Love Deluxe (19 page)

“I love that, the name of our cottage is the
Wild Blue Yonder
, but we call it the
Wild Blue
. I own it with my sisters, when we built it we knew that’s what we would name it, on family vacations growing up our dad always told us, “We’re headed off to the wild blue yonder.” We loved the excitement of it, it didn’t matter whether that meant Galveston or Garner State Park, it was just the most thrilling thing in the world to three little girls.”

A young man, almost as blond as John and deeply tanned untied ropes that tethered the boat to its slip. He hopped on board and said “Hey Sam, smooth out there today, nice cruising weather.” He wore a t-shirt and cap with
Blue Moon
printed on them.

“Good, we don’t want anyone getting seasick,” McKay said. “Josh, this is Cate Stuart and her husband John Foster. Josh is the captain, but he lets me take the wheel once in a while.”

John followed Josh to the bridge and they talked and laughed as the boat maneuvered into the bay, past the ‘
no wake’
signs and picked up speed as we reached the open water. It was a perfect day to be out; the air was brisk as we cruised along.

“Come on I’ll show you the cabin,” McKay said. “You’ve got chill bumps; I’ll get you a parka.”

The rooms were as beautiful as John described, all polished wood, with curved leather sofas in the living room. The kitchen was perfectly outfitted with stainless appliances and granite counters and the bathrooms were outfitted in mahogany and marble. The bunkroom had curtains that drew across each bed for privacy, there were two guest rooms and a master with a king bed and built-in chests and cabinets made from exotic polished wood.

“The owner’s suite?” I asked, and he blushed and laughed self-consciously.

“Let’s get you something warm to put on.”

We moved into the living room and he said, “Look at this painting, it’s awful, don’t you agree?”

“Well…” 

“Enough said, I want to replace it, you know antiques and I would guess you know art as well.”

He reached into a closet and helped me into a white parka with a small embroidered replica of the boat on the front left side with
Blue Moon, Destin, Florida
below it.

“I love art,” I said, “I was an art major in college.”

“I can believe that, you have a great sense of style.”

“Right,” I said, “here I am in ripped jeans and Superga sneakers.”

“You were in
Chanel
the night I met you if I’m not mistaken.”

I was caught off guard, surprised that a former football coach from Alabama could recognize a
Chanel
outfit, and even more so that he remembered what I was wearing that night.

He laughed at the look on my face, “I have a sister who’s married to one of those Wall Street wizards, let’s just say she’s devoted to
Chanel
.”

“Lucky girl! I do love
Chanel
but that happens to be the only couture outfit I own. And really, I don’t know why, I’ve always bought pretty much whatever I liked, my husband was good that way, he just wanted me to be have what I wanted. But, why gild the lily he always said, I would look fine in a potato sack. He was looking through the eyes of love, I suppose. I have to admit I’ve always wanted a
Chanel
purse, just classic black with the diamond pattern and chain handle. I never told him or he would have given me a dozen. He gave me strands and strands of pearls, he said he loved the way I twisted them in my hand as I talked, how they warmed against my skin. I wear them with everything,” I said, fingering the dark grey Tahitian pearls at my neck, “I wear pearls with a t-shirt and won’t buy myself a
Chanel
purse, crazy, huh?”

I looked up then and he was studying me intently as I spoke. There was a certain look of contentment on his face, a look I’d witnessed on Henry’s face countless times.

We stood quietly for a moment and then he said, “We’d better check on those two upstairs, we might be in Cuba by now.”

***

All the way to the beach house John talked nonstop. The boat this, the boat that, Josh is so cool, Sam McKay is the man, he owns the entire top floor of that high rise, did you know that’s a five million dollar boat? He was blissfully sunburned and beyond excited that McKay was coming to the cottage for dinner on Wednesday.

“He wants you to pick out a painting for him! Man, my sweetie is a magnet for rich people.”

I just smiled slightly, not up to the “money doesn’t make the man” speech again, maybe it was overwhelming if you’d never lived that life. He’d probably go into anaphylactic shock if I described the houses and ranches I’d stayed in with full time cooks, butlers and rooms for on-staff pilots.

