Stealth is not an option. This moment calls for the Grandma Lainey approach. I drain the last of my champagne for courage. “Felix and I are leaving.”
In the sudden silence, we all hear Felix choke. “Give a guy a little warning next time.”
“Have fun!” Mrs. A waves as if we’re getting on a plane.
Grabbing our empty glasses, I head for the kitchen, followed by Felix—and a chorus of heated whispers I choose to ignore.
“Where to now?” I ask, after we’ve deposited our champagne flutes next to the sink.
“I was thinking maybe the pool.”
“Marco Polo?” I guess.
“Very funny. I’ll meet you there in five.”
Seven minutes later, I walk outside to find a deserted swimming pool. I guess I didn’t need to sprain a shoulder trying to squeeze into my bathing suit in record time.
The temperature barely drops after dark around here, which is annoying when you’re desperate for a breeze but nice when you want to be outside in a bathing suit at nineP.M. There’s a hint of coolness as the water moves over my feet. After lunging off the last step, I sink down until my shoulders are submerged.
It turns out you can’tnotrelax in a pool. At least one like this, in a quiet garden, with the moon high overhead. I’ve been in community aquatic centers with a few thousand elementary schoolers that made me want to beat my head against the concrete until I lost consciousness, but this is a different world.
I stretch out, paddling gently. Is that jasmine I smell?
The thought of green growing things hits different now. Something beautiful can also be deadly, poison hiding underneath the surface. I’m sure there’s a metaphor there, about Bernie’s jealousy of her brother taking root years earlier. Or maybe it was her desire for money and status that turned toxic.I should come up with something deep to say about that, like a detective at the end of the mystery making one last speech. That will dazzle Felix.
The clang of the door opening short circuits my thoughts. I pretend to be absorbed in gracefully treading water as his sandals flap against the pool deck.
“Incoming,” he says. Two seconds later, I’m wiping the explosive aftermath of his cannonball out of my eyes.
“What are you, five years old?”
He grins at me, unrepentant, before ducking underwater. When he pops up again, Felix sweeps his dripping hair off his forehead. “You know what I’ve been wondering?”
“What part of the plant he used?”
“No. Well, that too. But this is a different loose end.” He gives me a significant look. Hopefully the fountain is loud enough that he doesn’t hear the catch in my breath.
“Okay.”
“You remember when we were hiding in Bernie’s apartment?”
My chin breaks the surface of the water as I nod.
“I kissed you.”
“Did you?”
“On the neck,” he says. “But you didn’t say anything.” It’s a question, with a pinch of accusation.
“Neither did you,” I remind him.
“I thought you were trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I was following your lead.”
“Well, I didn’t know what I was supposed to think. What if it was just a friendly gesture?”
“A friendly kiss on the neck?”
My shrug makes a faint splash. “Like kissing somebody’s hand. Or their forehead.”
