Chapter 8
8
F or a late lunch on the Malecón , they chose a restaurant with patio seating and a corner table against the wrought iron railing. Tall potted palms cast shadows around the perimeter and large umbrellas shaded the dining area.
“I love we can still hear the sea while we eat,” Greer told Dean.
He’d taken a seat next to hers. Or had she taken the one next to him? It was hard to tell who had moved first. It didn’t matter. They simply gravitated together.
After ordering a chicken burrito, she wondered how much better it would taste here in Mexico. Nana wanted to share nachos with Fabiola. Bernice and Ralph chose a fajita platter for two. When Sylvia and Ian heard that, they decided on the same. Dean ended the orders with a chimichanga and Mexican beers all around. Though Greer wasn’t fond of beer, but she wanted to try everything Mexican.
After her first sip, Dean asked, “What do you think?”
“That’s good. I haven’t seen this brand at home.”
“It’s a little milder than some you’d get back in the States.”
“I’m not much of a beer person, but I like it.”
“We can stop at a liquor store and pick you up a sixpack,” he said with a grin.
She laughed. “Not for me. But we can do it for you. I’m more a champagne lady.”
Dean tipped his head. “Your favorite cocktail?”
She nodded. “My secret vice.”
“We can order you a glass now.”
She batted a hand at him. “No. I wanted to try a Mexican beer. I like it. And I’m finishing it.” To punctuate, she enjoyed another big gulp and smacked her lips dramatically. “It’s especially good after sightseeing and shopping on a warm day.”
“Agreed.” His eyes seemed to twinkle, and holding up his bottle, he tapped it to hers. Neither of them had poured into the glasses the servers provided.
“Nana, what do you think of the beer?” Dean asked across the table.
Without asking, the waiter had poured her beer, and now Nana wore a foam mustache. “It’s yummy! I want more!”
“I think one bottle is enough,” Bernice said, as if she were the mom.
The food arrived then, huge platters, the burrito way more than Greer could ever eat. After the server left, she murmured to Dean, “I should have shared with someone. I can’t eat all this.” Along with the massive burrito, Mexican rice, frijoles, and a small salad filled the plate.
“You have a microwave in your room, right?”
She nodded. “Whatever I don’t finish is coming back with me.” And oh, it was good, the chicken tender, the beans spicy, everything mouthwatering.
Dean pointed at his chimichanga. “You want to try?”
“I’ll give you a bit of mine if you give me a bit of yours.” It sounded sexy— you show me yours and I’ll show you mine —and intimate as they transferred food onto each other’s plates. They both mimicked yummy sounds as they tried each morsel.
It was something couples did on a date. Or lovers.
Somehow, even surrounded by his wonderful family that she was coming to appreciate and even adore, it still felt like a date.
Which made her think of Conrad. Again. And the question of what she was actually doing here. Was she leading Dean on? Was she leading herself on? She couldn’t make it work with Conrad, so she immediately jumped to someone else? That was the sign of someone who was a failure. Just like she’d failed in her first marriage, failed at having a baby. And now she was on the rebound, hurt and needing validation from another man.
Before she choked on her thoughts, an ancient woman sidled up to the patio railing, her knees creaking loudly as she moved, and Greer let all those crazy-making questions go. A heavy strap around the woman’s neck held up a large wooden tray covered with felt on which she displayed a myriad of children’s toys. Grinning a toothless smile at them, she held up a push puppet, pushing the button on the bottom to make the dog dance on its collapsing limbs. Greer had a Scooby Doo push puppet when she was a child.
The woman tugged at her heartstrings. Greer couldn’t imagine being eighty-five years old and having to support herself selling trinkets while walking up and down the boardwalk with such a heavy burden. How many people turned her away or pretended they didn’t see her?
The old lady looked over them beseechingly, pushing the dog up and down, and pointing to the other puppets on her tray—frogs, giraffes, zebras, a dinosaur, Pinocchio, Day of the Dead figures, a dancing woman in a colorful dress.
Dean turned to his sisters. “I’m sure all the grandkids would love one of these, right?”
When Bernice opened her mouth—probably to say no because kids these days wanted action figures or LEGO sets—he didn’t give her a chance. “We’ll get one for each of the kids.” Then he looked at Greer. “Will you help me pick them out?”
Her heart turned over at his gesture. It wasn’t for the kids. It was for the old lady. “Remind me how many little kids there are.”
His eyes gleamed. “Pick whatever you like. If there’s extra, that’s fine.” Then he laughed. “I’ll make you play with them.”
