneonta in January,” Huck says. “Must be love.”



That night after dinner—fresh, perfectly grilled wahoo that even Maia agrees is sublime—Huck heads out to the deck with his pack of Camel Lights and his cell phone.

Agent Vasco or Irene? He decides on one, then changes his mind and decides on the other. Then back, then back again.

Irene.

He’s almost more nervous about calling her than about calling the FBI. He is more nervous about calling her because he has no idea how the conversation will go.

She answers on the first ring. “Oh, Huck, is that you?”

Her voice stirs something in him. He exhales smoke. “It’s me.” He pauses. He had planned to say, I’m calling to check on you. Or I’m calling to see how you’re doing. But instead the words that fly out of his mouth are “I have a business proposition. My first mate, Adam, quit on me today and I can’t properly run my charter without a mate. So I’m calling to offer you a job.”

There’s a pause long enough for Huck to take a drag off his cigarette, consider the lights of the Westin below and the cruise ship headed to St. Croix in the distance, and castigate himself for acting like a fool. He should have gone with How’ve you been?

“What does it pay?” Irene asks.

He grins and tells her the truth. “Hundred bucks for a half day, two hundred for a full day,” he says. “Plus tips.” He clears his throat. “Plus fish.”

“That sounds fair,” she says. “When do I start?”



He has to rein in the joy in his voice before he makes the second call. He clears his throat, takes a cleansing breath, lights another cigarette, and dials.

“Colette Vasco.”

“Agent Vasco, this is Sam Powers calling from St. John. I’m Rosie’s—”

“Yes, hello, Captain Powers,” Agent Vasco says. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any further news—”

“I have news,” Huck says. He lowers his voice in case Maia happens to pop out of her room in search of some Ben and Jerry’s Brownie Batter Core. “I found a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars hidden in a dresser drawer in Rosie’s room. I thought you would want to know.”

“Yes,” Agent Vasco says. “Yes, you’re certainly right about that. What would be a good time tomorrow for me to stop by?”





Baker




When he tells his “school wives”—Wendy, Becky, Debbie, and Ellen—that Anna has asked him to get a sitter for Floyd so that she and Louisa can take Baker to dinner at Indigo and “civilly discuss arrangements,” they all start talking at once.

“Don’t let them railroad you,” Wendy says. “Ask for full custody if that’s what you want.”

Debbie slides a business card across the table: Perla Piuggi, Esq. “My divorce attorney,” she says. “Pitbull.”

“We’ve agreed to do mediation,” Baker says.

“Using words like civilly and mediation nearly always means an ambush is coming,” Becky says.

Baker slips the card into his pocket.

“I’m dying to eat at Indigo,” Ellen says. “Their tasting menus are the talk of the city. It’s neo–soul food.”

“I’m in,” Wendy says. “Let’s book a table the same night.” She cackles. “That way if things go south, you can come sit with us.”

“I thought Anna ate only pizza,” Debbie says. “Didn’t you tell me Anna hated going out to fancy places?”

“She was always too tired,” Baker says.

“But not anymore,” Ellen says with an eye roll.

“Call the lawyer,” Debbie says.

“And report back,” Wendy says.

“Also, take a picture if you can,” Becky says.

Debbie swats her hand. “We sound like a pack of catty teenagers.”

“I want to see if Anna looks happy,” Becky says. “I want to see if she has that glow.”

“Imagine,” Wendy says. “Anna, happy.”



Ellen wasn’t wrong; Indigo is a unique experience with its own set of rules and a robust social conscience—which must be why Louisa picked it (Baker assumes that Louisa picked it, since what Debbie said is true—Anna eats only pizza). There are only thirteen seats at a horseshoe-shaped bar, making for a communal experience, which Baker figures is both good and bad. On the one hand, things can’t possibly get too ugly in such a controlled environment, but on the other, their civil discussion of arrangements might become a group-therapy session. They are, blessedly, placed at the far side of the horseshoe with Baker agreeing to take the seat on the end, in a relatively dim corner. Louisa is next to him, Anna on the other side of Louisa. This feels weird and wrong—shouldn’t he be sitting next to Anna so they can talk about Floyd? And yet, it’s also symbolic; Louisa is, in fact, the person who came between Baker and Anna, as the seating now illustrates.