Ann opened the door and walked out onto the flagstone path, wrapping her arms around her torso. The night was cool for December in south Florida, in the high fifties, but it felt refreshing by comparison with the house, which was warm from collected body heat. Ann looked at the lights Victor had strung in the trees, the floodlit wreath hanging under the point of the garage roof, then gazed up at the stars, thinking about Christmases from her childhood. It was a minute or so before she realized that she was not alone.
She turned to find a young woman standing behind her, smoking a cigarette.
“So you’re the wife, huh?” the smoker said.
“I... uh, yes,” Ann replied, startled.
The woman switched her cigarette to her left hand and extended her right hand. “Stacy Barcroft,” she said.
“How do you do?” Ann said, shaking hands with her.
“I’m doing just fine. I just came out here to grab a smoke. I didn’t see any ashtrays inside so I figured I’d better not light up in the house.”
“There are ashtrays in the pool room.”
“Segregating the smokers, huh? That’s okay, I’m used to it. We’re the new persecuted minority. Actually I don’t mind going outside, it gives me a chance to catch a breath of air. It’s getting pretty close in there.”
“I just told Victor to turn on the air-freshening system in the house.”
“Good idea.” Stacy inhaled deeply, the tip of her cigarette glowing, then exhaled a plume of grayish smoke that danced on the cool night air. She stepped into the light from the windows and Ann saw that she was a petite brunette wearing a stylish red evening suit with black velvet trim.
“Do you work for Bimini in Miami?” Ann asked. “I remember your name from the guest list.”
“No, I’m an architect. I designed the Miami marina, and I have been called in on a few other independent projects. I also dated Heath for a while.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t get nervous; I gave up on him real quick. His body was present but it was clear his mind was always elsewhere, you know what I mean?”
Ann didn’t reply. She knew.
“So you arrived out of the past, right? High school sweetheart or something like that?”
“Something like that.”
“I suppose you know that women have been jumping off buildings all over south Florida since the day you got married.”
Ann smiled thinly. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s a fact. Mr. Eligible decamps with a mystery woman from his student days? It caused quite a stir.”
“It’s already yesterday’s news.”
“Don’t count on it. I’ll bet you didn’t get many regrets in response to your invitations to this party.”
“That’s true.”
“And you thought everybody was showing up because Heath was the boss?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Maybe. But they also wanted to see you.”
Ann sighed. “I hope I wasn’t a disappointment.”
“How could you be? A tall, slim blonde with cover girl cheekbones? The minute I set my eyes on you, all my questions were answered.”
“Really?” Ann said frostily, studying her companion. She was beginning to dislike this conversation intensely. If this woman had an ax to grind she was going to find herself alone out here with the Christmas lights.
Stacy waved her cigarette. “Don’t get your nose out of joint. I only meant that I understand what he sees in you. I come from a background like Heath’s. I came up from nothing, like him. I married my ex-husband, Jamie Barcroft, because he was born in Greenwich and went to Exeter and Yale. Heath and I both crave class and people like you are the closest we’re ever going to come to it.”
“Thank you for your analysis of my marriage. I think I’d better get back inside and look after my guests.”
Stacy put her hand on Ann’s arm. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Maybe there are some sour grapes in what I’m saying but it’s also true. Just a word to the wise, that’s all.”
“Thank you. Good night.”
“Merry Christmas,” Stacy said, turning away as Ann opened the door to the house.
Inside the first few leave-takers were getting ready to depart. Ann spent the next hour shaking hands and saying goodbye, her feet and her head beginning to ache. She barely saw Heath, who always seemed to be off in some corner deep in conversation with one of his executives. Finally she abandoned her post by the door and went up to the bedroom to get a glass of water to take some aspirin.
In the bedroom she found a man she had met twice that night and whose name she could not recall—the manager of the Bimini repair garage on Big Palm. She had danced with him earlier in the evening. He looked up as she arrived. He grinned sheepishly.
“Hi, Mrs. Bodine. I was just getting my raincoat, but there’s a pile here on the bed and I can’t find it.”
“Oh, please, let me help you. I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Ben Rowell.”
“I can’t believe so many coats wound up in here. I thought there was enough room in the front hall closet, but I guess I was wrong. What color is it?”
“Kind of an olive green—here it is,” Ben said triumphantly. As he turned to smile at Ann she felt the room spin and she reached out instinctively, clutching him to maintain her balance. He pulled her into his arms to keep her from sliding to the floor.
At the same instant Heath came rushing through the door, grabbed Ben by the shoulder to pull him off Ann, and then punched the other man squarely in the jaw.
Ben staggered back in shock, staring at Heath, his eyes wide with amazement and dismay. Ann was rooted, gaping in disbelief at her husband, who seemed to have lost his mind.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my wife?” Heath shouted, lunging for Ben again. Ann recovered enough to jump in front of Heath and block his path to the other man.
“Stop it this instant!” she snapped at Heath. “I felt a little dizzy and Ben was only trying to help me!”
“Why did you come back here to the bedroom with him?” Heath demanded, his eyes blazing.
“For heaven’s sake, Heath, I didn’t come back here with him. I found him in here looking for his coat. Will you calm down and apologize? You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“I saw him looking at you all night,” Heath insisted, taking a step forward again.
Joe Jensen arrived, drawn by the sound of raised voices, and Ann was never so glad to see anyone in her life.
“What’s going on here?” Joe demanded, looking around at the three of them.
“Ben was helping me when I felt faint and Heath misunderstood the situation,” Ann said quickly. “Will you take him outside for a walk, Joe? I think he’s had too much to drink.”
“I’m perfectly sober—enough to see what was going on right under my nose,” Heath said belligerently.
Joe gripped him firmly by the arm and steered him into the hall as Ann went to Ben and took his hand.
“I’m so sorry about this, Ben. My only explanation is that Heath has been under a strain, working very hard, and I think he just had one too many tonight.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Bodine. Everybody gets a snootful now and then, there’s no harm done. Just the same I think I’d better go. I’ll say good-night now.”
Ann saw him out the door with extreme relief and then came upon Joe and Heath in the living room, where Joe was giving her husband a lecture, talking earnestly to Heath’s bent dark head.
“I’m telling you right now, boy, you’d better get hold of yourself and straighten up quickly. That little girl is going to leave you in the dust just as fast as she married you if you keep acting this way. You’re just lucky that everybody but Joanie and me was outside. You would have put on quite a performance for a whole houseful of your employees.”
Heath didn’t move.
“And first thing tomorrow morning,” Joe went on, “you get your tail over to Big Palm and apologize to that kid Ben. A few more incidents like this and you’ll get a reputation as a crazy man who can’t hold his liquor. What do you think that will do for your business, not to mention your personal life? These islands are small, word travels fast. And I don’t have to tell you that you owe your wife an apology, too.”