THE PARTY
A man can smell a desperate woman a mile away. Which was why Isabel was annoyed with herself for waiting for a phone call that never came. Matteo had mentioned early-morning flight training, so she told herself that was the reason for radio silence all week. Gloria, on the other hand, had spent nearly every waking moment aside from work with Dickie. In fact, she’d only spent two nights out of the last seven in her own bed. She was nose over toes in love, and happy to let everyone in on it.
Isabel envied her carefree attitude and gumption. Gloria knew herself and made no apologies. A man was what she’d wanted, and now that she’d found one, she was going all-in. Isabel knew what she wanted in regards to the war, but everything else had fallen to the wayside. Love and life had taken a back seat. She wasn’t sure if that was normal, but that’s the way it was.
It was a cool and crisp Saturday morning. With nothing planned for the whole weekend, she brewed a cup of coffee and sat down with her Japanese dictionary. The coffee here was so rich that she’d doubled her intake since coming to Hawai‘i. It helped that it wasn’t rationed in the islands.
A few minutes later, Gloria waltzed in. “No Matteo today?”
“Nope. Which is just as well, because how am I going to learn Japanese if I don’t have time to study?”
Gloria made a face. “It beats me why you’re so hell-bent on learning Japanese. The writing looks like a cross between finger painting and chicken scratch. Our brains aren’t made for that kind of thing, Isabel,” she said, as if she really had any idea. “How about you come with Dickie and me to Kailua. One of the girls from work has a family house there and a bunch of friends are coming out to barbecue and play horseshoes. It would be fun!”
“I should stay here and catch up on things.”
“Don’t tell me you want to be here in case Matteo calls.”
“Absolutely not.”
Maybe a little.
“Nothing will make a man want you more than you being unavailable. If he does call or come by and you aren’t here, that’ll wake him up,” Gloria said, snapping her fingers.
Isabel looked out the window. Nothing but blue sky. “You sure you want me as a third wheel?”
“Go pack your bag, you’re coming.”
Dickie picked them up an hour later and they went over the Pali again, this time to Kailua. He was dressed in swim trunks, an aloha shirt and a straw hat—the perfect image of a tourist to the islands—and he spent ninety-four percent of the drive talking about himself. By the time they pulled up to the house, Isabel knew that he had been high school class president, had built his first car from scratch, was the club chess champ and voted most likely to succeed by his classmates. He had a penchant for machinery and could assemble anything he set his mind to. Boat, car, radio, you name it.
The interesting part of it all was how the more he boasted, the more Gloria beamed at him. Any time Isabel tried to get a word in, he maneuvered the conversation back to himself. The moment the engine stopped, Isabel hopped out of the car. She couldn’t take another word. Sure, he was handsome, but good looks could not compensate for lack of character.
“Can you believe this place?” Gloria said, slamming the door and twirling around in the grass.
The house was board and batten, one story and green as a forest. The lawn went on for miles and was only interrupted by the odd coconut tree here and there. A few cars were strewn about haphazardly. When they walked around front, they were greeted by a cluster of men playing croquet and several women lounging on towels in the grass, cheering them on.
Isabel immediately regretted coming. Social affairs like this were not her strong suit. More comfortable with her nose in a book, she never knew quite how to join in a conversation and more often than not ended up hanging out with the dog or the cat. Gloria seemed to know most of the girls, and they said their hellos. They all seemed friendly, but after her bad sunburn, Isabel had no desire to sit in the sun roasting herself.
Instead, she went for a short walk on the beach, which was littered with blue bubbles with long tentacles. Portuguese man-of-war, someone had said. She wore a wide brimmed straw hat she’d borrowed from the house, and draped a Hawaiian piece of material over her shoulders. With each step, a layer of the outside world lifted off her. Grief over Walt, worry about her lack of success at CIU, mental strain from thinking so hard, confusion over her feelings for Matteo. All of that slowly evaporated. Peace moved in. And for a time, the tang of salt water and fish was all she knew.
When she returned to the house, more people had arrived. A game of horseshoe had been set up and, off to the side, Dickie and another man were standing over a smoking barbecue pit. Gloria was there with them, saw her and waved. Isabel made a beeline for them.
