What Happens in Paradise(92)

“Don’t tell me!” I said. I have this notion that if I don’t know any particulars, I’ll be safe. I have almost a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in my bottom drawer. It’s a lot, but is it enough to live on for the rest of my life? I thought about Maia going to high school—I want to be able to send her to Antilles on St. Thomas—and then to college in the States. Russ must have savings, right? If not, we could sell the villa and move someplace smaller. We don’t need nine bedrooms; we never have guests. Seven of the bedrooms have never even been slept in.

Russ said, “If I quit, things will change. For the worse, initially, and then for the better.”

“Quit,” I said.



November 19, 2018

My hand is shaking as I write this. I’m thinking about calling the police, but the police here on St. John won’t be able to do anything. I need to call the FBI. But if I do that, I might get Russ in trouble.

I was waiting tables at La Tapa tonight when Tilda told me there was a one-top, a man, who had asked for me specifically. This was the downside of being mentioned by name so frequently on TripAdvisor. Complete strangers pretended they knew me.

“He’s ridiculously hot,” Tilda said. “In a Clooney-meets-Satan kind of way.”

That description should have tipped me off but it was a busy night and I didn’t have time to think. I approached the table and noted only that Tilda’s description was accurate; the guy was attractive but scary-looking. Sharply dressed, too sharp for the Virgin Islands.

“Hello,” I said. “Welcome to La Tapa.” I handed him a menu and the wine list. “Can I get you started with sparkling, still, or tap water?”

He looked up. “Hello, Rosie,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do I know you?”

In the split second before he spoke, it clicked: Todd Croft.

“Todd Croft,” he said.

I wanted to scream. I did a quick survey of the restaurant. Who could help me? Skip was behind the bar. There was no way he could handle this. Ayers could, maybe. Or Tilda.

Or me. I could handle this.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“How old is your daughter now?” he asked. “Twelve?”

The mention of Maia made me bend down and get in his face. “Get out of here,” I whispered. “This is my island. Mine, not yours. If your intention was to come in here and threaten me or threaten my family, I would think again. I know people.”

He seemed amused by that. “Do you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I do.” I was thinking of Oscar. If I took twenty or thirty thousand dollars from the drawer, could I get Oscar to board Bluebeard in the middle of the night and shoot Todd Croft, or at least scare him to death?

I half feared Todd would try to hire him. They were both pirates.

“Russ is finished with you,” I said.

“He’s not, though,” Todd said. He pushed back from the table and stood. “That’s what I came to tell you. Russ isn’t finished with me. He doesn’t seem to see it that way, however, so I need you to talk some sense into him.” He gave me a tight smile. “There’s big money in it for you if you’re persuasive.”

“If you want a burger,” I said, in a voice loud enough to draw attention from nearby tables, “you should try the Tap and Still across the street. Thanks for stopping in.”

With that, I snapped up his menu, corralled Ayers from table 11, and dragged her into the kitchen to do a shot of beer.

“Who was that?” she asked. “He was hot.”

I longed to tell Ayers the truth. She’s my best friend and she doesn’t know the first thing about me. By choosing to be with Russ, I’m hiding from everyone else.

“Some creeper,” I said. “I sent him packing.”



December 31, 2018

Russ came back the day after Christmas with a leather and black pearl choker for me—not an engagement ring. I gave him a framed photograph of me and him in the hammock that I had taken with Maia’s selfie stick. He was happy with his present. I was less happy with mine, which he could tell.

“I have until the new year, January first,” he said. “Right? That was the ultimatum?”

I didn’t like the word ultimatum or the fact that I had issued one, but I nodded.

I’d told him about Todd Croft coming to La Tapa, and Russ had assured me that everything was going to be all right. He’d had a confidential talk with Stephen Johnson, Todd’s partner, and he’d told Russ that he would smooth things over with Todd. There was no reason Russ couldn’t make a seamless exit as long as he signed a confidentiality agreement and a noncompete.

This came as a relief to me, and it made sense. Stephen was an attorney.

“Let’s celebrate New Year’s Eve at the villa,” Russ said. “And then go over to Anegada on the first. Stephen has offered to take us by helicopter.”

“I’ve always wanted to ride in a helicopter,” I admitted. “Should we take Maia?”

He kissed my nose. “Next time,” he said. “This trip is just for us.”

Just for us; I liked the way that sounded. He would extract himself from Ascension with the help of coolheaded, legal-minded Stephen Johnson, and we would go to Anegada to stay in the pristine white clapboard cottage—where, maybe, oh please, a diamond ring would be waiting for me.