around for a bathroom...a trashcan...but found nothing. I can hold it, she thought. I can will myself not to throw up... And the woman will stop talking about trash. Any minute now.
“Trash pickup isn’t till tomorrow,” Yvana said, tapping her pink nails on the counter and clearly starting to lose her patience.
“Well, something needs to be done. There’s rotten eggs in there, something that smells like spoiled meatloaf and probably some awful shrimp salad and...”
Madison lost it. Her reaction came hard and fast with no time to react. Even as she tried to cover her mouth, she threw up what little was left in her stomach—she was surprised there was anything—all over the tourist’s sparkly shoes.
“Oh...my Gawd!” shrieked the woman. “What on earth...” Her face twisted in revulsion.
“I am so very sorry. I...” Madison wanted to say she was pregnant, but she couldn’t get the words out, not with the angry woman glaring at her. “Let me see if I can help...” Madison moved forward but the woman batted her away with one hand.
“Get away from me!” she cried, backing off while clutching her dog.
Yvana obviously couldn’t resist, as she instantly emitted a cackle. “Well, goodness me. That is something. Want a tissue?” Yvana held out a tissue box to the tourist, who frowned at the offering as if it had spider legs. Yvana gave one to Madison instead.
“Maddie, here, child.” Her expression softened instantly. “You okay? You look like death warmed over!”
“I’m not contagious... I’m just...” She clutched at her mouth once more.
Yvana jumped into action, tugging a trash can from behind the counter up to her. “Here, honey.”
Madison grabbed the metal wastebasket. Luckily, nothing more came up.
“These were designer shoes. They’re ruined and...they cost $200 retail, and now...” The tourist stomped her feet.
“I’m happy to pay for them,” Madison said, wondering where she was going to find an extra $200. Her budget was tight, and even with the money she’d tucked away, she was about to take unpaid leave from work and she needed every dime she had.
The woman wasn’t placated. “I ought to sue,” she threatened. The tiny white dog in the crook of her arm barked as if he agreed.
“Careful,” Yvana warned. “This lady is one of the best lawyers in town. If you sue, you’re going to lose, sister.”
The tourist’s face grew more pinched. She opened and closed her mouth, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Her cheeks grew redder than a ripe tomato.
“Well, I’ve never had such poor service in all my life. Do I have to call your supervisor?” The annoyed woman hugged her little dog to her chest and delicately lifted one foot to shake off some of Madison’s vomit.
Madison just shook her head. Yvana didn’t have a supervisor. She damn near ran this place and nobody was foolish enough to go toe-to-toe with the woman who owned a fourth of the island and knew everyone. An older resident on the island had left his entire share to her when he passed away five years ago—she was the one who’d cared for him and he’d had no living children.
Yvana had a heart bigger than the Gulf of Mexico but also a temper that was legendary. You got on her good side, and Yvana would do anything for you, but get on her bad side, and you might not have your power turned on for days.
Yvana narrowed her eyes at the indignant tourist.
“Mm, hm.” Yvana gave her a once-over. “My supervisor is out,” she lied, since she was her own supervisor. “But I’ll write a note and make sure she gets it.”
“Well,” the tourist muttered. “I...”
Yvana glared at her and then turned back to Madison.
“Maddie, honey. Sit down before you fall down.” Yvana put her back to the other woman who, with nothing more to do, stepped out of her shoes and bent down to pick them up, careful to keep her fingers clean. She headed out of the office in a huff. Yvana ignored her and moved Madison over to a chair, then scurried over with the tissues she’d held out to her earlier.
Madison reached out as if to start trying to mop up the spill.
“No, no. Sit. I’ll call someone from the janitorial staff to handle that,” Yvana said.
“I am so sorry. God, how embarrassing. I normally don’t do this. I never get sick.” Madison sat down in the chair still feeling a little woozy as Yvana fetched an unopened water bottle from her desk and handed it to her.
“Not every day that you’re pregnant, either,” Yvana said, tilting her head to one side.
Madison stopped mid-drink, stunned. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, I just know.” Yvana looked so serious that for a second Madison worried that she’d somehow begun to show, although her stomach was still flat. Yvana threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I’m kidding, honey. Rashad told me.”
“Uncle Rashad! He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!” Madison grumbled, wishing she’d been more explicit with her uncle about this being a private matter.
“Oh, he swore me to secrecy, don’t you worry,” Yvana said. “He just wanted me to know because he asked me to keep an eye on you. And by the look of things—” she nodded at the mess on the floor “—you might need a little bit of TLC.”
“I’m fine.” Madison wiped her mouth with a tissue. “I just need some rest and—if this baby will ever let me keep anything down—some food.”
“Soda water, then, and I might have something that could help settle your stomach. Something I ate when I was pregnant with my twin boys.” Yvana rolled her eyes. “Thought I’d about die from that pregnancy. I threw up right till the end of the second trimester. I never let those boys forget it, either.”
Yvana grinned, and Madison had to laugh. She shook her head and glanced out the window to see the tourist throwing away her shoes in a nearby trash can. Then the woman hobbled in the hot sand over to a waiting golf cart that a man—her husband, Madison presumed—was sitting in and got into the passenger seat, fuming.
“I should apologize to her again,” Madison said.
“You’ll do no such thing. One apology was enough for her. She’s been in my office every day since they got here, complaining about everything under the sun. She once came in here and complained about there being too much sand. On a beach. Can you imagine?” Yvana slapped her side. “She’s worse than my ex-husband. He’d complain about the heat if the sun was shining and the damp if it was raining. Never could be satisfied, just like that woman. That, Maddie, was pure payback.”
Madison smiled. She hadn’t heard anyone call her Maddie for a long time. It was a name reserved for people who’d known her since she was little, the nickname her father gave her when she was a baby. She’d visited North Captiva all her life, but it had been her special refuge after her father died. She and her mother had lived in her uncle’s house for nearly a year. She’d known Yvana most of her life and was grateful to the big-hearted woman who’d always looked after her.
“I didn’t see Rashad’s golf cart...” Madison said, nodding her head toward the window.
“No?” Yvana peered out. “Huh. I told Gus to get it, but he must be backed up today. Don’t you worry. I can drive you. The front office can watch itself for five minutes. But first, let me call someone to deal with this mess.”
* * *
YVANA EXPERTLY MANEUVERED the small tan-and-green golf cart emblazoned with the North Captiva Club logo through the sand trails of the island. A simple white post marked most turnoffs and to a visitor’s eye, easy to miss. Ahead of them, tourists who were new to the island studied a map, then scratched their heads.