Golden Orange (36 page)

Then he looked down toward the lodge. She was standing outside with her back to him, looking toward Isthmus Cove, her hair blowing back from her neck, her white dress clinging, backlit. She had a gardenia in her hair and she wore black-and-white spectator pumps, the kind they wore in some of those black-and-white movies they used to film in places like this. He imagined how she looked from the front with that dress hugging her thighs, that white side-slit dress, her bare legs tanned and shimmering.

The things that happened for the first time

Seem to be happening again …

In his drunken state the song seemed to be going at the wrong speed again. It was too slow. The lyrics and the melody were grotesque.

And so it seems that we have met before

And laughed before …

He put his hands over his ears. He felt like screaming. He
was
going crazy! He
might
have screamed except that Tess turned and saw him and waved. The song faded. Winnie returned her wave weakly and began descending the hill. He needed a drink.

When he reached her, she put her arm around his waist and said, “Well, old son, shall we go to a party?”

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you, skipper.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I'm already pretty drunk,” Winnie said. “And I know I'll get drunker tonight.”

“I'll watch over you. Go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

They stood there for a moment looking down at Two Harbors, at the sun on its downward reach, leaving a trail of fire behind. “I guess before I get too drunk I just wanna say that … that I think I got a problem I got to control. I think I'm gonna stop drinking tomorrow and … and …”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted you to know that drunk or sober I woulda enjoyed this time you and me've had together just as much. And … well …”

He studied her, that white linen dress, those black-and-white pumps and bare legs, the gardenia in her hair, its scent mixing with jasmine. A single strand of pearls and no other jewelry, the only vivid color coming from her lipstick red as blood. And he said: “No matter what happens, I wanna say you're more beautiful than that sky out there. And I love you more than my memories of this place. You're here and now and
real.
And that's all I wanted to say before I get too drunk to say it.”

For the first time Winnie Farlowe actually saw tears on the cheeks of Tess Binder. All the other times she'd bury her face and sob. Now she wasn't sobbing. She was tearfully looking into his eyes. He removed her glasses and touched her cheeks. Then he licked the salt from his fingers.

When their landlady dropped them off, they walked down the hill to the yacht club, hand in hand. Tess didn't speak at all, not until they were looking at the outcropping of rock called Lion's Head, the guardian of Cherry Cove.

The yacht club was already full of people and every mooring was taken. The shore boat from Isthmus Cove was taking groups of people through the emerald water to the little pier by the club.

Tess looked very sad when she finally spoke to him. She said, “If I were to say that with you I feel something I've never felt before, would you believe me?”

“Yes! I feel the same!”

“I want you to believe me,” she said. “I want you to believe I'd spend my life with you. If such a thing were possible.”

“Tess,” he said. “Tess!”

Tess Binder's eyes! He was always trying to peek within. Whenever he'd get close to succeeding, she'd suddenly draw those gray curtains or switch off the lamps.

Even now she pulled away, and suddenly she became her playful old self. “We don't have time for that!” she said. “It's time to go down there and party, old son! A full moon makes me howl!”

“It was full
last
night,” Winnie informed her. “The moon, sun and earth, they won't quite line up. Not tonight.”

19

Dark Water

T
he yacht club was very ascetic by mainland standards, even by Avalon standards. But for the isthmus it was posh. Which meant that the plumbing worked and the floor was in one piece and there were cabañas and dressing rooms, and a few bungalows that were actually heated in winter. Yachtsmen, even if they were F.F.H. rich, prided themselves on rustic informality. The location was, like all of the isthmus, probably more beautiful than any coastline on the Southern California mainland. The water was turquoise and emerald, and clear. And the bottom was sandy white, the nearest thing to tropical water that California has to offer.

And since this was an isthmus yacht club where people came directly from their boats, the dress code was campground casual, even at a yacht club luau. Tess was overdressed, but Winnie, in a Reyn Spooner aloha shirt, white cotton trousers and deck shoes, looked about right for the soiree.

The food had been prepared on the mainland and delivered to the restaurant at Two Harbors for last-minute touches. There were three bartenders and six young women serving food at this, the largest annual yacht party on the west end of Catalina Island, hosted by Dexter Moody.

An eight-piece orchestra from Newport Beach that usually played weekends on Balboa peninsula had been brought in to play tunes from the big-band era. There were at least three hundred people swarming over the yacht club and spilling out onto the grassy lawn and the beach itself. The music could be heard clearly all the way to Two Harbors.

In the club lanai, Winnie was astonished to see a suckling pig on one buffet table, another table heaped with five kinds of shellfish, and a third with eight or ten dessert choices. About thirty people were already dancing in the main room while others heaped food onto plastic plates and took the feast outside on the grass.

A smiling silver-haired man with a lei around his neck stood beneath a mounted pair of harpoons, and greeted guests who lined up to meet him.

Tess, pulling Winnie by the hand, went to the front of the queue and kissed the man on the cheek.

“Dexter, meet Win Farlowe,” she said.

Dexter Moody smiled warmly at Winnie, made polite small talk to the annoyed woman they'd just shunted aside, and still managed to ask Tess how she'd been and why she hadn't called him lately.

Winnie kept his eye on the nearest drinks table, and while Tess spoke with Dexter Moody, he went for it, delighted to see that they had Russian
and
Polish vodka out here, past land's end, in a tiny speck in the Pacific Ocean. Rich people!

By the time Tess joined Winnie he was on his second double. He ordered a Scotch for her and said, “Some party.”

“Want me to introduce you around? I know a couple dozen of these people.”