Nana clapped her hands. “I want the dinosaur, please.”
Fabiola nudged her. “No, I want the dinosaur.”
They all laughed and fought over who got what. “What do you want?” Dean asked her, and Greer pointed to the Day of the Dead groom and bridegroom.
“Now, why did I even need to ask? Dragons and Day of the Dead. They just seem to go together.” He laughed and picked out the two puppets for her.
He asked the total price only after the old woman’s tray was close to empty. When she held up her fingers, he fished bills out of his wallet, far more than the amount the old woman finger-quoted.
Balancing the edge of the tray on the railing, she tucked the cash into a money belt at her waist, and when she counted out the change, Dean waved away the money. Her suddenly beautiful smile lit up her face. “ Gracias, se?or. Dios te bendiga ,” she croaked from a dry throat. As she turned away, Greer saw tears at the corners of her eyes.
Fabiola waggled her fingers. “Bernice and I can combine all our purchases into one bag, and you can use this.”
“Don’t forget mine is the dinosaur,” Nana chirped.
Dean reached across the table for the bag. Together, he and Greer dropped all the puppets inside. “That was really sweet of you,” she murmured.
He smiled. “The kids always love getting gifts. And I forgot to bring any with me.”
She put a hand on his. “I didn’t mean the kids. I meant what you did for the old woman. And you paid her a lot more than she asked.”
He shrugged. “I must have counted incorrectly.” Then he grinned. “I should have asked you since you’re the accountant.”
It didn’t matter how long he denied it, she knew. He probably would have given the woman the money, but he saved her pride by buying her push puppets.
Conrad would never have done that. He would have shooed the woman on her way.
But Dean Adamo was nothing like Conrad.
Everyone begged Greer to join them for dinner, but she told them no. As badly as she wanted to spend more time with the amazing Adamo family, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome or give anyone the opportunity to ask why a stranger was hanging around.
She’d loved the day, the shopping with the women, taking photos, walking hand in hand with Dean, that delicious lunch, and, most especially, the sweet thing he’d done for the old lady. She’d loved the whole family, the way they laughed together, the way the sisters talked to each other, to their mother, the way they give Dean a bad time because he was the baby of the family. And she loved Nana, who was always smiling and raring to go, even at ninety. She wasn’t frail the way Greer’s parents had been, even though they’d been in their early eighties.
She loved too many things about the Adamo family. Especially spending time with Dean.
Paying for the taxi despite Dean’s protests, she’d said she’d eat her leftovers for dinner, so they didn’t go to waste. Before he let her leave, Dean had said, “You’re still coming to the volcano show with us, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” She wouldn’t miss an evening with him, his mother, his sisters, his family.
In her room, though it wasn’t quite five o’clock, she took a luxurious bath, using the oil and bubble bath provided by the hotel. She washed her hair, shaved her legs, rubbed herself all over with the sugar scrub she’d brought with her.
Almost as if she were getting ready for a night with a delicious man.
She imagined the fingers on her were Dean’s and couldn’t stop the remembered feel of his hand around hers, the heat of his body, the subtle scent of his aftershave. With all her fantasies, she even grew a little turned on in the warm water.
She hadn’t truly felt this way about Conrad in months. Was it his jealousy at the company events and the parties they’d attended? The way he frowned on her going out with her friends? His desire to control who she saw?
He’d been so different in the beginning, sending her lovely out-of-the-blue texts, saying he’d been thinking about her, telling her how beautiful she was, how desirable. He always showed up at her door with flowers or champagne. If she mentioned a show, he bought tickets. He planned weekend getaways. Maybe she was shallow, but all the attention had dazzled her. It wasn’t about the gifts or the fancy restaurants or the money he spent; it was that he made her feel valued, listened to.
Until the company’s Memorial Day barbecue when he’d accused her of flirting.
She should have known it wouldn’t be the only time. She should never have believed his apology. She should have seen red flags when he blamed his behavior on his wife’s infidelity.
Instead, she’d forgiven him and moved in with him.
But did that mean it was just fine for her to attach herself to Dean? To have fantasies about him?
Maybe she was as bad as Conrad said she was. Maybe she was just a failure at keeping a man happy. Her mother had never said exactly that after the divorce, but Greer heard the blame in her words. If you hadn’t put your career before motherhood, you’d have had the babies Hal wanted.
She threw herself out of the tub then, sloshing water over the side. She did not, absolutely did not want to think about her ex-husband or Conrad or what she’d have to do when she returned home. He had been in the wrong over this latest incident, not her.
