“Good! You came. I was worried the storm would keep you away.”
“There’s no storm yet.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a raindrop landed on Stuart’s cheek. Anna turned her face up toward the sky, and Stuart took the opportunity to grab her hand. “Come on, let’s hurry.”
They ran up the stairs and across the Boardwalk, through the lobby of The Covington, and up the hotel’s back stairs to the second floor. By the time they tumbled out the door and onto the pool deck, Anna was out of breath and Stuart had begun an impersonation of his father that had them both cackling. “Shhh, whisper,” he said in the loudest whisper imaginable, which only caused her to laugh harder. The deck was empty. In preparation for the coming storm, all the chairs had been stacked against the walls, the umbrellas removed. Someone had taken all the towels and seat cushions inside.
Anna took off her cardigan and placed it aside. The first time Stuart had brought her to The Covington, she had been shy about getting undressed in front of him. He remembered her turning away from him to unbutton the front of her dress. Now, as the rain began to pick up, she reached for the material that cinched around her waist and pulled the dress up and over her head in one fluid movement. Anna wore Florence’s old Ambassador Club suit, a uniform that Stuart would have recognized anywhere. He didn’t have the heart to mention it, knew she had to be wearing it because she didn’t own a suit of her own. She had surely picked it because it was the plainest of Florence’s suits, the least likely to attract attention. On Florence the suit had seemed like a second skin. But on Anna, Stuart realized he was conscious of the fact that it was an article of clothing, and that, under the right set of circumstances, it could be removed.
Stuart shook the image from his head, pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shorts, and took a running leap at the pool. At the last minute, he grabbed Anna’s hand and pulled her into the water with him. She let out a yelp, submerged, and then surfaced. The rain was falling harder now. Big droplets bounced off the surface of the water, hitting the undersides of their chins. The pool water was so cloudy Stuart couldn’t see the bottom.
Anna had gotten much better at the crawl, and she swam three or four lengths before stopping to ask Stuart a question about her breathing technique. He took the opportunity to distract her. “I assume Gussie made it back in one piece?”
“She did. Thankfully, Esther didn’t realize she was gone until about thirty seconds before she walked in the door.”
“Did Gussie say where she’d been?”
“Are you trying to figure out how much trouble you’re in?” she asked, moving closer to him.
“Something like that.”
“She told Esther she wanted to give you something.”
“That’s true.”
“What was it?”
“A rock.”
“That’s all?”
“It came with a very sweet marriage proposal,” Stuart said, unable to wipe the grin from his face.
Anna raised her eyebrows and splashed water at him, but not so hard that any got in his face. “Be serious.”
He laughed. “I am.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That if she reached the age of twenty, and decided she wanted to marry an old man, she was welcome. But if, in the meantime, she fell in love with someone younger and more handsome, she should feel free to ask to be let out of the arrangement.”
“Poor Gussie.”
“Am I such a terrible prospect?”
“I think you are likely to break her heart,” said Anna, in a serious enough tone of voice that Stuart began to wonder if they were still talking about Gussie.
“Anna, I want you to know something. Florence and I were never a—”
“I know,” she said, quickly, as if she were embarrassed that he had felt the need to explain.
“You do?” he asked.
“She”—Anna’s voice faltered, then returned to her—“told me a little.”
Stuart was struck by an overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her, to protect her from the storm that was brewing above their heads.
“I loved her,” he said, not quite believing that he was saying the words aloud for the second time that afternoon. For some reason, it felt important to be honest with Anna. “But I never said anything. And I don’t think she felt the same way.”
Anna wrapped her arms around her chest, and Stuart worried he shouldn’t have said anything. Not two minutes ago, he would have sworn she wanted him to kiss her. “Are you cold?” he asked. “Do you want to get out?”
She shook her head no. “What was it you loved about her?”
Stuart dipped his head back in the water and looked at the sky, let the rain leak into his mouth, run down his nose. He raised his head, forced himself to look Anna in the eyes. “I suppose I loved how brave she was. And capable. There was almost nothing she wouldn’t or couldn’t do.”
“Like the Channel?” she asked, holding his gaze.
“She would have made it across, definitely. But it was more than just that one swim, or even swimming at all. You felt lucky if you got the chance to watch her make a sandwich.”
Anna wiped at her eyes. Was she crying? With all the rain, it was impossible to tell.
“Do you want to get out?”
She nodded and he pulled himself out of the pool and onto the deck, looking around for anything dry they might use in place of a towel. Anna’s dress and his shorts were both soaked. A chaise lounge was covered in a piece of oatmeal-colored canvas, embroidered with the words The Covington, and Stuart figured the underside had to still be dry. He whisked it off and carried the