“I'm only interested in
one
person,” Winnie said, and she squeezed his hand for that. “Think we oughtta grab a slab off Porky before he's all gone?”

“If I know Dexter, he's got a whole flock of suckling pigs out back. Or herds, whatever.”

“Maybe we
oughtta
eat something.”

“Let's not spoil our edge by eating,” Tess said. “Let's dance it off instead.”

Winnie finished his drink and ordered a fresh one, which he left on one of the lanai tables. They danced for fifteen minutes, slow dancing, swing, even the twist from the old days. Tess was as graceful as he knew she'd be. She was good at everything. He only hoped the orchestra wouldn't spoil the party by playing “Where or When.”

After they both worked up a light sweat, they went outside on the patio to cool off. Winnie's drink had been picked up by a waitress, so Tess told him to grab a table while she went for another. She came back with
four
drinks, two for each of them.

“So we don't have to keep making trips to the bar,” she explained.

When Winnie hefted the glass, he noticed there was only one ice cube in it. “Vodka they got, but no ice?”

Tess giggled, but Winnie said, “Must be six ounces a booze in these drinks. We gotta be careful or we'll be spending the night out back with the suckling pigs.”

“I'll show you suckling, big boy,” Tess said. Then she touched her glass to his and said, “Chin chin.”

Tess sat with her legs crossed, one pump dangling from her toes. She had tiny toes. He couldn't figure that out. Why long fingers and tiny toes? Then his eyes moved up her legs. Shiny, tan, bare legs. Shimmering shins! He almost laughed out loud.

They didn't dance again, but Tess would occasionally spot someone she knew and run across the dance floor to chat. She always took her drink with her and always came back with a fresh one for him.

He couldn't understand it. The way she moved, so erect, her shoulders thrown back with that boarding school posture of hers. Always seeming dead sober even when she
said
she was drunk, and giggled, and acted silly.

Winnie had gotten to the games stage. He looked at a ten-foot sailfish on the wall over the bar. He squinted and closed one eye to try to make it hold still. Soon the sailfish looked like it had grown fur. Then it slowly started swimming.

He turned to a woman sitting at the next table and said, “Somebody better spear that fish before he gets away.”

Tess came back briefly to tell him she ran into a friend she hadn't seen since her Stanford days, and she asked if he was all right. When he nodded, she placed another drink in front of him, another triple or whatever they were, in a bucket glass. Then she was off again.

By nine o'clock he couldn't read his watch. He had no feeling in his chin, lips or fingers. It was too late to eat. Too late to do anything. He had to stop to think what side of the isthmus he was on. For a second he thought he was looking at Cat Harbor. That made him giggle. The sailfish was bouncing around like they were smack in the middle of a squall.

“A very clever sailfish,” Winnie said to the woman at the next table who'd been gone for half an hour. He started to get up and was astonished when he reeled and fell back in the chair. The bartender had screwed up. This was American vodka.

A face hovered over him. Funny sideburns and whiskers. It was either a wild lynx or a Prussian general. It said, “Easy, mate. Maybe you ought to head for your boat?”

Winnie rubbed some feeling into his lips, sniffed the lousy American vodka and said, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”

When Tess finally joined him again, she had a fresh drink for each of them. She put them down on the table and said, “You feeling all right?”

“How do I look?” Winnie asked.

Then he noticed there was a man with her, an imposing man Dexter Moody's age. The man said, “Maybe he'd better not have any more.”

“Maybe not,” Tess said. “Do you think you should stop drinking now, Win?”

That made him mad. He grabbed the drink and gulped it, but spilled half on his shirt. “Who's he? A cop? I know when I had enough!”

Tess turned toward the man and said, “I can handle him.”

The man shrugged and walked away, and when he did, Tess sat and whispered urgently: “You've got to pull yourself together! Something's happened we hadn't counted on!”

“Let's go home.”

“Pay attention!” she said. “This is important! Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” he said, seeing one and a half Tess Binders.

“Warner Stillwell's here! The
Circe
came a day early. They've just called from Isthmus Cove. The shore boat's bringing them here any minute.”

“Tomorrow,” Winnie said. “We can talk to him tomorrow.”

“No, goddamnit!” Tess said. “Not tomorrow! Tonight! It
has
to be tonight! Get on your feet, Win. Let's go outside and get some air.”

Five minutes later, Winnie and Tess were sitting on the deck looking toward the light on Ship Rock, the light to warn mariners.

Winnie kept focusing on the warning light, and tried to understand what Tess was saying.

“There're four of them,” she said. “The owner of the
Circe
, his wife, another woman and Warner. He didn't bring his assassin.”

“Where is it, Tess?” Winnie asked, hopelessly confused. “The
Circe
?”

“I told you! At Isthmus Cove. It's a big boat, so they've anchored out by the reef. The shore boat should be arriving any minute. Win, what should we do?”

With a hiccup: “I think maybe we should talk to him tomorrow.”

“I wish you hadn't drunk so much!” she said. “I
told
you not to drink so much, didn't I?”

“You told me?” Now he was seeing
two
instead of one and a half Tess Binders. “You told me?”

“Remember, Win,” she said. “I warned you
not
to drink so much. I told you several times. You
do
remember, don't you?”

He was getting nauseous. Tess seemed to be badgering him and he couldn't understand why. He knew he was a bit bagged, but that was no reason to badger him. He kept staring at her. He wanted to feel the outline of her face to see which one was hers. He wanted to do something everyone in the world thought he couldn't do. He wanted to do something extraordinarily difficult. He wanted to stand up.