For dinner, she ate her leftovers, reminding her of sitting next to him at lunch, feeling almost surrounded by his scent and the intimacy of sharing food. Everything seemed to make her think of Dean Adamo. And she refused to feel guilty about it. She was on vacation, she would enjoy herself, and she’d think about Conrad when she got home.
For the volcano show, she wore a leopard-print jumpsuit paired with sandals and a featherlight sweater in case the night grew chilly. Dean and his daughters were just coming down as she stepped off the elevator in the lobby.
He waved. “We can all go together.” He fanned the gondola tickets in the air before putting them back in the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. Then he laid his hands on his daughters’ shoulders. “I don’t know if you’ve formally met my daughters. Lisa.” He squeezed the shoulder of the girl who’d sat next to her on the plane. “And Cynthia.”
They were both lovely young women with their father’s dark hair and his startling coffee-colored eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Greer said, smiling. And while they smiled in return, neither said a word. She didn’t know what that meant. Maybe they thought their father was trying to bring a new woman into their lives.
“Shall we take a tram over to the gondolas? Or shall we walk?”
The younger one, Lisa, rolled her eyes. “Oh, Dad, it’s not that far. We can walk.”
Wasn’t it the younger generation who never wanted to walk anywhere? But Greer wasn’t a mother, and maybe she’d watched too much TV.
The girls started off, leaving Greer and Dean to follow.
Raised wooden walkways far above the jungle vegetation traversed the resort grounds. Greer was glad she’d worn her flat sandals. Heels might have gotten stuck between the wood planks.
A convention auditorium lay off to the left, and along the way, they passed the general store. The building also included clothing and souvenir shops and two restaurants. The resort had five other restaurants, plus beachside food, all of them ranging in prices and cuisine, from a cantina to Asian food, as well as the breakfast and lunch restaurant by the pool.
“I hope you enjoyed your leftovers,” Dean said, his daughters several paces ahead.
She smiled up at him. Without her heels, he seemed even taller. “It was delicious all over again. And I certainly didn’t need anything else after that lunch.”
“I have to admit I was full too.” He rubbed his flat belly. The man didn’t have an ounce of middle-aged paunch.
Once they arrived, the line for the gondola moved fast. Dean told her, “The family will all meet by the front gates, then find a place to watch the show together.”
An attendant directed them to the next car, and they stepped into an immaculate, lacquered-wood gondola. The girls took the forward-facing seats so they could see what was coming, leaving Dean and Greer with a resort view.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Cynthia said.
Greer wondered if the girls were testing their father, wanting him to get angry so they could blame him. She hadn’t figured out the family dynamic, even though Bernice had told her the girls were still upset over the fact that he was a workaholic.
Feeling Dean’s eyes on her, she said, “No problem. We’ve got a view of the sunset.” And it was gorgeous, a kaleidoscope of colors across the drifting clouds.
Dean smiled, almost as if it were especially for her. He turned to his girls. “How was the zip-lining?”
“Awesome,” Lisa said with little expression. She craned in her seat as if trying to see something behind them.
Dean persisted. “What did you think, Cynthia?”
Her answer wasn’t as brief. “It was fun. I’m glad we went.”
Conversation with these two was like trying to pull out their back molars without anesthetic. But Greer tried. “The gondola is amazing. It looks like it goes a long way.” She turned in her seat to see where they were going, and in the distance, she made out what looked like an amusement park. On the way in, they’d passed a Ferris wheel and another structure decorated with massive metal flowers, though she couldn’t tell what it did.
Lisa answered, “It’s pretty cool.”
Then neither of them said another thing.
That left Dean to answer her all her questions. “The owners plan on building up the area around here, which is all part of the resort. All the land you see out there?” He waved a hand over a swampy section. “They’re building another high-rise hotel on the other side of that bridge.” The current bridge was a golf cart or walking path, but beside it, another bridge, wide enough for cars, was rising. “They’re constructing lagoons, and over there is the golf course.” Dean pointed. Together, they swiveled slightly in their seats to see it all.
“I didn’t realize there was a golf course.”
Dean chuckled. “They’ve grown the vegetation so it’s almost invisible. But believe me, you don’t want to lose your golf ball in there.”
He turned almost all the way around and pointed to the metal structures in the distance. “That’s where we’re headed. Only the volcano show is open right now, but in three or four months, they’ll open all the restaurants and the two rides. They plan to add more rides as well.”
“Rides?” she asked, mainly to keep the conversation going since the girls were silent.
Bernice had said Dean was here to work things out with them.
Greer had a feeling these two would make it difficult.