Another senior citizen nudist, Ralph Edwards, trotted up to Sheryl and offered her a bottle of whiskey. "One swig of this and you'll feel all better. Trust me."
Sheryl stared at Ralph's face for a few seconds, then swerved her attention down to his equipment. Her cheeks turned pink, which seemed like a step up from her pale-and-about-to-barf expression.
Finally, she took the bottle. "Thank you."
She sounded a little hoarse, but at least she was speaking a language everyone here understood.
"No problem," Ralph said, smiling. "A shot of Jack Daniels always makes me feel better."
Ralph moseyed off, disappearing into the crowd.
Sheryl took the cap off the bottle and downed one huge swig of whiskey. She ran the back of her hand across her mouth and gave her husband the bottle. "I would like to speak to my daughter in private, please."
"We can talk," Mara said, "but with Ollie there too."
Mara's mom pursed her lips, lifting her chin.
Peter waved the whiskey bottle in her face. "Maybe a few more gulps of this will loosen you up, Sher."
His wife flashed him a frown, then smiled politely at me. "Of course, Ollie. You may join us, if that's what Mara wants."
"It is," Mara said. "Thank you, Mom."
Sheryl tugged her suit jacket down and smoothed the lapels. "Where may we speak in private?"
"In the caretaker's house." Yeah, I'd just made up that name for the place, since I figured Mara's parents wouldn't understand if I called it Eve and Val's house. "Follow me."
Mara clinched my hand tighter as we led her parents away from the congregation of nudists.
Chapter Fifteen
Mara
Ollie and I sat on the stools at the kitchen island while my parents stood on the other side. My mom had refused to sit even when Ollie invited her to take the other stool. After that, Ollie had suggested we go into the living room, since it had plenty of comfy places to sit.
My mother said no. Curtly.
Dad threw her a chastising look, but she ignored it.
So here we were, Ollie and I on this side of the island and my parents on the other side. Dad leaned back against the sink counter, but Mom kept her spine straight and her backside away from the counter.
"Explain yourself, Mara," Mom said. "Why on earth would you want to vacation at a nudist camp?"
"I didn't know that's what it was."
"And you didn't even tell us," she went on, completely ignoring the fact I'd spoken. "If you want to sow wild oats, at least have the courtesy to inform us."
"Like I just said, I didn't know this was a nudist resort. The travel agent screwed up. She told me 'naturist' meant birdwatching."
"How could I have raised such a naïve daughter?" Before I could respond, she barreled straight ahead. "And why didn't you tell us once you found out what sort of...resort you were staying at?"
Only my mom could make "resort" sound like this place was Sodom, Gomorrah, and Caligula's palace all rolled up together.
Apparently, I said that out loud---probably mumbled it, but Mom heard.
She huffed. "You know I don't understand all that young person slang."
"That's not young person slang, Mom. Sodom and Gomorrah are from the Bible, so as a devout Methodist, you really ought to know what I'm saying." I sat up straighter, because finally standing up to my mother made me feel emboldened and strangely energized. "And Caligula was the most depraved emperor in the entire history of the Roman Empire."
Her cheeks turned slightly pink. "Of course I know about Sodom and Gomorrah. But I thought Caligula was a reference to---I don't know. That's not the point, Mara. You have a lot of explaining to do."
"No, I don't." Wow, was that me saying those words? I sounded so...confident. Hanging around with nudists was good for me. "I'm happy to tell you all the fun things I've done since I came here, but I'm not going to justify myself to you. I didn't call to let you know about the mix-up because I knew you'd go crazy over it. And really, it's none of your business. I'm an adult."
"Then act like one."
Dad laid a hand on her arm. "Calm down, Sher. Mara is a strong, capable woman. It's about time we let her know we appreciate that and stop treating her like a child."
My father had never, ever contradicted my mother. She seemed as stunned as I was.
He took hold of her arms and turned her toward him. "I love you, Sheryl, but you can be a bit of a dictator. I've never spoken up about it because you never went this far before. Cut Mara some slack. She's a good girl, and she deserves better than a dressing-down from her mother."
Dad was right. Mom never had behaved like this before, so overtly hostile to my life decisions or my mistakes. She would primly inform me of what I should have done, but she did not get angry.
"Relax," my dad said to my mom. He kissed her forehead and smiled gently. "Let's have a normal, adult conversation with our daughter."
Mom let her head fall back and moaned, the way I often did. I'd never seen or heard my mother do that, though.
"All right," she said. "Let's go into the living room and have an adult conversation."
Ollie led us into the living room, where Mom and Dad settled onto the sofa side by side. I took the smaller of the two armchairs in the room, leaving Ollie with the bigger, much puffier one. He looked kind of silly sitting in that oversize chair, like a kid in a furniture store trying out all the big recliners. Though he looked outwardly silly, his demeanor and posture made him all man. His clothes clung to his body just enough to provide hints of the muscles underneath, muscles I had vivid memories of feeling pressed against me.
What I wouldn't have given to sneak off to the bedroom with him.
Instead, I sat there in an armchair with my feet on the
