Julia stepped out of the en suite bathroom into the expansive master bedroom clad in a thick, white terry cloth bath robe with a matching towel swaddled around her head.
She sat on the bed and placed a call to Mr. and Mrs. Bill Holcomb in Antigua, an older couple who were overseeing the sale of the private resort that Julia owned. They were also her house sitters.
“Have there been any prospective buyers, yet?” Julia asked.
“No, but as soon as there is one, we’ll let you know,” Mr. Holcomb said.
Julia hung up and left the bedroom. As she went downstairs, Iris suddenly bumped into her while going upstairs.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Iris said. “Please pardon me, Mrs. Windom.”
“Oh, never mind that. Why are you running? What is your hurry?”
“I wanted to let you know right away that Mr. Windom’s here. He’s in the study.”
Julia grimaced at the news.
“I also came up to ask if you would like a glass of orange juice and a bran muffin to go with your breakfast,” Iris said.
“No. Knowing that Jack is here is cause for my loss of appetite.”
Julia went to the study. She cringed and winced at the unsightly scene before her.
Jack was asleep on the oversized brown leather couch, fully attired with his suit jacket draped over his head. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol which emanated from his pores.
“So, you have come back, have you not, Jack?”
He groaned, then turned over, and stretched his arms and legs. He pulled the suit jacket from his head and peered at her through bleary eyes.
“Oh . . . Julia,” Jack said.
“Oh, it is so good to see you, too,” Julia said. “Since you have been in Paris and New York on business for more than a month, you have a ton of mail waiting to be opened. How long are you here for this time? When do you fly out again? You are disgusting.”
“Lay off, woman.”
“I am going out. In the meantime, when I return, you had best be gone or else . . .”