“Izzy, this is Wayne,” she said, grabbing Wayne by the arm and pushing him toward her.
Wayne turned and his eyes went wide. “This your blue-eyed sister?”
“Sisters in crime,” Gloria said teasingly.
“I told you,” Dickie said to Wayne.
He gave her a once-over and said, “Wanna be my partner in the next horseshoe match?”
“I’m not very good,” Isabel said, which was a flat-out lie. She and Walt used to play for hours on end, and when it got too cold outside, they went in and played chess. Horseshoes was his game, chess hers.
“You just stand there and look pretty,” he said with a wink.
When their turn came up, she allowed Wayne to show her how to toss the horseshoe and explain the rules of the game. He was friendly and nice, but he never once asked if she had played before. She let him assume. In her experience, assumption was a good indicator of ignorance.
When their opponents came up, Isabel recognized the man right away. Lieutenant Clark Spencer, linguist in the Dungeon. Their eyes met and a look of acknowledgment passed over his face. Isabel gave an imperceptible nod. Eva, his wife, was a nurse at Tripler. The two touched every chance they could. A hand on the waist. Shoulder rubbing shoulder. A light kiss. The sweetness gave Isabel a sense of longing.
Clark and Eva went first, both touching the stake right off the bat. Wayne, however, missed it entirely. He seemed more interested in showing off his slabby arms as he tossed than anything else. Above all, horseshoes was a game of concentration. Isabel blocked out everything and tossed. Clink. Tossed again. Clink. Both horseshoes hugged the stake.
Wayne whistled. “Looks like we have a ringer.”
She held up her hands in mock surprise. The game continued much the same, with Isabel landing ringers and leaners, until she heard a very familiar voice in the crowd at her back. She casually turned to see Matteo standing with some of the pilots. Malia was by his side, looking sun-kissed and gorgeous. Matteo hadn’t noticed her yet, but Malia waved. Isabel smiled, then turned away as quickly as she could.
She blew the next shot, and the next, but managed to hit the stake on the last one, holding on to their lead by a grain of sand. Wayne grabbed her hand and held her arm up, spinning her around like a trophy. The group around them cheered, drawing attention their way. Matteo glanced up and caught her eye. His expression was unreadable. It could have been surprise or disappointment or a bit of both. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Once she was able to tear herself away from Wayne, she went to the ladies’ room to splash some water on her face. Looking into the mirror, she gave herself a pep talk. You have bigger things to worry about than Matteo Russi. He’s just a small diversion along the way. Stay strong and stay true to the cause. Do not let him get you down. He means nothing. But if that was true, why did she feel like a fish dragging on the line?
Back outside, wherever Matteo was, Isabel made sure she wasn’t. She forced herself to mingle, not even caring if she had anything smart to say. She even grabbed a cold Primo beer from the cooler. Not like her at all. The only saving grace was that someone had brought a giant black Labrador named Captain, and the dog seemed to sense her unease, following her around like a nanny would a child. Eventually, she ended up sitting under a tree rubbing his stomach and looking out at the ocean, which had gone from deep blue to gray.
Gloria finally came over and kneeled down next to her. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve watched you run away from Matteo like he has VD. The poor man is probably wondering what the dickens happened. Last weekend you were best friends and now you won’t even look at him.”
“That’s not true. I looked at him once.”
Gloria rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he and Malia were together again? Here I was telling you that I might be falling for him.”
“Malia never said a word to me. Besides, I doubt they’re together—” Gloria stopped midsentence, then smiled sweetly at someone behind Isabel. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
Isabel froze.
“Hey.” Matteo smiled down at her.
“Hey.”
Gloria stood. “Excuse me, I’d better move our stuff inside. Looks like rain.”
Matteo jammed his hands into his shorts pockets. “Nice place, huh?
“Very nice.”
“You been here long?”
The air around them felt thick as mud.
“A couple hours.”
Why was it suddenly so hard to hold a conversation?