“You’re too easily impressed,” I told him. “You do understand that he was a football coach at one time, don’t you? He’s no different than we are except that his problems have more zeros at the end.”

Chapter Fourteen

Wednesday morning the painters and carpenter were working on the house and John was having a shouting match on the phone with his father. I put on a sunhat and rode my bike to the center of town. I walked along the sidewalks of Ruskin Place, browsing through art galleries hoping to find something perfect for the Blue Moon. I picked out three paintings that could work and made a mental note to mention them to McKay. I thought of an abstract painting of palm trees I’d purchased a few years before at the Studio Gallery in Grayton Beach and I rode over to see if they were still handling the artist’s work. The minute I entered the gallery a painting propped on an easel caught my eye and I knew it was the one.

“Is this a Joss Javitz canvas?” I asked the woman who greeted me.

“Yes, isn’t it glorious? We have only two left from this series, they’ve been very well received. This one is called
Azure Palm
and over here we have her larger study,
Saffron Palm on White
.”

“I want them both,” I said, entranced, and she rushed to get her sales book without another word. I checked the description and price on the larger painting and thought,
oh, Lord!
I swallowed hard and knew I had to trust my judgment, I’d made plenty of money choosing and selling antiques and art, I had an eye for aesthetically appealing objects and these were paintings that I couldn’t let slip away.

I popped in to Modica Market and picked up groceries to cook for dinner— filets cut three inches thick, salad, asparagus, ears of corn, fresh baked French bread, individual molten chocolate cakes and ice cream. McKay was bringing the wine. I loaded the basket on my bicycle and sat at an outside table to make a phone call.

“This is Sam McKay.”

I smiled hearing his voice.

“McKay? Stuart here, are you bringing a date tonight?” 

“Cate Stuart you bet I am. If you consider my boat captain a date, your husband invited him, did he tell you?”

“Yes, he did and I’m glad Josh accepted. But what I need to know is if you can make it out here a bit earlier? I’ve found two paintings and I’m madly in love with both of them, they’re on hold until six o’clock. I intend to buy one for myself and the other is perfect for your boat, can you work that in to your busy schedule?”

“You can count on me,” he said.

***

McKay and Josh pulled up in a black SUV, I leaned against the screen door and said, “It’s about time.”

“We’re here to the exact minute, just as her majesty requested,” McKay said as he climbed the steps to the porch.

He carried a case of red wine and I asked, “Are you sure that’s enough?”

“Hostess gift,” he said and set it on the kitchen counter.

“Well, hide it from John or it will be history.”

I told them we we’re doing some remodeling, that the kitchen was a mess.

“You’ll have to come back when it’s finished, both of you.”

“It’s a great house,” McKay said, “I love this area. I wanted to buy some property here but there’s no place to park my boat.”

“Well who wants to shop for art?” I asked. “We need to get to the studio before it closes.”

“Hey,” John said, coming in to the room, “I didn’t know you guys were here already. We should go down to the beach, the sand is unreal.”

They all shook hands, patted each other on the back and McKay said, “I believe we’re going to see some art, are we all in?”

John opened the box of wine and pulled out a bottle, “Did you bring this Sam? Great, let’s open a bottle and toast something.”

“Let’s not,” I said, taking the bottle from him, “we need to see the paintings before the studio closes. Is everyone up for that?”

Josh didn’t say a word, his stance said, “I’ll do whatever I’m told.”

“You two go on to the beach if you like,” McKay told them, “I can’t imagine it will take long to look at a couple of paintings.”

“Good deal,” John said, grabbing two beers from the fridge, he handed one to Josh and they were out the door.

***

“I love them,” McKay said, as we stood in front of the larger painting. “The blue one is great for the boat and I’ll find a place in the condo for this one. Who is this artist? I don’t pretend to know anything about art but these are amazing.”

“She’s a southern artist,” I said. “Listen, you don’t have to take the large painting, I was going to buy it for myself, but if you love it, I understand.”

