Donald Westlake - High Adventure

Kirby had argued against her staying that first time, but she’d been adamant, and at last he’d agreed, and kissed her, and flown away. She’d watched Cynthia rise above the blue water into the paler blue sky, waggle her wings in farewell and roll away to the south, and she’d had no idea then if he would come back or not. If he did return it would mean he loved her as she loved him, they could trust one another, they were right to be together. And if he never came back, that would at least be a good thing to know.

And if he didn’t come back she was sure that, sooner or later, once again she would be rescued.

But, as it turned out, she was past rescue now; Kirby had come back. Now she traveled with him perhaps one time in three, and mostly only went up in Cynthia for her flying lessons, which progressed slowly but steadily.

Valerie finished the hem, knotted the thread, bit off the end, and put the needle away in the little terracotta incense pot (fake-ancient, a gift from Tommy Watson). Standing, she shook out the skirt, looked at it, decided it was all right, and folded it over her forearm; there was a mirror in the house, she’d try it on there. She was stooping to pick up the incense pot when the buzz first became audible.

Cynthia.

She could always hear the plane some time before she saw it. Staying back in the shade, nevertheless holding one hand out above her eyes, Valerie searched the skies, and there it was, just circling by to come in from the northwest, against the easterly breeze. Cynthia disappeared briefly behind the cocoanut palms, then emerged again, much lower, about to touch down on the sand far to Valerie’s left.

It took airplanes such an amazingly long distance to stop after they’d landed. Still moving quite briskly, Cynthia rolled down the beach past Valerie, who waved, then continued on a while farther, and at last stopped. A brief engine roar, and then the plane turned around and trundled back, wingtips bobbing slightly. Smiling, Valerie started out of the tree shade, when all at once she realized Kirby wasn’t alone. There were other people in the plane.

Oh, dear; and she naked. Quickly she stepped into the skirt and fixed the snaps at its side. There was nothing she could do about her top, and it would just be too silly and childish to run away to the house. Well, she’d just have to pretend everything was perfectly normal.

Kirby had climbed down from the plane and waved to her, and now two people were getting out, a man and a woman. A brave smile on her face — I am not embarrassed at being bare-breasted — Valerie walked down like a proper hostess to greet her guests.

The man and woman were both under 30, and extremely unalike. The woman was a skinny little ash blonde, with dry-looking skin the color of mahogany and a very attractive but tough-looking face. The man was very tall and gawky and pale-skinned, with a layer of soft baby fat all over his body. He was very slightly bucktoothed, and looked eager and naive and innocent and well-intentioned, whereas the woman looked like somebody who’d seen everything and believed nothing.

“Valerie,” Kirby said, grinning, as she arrived, “I’d like you to meet a couple people I just ran into down in San Pedro. Ran into again . This is Tandy; she’s a Texas girl with a rich daddy.”

“How do you do,” Valerie said.

Tandy looked her up and down, taking it all in, the unusually tall girl with the all-over tan and the flowing white skirt, and she shook her head. With a crooked smile, she said, “You win.”

Valerie wasn’t sure what that was — a compliment? — but she knew it was meant in friendly fashion, so she smiled back and said, “I’m glad Kirby brought you.”

“And this is Tandy’s friend—” Kirby began.

“In a manner of speaking,” Tandy said.

“Aw, Tandy,” said the man, grinning and gawking.

“He’s—” Kirby frowned, then leaned toward the man. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name again.”

“Oh! Wull, uh, it’s Albert .”

“Albert, this is Valerie.”

“How do you do?”

“Wull, this is wonderful. You live here, do you? On this island .”

“For now,” Valerie said.

Smiling at Valerie, Kirby said, “You’ll never guess. Albert has a great interest in pre-Columbian art.”

Valerie found herself grinning from ear to ear, enjoying Kirby’s pleasure. “Is that right?” she said.

“Oh, wull, yes . Back in Ventura, I converted the entire west wing to a kind of museum .”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“You must come see it.”

“Maybe we will,” Valerie told him.

“Albert is very interested,” Kirby said, “in Mayan treasures in particular. I thought we might have a nice talk about that.”

“That would be fun,” Valerie said.

Kirby put an arm around her shoulders, saying, “We’ll unload Cynthia later. First I think we ought to go up to the house and settle in and have a drink. Tandy and Albert are gonna stay over, we’ll do a little cookout, then all four of us go back to San Pedro tomorrow, have a nice sit-down restaurant dinner. What do you want? El Tulipan or The Hut?”

“Let me think about it,” Valerie said. I’ll wear this skirt, she thought.

They started up from the beach toward the house. Still with his arm around Valerie’s shoulders, Kirby bent his head and gave her a quizzical look, saying, “Don’t you think you’re overdressed?”

Valerie laughed.