The Sea Grape Tree by Gillian Royes Page A

additional chairs were added to the table, and no sooner had the couple taken their seats than Roper started drilling Danny about the hotel and, after fielding the questions about his intentions and the progress thus far, Danny asked a few of his own. He wanted to know how long Roper had lived in Largo, why he’d chosen the village to live in, and what the prospects were for future development in the area.
    While they talked, Sarah observed how the investor controlled the conversation, had controlled it from the beginning. He didn’t do it by talking louder or faster or more than anyone else. He did it with the power of his personality, which pulsed across the table, encircled them, held them captive. Without even seeking the spotlight, he owned it.
    It wasn’t long before Danny Caines inquired about everyone else at the table. He was pleased to hear that Ford was a musician in New York and wanted to know where he could go to hear him play. They spent a few minutes talking about the trumpet and about Danny’s lack of musical talent.
    â€œI play business instruments, man,” he admitted with a rich laugh, “not musical ones, but I love to hear people who can play.” When it came to Sarah, he asked only where she was from.
    â€œEngland—London, actually,” she said, adding quickly, “I’m an artist.”
    Danny looked down at his drink and back up at her. “I dabble a bit myself. We should talk.” He turned to Roper, switching gears easily. “Tell me something, how often do you have hurricanes here?”
    â€œAbout every five to eight years,” Roper told him. “We’re expecting one anytime soon, but then, it could be another ten years. You never know with hurricanes.”
    â€œDo you think the bay back there, Miss Mac’s land, would be protected enough?” Caines asked.
    Eric jumped in for the first time. “If we strap the roofs down, like the new building codes say, Lambert says we should be fine.”
    â€œWhat about tsunamis? How high do the waves rise in a storm?” Caines continued his research, making the locals squirm. Then he suddenly changed the subject to the last election, and Roper started in on the politicians.
    For the rest of the evening, Sarah was more conscious of Danny Caines than of anyone else at the table. She wanted to ask him about his interest in art, which was ridiculous, since he only dabbled in it, but she spent the time listening, wondering if Caines and Janet were sleeping together, wishing she’d had something brighter to wear. Every now and again she held a sidebar conversation with Ford and Sonja, once with Eric, but Caines ignored the parallel chatter and never addressed her again.
    When Roper insisted on paying for the evening’s expenses, Ford leaned over to Sarah and whispered, “I guess that means I’ll be paying next time.”
    â€œBetter start saving,” she muttered, “because I can’t, penniless as I am.” They laughed quietly, her eyes following Danny as he rejoined his two friends at the bar. Close beside him was Janet, who had thus far smiled wordlessly.
    The bill paid, Sarah’s party started back to their car, walking in front of a table at the rear of the restaurant where Carthena sat drinking a beer. She was wearing a pink striped dress that matched the beads in her hair. Her companions were two older women, perhaps in their forties. One, a slim woman with bulging eyes and a straight nose, fingered her cigarette as they passed, her hair piled high in a fancy braided hairdo. The other woman was dressed in a glamorous purple one-shoulder blouse, but she’d had too much to drink already, her lips set in a crooked smile and her eyelids having trouble staying open.
    Carthena smiled at Roper and Sonja, smiled wider for Ford. When it came to Sarah, the last in the line, the housekeeper looked away almost guiltily, as if she’d just been talking about