I asked the sales woman for my dealer discount, she subtracted ten percent and asked how I would like to pay. McKay handed her a credit card and stopped me as I try to hand her mine as well.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re happy with them. If you need help placing the painting in your condo….” 

“Would you like to have them delivered?” asked the clerk. “We have a man who can deliver and hang them if you like.”

“No, no, I’ll fold the back seats down; just put some bubble wrap around them, please.”

The larger painting barely fit in the back of his Denali and I marveled at it in the sunlight, the colors were subtle yet vibrant. I told him about the artist as we drove to the cottage, her vision, the way she used color and perspective to illustrate the complexity of forms in nature.

When we pulled into the gravel drive he said, “Just a minute, I don’t want you arguing with me in front your husband and Josh about this, the big painting is yours and get that ‘I don’t need anything’ look off your face because it’s not open for discussion. It’s a gift, nothing more, no hidden meaning, no strings attached. I love the painting you took the time to find for me and I appreciate your friendship. I’m able to give you something you want and I would like for you to just put a lid on your pride and let me do this for you simply because I want to, and because I’m able to, and that’s that.”

I leaned my head back against the seat and felt like crying at the generosity of this man and this gift but I let out a long sigh and said, “My mother always says the way to accept a gift gracefully is to simply say thank you. Sam McKay, I sincerely thank you.”

***

Dinner was a success but all through the meal my mind drifted back to the painting, should I have accepted it and why did I let John think I bought it myself? I drank more than usual and had the men laughing at a string of racy jokes. I spilled my wine a few too many times and John took the glass from me.

“My wife’s kind of a light-weight,” he said, “maybe it’s time she said goodnight.”

I found his comment way too funny and laughed hysterically as he led me to the bedroom, helped me lie down and went back to say goodnight to our guests. When they’d gone he sat on the edge of the bed and gently undressed me.

“You alright, buddy?” he asked.

“Um-huh, that was some damn good wine,” I said, and giggled, turning on my side to face him.

He twined his hand in my hair, ran his fingers along the planes of my face, “You’re so beautiful, sometimes I wish…”

“What do you wish, my love?” I murmured, lifting his shirt and kissing his chest moving down to the rippled muscles of his stomach.

He pulled me up to kiss me, “I wish you weren’t so sexy, I wish that man wasn’t in love with you…. I know I’ll lose you someday.”

***

I woke up early with a pounding headache. I swallowed some Motrin with a big gulp of water from the faucet, filled the bathtub and climbed in to soak until the pain went away. When the world seemed normal again, I brushed my hair into a lose ponytail, surprised at how long it had gotten and dressed in jeans, t-shirt and a zippered hoodie.

In the dining room I sat and stared at the wonderful painting that leaned against the wall.
Why did he give it to me
? Of course money wasn’t an issue for him, he had plenty and wouldn’t I do the same for a friend if I were in his shoes? Still, I felt a twinge of guilt. I took a note pad out of a drawer in the kitchen and wrote a quick thank you note. I looked up his address on the internet, wrote it on an envelope, stuck on a stamp, and walked two blocks to the tiny Post Office to drop it in the mail.

“Wake up sleeping beauty,” I shook John and he smiled before his eyes opened. “Come on we’re going on an adventure!”

He moved my hand under the duvet to his morning erection, and moaned.

“That can wait we have places to go and worlds to conquer.”

His eyes flew open wide, “Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear from that pretty mouth of yours!”

“What?”

“That sex can wait,” he said. “That doesn’t sound like my sweetie.” 

“Don’t look so hurt, we’ll pull off on the side of the road and do it in the bushes. Now come on, get dressed and throw some clothes in a bag or I’ll leave without you.”

I gave instructions and a spare key to the carpenter and painters while John dressed, he talked to them again before we left, threatening their lives if anything was messed up or missing when we returned.

“Where we going, buddy? What kind of an adventure do you have planned? My sweetie is full of surprises, I love a road trip.”

