Chapter 2
2
T he warm Mexican sun caressed her skin. Storms had pummeled the San Francisco Bay Area almost every day this winter. And even though it wasn’t over eighty degrees here, the sun bathed Greer with the glorious heat her body craved.
Her bags had arrived on the carousel quickly, and the hotel shuttle had been waiting outside the airport, though it was packed with the birthday bash crowd. But she was finally here at the resort, wearing her new flowery one-piece bathing suit. At her age, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a bikini.
Leaving the high-rise, armed with her beach tote containing her phone, sunscreen, water bottle, and e-reader, she crossed the bridge over the lazy river where fellow sun worshippers floated in inner tubes. The resort’s five pools, surrounded by the lazy river, merged by swimming through narrow passages or crossing bridges, making navigation of the complex easy whether you were in the water or walking. Greer was lucky to find a seat in the adults-only area with a bar in the pool’s middle and stools submerged beneath the water.
When her first frozen margarita arrived, she held the glass up in a silent screw-you salute to Conrad and savored another swallow of the delicious mango-tequila concoction. No margarita in Mexico for her? No way.
It might hit her later that she was entirely alone in a family and lovers’ resort, but for now, she simply enjoyed laying back against her lounge chair, the fruity drink by her side and a sexy novel on her e-reader.
Music played—some current pop tune—but the volume wasn’t loud enough to disturb her reading. Children’s delighted squeals and laughter drifted over from the other pools, but the sounds were distant.
Long ago, she’d dreamed of having children. She and her husband had financial as well career goals to meet before they started a family, hers as a controller, his as VP of Engineering. But when they started trying for a family, she hadn’t gotten pregnant the natural way. Fertility treatments hadn’t worked either, and by the time she was forty, she admitted that she’d missed her chance. They’d struggled through the marriage for another two years, but divorce seemed inevitable. Hal, her ex-husband, had remarried almost the day they’d signed the paperwork, and he was once again a free man after thirteen years. His former secretary, now his wife, had shown up pregnant on her Facebook page only four months later. Greer had long since stopped stalking the woman on social media. It was all such a long time ago; she’d been divorced now for as long as she’d been married.
But it was Conrad on her mind at the moment. She certainly wasn’t over her anger with him. Which made it hard to concentrate on her book.
Laying the e-reader on her chest, she closed her eyes. Maybe she’d sleep. With sunblock and partial shade, her face shouldn’t burn.
A female voice interrupted her siesta. “May I take this chair?”
Greer wanted to say no without even looking. But that wasn’t polite. With mostly couples occupying the loungers and Greer seated by herself, it was probably the only free chair around the adult pool.
Opening her eyes, she told the attractive dark-haired woman, “Of course. Take it wherever you want.”
The woman smiled. She was older than Greer, probably in her midsixties, with tiny wrinkles at her eyes and laugh lines at her mouth. She was like Sophia Loren, seemingly ageless, her almost black hair pulled back in a perfect knot. Greer always found her too soft auburn hair fell out of knots. Maybe it was just her lack of expertise. She usually left it loose, falling over her shoulders, or, like now, pulled back in a scrunchie to keep it out of her eyes.
“Oh no,” the woman said. “I don’t need to move it anywhere. I just want to sit here where there aren’t any children.” Her voice dipped low and behind her oversized sunglasses, she might have been rolling her eyes.
Greer’s stomach sank. Would the woman want to talk? Well, if Greer didn’t look at her and gave only one-word answers, hopefully that would be a sign. And she said, “Be my guest.”
The woman shrugged off her cover-up to reveal a slim figure in a one-piece bathing suit. Would she look like this woman in ten years? Jealousy nibbled at Greer’s psyche. Even now, she dieted scrupulously to keep her figure after menopause had hit. It was really a whole different way of thinking. Mind over matter.
But this woman looked like she hadn’t needed to diet her entire life.
The woman laid down two towels on the top and bottom of the lounge chair and stretched out, ending the procedure with a long, satisfied sigh. “We just arrived. Then there’s checking in and finding out what everyone wants to do,” she said with a singsong lilt, waving a hand in the air. “All the unpacking and on and on. And all I could think about was getting down here.” She turned her head on the lounger to look at Greer. “I’m Bernice.”
Greer answered automatically. “Greer Gibson.”
Bernice stuck out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She signaled the waiter, “What are you drinking?” she asked, pointing at Greer’s concoction.
“A mango margarita.”
“Yum,” Bernice said. “But I saw some woman with a drink in a coconut. I must have my own coconut with a face on it.”
Greer couldn’t help laughing. “Everyone needs a coconut with a face on it.”
Calling a server, Bernice pointed three chairs over at a woman sipping from a straw in a coconut. “I’ll have that, please.” The man rushed away to do her bidding. “Don’t you just love resorts where all you have to do is say, ‘Give me this,’ and they trip all over themselves to get it for you.”
Greer shook her head ruefully, keeping a smile pasted on her lips. “I haven’t been to a lot of resorts.”
