Dark Passage by Marcia Talley Page A

act.
    â€˜Ruth, do you want to go to the show after dinner?’
    â€˜Don’t forget we have that Neptune Club reception,’ Ruth mumbled around a mouth full of toothpaste.
    â€˜Right. It’ll probably be a bit of a bore, but at least the drinks will be free.’
    â€˜Your dance card is getting full, Hannah.’
    â€˜So, what are you going to do today, Ruth, other than twist your body into strange and unnatural positions?’
    â€˜Well, I’m not going to waste my time
knitting,
that’s for sure.’ She dabbed her lips dry with a towel. ‘Wonder what Georgina feels like doing?’
    I tapped quietly on the connecting door in case Julie was still asleep. Georgina opened it almost immediately. ‘What’s up?’
    â€˜Is Julie awake?’
    â€˜Finally! She’s in the shower.’
    â€˜What’s she going to do today, Georgina?’
    â€˜Julie’s signed up for a teen barbecue and some sort of organized scavenger hunt. I’ll hardly ever see her.’
    â€˜Does that worry you?’
    Georgina raised one pale, well-shaped eyebrow. ‘Do I
look
worried? So, I’m up for just about anything. Except knitting,’ she added, with an accusatory glance at me.
    Clearly, in the knitting department, I was outnumbered. ‘I never promised we’d be joined at the hip, Georgina.’
    Thirty minutes later, after Julie was safely delivered to one of the Tidal Wave youth counselors, my sisters and I found ourselves marinating in one of three hot tubs in the adults-only solarium. When we were pink and medium-well boiled, we wrapped ourselves in oversized Turkish towels and arranged ourselves on adjoining deck chairs with our reading – a Kindle for Georgina and actual books for Ruth and me – while solicitous uniformed attendants made sure we had everything our hearts desired. After ordering a bloody Mary, I did.
    Georgina powered on her Kindle, considered my well-worn paperback. ‘Don’t you have a Kindle, Hannah?’
    â€˜I do, back home, but I figured reading it in a hot tub would be a bad idea. And what if I lose the charger? I’d be up the creek if my battery ran out in the middle of the latest P.D. James.’
    â€˜I like my Kindle because you can’t really lend books,’ Georgina said, kicking off her flip flops. ‘Saves me the social embarrassment of having to remember who I lent that hardback to that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet.’
    As we considered the people sprawled in the deck chairs around us, we decided that you could tell a lot about a stranger by what he or she is reading.
Final Sail
by Elaine Viets? I think I might like that person, while – not being snobbish or anything – I’d be unlikely to initiate a conversation with someone engrossed in a Jackie Collins novel. ‘See that guy over there?’ I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the Surf’s Up Café. ‘The blond in the red bathing trunks, with the hardback propped up on his gut?’
    â€˜What about him?’ Ruth muttered from behind her ancient copy of
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
.
    â€˜Well, he’s reading Harlen Coben. If he were reading an iPad, Nook or Kindle we wouldn’t be able to see the cover, so we wouldn’t have the slightest clue what he’s reading.’
    â€˜So?’ Ruth wanted to know.
    â€˜Serious disadvantage, Ruth, if you’re on the prowl for guys. Hot or not? With a Kindle, it’d be hard to tell. Dude could be reading Danielle Steele, for all you know. Or a self-help book on overcoming addiction. But, if you can see he’s reading Robert Crais, you’ve got your opening. ‘ “Oh, hi,” you say. “I like Crais, too. Is that as good as his last one?” ’
    â€˜I’m
not
on the prowl for guys, Hannah.’
    â€˜Neither am I. I just think it’s interesting.’
    Georgina studied the guy