Page 62 of While You Were Spying
“We need to get her and her husband alone so we can talk to them in private without her fans listening in. I suggest we go for a walk and see if we can locate them. If we’re lucky, they’re on their own.”
I quickly shower, change into shorts and a T-shirt, and we head downstairs. I automatically reach for Isabelle’s hand without realizing what I’m doing. The action feels more natural each time, to the point where it feels strange not holding her hand when we walk together.
Caroline isn’t in the lobby, but Demek and Anthony are.
“You two look like you couldn’t wait to start our homework,” Anthony says.
“Are you telling me you and Demek didn’t rush to your room to do the same?” Isabelle asks in what I recognize to be her flirty voice.
Demek cracks up laughing.
Anthony ignores him. “We’re going out to the pool to soak up some sun and drink cocktails before the cooking class. Do you want to join us?”
Isabelle lightly squeezes my hand. “That sounds like a great idea. We’d love to join you.”
They lead the way to the main pool area, and we locate an empty table with a large green umbrella blocking it from the hot sun. The place is busy with other couples, but Caroline and her husband aren’t here.
“I love your accent,” Isabelle tells Demek after we’ve ordered drinks from the waiter, who appeared shortly after we sat down. “Have you lived in the US for long?”
“For about five years. I thought by now I would have gotten rid of it, but so far it has stuck tight. There goes my chance at being a Hollywood star and playing American roles.” He laughs.
His husband chuckles. “Right, because your lack of an American accent is therealreason you won’t be a Hollywood star.”
“All right. Not being a convincing actor doesn’t help either.” Demek winks at Isabelle, and she giggles. The only time I’ve heard her giggle is when she’s flirting with other men.
But that’s not what she’s doing now. She’s working her magic on him.
“What made you decide to move here?” she asks.
“Anthony. I met him when we were both traveling in Europe, and we hit it off. We kept in contact and I came to visit him.”
“And like they say, the rest is history.” Anthony lifts Demek’s hand, showing off his husband’s wedding ring.
Isabelle leans forward to look at it. “That’s beautiful. Does yours look the same?”she asks Anthony.
Anthony shows her his ring, which is identical to Demek’s.
This, of course, leads them to want to see our rings.
“I love your engagement ring,” Anthony tells Isabelle, inspecting her teardrop diamond ring. “It’s gorgeous. Is it a family heirloom?” he asks me.
“It was my grandmother’s.” Like with the hand-holding, seeing the ring on Isabelle’s finger seems so right—like it doesn’t belong anywhere else.
My heart tightens. It’s not an unpleasant sensation. Just the opposite.
“What do you two do for a living?” Isabelle asks.
“We’re both architects,” Anthony says. “And as of last year, we created our own company that is proving to be very successful.”
The four of us talk a little longer before Caroline, Davis, Blake, and Virginia join us and order drinks.
The eight of us chat until it’s time for the cooking class. Unfortunately, neither Isabelle nor I have a chance to talk to Caroline on her own. But she does charm and entertain the group with stories of her political achievements and amusing blunders.
Her husband adds funny anecdotes, but he also lets her be center stage. The group asks her a lot of questions, especially Demek, who is fascinated by her, if not a little awestruck. Most she answers. Some she gracefully sidesteps.
* * *
The eight ofus enter a different classroom from the one we were in this morning. A central counter is parked in the middle, a large tilted mirror above it. The remaining space accommodates apartment-sized kitchens, lined up against three walls.
