Winter in Paradise (Paradise #1)(35)

Irene says she isn’t hungry. “I think I’ll go up to bed.”

“Do you want me to call Milly, Mom?” Cash asks. “Just to, you know, check in?”

Irene turns around on the stairs and gives Cash a plaintive look. “Would you mind?” she asks. “I can’t lie to Milly. I just can’t do it. You know, she did a good job with your father. This isn’t her fault. I don’t ever want you to think that.”

“I don’t think that,” Cash says. “Dad was a grown man.”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Irene says.

“I’ll call Milly,” Cash says.



He dials the number for the Brown Deer retirement community, but the nurse who answers in the medical unit tells him that Milly is too weak to talk.

“What do you mean too weak?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

“She’s ninety-seven years old,” the nurse says. “Her body is shutting down.”

“Well, right,” Cash says. “I know, but…”

“Call back tomorrow, Mr. Steele,” the nurse says. “Until then, enjoy your vacation.”



Cash and Baker eat steak and potato salad out on the deck. Cash knows he should tell Baker he saw Ayers, and he should tell Baker about Milly not being strong enough to come to the phone, and he should really tell Baker about losing the stores. But before he can broach any of these topics, Baker says, “So Mom told me she has a meeting tomorrow.”

“A meeting?” Cash says. “With whom?”

“She wouldn’t tell me,” Baker says. “She came back from town and when I asked how it went she said it was productive and that she has a meeting tomorrow.”

“What time?” Cash asks.

“In the morning,” Baker says. “She wasn’t sure how long it would take.”

“Are you worried?” Cash asks.

“No,” Baker says. “It’s Mom.”

Right, Cash thinks. They have never had to worry about Irene in the past. But now… things have changed, haven’t they?

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Cash asks.

“Same thing I did today,” Baker says. “Waiting for the phone to ring, but it’s Sunday so I’m sure nothing will happen. I would like to get out tomorrow night, though. What do you think about that? I want to eat at La Tapa.”

“La Tapa?” Cash says.

“Do you remember that girl, Ayers?” Baker asks. “From the reception?”

Cash’s heart starts bobbing up and down. Yes. Ayers. Yes. He tries to keep his expression neutral. “Yeah, why?”

“She works there,” Baker says. “And I want to see her again.”

“See her why?” Cash asks.

“Because she was Rosie’s best friend,” Baker says. “She has information.”

Cash clears the plates. Ayers was Rosie’s best friend and she possibly does have information, but Cash gets a very strong feeling that that isn’t why Baker wants to see Ayers again.

You’re married! He wants to snap. To Anna!

But instead, Cash makes a decision. He’s going to the British Virgin Islands tomorrow.



Cash avoids group tours for a reason: they turn even the most authentic experiences into a Disneyland ride. It’s unavoidable, he supposes. This tour company, Treasure Island, which takes a group of twenty people on a three-stop adventure to another country, needs to make the experience safe and user-friendly. And fun!

“Most of all,” Ayers says over her headset microphone to the assembled group, after explaining where the life preservers are kept, how to disembark at the Baths of Virgin Gorda (they have to jump off the boat and swim to shore), and how to defog one’s mask for maximum snorkeling visibility, “we want you to have fun. In that spirit, the bar is now open. Come get your painkillers.”

Painkillers, Cash thinks. If only. And yet he finds himself shuffling to the bar behind a big fat guy in a HARLEY-DAVIDSON OF SOUTH DAKOTA t-shirt. There’s nothing wrong with this guy or any of the other couples or families aboard the boat, except that they are taking up Ayers’s time and attention. It’s like she’s running a day care, Cash thinks. Everyone has questions: What if they aren’t a strong enough swimmer to make it to the shore in Virgin Gorda? Will there be gluten-free options at lunch? Is it true that the Baths have been spoiled by too much tourism? Will there be sharks? What about barracudas?

Ayers answers all the questions, and Cash surreptitiously hangs on her every word while he sips his painkiller (it’s rum, cream of coconut, pineapple juice, and orange juice, with nutmeg on top). He had to go online and look up what the Virgin Gorda Baths even were—when Ayers said it yesterday, he pictured a cavernous building populated by overweight Slavic men—so he knows it’s a rock formation that has created various “rooms” that can be toured. After the Baths, they’re stopping at Cooper Island for lunch, and on the way home they’ll snorkel at a spot called the Indians.

“How’re you doing?” Ayers has caught him back in line for a second painkiller; the first one went down way too easily on an empty stomach, and he knows that after his second, he should avail himself of the fresh sliced papaya, watermelon, and pineapple as well as a piece of the homemade banana coconut bread. Otherwise he’s going to be one of the people who doesn’t make it to shore.