Irene frowned. “I’m not sure. I never had any doubts about the paternity of my children.”
The last thing Baker wanted was for Irene to take issue with Ayers. “Here’s the thing. I want to be with Ayers eventually. The cart came a little before the horse—”
“You think?”
“And she needs space right now and I’m giving it to her.”
“She’s across the street.”
“Emotional space. We’re building a friendship first.” What Baker didn’t tell Irene was that Ayers resisted every attempt at friendship that Baker made. On Saturday morning, he and Floyd had gone to Provisions for coffee and scones. When they knocked on Ayers’s door with the offerings, she hadn’t answered, even though her green truck was in the driveway.
Baker had said, “She’s probably still asleep, bud.”
“But we waited until ten,” Floyd said. He was eager to open the door because he wanted to play with Winnie.
They wandered back across the street and although Baker told Floyd they’d try again later, he ate Ayers’s scone and drank her coffee. The second coffee made him feel so unhinged that he became convinced she hadn’t answered the door because she had Mick over. Or maybe she wasn’t home. Maybe she was with Mick at his new villa, Pure Joy. (Baker had scoped out the villa once—okay, twice—on his way to work at the Westin. It wasn’t as big as the Happy Hibiscus but it had an unbeatable view and an outdoor shower.)
Speaking of the Westin, Baker had asked Ayers if she wanted to join him and Floyd at Greengos after Baker’s first day of work and she said no, thank you, she had the night off from La Tapa and was looking forward to getting takeout from Dé Coal Pot and streaming The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.
She had waved to Baker from her driveway once. They passed each other at the steep, tight curve by Ditleff Point and the hoods of their cars almost kissed, but that was as close to physical contact as Baker had gotten.
So now he’s at episode 4: His brother moves in. Baker has to go pick Cash up at Tilda’s villa in Peter Bay. The place is like something plucked off the cover of Architectural Digest. During his downtime in the Westin time-share office, Baker has been researching the St. John real estate market. Peter Bay fetches top dollar. It’s a private community on the north shore with a prime location between Trunk Bay and Cinnamon Bay. While Tilda’s villa doesn’t have as many bedrooms as their villa in Little Cinnamon did, it has nearly exactly the same amount of square footage. Cash gives Baker a tour of the place. The three wings are connected by covered walkways bordered on either side by lush landscaping—hibiscus, frangipani, birds-of-paradise. The T-shaped pool is unique. The kitchen has a curved island topped with white marble and three light blue suede bar stools that look like egg cups. Baker sits in one and swivels. Cash will be getting a serious downgrade at the Happy Hibiscus.
“Explain to me again why you’re leaving,” Baker says as they pull out of the extremely steep driveway. The views are ridiculous! From the top of the driveway, Baker can see the entirety of Tortola and beyond. Beyond!
“Tilda went on a work trip with someone else,” Cash says. “Her parents are building an eco-resort over on Lovango Cay so they sent her on a three-stop tour of the fanciest, most expensive resorts in the Caribbean.” He stares out the window. “Today, for example, she’s on an island resort called Eden where management decides what guests are allowed to stay there.”
“Who’d she go with?” Baker asks. “A guy?”
“This dude named Duncan Huntley,” Cash says. “He bought Lovango Cay. Bought the entire island. And this guy is, like, our age.”
Duncan Huntley? Baker opens his mouth to say, I know that guy. He gave Floyd and me a ride on his boat from the airport. But for some reason, Baker stops himself. “So he and Tilda are a thing, then? Or they just went on this trip as business partners?”
“They went as business partners,” Cash says. “But Tilda didn’t call me at all for the first four days, which I found fishy because she cried when she left and promised to be true, blah-blah-blah. When I asked her what she thought about Dunk, she said, ‘He’s too intense.’”
Intense is a good choice of word, Baker thinks.
“He fasts,” Cash says. “Which is apparently a lifestyle we’ve been missing out on. Starving yourself brings better focus and productivity.”
“I’ll never know,” Baker says, thinking about the scones from Provisions and the container of Red Velvet Cake ice cream he has hidden in the freezer.
“So, anyway, after four full days away, she hits me up at two thirty in the morning and all she can talk about is Dunk this and Dunk that. Dunk adjusted her chaise by the pool, she and Dunk took a picnic to a waterfall, Dunk arranged for a private seaplane, and—get this—she and Dunk had a couples massage at the spa.”
“Couples massage?” Baker says. “I’m sorry, bro. You were right to leave.”
Episode 5: Baker, his brother, his mother, and Floyd all cohabitate in Baker’s villa, which, although blessed with cathedral ceilings, a spacious laundry room, and a picturesque backyard with sapphire pool, has only two bedrooms. Irene and Cash each take a sofa; every morning, Irene folds up their bedding and hides it away in the closet. Irene shares a bathroom with Floyd, and reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, Baker lets Cash share his bathroom, which makes them both feel like they’re teenagers again. Cash spends sixteen thousand dollars of his inheritance from Milly on a silver Dodge pickup with only eight thousand island miles on it. Irene borrows Cash’s truck or Baker’s Jeep, alternating between the two, which would be annoying, except she occasionally drives Floyd to school and picks him up, and she takes over all the grocery shopping. Baker does the cooking; he finally has an appreciative audience—or sort
