Clear as Day by Babette James Page B

gave in to Patti’s nagging and lounged in her beach chair, feet up, a glowing Madonna directing traffic and walking Olivia through her tomato salad and coleslaw recipes.
    Oh, yeah, she absolutely had to paint JoAnn this trip, or at least get Nate to take some photographs with that wonderful camera of his.
    Olivia still looked like she should be at a cocktail party on a yacht, nibbling caviar and holding some fancy martini in those glossy, manicured fingers instead of efficiently shredding cabbage and sipping a vodka and tonic from a plastic cup.
    Dave stopped by the stove to give the beans a stir. Olivia paused in her slaw tossing. “Dave? Thank you for driving. That was a perfect run. Great boat.”
    Dave nodded tersely. “No problem. Glad you enjoyed.”
    He popped a CD in the player and set the volume to a soft, conversation-friendly level on Jimmy Buffett’s “Volcano.” They grouped the usual mismatched lot of card tables together, tossed up the romaine salad, and set the places between impromptu dances, all singing along with “Growing Older But Not Up” and “We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us About.” Mark belted out an enthusiastic “Brown Eyed Girl” and made the quiet Olivia laugh. Nate scooped JoAnn from her seat and danced her gently around the tables to “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”
    Good mood, good friends, good music.
    Nate caught Kay, and they slid into the slower rhythms of “Stars Fell on Alabama.” Being in Nate’s arms was heaven. She didn’t want the music to end. A strange mix of terror and exultation twisted through her. He loved her, but he was so happy.
    While among their friends, Kay had been able to distract herself from the reality of Nate’s proposal. Guilt dragged at her like an anchor. He had assumed she accepted. She hadn’t said yes or no.
    And which did she want?
    She hated this indecisiveness consuming her. She was not indecisive. This was not her. Not at all.
    Tell him no? And hurt him? She might be straight-out conflicted where love fit in, but she cared about Nate. A lot. Maybe too much.
    Tell him yes? Tell him honestly how messed up in the head she was and how scared?
    There was no good answer.
    “Fins,” “Pencil Thin Mustache” and “Margaritaville” later, Patti set aside her beer. “They’re late. Looks like it’s cheeseburgers tonight in this paradise, my dear Parrotheads.”
    Olivia stubbed out another barely smoked cigarette. “I’ll help.”
    Dave peered out at the lake, hand shading his eyes. “Nope. There they are. The fish fry is on!”
    As the boat came in, Lloyd posed at the bow like Washington crossing the Delaware, brandishing a healthy stringer of fish in the air.
    “You’re late, guys. We were ready to begin hamburgers without you,” Rich hollered.
    All pitched in to clean and cook the fish.
    Margie helped bravely, but hopelessly, even with Christopher murmuring instructions. Olivia’s polished blond husband started droning on about the ones they didn’t catch. His practiced, charming laughter and toothy grin set Kay’s teeth on edge.
    Dave frowned at the catch. “Got a lot of catfish in here. Knew I should have gone out with you three.”
    Kay always wondered how an adrenaline junkie like Dave could hold still long enough for such a peaceful pastime as fishing, but he did. She’d done a portrait of him fly-fishing several years back for a birthday gift and the painting remained one of her favorite works.
    Chuck whacked him with his Tigers cap. “Don’t complain to me, Mr. Fish Snob. Fish is fish. I’ll take anything legal that bites. I think we did damn good for the afternoon.”
    Lloyd hoisted a catfish. “You want more bass, next time you come along and coax them.”
    Margie grimaced, looking pale. “I didn’t know catfish were so big and ugly.”
    “This one’s just a little baby.” Lloyd patted his “little baby.” The channel catfish weighed eight pounds, easy. “Have to be careful when you go swimming out