A Wedding in Provence by Ellen Sussman Page B

the bow of the kayak beside him. Olivia blew him a kiss and climbed into her seat.
    “Follow me, gang,” Brody called. “We’re going to head west and turn in at the fourth calanque. We’ll explore there and then head back, turning in at the third and the first. Apparently the best swimming is in the one called d’En-vau. But we’ll see how it goes. If anyone’s too tired—and I know that would be Jake, poor guy—just let me know and we’ll change our plans.”
    “We’re leaving you in the dust,” Jake said.
    He hopped into the kayak and pushed off. Nell grabbed the sides of the boat and then settled in, already laughing. She needs a good time, Olivia thought.
    Jake pulled off his T-shirt and began paddling. Olivia noticed that even though he was shorter than Brody, his shoulders were broader, his muscles more defined. He was a sun-scorched guy with wheat-blond hair. Not my type, Olivia thought. Whatever that meant. In fact, for a year now, she had only had one type: Brody. That was a surprise to her after so many years of sexual curiosity. Even before her marriage ended, seven years ago, she started noticing all the good-looking men who inhabited her world. There were actors, directors, patrons, theatergoers. There were doctors and dentists and lawyers. The world was full of hot guys. She was so starved for sexual attention that she turned on the male world with laser eyes. You’re out there and I want you.
    Oddly, once she was divorced, she didn’t go wild. She dateda few men and found them attractive but self-absorbed. They were too damn cocky. They were hung up on young women. They were insecure. Desire turned out to be much more fun than the real deal. Until she met Brody.
    And now she forgot about all the other hot guys out there. Watching Jake reminded her how foreign it was for her to admire another man’s body or to think about kissing that guy. No, she didn’t want to kiss Jake. She wanted to warn her daughter: Stay away.
    She fell into an easy paddling rhythm, stroking on the left, then on the right. Brody did whatever he needed to do behind her to direct them and propel them forward at a surprisingly fast pace. They breezed by Jake and Nell’s kayak, ignoring their trash talk. And in moments they were out in the open sea, the dramatic limestone cliffs rising up on their right.
    Olivia felt a breeze on her arms and she noticed whitecaps for the first time. Emily had told her about the storms in the south of France, the mistrals. These winds keep the clouds away. When the wind stops, the clouds gather and a storm batters the coast. Not on my wedding day, she thought.
    “Hang on,” Brody called to her. “Let’s give Sébastien and my mother a chance to catch up.”
    Olivia drew her paddle out of the water and laid it across the front of the kayak. Brody moved their boat around so they could watch the others paddle toward them.
    “I love this,” Olivia said.
    “So that means you’ll trust me from here on in?”
    “Not a chance,” she told him.
    “The color of the sea keeps changing with the light,” Brody said. “I’ve never seen so many shades of blue.”
    “No wonder so many artists lived in the south of France,” Olivia said. “There’s something about the light that makes the world look brand new.”
    “And the sea air,” he said. “I was landlocked for too many years.”
    “Maybe it’s love that’s distorting our vision,” Olivia said, looking back at him.
    “Damn right.” Brody beamed at her.
    During the six years that she was single she did just fine in the world, running her business, meeting friends for dinner or a movie, taking a theater trip to London every year by herself. She wasn’t lonely, or at least she kept busy enough not to notice it very often. But after she met Brody, she felt the world shift somehow. She talked to him about everything, as if all of it—her daughters, her theater, her fears and passions—belonged to both of them. Now she wondered if