I had to save this, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it. For a few minutes we perused the books in silence, until finally I said, “What if we hosted our own thing for the wives while the tender’s gone?”
“You and me?”
“Yeah, like a brunch or a night out.”
Her face was expressionless, but then—all of a sudden—it brightened. “What about a bingo night?”
I hated bingo, but if she was excited about it, I was in. “Do you think we could get our hands on some cards?”
“MWR might have some we can borrow. But if not, we can make our own.”
We spent the next quarter of an hour plotting La Maddalena’s first and likely only bingo night, which we’d decided we would hold at the compound’s picnic shelter. When we had the details all worked out, we went back inside and got everyone’s attention.
“Mark your calendars, ladies!” said Laura. “Because you are in for a treat.”
78.
THE TENDER HAD BEEN GONEfor two days when Teo stopped by the house. It was early in the morning and I was frying an egg, but when I heard a rap at the door, I cut off the burner and went to answer it. As soon as I saw Teo standing there on the porch, my stomach did a little flip.
I looked down at what I was wearing: pajama bottoms and an Allman Brothers T-shirt of Paul’s with no bra. It was too late to change, so I retied my hair and stepped outside in my bare feet.
“Hey,” I said.
He gave me a big smile. “Salve.”
“How did you know I lived here?”
He was still smiling. “It’s a small island.”
“No, really.”
“Your landlord cuts Bernardo’s hair.”
This made me laugh. “Of course he does.”
Teo was wearing a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals, and I gestured at the ensemble. “You look like you’re headed to the beach.”
“I’m going out on that boat I was telling you about,” he said. “So you’re not far off.”
“This is with the CNEN guys?”
He nodded. “I went out with them yesterday, too. It’s fun. You should come.”
It took a second for me to realize what was going on. “Wait,” I said. “Is that why you’re here?”
He seemed entertained, then pointed at his beat-up Bianchina, which was parked out front. “I’m inviting you out on the boat.”
I was flattered but also a little overwhelmed. “Won’t I be in the way?”
“No, no,” he said. “You won’t. I promise.”
There were a couple of good reasons to turn down Teo’s invitation. For one, the potluck was that evening, and I had told Rita that I was bringingegg salad, which was—as yet—not made. For another, I was married to Paul, and while he hadn’t expressly forbidden me from going on boating outings with Teo, he hadn’t exactly sanctioned the practice, either.
“Paul’s not here,” I said, as if his absence meant I was chained to my kitchen sink.
“I know,” said Teo, and it occurred to me that part of the reason he’d felt comfortable coming by the house was because he knew the tender was out to sea.
I tried a different tack. “Is it not a giant conflict of interest to have an American on the boat? Like if CNEN is collecting samples or whatever?”
