Choppy Water

7

Stone woke a little before seven, as was his custom, and ran a finger down Holly’s spine. She turned and came into his arms. There was no talking, just plain, hungry sex, until they were both exhausted.

“I asked for breakfast up here at seven-thirty,” Holly said.

“You know me too well.”

“Why is it so dark at this hour?”

Stone got up, found the cord, and swept open twelve feet of curtains. It didn’t get much brighter in the room. Rain was still falling, sometimes traveling horizontally, and the large trees outside were bending with the wind. At the bottom of the large rear garden, which swept down to Broad Cove, he could see a dock, where a Hinckley motor yacht was moored, at times obscured by rain. The cove was sheltered enough that the wind did not disturb it unduly, just created whitecaps.

“Wow!” Holly said, sitting up on the side of the bed. “So that’s what a Maine hurricane looks like.”

Stone turned on the TV and found the Weather Channel. “It’s not the whole thing, just the western edge.”

There was a knock at the door and a male voice shouted, “Breakfast!”

“Just a moment, please!” Holly shouted back. They both found robes in their respective dressing rooms, then she went to the door and let Jim, carrying a large tray, into the room. “Just set it on the bed, Jim,” she said, and he did, then left.

“Seven-thirty sharp,” Stone said.

They got back into bed and used their remote controls to raise them into sitting positions. Stone found a morning program and they listened to the news, while they tucked into their sausages and eggs.

Toward the end of the half hour, a good photograph of Holly appeared on-screen, and the young news reader said, “President-elect Holly Barker continues her disappearing act, having not been spotted anywhere on the Eastern Seaboard, or elsewhere for that matter. You go, girl!”

Holly got a laugh out of that.

“What do you want to do today?” Stone said.

“Oh, I don’t know, how about a long walk?”

Stone laughed. “Check in with me when you get back.”

“You mean you don’t want to be soaking wet and windburned?”

“I mean exactly that.”

“Well, there’s plenty to read,” she said, indicating the bookcase surrounding the TV.

“And there are more on the shelves on the landing, outside our door, and there’s a study somewhere downstairs.”

The lights and TV suddenly went out, but five seconds later they came back on.

“There’s a generator, just like at my house.”

The satellite TV took a minute or two to reset before the picture was restored.

There was another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Holly shouted.

Dino and Viv walked in. “Tennis, anyone?” Dino said.

“Water polo, more likely,” Stone replied.

“Viv has put a gun to my head and demanded a walk. So we’re going to take some boots and slickers from the mudroom two floors down and wander down the road, see who we see.”

“Better you than me,” Stone said.

“I’ll come,” Holly said. “Give me five minutes.” She headed for her dressing room with Viv tagging along.

Dino turned around one of the two armchairs facing the TV and sat down. “Well, it’s not exactly what we’d planned, is it?”

“None of it,” Stone said. “I think Holly’s still depressed about what happened to her detail. Thanks for suggesting the walk. I think trying not to drown will put her mind at ease for a while.”

“It is goddamned awful out there. Maybe I’ll let the two go by themselves.”

“There’ll be at least four agents along,” Stone said, “and maybe a dog. The summer people have gone, but maybe there’s a year-round resident or two. Tell her not to get recognized.”

“I think they should send an agent ahead to warn them if somebody pops up. Then they can turn back,” Dino said.

The women came back. “Ready, Dino?”

“I’m chickening out,” Dino said. “Send up a pot of coffee, will you? Maybe Stone and I can find an old movie on TV.”

As he said that, the picture on the TV seemed to shatter into pieces.

“Satellite TV doesn’t like heavy precip,” Stone said. “You’d better find a book.” He pointed at a long line of small books on the top shelf over the TV. “There’s the complete works of P. G. Wodehouse; that should keep you in laughs for a few weeks.”

“Suit yourself,” Holly said. “Oh, there’s something I want to show you, Stone, if you can get out of bed long enough.”

Stone struggled to his feet. “Lead on.”

She led him out of the room to the landing, where there was a pair of wing chairs and a bookcase covered a wall. “All World War II history and biography,” Holly said.

“Wonderful!” Stone enthused.

“But that’s not what I wanted to show you.” She took hold of the center of the bookcase and pulled. The case swung open, revealing a kitchenette and laundry room behind it.

“Ah, a good place for Dino and me to hide, if the bad guys show up.” She closed it again, making it a seamless bookcase again.

“We’re off,” Holly said, and she and Viv went downstairs. Stone and Dino went back into the bedroom, turned the chairs toward the TV, and pulled up their ottomans. Jim came in with a pot of coffee and cups and set it all on the table between them, then went back downstairs.

Dino poured them a cup each. “I’ve been talking with Bill Wright about who the assailants were on Islesboro.”

“Any conclusions?”

“He got a call from the FBI while we were talking. The Bureau thinks we’re dealing with some sort of militia — white supremacists, probably.”

“I suppose it could be.”

“They could be misogynists, as well,” Dino said. “The reasoning is that while having a woman as president was bad, having two in a row is intolerable. At least one group has been suggested by a watchdog group in Alabama, but nobody has taken credit.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Stone said. “If somebody takes credit, the media will know it happened and go nuts. That would make it a lot more difficult for us to move around, assuming we want to.”

“I think we should stay here for as long as everybody can stand it,” Dino said.

“Okay with me,” Stone said, “but eventually, cabin fever will set in, and we’ll have to find a new cabin.”