That night, in the big, soft hotel bed, I slept alone for the first time--well, ever. I was well worth the almost 4 bills I paid for the privilege.
The next day, I had coffee on my balcony (see chapter 1) and greeted the day island style. I took my time getting down to the pool, but really didn't see the need to wait very long to lay on a beach chair with a brand new book ("The History of Love," by Nicole Krauss) and a daquiri, (strawberry, if you must know.) My friends joined me shortly thereafter, and after I thinly and sloppily applied coat of sunscreen, we spent the afternoon much in the same position, changing only every so often to cool off in the pool or with another round of drinks.
(I would include a picture from the pool, except that the only one I have is a rather unattractive one of me and Sue with wet curly hair in these insane J-Lo diva sunglasses I was forced to buy poolside to save my retinas from spontaneous combustion.)
After hours of grilling in the sun, it was time to get ready for the signing. We primped; both our persons and our livers and all headed down to Cover to Cover books--an enchanting bookstore that would have captivated me for hours anyway--where I happily spent the next two hours signing books and generally feeling pretty damned content. The only time my true colors showed--a bright naive green--was at the very first book, I realized I had not brought a pen. What kind of author doesn't bring a freaking pen to a signing? So, like the entire weekend--Janet saved my ass again and bought me a fancy pen. Thanks, Janet.
So, we had fun. Lots.
And then we all went out to dinner at this little place on the water and between the tropical breeze, the nursed margarita, all of the expelled adrenaline, I was pretty much spent. I ended the lovely day as I began it--in that soft, expensive bed, sleeping one of the best nights of my life.
Tomorrow's entry will include the momentous ride home, including no cell phone, no tire, and gas at over 3 bucks a gallon. Yippee.