Bernice stared at her—at least Greer thought she was staring through the dark lenses. “So, are you a career woman or is your husband simply stingy and never takes you anywhere?”
The shock of the question left Greer speechless for a moment. It was just so out there, nosey. But honest. Finally, she held up her left hand, minus the ring that hadn’t been there for thirteen years. “I’m divorced, so just a career woman now,” she said. “It’s hard to get away.”
Bernice sagged back against her lounge chair, her hand across her forehead. “A career woman. I’m so jealous,” she said on a sigh, then quickly added, “So no kids?”
“No kids,” Greer agreed.
Again Bernice sighed. “Oh, to be a career woman and childless.”
The words stung, though she was sure Bernice hadn’t meant anything by them. Yet Greer remembered the year of trying to have a child, followed by two years of fertility treatments and the babies that never came. She’d long ago accepted her failure, didn’t even think about it anymore. And she said almost breezily, “I love my job.”
Bernice rode over her words. “Not that I want you to think I don’t love and adore my children and grandchildren. They’re amazing,” she drawled. “But I’m a much better grandma than I was a mother. With three kids, I was a little testy. Well, let’s be honest, a lot testy.” She waved her hand airily. “But I’m great with the grandkids. It’s so easy to just call their parents and say, ‘Okay, I’m done. Come get them.’” She drew her sunglasses down her nose until Greer could see her brown eyes. “You must think I’m terrible.” Then she laughed. “And I absolutely am terrible.”
Greer wondered what kind of mother she would have made. She would have wanted to keep working, though Hal had been making sounds about her staying home with the kids. “Were you a stay-at-home mom?” she asked Bernice.
The woman snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah. That’s what we did back then. We stayed at home.” She looked at Greer. “You’re younger than me. You had different choices.” She dropped her voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m just a few months away from the big seven-oh. But I’m not there yet!” she crowed.
Greer tried not to show the shock in her eyes; she’d thought no more than sixty-five. Bernice was in marvelous shape, and she felt obligated to say, “I’m fifty-five.” It was a fourteen-year difference, but still. “And I don’t know about that. You would have been a young woman in the seventies and women had choices even then.”
Bernice flopped back against the chair, arms spread wide. “Not if you had a mother like mine.” She rolled her head against the chaise lounge to look at Greer. “Not that I don’t absolutely adore my mother—” Again with a drawl. “—but her idea of a career was being a secretary so I could find a rich executive to marry. Or a nurse so I could marry a doctor.” She sighed, then laughed. “You must think I’m a total bitch,” she said, complete with hand gestures.
“Actually, I’m enjoying our conversation. You just say what you think.” And it was refreshing.
Bernice harrumphed. “My husband absolutely hates that about me.” A wry smile curved her lips. “So does my brother. He’s the youngest, with three older sisters—I’m the oldest—and we made his life miserable,” she said with a long sigh of happiness.
A shout rang out from the group playing water polo on the other side of the bar. The ball rolled across the concrete, and a bikini-clad woman somewhere in her thirties grabbed it from her lounge chair and threw it back.
As Greer rolled to her stomach and propped herself on her elbows, the server arrived with Bernice’s coconut, and when he was gone, she sipped the straw gratefully. “Oh, this is good.” She shivered with pleasure. “Some sort of fruity daiquiri that tastes like bananas and pineapples and coconut and who knows what else.” She held it up. “And it’s adorable.” Which it was, with a face made of fruits and vegetables, a carrot for a nose like a snowman. “You must order one when you’re done with your margarita.” Then Bernice went on with her tale, picking up right where she’d left off. “I was eleven when he was born.” She touched the corner of her eye as if she were wiping away tears of laughter. “I used to dress him up like a doll. I swear I thought he was a doll, and I found the prettiest dresses to put on him. It was just so cute.”
She looked at Greer again, her smile wide and beautiful. “My parents took pictures, and when he was ten years old, he burned them all. He made us watch, and he made my dad give him all the negatives too. It was hilarious. He didn’t speak to me for a month after that.” She threw her head back, eyes closed, and laughed. “But he’s forgiven me now. In fact, he adores me. Who wouldn’t adore their oldest sister?”
“Of course he adores you.” Greer thought that her brother, her husband, her children and grandchildren must all cherish this delightful woman.
“But of course, even I—” Bernice put a hand to her bosom. “—couldn’t save his marriage. Thought I tried as hard as I could. But he and Jessica…” She shook her head sadly. “They just weren’t compatible.”
Greer was honest. “I’m not sure you should reveal this kind of personal information to me.”
Bernice simply flapped her hand again. “He wouldn’t mind. He knows I say anything to anyone. He’s used to it.”
Greer figured he must be used to that nonchalant hand flap, too, brushing aside any concerns he had about his private life being discussed with strangers. And yet she liked Bernice. The woman reminded her of Violet, who had no qualms about speaking her mind. But while Greer had no problem with that at work—she said what had to be said when it needed to be said, no question—but in her personal life, she kept her thoughts to herself to avoid arguments. She’d learned at an early age that life was easier that way.
