“Mmm,” he muttered without opening his eyes.
“Definitely nap time. Come here.” He reached for her but she stood up.
“Trav, I have to go deal with a guest situation. Rick just called over on the radio.”
“No, don’t go,” Travis said dreamily. “So nice here in the sun. Let’s just chill for a minute.”
Celeste smiled. His brown curls were falling over his forehead and his cheeks were flushed like a little boy’s. “I can’t, I have to go,” she said softly.
To her surprise, Travis opened his eyes and heaved himself up. “Yeah, I should probably get back too.
Dave’s going to come check up on me any minute.” He reached out and brushed some grass off Celeste’s rear.
“I’ll walk you to your errand.” He turned and started heading across the golf course.
Celeste’s hands went cold. She bounded after him.
“Ah, Travis, wait,” she said, panting a little as she tried to keep up. “That’s okay. You don’t have to walk me. You should definitely get back. Dave’ll find you slacking off otherwise!” She tried to sound as casual as possible.
Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She
whipped it out and shot a glance at the screen. Nick.
She pressed mute and dropped it back in her pocket.
They were almost back at the main building now. Celeste could see the swimmers in the pool, their bathing suits bright splashes of color against the turquoise water. Buzz-buzz. Her phone again. Travis glanced at her.
“Why don’t you answer that?” he asked.
“Oh, um, it’s probably a telemarketer or something,”
Celeste fumbled. Travis wrinkled his forehead.
“On a cell phone?”
Buzz-buzz. Damn it, Nick! She flipped open the phone.
“Hey, baby,” Nick’s voice said on the other end.
Baby?!
Celeste glanced at Travis. “Oh, hello, Mr. Juarez,” she said loudly.
“Who’s Mr. Juarez?” Nick asked. “Are you bringing over the stuff I ordered?”
Celeste gritted her teeth. “Of course, sir,” she said into the phone. “I’d be glad to recommend a few restaurants for your anniversary.”
“Huh?” Nick said. “Are you whacked?”
“Certainly, sir,” Celeste warbled. “I’ll have them for you by the end of the day.” She clicked her phone closed and mopped at the sweat trickling down her forehead.
Travis stopped. They were next to the grounds shed.
“Okay, so see you later?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her.
“Definitely,” Celeste replied. She darted a quick glance around for any parental-figure types and then planted a lingering kiss on his mouth. Dave appeared at the screen door of the shed.
“Trav!” He waved. “I need you to get on that weed-whacker, stat. All the edging on the main paths.”
Travis nodded dutifully. He gave Celeste a squeeze and headed inside, letting the door bang shut behind him.
Whew! Celeste took a deep breath as she hurried to the pool for water and towels. That could have gotten very ugly. She threw a few towels and a glass of water onto a tray (forget the toast, she wasn’t going to start making his breakfast) and hustled down the path to the Saunders villa, the Perrier slopping out of the glass with every step. She skirted the main building and headed through the palm grove. She was just rounding the bend when she spotted a tall, white-shirted figure puttering along the path, weed-whacker in hand.
Travis! His name flashed in Celeste’s mind in big red letters. The figure ahead of her stopped to examine his machine and Celeste saw her chance. Still balancing the tray of towels and water, she jumped behind an azalea bush at the side of the path and crouched down. She peered through the skinny leaves in front of her. The dirt behind the bush smelled sour, and a mosquito buzzed up to investigate. Celeste swatted at her ear. A woman’s heels clicked down the path and Celeste glimpsed a pair of gold sandals going by. Not Travis, obviously. Where was he? Communing with his weed-whacker?
Her right foot was going to sleep. Gingerly, Celeste tried to shift her cramped position. The mosquito bit her viciously on the lower back where her shirt had ridden up. She reached around to smack it but fell backwards onto the tray instead. “Shit!” Celeste whispered. The glass had tipped over, soaking the towels, which were now scattered with mulch. Not the most appealing setup, but then again, not the biggest of her worries right now.
Just then, to her immense relief, Celeste heard the weed-whacker start up out on the path. The noise grew closer and after a minute she could see Travis’s size-fourteen New Balances coming slowly down the path as he guided the weed-whacker along the grass at the edge.
The machine noise grew almost deafening, and Celeste wrinkled her face as Travis carefully guided the weed-whacker right along the grass by her azalea bush. She held her breath, despite the grass blades now spraying her face, and let it out only when he had moved on and the machine noise had faded to a safe distance. She rested her forehead on her knees. This kind of stress surely wasn’t good for her complexion.
Celeste extracted herself and her disgusting tray from the bushes, trying not to fall over on her tingling right foot. She took a deep breath and balanced the tray on a pillar for a minute while she tried to smooth her now-wild braids with the palms of her hands. Whatever.
Maybe Nick would lay off once he saw her looking like such a crazy lady.
As she walked up the path to the Saunderses’ front door, she noted that the black Mercedes was gone from the driveway. Just deliver the empty water and the soaked towels and get out of here, she told herself. Thirty seconds. No more. She knocked carefully. There was no answer, but the door was ajar, so she cautiously pushed it open.
“Hello?” she called, just in case Nick’s parents were there. “It’s—”
“Back here!” Nick’s voice came from the back deck.
Celeste made her way through the cool, airy rooms to the back. The guesthouse the Saunderses were in was
