Chapter 74
BY LATE AFTERNOON, it had gotten hot, and since Budelli had no real shade to escape to, a lot of the wives congregated down by the water.
Those who couldn’t swim or hadn’t been able to pawn their children off on their husbands didn’t wade past their knees, but the rest of us—Laura and Beverly and Rita and me—pushed farther, until the water lapped at our shoulders.
“Talk about making lemonade out of lemons,” said Bev as she rolled onto her back.
Rita laughed. “This sure does beat the compound.”
“Do you think everything will die down soon?” asked Laura, and we all knew she was talking about the protests.
“Who knows?” said Rita, who was trying to pick up a shell with her toes. “But thank God Manzoni had already reopened the commissary before all this shit hit the fan.”
Everyone agreed.
“What will happen to all those poor guys?” Laura asked, and it took me a minute to realize she meant the guys who’d been yanked off the sub.
“Do you really feel sorry for them?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” she said.
“What if they’d had an accident?”
“But they didn’t,” she insisted.
“Do you think they’ll be court-martialed?” asked Rita.
“Tim says most of the sailors will probably get a letter of reprimand,” said Bev. “But whoever distributed the drugs is in big trouble, plus any officers who knew what was happening and didn’t blow the whistle. Or, God forbid, participated.”
“How’d they even figure it out?” asked Rita.
“Bobby told me it was just one sailor who got caught with weed while they were underway. He went to captain’s mast and rolled on everyone else.”
“Jesus,” said Rita.
Daniel Bornemann and Janine Greer floated past us, and we waved. When they were out of earshot, Bev asked, “Do you think there’s something going on with them?”
We all glanced in their direction. It was pretty obvious we were talking about them, but they were in the middle of something and weren’t paying attention to us.
“You think?” said Rita.
“No way,” said Laura, but then we watched Janine stand up and, with no warning, start to wade toward the shore.
“Lovers’ tiff?” I said, joking around.
“Hey, Daniel,” called Bev, and like a well-trained golden retriever, he dog-paddled over to us.
I swear, I thought Bev was going to ask him about Janine and why she’d stormed off, but instead she went after Angela.
“What is your wife doing wearing a skirt suit out here?”
He glanced back at the beach and laughed. “It’s not my place to question the boss.”