DOUBLE KNOT by Gretchen Archer Page B

Definitely warmer the farther south we traveled, but
     not blazing hot, and without a single puff of a cloud in the sky. I could see where,
     under any other circumstances, this would be the vacation of a lifetime. And because
     she was who she was, more comfortable at home than anywhere else and uncomfortable
     in any social setting outside of Wilcox County Alabama, my mother was enjoying herself
     tremendously. Making herself right at home in 704. Her face was smooth and unlined,
     her posture relaxed, her temper tucked away. She was still my sharp-tongued mother,
     but she didn’t appear to be the least bit upset at being confined. With one caveat,
     the loudmouth whiner, and now, she informed me, two.
    “Why don’t you like him?” I asked.
    “Who?”
    “You said you didn’t like the man. Burnsworth.”
    “Well, I got sidetracked by you being out here in your birthday suit.”
    We’d covered that. “Burnsworth?”
    “He has buggy eyes. I don’t trust men with buggy eyes.”
    “How are buggy eyes an indication of trustworthiness, Mother?”
    I slipped off the Madonna robe, because I was tired of batting down the billowing
     silk ribbons, and if ever there was a time for her to say something about the two
     humans inside my body and right in her face, it was now.
    She didn’t.
    I carefully positioned myself for the drop to the sun chair and, not without sound
     effects, lowered myself and stretched out. All belly.
    “How long has she been doing that?”
    Jessica DeLuna, having shed her Probability robe and now parading around shamelessly in her blood red skivvies (I’m one to talk),
     was on the other side of the pool, her body bent double, the top half of her hanging
     over the deck railing. With great flourish, she righted herself, gulped in as much
     sea air as her lungs could hold, and flung herself over the rail again, mouth moving
     furiously. Screaming for help. I was twenty feet away and couldn’t hear her. There
     wasn’t a doubt in my mind no one else could. Next, she flipped over and screamed up,
     her back bent over the rail, trying to get someone’s attention above us, again, to
     no avail.
    “For half an hour, at least,” Mother said. “That girl doesn’t have the sense God gave
     a goose. And how do you lose your clothes? Where’s Fantasy?”
    Following Anderson Cooper around in my stateroom to find the stash of Probability casino chips. The velvet gift bag in the sitting room was intact—Roberto Coin bangle
     bracelet and all. The casino chips were coming from somewhere in my stateroom and
     Fantasy stayed behind to find out where. “She’s changing. Why?”
    “I hope she had the good sense to pack a decent swimsuit.”
    The exterior styling of Probability 704’s deck space was minimalist, with a strong artisan touch. Running the length
     of the suite, there was, now that I gave it a good look, almost as much outdoor gathering
     space as there was interior, with three separate social areas made up of loungers,
     chairs, and fire pits, a private sun terrace, and an outdoor dining room that seated
     eight, all on wide-plank spice-colored teak decking. The fabric covering the furniture,
     the many outdoor rugs, and the dozen sun umbrellas was all the same parchment color,
     and everything pointed to the sparkling pool. Past the pool, as far as we could see,
     the Caribbean.
    “I think he’s been in my room.” Mother talked to me from behind her Woman’s Day.
    My heart stopped beating.
    “Who?” I knew who.
    “Buggy eyes.”
    “Did you see him in your room?”
    “No.”
    “Is something missing? Is anything disturbed?”
    “Not that I could tell.” She rolled her magazine into a weapon. She shook it at me.
     “But that doesn’t mean he’s not a rapist. And I don’t know why he’d bother me with
     that around.” She aimed her magazine at Jess. “She’s his best bet.”
    It was official. I would need to keep Mother close. Very close.
    Jessica took a break from calling