He checks in with the birthday girl when they’re standing on the platform. “Donna, do you wanna?” he asks, thinking he’s the epitome of wit, but she doesn’t answer, just flings herself forward, and Cash has no choice but to follow.
Shot skis, jumping from high ledges—what could go wrong? Nothing, as it turns out. It’s exhilarating. Everyone loves it, everyone’s happy. The day is a resounding success.
It’s only after Cash has mixed up the last batch of painkillers and the charter is on the way home that he thinks to text Ayers.
Missed you today, he says. This is true. Today went well but it would have been easier and more fun with Ayers. You okay?
A couple of seconds later, she sends the thumbs-up emoji, which tells him nothing but the bare minimum: she’s alive. Cash is debating whether or not to ask a follow-up question—emoji answers sort of discourage longer text exchanges—when she texts again.
I’m taking a leave of absence from the boat.
What? he writes. Why?
I heard about your mom, she says. How’re you doing?
Cash feels like sending back a thumbs-up emoji as a little Screw you, because what does she mean, she’s taking a leave of absence from the boat? But what he says is I’m living up at Tilda’s but today her parents said Winnie has to go so I’m scrambling.
There’s a pause. Then three dots. Then: I’ll take Winnie if you want?
Cash quickly checks on everyone. They’re happy, the sun has mellowed, Jimmy Buffett is singing “Nautical Wheelers.”
If you wouldn’t mind for a few weeks? I would be so grateful.
Happy to, Ayers says. I’ll pick you up at the boat and we can go get her.
Ahh! Cash feels an overwhelming sense of relief. Ayers will take Winnie; Winnie is crazy about Ayers, she’s going to think she’s died and gone to heaven. This is a good solution, much better than asking the housekeeper, Virgie, to take the dog home, which was Cash’s only other idea.
Cash texts Tilda: I don’t need a ride, Ayers will bring me to Peter Bay, she’s going to take Winnie.
Tilda texts back: Kk. There is no heart-eyes emoji, her signature signoff, which is odd.
Cash texts, Are you okay? He thinks about what Tilda said about Ayers that morning: She’s newly single. But come on, Tilda can’t be that sensitive. And the bald fact remains that Cash needs someone to take Winnie.
Tilda texts, I’m fine. I have a meeting anyway. I was going to tell you to hitch.
Okay…should Cash be offended? Because he’s feeling a little offended. A meeting with whom?
No time to wonder because the boat is pulling in. And yes indeedy, the tip jar is filling up.
Cash is standing in front of Mongoose Junction three hundred and ten dollars richer when Ayers arrives in her little green pickup.
“Hop in,” she says. She really does look sick—pale, washed out, heavy-lidded. She’s wearing cotton sleep shorts and a St. John Concrete T-shirt (STAY LEFT, POUR RIGHT), and her curly blond hair is a mess. Not a sexy mess, just a mess.
“I hope whatever you have isn’t contagious,” Cash says, getting in.
She hits the gas.
“So…you broke things off with Mick?” Ayers nods but doesn’t offer anything else. Fine, she doesn’t owe him an explanation. “How did you know about my mom?”
“Maia told me.”
“Oh, right,” Cash says. He hates to be a talker but he feels like there’s something going on. “Have you seen Baker?”
“He called once but I didn’t pick up,” Ayers says. “I’m not feeling great and I need some time.”
“Right, right,” Cash says. He will stop talking even though he wants to brag about how smoothly the charter went.
They swoop and dive around and over the hills—past Caneel, past Oppenheimer and Jumbie, past everyone packing up from a day spent at Trunk Bay—and then begin the climb up to Peter Bay. Cash speaks only to direct Ayers to the correct house. They careen down Tilda’s driveway, and when Ayers stops, Cash hops out. “I’ll go get Winnie, her food, her bowl, her leashes. Be right back.”
He returns with Winnie in tow and there’s a bit of a long goodbye because although Winnie is going to the best possible home, Cash is still going to miss her like crazy. “I’ll come see her tomorrow after work,” he says. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Ayers says. She sighs, and if Cash isn’t mistaken, her eyes glaze over like she might cry. “The more the merrier.”
The more the merrier? Cash thinks. He wonders if maybe Mick has left Ayers with his dog—that would be weird—and then he wonders if maybe Ayers plans on letting Baker and Floyd move in with her.
“Are you…do you have company?” Cash asks.
“Kind of,” Ayers says. “I’m pregnant.” Maia
Her grounding lasts six days instead of two weeks, but even so, Maia misses the first meeting at the new clubhouse. She arrives at the second meeting early, by herself; everyone else is getting a ride but because Huck and Irene have tripled up on their charters, Maia has to take the bus and then hike. The new clubhouse is very inconveniently located in the middle of nowhere—but that’s the point. It’s Par Force, the great house of the Reef Bay plantation, and it can be accessed only by a spur of the Reef Bay Trail. Maia hikes down the trail, and when the three tourists ahead of her veer to the right to see the petroglyphs, Maia goes left up a steep hill that switchbacks up an even steeper hill. Par Force is engulfed in vines and coral creeper; the brick walls and stone columns are barely visible. There’s a low hum surrounding the house that sounds like some kind of electrical force field. It’s bees, Maia realizes, feasting on the pretty pink flowers of the creeper. Maia heads