He knelt down and began rubbing behind Captain’s ears. “Sorry I didn’t call this week. We had night training and they put us through the wringer. I’m still recovering.”
Captain groaned.
Up close, she could see the dark shadows under his eyes, almost like bruises. “No apology needed. I’ve been busy, too.”
“Work?”
“Mostly.”
“Are you here with Gloria or with Wayne?” he asked, trying to seem casual, but his jaw did something funny. In fact, his whole demeanor seemed funny.
“With Gloria. Dickie drove us.”
She didn’t bother to ask him who he came with.
Matteo fingered his dog tag. “I have something for you, Izzy. Are you free this week? Maybe I can give it to you one of these nights?”
“Don’t feel like you owe me anything, Matteo. That’s the last thing I want,” she said.
A raindrop landed on her shoulder.
He frowned. “Why are you acting so weird? Did I do something? Are you mad at me for almost getting us killed?”
“No, I’m not mad at you.”
She was mad at herself. For being foolish—and jealous—and unable to control her emotions. This was new territory. A sheet of rain moved in. Captain sat up.
“Time to move inside,” he said, holding his hand out.
Isabel was afraid to touch him, but didn’t want to be rude. She let him pull her up. His hand was as warm and rough as she remembered. They rushed to the covered lānai along with everyone else. Isabel blended in with the huddled crowd, weaving away from Matteo. The lānai had obviously been built with rainy afternoons in mind and was set up with two long wooden tables, and enough chairs for half the army. Isabel noticed two guys playing chess at the far end of the table. Beer bottles lined up in front of them, as though they’d been playing awhile. She wandered over and looked at the board. The dark-haired guy was two moves away from a checkmate.
“Mind if I watch?” she asked.
Neither looked up.
“Be my guest,” said the other, a big guy with a mop of curls.
On the dark-haired guy’s turn, instead of moving the rook into position for the win, he moved a pawn. Isabel held back a sigh. Or at least she thought she did, because the dark-haired man glared at her.
“Would you have done something different, Miss—”
“Cooper. Now that you ask, I would have.”
Curly made a face. “Too late, mate. Nor do we need any advice from the peanut gallery.”
The rush of rain on the metal roof almost drowned out his words. Isabel stepped away. All along the table, cribbage games had started up, and Gloria was watching Wayne and Dickie play a game of chess. Isabel went over and joined them. It took all of five minutes for Dickie to beat Wayne. They played again and the same thing happened.
Then that buzzing again on the back of her neck. A moment later, Matteo and two other men sat in the empty chairs next to them.
“Want to join in on our cribbage game?” Matteo asked Isabel.
“I’ve never played.”
Before he could respond, Malia appeared. She pulled out the chair on the other side of him and sat. “I’d love to play.”
Matteo said, “Izzy—”
At the same time, his friend said, “You and I can be partners, Malia. I need an old hand.”
“Do you mind, Isabel?” Malia leaned over and asked.
“Not at all.”
Acutely aware of Matteo’s voice and movement at all times, she kept her back to the cribbage and eye on the chess. Dickie soon tired of Wayne, and others cycled through. Never once did he ask Gloria or Isabel to play. While Dickie was a decent player, his opponents were not. Which made him appear unbeatable.
“You all are a very uncivilized lot. Any other takers?” he called down the table with a smug look on his face.
Matteo leaned into Isabel, held his cards over his mouth and whispered. “Take the guy down.”
Isabel smiled in surprise. “What makes you think I can?”
He tapped his head. “I know everything about you. Remember?”
“Walt—”
“Was a proud big brother.”
Across the table, Gloria said, “How about Isabel? She beats me every time.”
Isabel looked at Dickie expectantly.
“Fine by me. I’ll even let you be white,” he said.
“Actually, I prefer black.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Black, it is.”
She knew from watching the past games that he always started with e4—the queen’s pawn moving forward two squares. He did the same with her.
Boring.
She wasted no time in moving her king’s pawn two squares forward. E5 was a riskier play, but likely to lead to a faster game. Already her mind was working out scenarios. Dickie moved his knight to f3. A popular opening. She countered with her knight to c6. The feel of the cool marble felt familiar under her hand.
