Page 35 of The Plus-One Deal
Conrad said nothing, absorbed in his phone call. By the time he was finished, the turtle was gone.
“Sorry,” he said. “Joe’s just— Hold on.” His phone was buzzing again, and again, he picked up. I felt my cheeks warm and knew I was flushing. Hadn’t I told him he could stay back? Why had he come, even, with his phone turned on? Making me apologize for his distraction?
“It’s a crisis,” I said again. “His office, he?—”
“You don’t have to explain.” Verity pulled me back to the window. “That’s the thing with success: you have to maintain it. And sometimes, that means being a little bit rude. If you have any calls to make, you should know we won’t mind.”
“I made mine last night,” I said, a little bit snippy. Then I heard myself, and I wilted, embarrassed. “Sorry. I think?—”
“All done,” said Conrad. He came over to join us, slipping his phone in his pocket. “I told Joe I’m on the water, about to lose my signal. Anything else, it can wait for tonight.”
My heart welled with gratitude, then fresh chagrin. I’d let my pique show, or as Sunny would put it, my butthurt. Conrad had done nothing but take a few calls. It would bemyoutburst Verity remembered. If anyone had blown this, it was me. I was up to my neck in self-recrimination when I felt Conrad’s hand on my shoulder.
“I have an idea,” he said, with a smile. “There’s this great seafood place near the resort. Why don’t we go after this, then go exploring? My treat, of course.”
Ken brightened at that. “I’d love some seafood.”
“Me too,” said Verity. “I think I know where you mean, and there’s a market just past there. All kinds of handicrafts, great souvenirs. I’d love to pick up some gifts for my nieces.”
I leaned my head on Conrad’s arm to show I was grateful. “That sounds amazing. Iamkind of starving.”
“Yeah, it’s the sea air. It makes you hungry.” Verity rubbed at her own empty belly. Maybe, after everything, we were back on track.
Lunch was delicious, a real seafood banquet, each dish they brought out to us more delicious than the last. Whether thanks to the sea air, the food, or the coffee, Conrad was wide awake and flexing his charm, entertaining Ken and Verity with tales of his travels. Work had taken him everywhere, all round the world, and he had a funny anecdote or a poignant one from every port. Some of his stories were new to me too, and I found myself rapt in them and the way he told them, rich with nostalgia and vivid detail. Like he was living them again through their telling. Did he miss those early days, out chasing partners? Was his new, sparkling life not all that he’d dreamed?
“So we told them, don’t try it. It’s farther than it looks. But they got in their kayak, and what could we do? These two engineers, skinny as weeds, went rowing out into the Firth of Clyde. They lost their paddle a hundred yards out, and these two Scottish lifeguards had to go save them.”
Verity was laughing. “What, they swam out?”
“Yes! They were swimming, and these guys in a kayak — they couldn’t even make it as far as two swimmers. The rest of us were acting like we didn’t know them, packing our things up to get back to Glasgow.” Conrad sighed. “That was so long ago now. Such a good trip.”
I glanced at him, and there was that look again, dreamy, sentimental. A sad little smile. Then it was gone, and he laughedalong with us. When the bill came, he paid it, and we headed off to the market, Verity chattering about her nieces back home. She found a booth where she could get their names carved onto shells and strung onto sparkling silver bracelets. While she did that, Conrad and I went exploring.
“I want to remember this,” I said, examining a rack of silk scarves. “But these are for tourists. See? Made in Taiwan. I want to take something real back, not just some tat.”
“Something real, eh?” Conrad seemed thoughtful. “I used to take menus home everywhere I went. Not on purpose at first, but then I’d ask to take them. You’ll never catch me talking about this dish I had in Kyoto, only I can’t remember what it was called. I still have the menu, so I can tell you exactly, and sometimes what’s in it, and if it has gluten.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised. I hadn’t pictured Conrad taking souvenirs at all, or caring much for his travels beyond growing his business.
“It has to be something everyday, I think, to be real. Something common like a menu, or something you’d use.” He took down a beaded bag from a tottering rack. “This, for example.”
“I wouldn’t use that.”
He put the bag back and strolled to the next booth, and browsed through its wares with intense concentration. After a while, he picked out a keychain, a cute little pewter one with a sunfish fob. He held it up so the sun caught its enameled scales.
“You’d use this, wouldn’t you? You use your keys every day.”
“I guess I do.”
“Then, good. We’ll take it.” He paid for the keychain and handed it over, and I slid my keys off my old chain and onto the new one. I had to admit, it was just what I’d wanted, something I’d see and touch every day. Something I’d keep close to me. Close to my heart. I clutched it and frowned, my chest going tight. Conrad touched my elbow.
“Hey. You okay?”
I dropped the keychain in my purse and nodded. “Yeah, fine.”
“You kind of zoned out there. You want to sit down?”
“Let’s see how Verity’s doing with those bracelets.” I smiled brightly at Conrad and took his arm, but cuddling so close to him just made my heart ache. It wasn’t his keychain I wanted to bring home. It was him, this, us — the one thing I couldn’t.