"Tell me ... please."
"Two gold-plated faucets for your bathroom ... in fourteen karats."
"Oh, no. I'll never believe that. How silly!"
"Come on, let's open his package."
"All right, let's open it, let's open all my presents."
They went into the living room, laughing heartily.
Roberto listened to their laughter, as he got ready for bed, his bedroom door half-open. He envied their love. A fine house in Colonia Vallarta had not added up to happiness for him. His wife thought him a clown, not a wit. Now, the Díaz news had disheartened him and he tossed his shirt over one of Lucienne's plants, beside the four-poster. Stretching, he breathed in the cool air, glad to be back by the ocean. It would be fun to see how Lucienne felt about those faucets tomorrow ... he had paid a pretty penny for them....
In the morning, Raul met Lucienne in the greenhouse, whose salt-rimed windows faced the sea, a ramshackle Swiss-style conservatory built by her father when he, too, had dabbled in plants and flowers. When Raul came in, she was adjusting salt screens.
"Good morning. You're up early."
"Good morning, darling. You're lazy. I've already had a swim."