Dickie rested his chin on two fingers and stared at the board for a while, then slowly raised his steel-blue eyes. “Miss Cooper, I do believe you know a thing or two.”
“I’ve played.”
“A civilized woman. I appreciate that.”
She smiled. “Not always, but most of the time.”
That got a laugh. As the game progressed, people moved in to watch. A sphere of intensity surrounded them. Dickie knew his moves, but he was predictable, a common downfall of players who were good but not great. He backed her into a corner a few times, but she found her way out. For the first time since being in Hawai‘i, she felt completely in her element. A game of chess with a worthy opponent required utter concentration, something she knew a thing or two about.
Matteo ended his cribbage match and took up watching theirs. A line of perspiration formed over Dickie’s upper lip. His mouth pinched. Every time he moved, she countered him.
“Not only are you good, but you’re fast,” Dickie said.
“I don’t believe in wasting time.”
“I don’t believe in losing.”
This time, she laughed.
The wind picked up fury, blowing sideways rain in on them. No one seemed to notice or care. Primo beer and some rotten-sock-smelling spirit called oōkolehao were flowing freely and suddenly everyone on the lānai was riveted by their game. In recent months, Dickie apparently had earned a reputation as the resident chess expert. No one had beat him yet.
“Where did you learn to play?” he asked.
“I taught myself. How about you?”
“My father played in the Berlin chess cafés. I learned from him before I left, before he died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It came with the territory.”
Isabel pulled the pareo up around her shoulders, shivering as she waited for him to make his next move.
Matteo nudged her. “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
Without hesitating, he pulled a towel from behind his chair and set it on her shoulders. His touch felt brotherly and possessive and downright sexy, and she wished it were just the two of them sitting here, weathering the storm. Those warm arms around her, stubble grazing her neck. She shook her head to clear the thought. Dickie finally made his move and Isabel felt a rush of knowing. He was done. Though her heart was pounding, she moved her knight in the most nonchalant manner she could muster.
Dickie searched the board for escape routes. But they both knew there were none. More time passed as he sat there in a state of near panic. Maybe he couldn’t admit defeat, or maybe he wanted to save face. Either way, Isabel was used to it. Most men hated losing to a girl.
Matteo popped a beer and handed it to him. “Here you go, buddy, you might be needing this.”
Dickie did not take the beer. Instead, Gloria did and set it down in front of him.
“Zugzwang,” Isabel finally said.
“Miss Cooper, you played me. Nice work,” he said.
His face flashed anger despite his attempt at a smile.
“I played the game, not you, Mr. Thompson.”
She waited for him to lay down his king. Instead, he grabbed the beer, stood up and knocked the king over with the bottle as he walked away. The crowd parted around him, no one quite sure how to react. Isabel was stunned. Next to her, Matteo started clapping. Soon, whistles and cheers went around the lānai. The two drunk chess players from down the table came up and shook her hand.
“Spectacular game,” said the mop-headed one.
“Come play with us anytime,” said the other.
Isabel smiled graciously.
It was late afternoon now. The rain had settled to a light drizzle, and people began to trickle out. Driving in the rain was bad enough, but rain plus dark plus headlight covers was over the top dangerous. Gloria was off somewhere consoling Dickie, and Isabel was more than ready to leave. She was in the kitchen pouring a glass of water when Matteo walked in.
“I’d offer you a ride, but I hitched a ride with Manny and he’s got a full car,” he said.
“I thought you came with Malia.”
“She rode with us, too. With all of us,” he said, emphasis on the all of us.
He took a step closer.
Isabel’s feet grew roots in the linoleum.
Another step.
He spoke softly. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I can’t seem to—”
“Russi, we’re out!” yelled a man who appeared behind them, silent as a cat.
Matteo jumped a foot in the air. “Damn it, Toots, you scared the crap out of me.”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt, but everyone’s waiting. Come on, man.”
Isabel wanted to reach out and take his hand. Keep him there with her, to finish whatever it was he meant to say. But maybe it was for the best. If she kept him as a friend, she wouldn’t lose him.
At least that was what she told herself.