“I know it's hard on you, Merrie,” Cal said quietly. “I wish there was something I could do about it.”

“Maybe one day there will be. In the meantime, we just have to get through it.” But it wasn't easy. He was one of the only spouses who hadn't come on the trip. And she hated the fact that he wouldn't be there.

“It's a damn shame his job fell through in the East Bay. That was rotten luck.”

“Maybe it was fate,” she said philosophically. “Maybe something better will turn up soon.” She was still hopeful.

“I hope so.” Cal sounded sincere as he said it. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy. Because if she wasn't happy, there was always the chance that she would leave the company, and the thought of that terrified him. Dow Tech needed her now, and so did he, to run the financial end of his business. More than that, he needed her personally. He told her everything, and shared all his fears and joys and confidences with her. They were almost like partners in the business. And there was more than that to it now too. He even confided in her about his children. They were confidants and coconspirators, and best friends.

“It's too bad he couldn't come on this trip. It would have done you both good,” Cal said. He genuinely regretted it for her, and he knew she'd been disappointed when Steve said he couldn't come.

“It's probably just as well. I'll be too busy working.” She was making three presentations with Cal, and another on her own in a separate meeting.

“You'd better make time for some fun too. I don't want you running yourself ragged to keep everyone else happy. Let them fend for themselves a little bit. You're not their tour guide.”

“Tell them that,” she laughed. “You'd never have known it, from the lists of requests I've been getting.”

“Tear them up. And that's an order.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and saluted smartly while he chuckled.

They talked about other things then, and he told her some funny stories about past retreats, and the crazy things people did when they were in an environment as totally different as this. Charlie McIntosh had gotten drunk and actually slept with one of the hula girls years before, and never lived it down. The story had circulated for years, and he always denied it, but everyone knew it was true, except his wife.

“I'll try to behave,” she said, laughing over it with Cal, and then he looked at her pensively for a long moment, and she was suddenly reminded of Christmas.

“I hope not,” he said softly. She didn't answer him, but they were so close sometimes that it frightened her. In some ways, Cal filled the role that Steve had, when they were living in the same city. There was nothing she didn't tell Cal. And whatever lack of ease had developed between them over the foolishness on Christmas Eve, had been dispelled when she came back after New Year. They were back to their comfortable friendship. But there were moments when the strength of his personality was like a magnet that drew her to him, not necessarily romantically, but she had a sense more often than not, that they were soul mates. It was as though they had been destined to meet and work together, and build an empire. They were like two halves of one entity that fit perfectly, and at times, she didn't understand it. It was hard to believe they hadn't known each other all their lives. It felt that way sometimes, even more so than with Steve. In some ways, she and Cal had more in common, they shared the same goals, the same needs, the same drive, the same passion for business. Steve lived in a different world, his motives seemed purer to her, he was a different kind of human being. And he cared absolutely not at all about money. He didn't understand the work she did, and he really didn't want to know about it. He just wanted to know that she was enjoying what she did. How she did it, and why, was of no importance to him. But Cal understood everything about it. In some ways, that was easier for her.

The plane landed shortly after noon, local time, and she and Cal herded their charges off the plane, and managed to get everyone on the bus to the hotel. The luggage would come later, and whatever was lost would eventually be found. They were all free that afternoon, and they didn't have to meet up until dinner. A luau had been arranged for them, and afterward there was to be dancing. The meetings weren't scheduled to start until the next morning. She and Cal were going to kick them off with a short speech, and after that, there was going to be a slide show. She had it all organized, and they had talked about it on the plane. There was nothing left to do except relax, go to the beach or the pool that afternoon, and then meet the others for dinner.

“Do you want to have lunch in my room?” Cal asked as they checked into the hotel. His room was next to hers, and as it turned out, they shared a terrace.

“Sure,” she said easily. “I want to go swimming afterward. Maybe we can escape the others until dinner.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, and then carried her briefcase to her room for her. She was surprised to see she had a suite, and so did he, and then she realized he had personally reserved hers for her. It had a large, handsome living room, all done in sandy tones, and a beautifully done white bedroom. It looked like a spread in a magazine, and there were huge silver-dipped conch shells on the coffee table. She had a small kitchenette, a bar, and there was music playing when she walked into the room, with Cal just behind her. “This is spectacular,” she said to him, as she looked out at the palm trees that framed the view of the ocean.

“I thought it would be pretty at sunset. And I wanted you next to me, so the others didn't bother you.” They were all on other floors, which had been clever of him. It didn't even occur to her that they might think it was odd that their rooms were side by side. There had never been any gossip about them, and everyone knew she was married. She talked about Steve often.

Cal went to his own room then, and settled in, and their luggage arrived a few minutes later. Nothing had gotten lost apparently, which was nothing short of a miracle, with a group that size. Cal had ordered club sandwiches for them, and everything was set up on his terrace, when she joined him. He had even ordered her a mai-tai.

“I'm going to be following in Charlie's footsteps if I don't watch out,” she laughed, “and getting drunk at lunch time.”

“If you start chasing hula girls, Meredith, I'm going to send you home.”

“I'll try not to,” she said demurely.

