Page 36 of Endless Summer: Stories
“Not at all,” he says.
That night, as Shooter and Celeste are getting ready to go to dinner at Mr. Lyons, there’s a knock at the door. Shooter, wearing only a towel, is standing at the sink, shaving. Celeste is wrapped in the white waffle-weave hotel robe, so she answers the door.
“Hi, Frank,” Shooter hears her say. “Look at you! Thank you so much!”
Shooter hears the door close, then a second later, Celeste’s face appears in the mirror. She’s holding an ice bucket that contains a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
“Look!” she says. “Someone sent us this.”
Shooter steels himself. The bottle must be from Benji; it’s the same champagne he chose when he took Celeste up to the Wauwinet to propose. Shooter has been thinking all afternoon that he got off way too easily. Benji must be planning some kind of elaborate revenge, and the visit by the pool was a trick to lull Shooter into a false sense of security.
“Who’s it from?” he asks carefully.
“I’ll look at the card, hold on,” Celeste says.
Her face appears in the mirror a few seconds later. She’s beaming.
“It’s from Merritt!” she says. “The card says: ‘Here’s to your happily ever after.’”
Happily ever after,Shooter thinks.This is it. Right here on Frank Sinatra Drive.He decides to enjoy it.
While it lasts.