“Anyway,” Bernice said with a long sigh. “He’s the CEO of some big software company, though God only knows what software they actually make. But he was like the seven dwarves singing about going off to work.” Despite what she said, admiration shimmered on her lips. “Then he hit thirty-five, and his biological clock started ticking. Just like a woman’s does. He just had to get married so he could start a family. And he married his secretary, for God’s sake. She was ten years younger, and a perfect brood mare.” Bernice slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean that to sound cruel.”
All Greer heard was that he’d married his secretary. Just like Hal? Her heart lurched, and the words were out before she could think reasonably. “He wasn’t married, was he?”
“You mean was he cheating on a wife with his secretary?” Bernice’s dark brown eyes went wide. “God, no. He would never do that. I think he was just so limited by work that he didn’t know any other women.” Bernice didn’t need Greer to answer as she continued her brother’s tale. “So they got married, and they had Lisa and Cynthia almost right on top of each other.” She turned to Greer as if she needed to explain. “They’re in college now. Twenty-two and twenty-one. Darling girls. I love them to pieces.” She finished with a sigh. “But sadly, Dean just didn’t get it.”
Dean. A nice name, Greer thought.
“He worked practically all the time, and it didn’t endear him to the girls,” Bernice revealed. “And Jessica said she felt like a secretary all over again.” Bernice shook her head, her glossy hair—only slightly peppered with silver—glistening almost blue-black in the sun. “But seriously, it’s not like she didn’t know he was a workaholic. I mean, she worked for him. Then she complains about it later. It’s ridiculous, but whatever,” she said with a snort and a huff.
Greer felt uncomfortable hearing this faceless brother’s story, details he surely wouldn’t want a stranger to know. It wasn’t any of her business. And she said again to ease her own conscience, “I’m really don’t think you should tell me all this.”
Bernice gave another negligent wave. “Oh, Dean wouldn’t mind. He’s a totally open book. He admits he’s a workaholic and that he needs to work on his relationships with his daughters too. I tell him all the time. They’re divorced now, you know, Jessica and Dean.”
Greer couldn’t help a flippant answer. “No, I didn’t know.”
Which made Bernice laugh uproariously, turning heads in her direction. “You are so right. Ralph, he’s my husband, he says I talk without thinking. It’s absolutely true. But it’s not as if you actually know Dean.” She threw up her hands as if the fact that Greer didn’t know him meant everything was fine. Then she shrugged and went on. “Anyway, he’s trying his best to make everything right with the girls. I really admire him for that. Of course, I got them to come here for this holiday. It’s good for them to spend time with their dad. But if I’d said that, they’d have refused, so I told them this vacation was about their grandmother, not their father. And that they absolutely needed to be here for Nana’s ninetieth. So here they are.”
Good Lord. Bernice was part of the birthday bash on the plane.
And the handsome man who gave Greer a glass of champagne had to be Dean.
An all-over flush raced through her veins. But why on earth should she be embarrassed? Because she’d had a few thoughts about him? Or because now she knew all the details about his marriage?
She swallowed hard and tried not to sound disconcerted. “I was on the plane with all of you. The Puerto Vallarta Ninetieth Birthday Bash, right?” She hadn’t seen Bernice, even though the woman would probably have gone down the aisle to use the restrooms.
Bernice beamed at her. “That’s us.” She pulled the sunglasses down her nose to look at Greer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “My son’s the manager here. He got us a fabulous deal. He came down here for a holiday fifteen years ago when he was only thirty, and he met the sweetest Mexican woman. And never came back.” Her hands went up in the air again. “They’ve given me two utterly adorable grandchildren. I try to get down here at least once a year. And he tries to get up to the Bay Area for either Christmas or Thanksgiving.”
“That’s a huge change,” Greer said. “Moving to Mexico. Was he a hotel manager back home?”
Bernice shook her head, the sun gleaming on her. “Oh no. Phillip was an accountant. But being an accountant helps him manage the hotel. All the staff love him to pieces. And all the guests do too. You’ll probably see him wandering around at some point.” She reached over and tapped Greer’s arm. “He looks just like me.”
“An accountant,” Greer echoed. “I’m an accountant too.”
It was amazing to change your life so completely. To go on vacation and just drop everything, moving to a new place, a new country, even a new career. She had to compare it to the fact that she hadn’t left Hal, not even when things became unbearable during the two years after she’d failed to have a child. It had actually been Hal’s idea to become established in their careers before having children. But it had been her body that failed them. If he hadn’t left her, she probably would have stayed with him to this day, even though their marriage had become miserable for them both. It was what her mother would have done. Greer didn’t know whether staying was admirable or just stupid.
She’d always wondered if they hadn’t truly loved each other, if not having a child had completely torn them apart.
Which brought her back to Conrad. Granted, they hadn’t been together as long, but there’d been plenty of signs of his jealousy. And she’d done nothing about it except change her own behavior rather than deal with his. Once again, shades of her mother, who’d always said Greer’s father was king of his castle. And she’d lived her life on his terms.
And now Greer was on the brink of another relationship failure. Her mother would have been appalled if she were still alive.