The sandwiches were delicious, and the mai-tai was too strong, but she sipped a little of it, and they sat on his terrace for a long time, admiring the view, and relaxing. And then finally, she got up and told him she was going swimming.

“I'll keep you company,” he offered, and they both went to change, and she came back a few minutes later in a bikini with a long shirt over it, and sandals, and she looked as impeccable as ever. So did he in a bathing suit with a matching shirt and a pair of driving shoes. They made a very handsome couple, and no one would ever have suspected they weren't married. They seemed so intimate and so comfortable with each other, it would have been hard to believe that they had never slept with each other. Cal commented on it as they went downstairs, and she looked surprised.

“Do you really think people would think we're married?” It seemed to amuse her. It seemed an odd assumption to make, to her at least.

“Yes, I do. We even look alike. We're both blond, and our eyes are almost the same color. We like the same things, we even dress alike sometimes.” He had noticed it more than once, but she shook her head and laughed at what he was saying.

“That proves you're wrong. People never come in matched sets like us. They look like me and Steve, one dark, one fair, and he always looks like he dressed in the dark at Goodwill. I love him, but he looks a mess. I could have killed him when he came out the first time, to meet you, in his thousand-year-old jacket. I keep trying to throw it away, but he loves it. I've finally given up and accepted the fact that he'll keep it forever. And wear it.”

“He looked fine to me.” Cal said charitably. But she was right, Steve looked odd with her. She was always beautifully dressed, and everything about her was neat and in order and perfect. Cal guessed correctly that Steve was more at ease in his hospital garb than in real clothes, or a proper suit. He wondered if he even owned one. He did, in fact he owned several, thanks to Meredith, who bought them for him, but he never wore them.

They went down to the beach, and one of the beach boys set them up on deck chairs with towels, and Meredith took off her shirt, and lay down in her bikini. And although he was tempted to, Cal made no comment. She looked incredible in her bathing suit. More so than he had ever dreamed. He picked up his book, but with Meredith in such close proximity, with her smooth flesh and gentle curves, he found it impossible to concentrate on his reading.

“Don't you like your book?” She had noticed him staring into space, and smiled at him. He had an odd expression as he looked out at the horizon. As though he had suddenly seen someone or something he hadn't expected to find there.

“No … no … I mean, yes … it's fine. … I was just thinking about something else.”

“Is something wrong?” She wondered suddenly if she had done something to offend him, but he only shook his head, got up, and walked down the beach by himself. She was worried about him, and followed him slowly a few minutes later. She didn't want to intrude on him, but she had an odd sense that he was troubled. “Are you okay?” she asked as she caught up with him. She was reluctant to bother him, but he had looked so upset for a moment that it concerned her. And this time he hesitated before he answered. His head had been down as he walked down the sandy beach, with his feet in the water. He looked up at her then, and nodded.

“I'm okay, Merrie.” But he wasn't convincing.

“What's up?”

“Oh, I don't know … life, I guess. Do you ever just stop and question yourself, and wonder if you've had your head up your ass for the past ten years, and didn't know where you were going?” She was surprised that he looked so unhappy. It was like a dark cloud that had suddenly passed in front of the bright sun, and everything was instantly in shadow, which seemed unlike him.

“What brought that on you? You seemed fine a minute ago.”

“I was. I am. I just wonder about my life sometimes. I get so focused on some things, I forget others.”

“We all do that,” she said gently, as they neared the end of the beach, and sat down on the sand together, with the surf lapping near their feet, the ocean ahead, and the hotel behind them. There was no one around them. “You haven't lost track of the important things, Cal. You have great kids, a good life, an important business. You haven't been wasting your time.”

“What makes you so sure of that? And how do any of us know what's really important? How do I know my kids won't hate me ten years from now for something I did, or didn't do, or failed to see or understand? I think I'm right so much of the time, and once in a while, I wonder if I'm headed in the right direction. Sometimes I think I've got it all ass backwards. In fifty years who is really going to give a damn about Dow Tech, and everything I think is so goddamn important? Maybe all that really matters are the people you care about,” he hesitated and then finished his thought, which was what had upset him in the first place. “Or the lack of them. I've been so busy being pissed off at Charlotte for the last eight years, that there's never been room enough in my life for anyone else. All I had room for was my anger. All I cared about was how much she'd hurt me.” It was the first time he had ever said that to her, or anyone, in just that way. “You know, for a long time I thought I hated her. Now I feel like I wasted all that time on feelings that got me nowhere. And now what?”

“What do you mean, ‘now what’?” She was startled by what he was saying to her. They were serious thoughts to have while lying on a beach in Kona, getting a tan.

“Now what? I'm fifty-one years old. I've been pissed off at someone who's been gone for the last eight years. I've got three great kids who'll be grown up any minute. And my whole life is my business.”

“It sounds like you're eating nails to me, Callan Dow.” She was always honest and outspoken with him. “You're feeling sorry for yourself. You're fifty-one, not ninety. You've got a lot of time to do things differently, if you want to. No one says you have to stay alone for the rest of your life, if that's what's bothering you, and you don't have to stay pissed at Charlotte.”