Chapter 19

Sarah sat in the resort’s hot tub and felt her tense muscles soften. That drive was hard. She hadn’t noticed the last time because the view was so exciting. All those hairpin turns in the fog left her nerves frazzled.

The pool was under a bubble-like covering and had huge windows. Stepping indoors was like stepping into a hot house. Sarah was blissfully warm, yet she could see the outdoors clearly, the gardens and the woods dripping from the cold mist. The air smelled of chemicals, but also of pine needles from a collection blown in near the door.

She was alone in the hot tub. Mrs. Gordon sat with Baby Owen on the steps at the shallow end of the pool. She wore a floral swimsuit with a skirt, and Baby Owen patted the skirt down when it floated up in the water. The little fellow was in heaven, splashing with both hands and laughing over and over when the water hit his face. Harold’s turtle drifted nearby, at the ready if Owen ever tired of his game. Mr. Glenn sat in a deck chair with a crossword puzzle, shirt unbuttoned, sitting close enough to Owen that he and his puzzle got wet with the big splashes.

A man swam laps and his wife and daughter lay on lounge chairs. Otherwise they had the pool house to themselves. Sarah lazily watched the trees through the glass, swaying in the wind. She felt like ooze in the steamy water.

“Hot enough for you?”

Sarah started and almost cried out. She thought she was completely alone on her end of the bubble. Now a skinny young man in a white T-shirt and jeans crouched beside her. His name tag said “Dylan.”

“Excuse me?” she said. He was so close she could see the faint peach fuzz on his cheek. He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen.

He didn’t respond but he didn’t move away, in fact, he leaned closer. The hot tub was very hot, and her brain was foggy. He was way too close, and she scooted farther away along the side of the hot tub.

The bubble door opened with a gust of cool air. The proprietor stepped in. The kid stood up without a word and wandered toward the pool. He picked up a mop and slowly pushed it around on the pool deck, soaking up puddles. The proprietor looked around the pool house, smiled and nodded at the guests, and left.

Sarah decided she was warm enough. She climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped herself in a large towel. She hurried over to Mr. Glenn in his deck chair, choosing the side of the pool opposite the pool boy.

“What’s a six-letter word for ‘job’?” he said.

“Career,” Sarah said.

“Yep. That fits.”

“How about ‘mommy’?” said Mrs. Gordon from the pool.

“Doesn’t fit,” said Mr. Glenn.

“Hmph,” said Mrs. Gordon. “What do they know? ‘Mother,’ then.”

“Nope. I think they’re looking for ‘career.’”

“Double hmph,” said Mrs. Gordon.

“See that pool boy?” Sarah said.

“Didn’t even notice him until just now,” Mr. Glenn said.

The boy mopped his way over to the mother and daughter across the pool from them. The daughter was about ten, splayed on her stomach with a book propped up on the end of the lounge chair. The mother leafed through a magazine and sipped a cold drink. The boy lingered behind them, ostensibly mopping up water, but it seemed to Sarah he was staring at her and not the deck.

“I think he’s looking at you, dear,” Mrs. Gordon confirmed.

“I’ll go talk to him, if you like.” Mr. Glenn puffed out his gray-haired chest and let his arms swagger for comic effect.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary, kind sir,” Sarah said, smiling.

“He probably just thinks you’re young and pretty, and he’s screwing up his courage to talk to you,” said Mrs. Gordon.

“We men can always hope,” said Mr. Glenn. “Look what came my way.” He leaned over and put a hand on Mrs. Gordon’s shoulder. She blinked several times, her eyes shiny. Baby Owen gurgled contentedly. Sarah had to look away. The moment seemed too private.