the islands, anchor wherever he wanted. Moreover, she thought, he seemed to be fishing for information perhaps a bit more than casual strangers chatting in a bar warranted.
âDid you win the case?â he asked.
âMy client was innocent and was acquitted,â she said. âIâve enjoyed your films immensely, Mr. Newhouse.â
âThank you, but, please, itâs Gabe. In Los Angeles, itâs first-name basis instantly, and on the second encounter, itâs âdarling.â â He was eyeing her closely. âYouâre not from New York, Northeast, or the Midwest. Not the South, of course. That seems to leave the Northwest, but not where the sun shines in the winter. I believe it does in Idaho and Montana. Am I getting warm?â
She laughed and sipped her wine. âHow long do you stay out on the yacht at any one time?â
âDays, weeks, months. Until we run out of water or wine or something else. It varies. I threw away my day planner when I retired.â He twisted around to glance at the bar. âI think the broncos will join us soon. They come to report their adventures of the day, just as if Iâm the uncle who demands an accounting. Or to show off a little. Possibly both.â
She heard the voices then. Several men seemed to be talking at once in a rapid-fire dialogue.
âHey, Gabe!â one of them called out before they came into sight. âYouâll never guess what.â
âSo it would be futile to try,â he said.
They came to the table. Two of them looked to be under thirty, one a blond with intense blue eyes, and tanned to a deep, rich mahogany color. The second young man, equally tanned, had dark brown hair and dark eyes. They both were muscular, athletes to all appearances. The third man looked a few years older, dark-haired with dark blue eyes, and heavier than the other two without being overweight, just more filled out. They all looked her over with interest as Gabe Newhouse made the introductions.
âBobby Tyson,â he said, indicating the blond man. âBen Bollinger and David Grinwald. Barbara Holloway. She arrived today,â he added.
Without waiting for an invitation, the three newcomers pulled chairs up to the table and sat down. âHenryâs bringing beer,â Bobby said. âMay I?â He picked up a shrimp as he asked.
âBarbara, do you scuba dive?â Ben asked, leaning toward her.
âNo. Never have.â
âWe could teach you in a couple of hours. You have to see that reef out there. Itâs fantastic, second only to the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Fish like out of Disneyland. Itâs an underwater fairyland.â
âWould you be interested in getting in on the ground floor of our enterprise to develop a world-class playland?â Bobby asked, picking up another shrimp.
âNo,â she said. Gabe Newhouse was smiling faintly, leaning back in his chair.
âItâs the chance of a lifetime,â Bobby said. âCharter member, all that kind of thing. Wait till you see what we have in mind. Mayan ruins for day tours. A stupendous waterfall, where we were today,â he said in an aside to Gabe. âBotanical gardens, monkeys in the wild, jaguars, also for guided day tours. Weâll have glass-bottomed boats, windsurfing, fishing trips, the best beaches on earth, scuba diving and snorkelingâ¦â
Gabeâs mouth was twitching, but he suppressed the smile and gazed out at the water.
Barbara held up her hand. âIf I upended my piggy bank I might be able to come up with two dollars and some cents. So Iâm out of it.â She glanced at her watch, prepared to return to her room.
âWhat was it that I could never guess?â Gabe asked then.
âOh, yeah,â Ben said. âWe get to go see the orchids tomorrow. Santos said okay, since his brother gave permission, he would honor that decision.â He turned to Barbara again.
Mavis Gallant, Mordecai Richler