Rick sighed. 'I feel like a dope.'
'Good. . . then our little chat taught you something.' Joe looked at Rick's downcast face. 'Don't worry,' he said more gently, 'it's curable.'
AS CON APPROACHED the compound, she smelled the aroma of cooking bacon. It was a comforting smell, and it made her aware of how hungry she was. She went straight to the dining pavilion and found her father seated with Sara and James. There was a silver coffeepot on the table along with platters of omelets, muffins, bacon, and a large bowl of fruit. Sara was taking grapes from the bowl and feeding them to John, one at a time. Engrossed in one another, they didn't notice Con until she reached the table.
'What have you been doing?' Sara asked, staring at Con's disheveled hair and damp, sandy clothes.
'You're a mess.'
John Greighton glanced at his daughter. 'Go change before you eat.'
'Daddy, something happened. I...'
'Tell me when you're properly dressed.'
'But. ..'
'Now!' he commanded.
Con tried to remain composed, but felt sobs welling up inside her. She quickly turned and retreated toward her quarters before she burst into tears.
'Well,
'My ex did that,' he replied. He leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head 'Now why don't you spoil me? I'd like some of those strawberries.'
Sara smiled and, placing a berry between her teeth, leaned over, and fed it to John. James sat and silently sipped his coffee, his face as bland as the brew in his cup. He was playing 'the host,' genial and discreet. He understood that to people like John and Sara he was only 'the help,' a species of human wallpaper. The family drama had unfolded before him without his comment. He knew none was expected or desired.
WHEN CON RETURNED, rinsed off and in fresh clothes, she found James seated alone at the pavilion. 'Your fa-ther and Miss Boyton have finished breakfast and left for the beach. The protected one,' he said pointedly. 'If you've forgotten where it is . . .'
'I remember,' said Con in a small voice.
'Good. Would you care to eat something, Miss Greigh-ton? I fear the omelets and bacon are cold. I can have Pandit make some fresh.'
'You needn't bother, this is fine. I'm famished.'
'Nothing like a little adventure to whet the appetite,' said James. He watched Con flush red.
'He told you?' said Con, with a flash of anger.
'I had some questions when I saw his face,' replied James evenly. 'I'd like to hear your version. I need to know if he acted properly.'
'What did he tell you?'
'Only that you had a near miss with some sea creature, and you might be upset. Is there more I should know?'
Con blushed under James's intense gaze. 'No,' she muttered.
'I'm relieved to hear that,' said James.
'Does . . . Does my father know?'
'I thought you might want to tell him yourself.'
'Why bother?' said Con bitterly. 'He has other things on his mind.'
'Indeed,' said James dryly.