“Well, you’re gonna be in heaven then, cuz we’re just hitting the open road, I want to show you the real Florida, old Florida off the beaten path. Buddy, there are cypress trees so splendid they’ll make you want to cry and rivers full of manatees and alligators and prehistoric fish that jump straight out of the water! We don’t have a plan except to meander along and end up in Mt. Dora, there’s an antiques market there and I need to buy some things for my shop and have them shipped to Texas. We’ll stop in Micanopy, there’s a shop that book shop where I can pick up some old leather bound books, I like the ones with illustrations. I take them apart and frame the covers and the most interesting pages; they’re beautiful and they sell like crazy. The little town is enchanting, just one main street but so picturesque, you just have to see it, trust me, there are wonders to behold.”

I laughed at that and ran my hand along his leg.

He reached over and tugged on my pony tail, “You know what? You are the most
fun
girl in the world.”

We drove East on Highway 98, through Panama City and small towns along the beach, John with his window down and the sun on his face was completely euphoric. We stopped for the night at the
Apalachicola River Inn
, dropped our bags in the room and went to
Boss Oyster
for dinner.

“Oysters?” John asked, his face a grimace. “Raw, you really eat them?”

“Yes,” I told him. “They’re a specialty here, something about the water they grow in and the tides and the wind blowing a certain way. Trust me, you’ll like them, they’re not watery or slimy, besides, they hold all the mystery of the Gulf inside them.”

“Okay, I’ll do it if you want me to, but you have to drink a beer.”

“A beer, no, are you kidding, I can’t stand the smell of beer, why do I have to drink a filthy beer?”

“Because, beer holds all the secrets of the world.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re mean. Fine, you order one and I’ll taste it.”

“Nope, that’s not the deal, I eat oysters— you drink beer.” He held out his hand, “Let’s shake on it.”

I shook his hand and he looked immensely pleased.

He leaned across the table and kissed me softly and said, “I love you, buddy, I love being with you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

He ordered two Snake Dog Pale Ales, we toasted and I took a drink and wanted to spit it back in the bottle, but I closed my eyes and swallowed.

He laughed and said, “Good girl, see how you are? You can do anything. Now take another drink, you’ll get used to it— that’s it, you got buddy.”

The oysters arrived, I showed him how to savor it on his tongue then take a bite of toasted French bread. He managed the first one with brine dripping down his chin, I wiped it off with my napkin and giggled, the beer I’d drunk too quickly made me giddy.

“They’re good,” he said, and ate another, “but you don’t like the beer, do you?”

I took a long drink from the new bottle the waiter placed in front of me and said, “No, it tastes like horse piss.”

“It does?”

“How the hell should I know?” I laughed. “Do you think I’ve ever drunk horse piss?”

We gave in to a fit of laughter and the sound was such an easy delight that the waiter and patrons in the restaurant laughed with us. John’s eyes were as bright as the stars and I wanted nothing more than to witness the look of love they held for me. Night settled over the Gulf as we ate and drank and my soul felt soft and serene. I wanted to stay in that moment, calm and unburdened. I kicked off a shoe and put my foot in his lap, moving it slowly, holding his eyes with mine.

“I’ve created a monster,” he said as he pressed my foot to his growing erection.

“I have no shame,” I said, “you’ve ruined me for anyone else, there’s no hope for me now.”

He motioned for the check and paid it. I stumbled once or twice as we made our way to the room and we ducked into hallways to kiss and let our hands find the shape of each other’s body. Our laughter had turned to lust and he fumbled with the door to our room and then we were inside frantically shedding shoes and clothes and he turned me toward the bed and pushed me over it, entering me roughly. It was too deep and I buried my cries in the comforter, but he thrust again and again, groaning as he punished that spot inside me that only he had discovered. I felt myself lifting against him as he held me steady with one hand and kneaded my breast roughly with the other. His breath was searing hot against my neck as he whispered my name over and over until a violent orgasm ripped through me and I pushed back hard, grinding into him and his voice became a shout as he shuddered and together we sank into the bed.