Nate had already showered, dressed, and was drinking coffee on the porch when Izzy pulled into the driveway. She bounded up the walk, carrying plastic sacks from a grocery store.
“Greetings, husband. I feared we wouldn’t have enough snacks, so I bought chips, salsa, and two six-packs of Peach Snapple.”
Nate met her at the steps to relieve her of her burdens. “Wow, plus boiled peanuts and two kinds of Twizzlers. Your stomachache must be past history.” He set the bags inside the door of their suite.
“It is. I feel on top of the world—Oh, good morning, Mrs. Russo. Let me get that for you.” Isabelle held open the door for their innkeeper.
“Did I hear someone mention they’re hungry?” Mrs. Russo set down her silver tray in front of Nate. “We have spinach and cheddar omelets, hash browns, and turkey sausage. What kind of juice would y’all like?”
“Tomato for me, and coffee, please.” Izzy settled into the opposite chair.
“Couldn’t fall back asleep after I left?” Nate shook his napkin across his lap.
“I was just tossing and turning, so I decided to make myself useful.” She cut her omelet into pieces.
“Good thing we have a small refrigerator in our room.”
“What do you mean?” She swallowed her first bite.
“For the twelve Peach Snapples you couldn’t live without.” Nate studied her over his coffee mug.
“I already forgot what I bought,” she said, chuckling. “I see you’ve been studying the brochures. Where to today, Skipper?”
“It’s going to be a hot one, so I narrowed it down to the water park in Gulfport or snorkeling from a catamaran. They take you out over a coral reef where we’re guaranteed to see fish.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Nate. I’d hate to get sunburned and look like a lobster all week.”
“We brought plenty of sunblock, and you have a swim T-shirt. Which reminds me, how about seafood tonight as long as we avoid any crab dishes? I thought I’d get a lock on supper before we finish breakfast.” Having beaten Izzy to the punch with her favorite joke, Nate laughed uproariously. She loved to plan their next meal while eating the current one.
But Isabelle missed his clever humor. She was eating mindlessly while staring at a dish of butter.
Nate cleared his throat. “Or we could sign up for the submarine that dives off the continental shelf. It’s a battery-powered submersible that two people operate themselves. We can bounce along the ocean floor in search of giant squid.”
Isabelle picked up her glass of tomato juice. “Whichever excursion you prefer,” she murmured. “I’ll let you decide. All three sound great.”
Nate set down his fork. “Out with it, Izzy. What’s bothering you? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
Instead of denying the allegation, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Nate. I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain where I went this morning.”
“I thought you went to buy food we don’t need,” he said softly.
“That was just a ruse by a deceitful woman.” Isabelle’s chin quivered. “I was staking out Golden Magnolia Casino, watching for Craig.”
Nate blinked like an owl under a spotlight. “Why would you sneak off to see your ex-husband?”
“Because I was worried about him.” With a shaky hand she brought her coffee cup to her lips.
“Did you find him?”
She nodded. “Yes, and he told me lie after lie. He said Cassie encouraged him to come here, and that his gambling was under control. I know it isn’t. He’s fallen off the wagon or whatever they call a relapsed gambler. He’s lost weight, his hair hasn’t been cut in weeks, his face is scruffy, and the bags under his eyes could hold enough clothes for a month.”
Nate struggled to keep his voice level. “That’s how he looked to me too.”
“Craig said he’s fallen out of love with Cassie, but there’s no other woman. I think he’s flat broke and ashamed to go home.” Isabelle wrung her hands in her lap.
“He has a right to mess up his life, Izzy.”
“That’s what he said. He told me to butt out. I feel sorry for him.”
“You can’t force a person into treatment. Craig must be willing to change.”
“What about those staged interventions, where family and friends insert themselves between the addict and their compulsion? Are we not our brother’s keeper?”
“Not this week we’re not. Enough, Isabelle. Craig is becoming your obsession.”
That stopped her like a brick wall. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s starting to sound like it. For the rest of our honeymoon, I want you to relax and have fun.” Nate threw his napkin down and pushed away his plate. “At home, you worry whether your clients can obtain financing. You worry about your coworkers’ money troubles. You worry about the ozone layer, global warming, and the country’s national debt.” Nate’s voice lifted with intensity. “Maybe carrying the weight of the world has affected your health.”
“What do you mean?” Isabelle sipped her water, the ice cubes long gone.
“I mean we’ve been married two years, and it’s still just the two of us.” Nate spotted Mrs. Russo dragging the hose to the front of the house. Must she water the begonias and pansies now?
“I didn’t think you were ready for a family. We’re still renting, we need to replace my car, and I still owe three grand on a credit card from my divorce.”
“If people waited until their financial ducks were in a row, the birthrate would drop to zero. I’m ready to be a dad. I can provide for us while you take some time off. And we can buy a house this fall as long as you’re not thinking mini mansion.” Nate wrapped his hand around hers. “What do you say?”
Isabelle’s smile said it all. “I say forget the submarine ride under the ocean. Let’s go make a baby.”
Mrs. Russo inched precariously close to the porch, eavesdropping shamelessly.
“Simmer down, Mrs. Price,” Nate cautioned. “I didn’t collect these brochures for nothing. Pick something out for today.”
“Had you going there, didn’t I?” She winked. “Let’s put on our swimsuits and head to Gulfport. I can’t wait to get water up my nose on the giant slide.”
Nate carried their plates to the tray by the door. He couldn’t wait to spend a day alone with his wife. And it had nothing to do with rafts floating down a lazy river.