taxi to keep out of his way? And he’d invited her to dinner; she hadn’t picked him up.
Tears welled in her eyes. He’d prejudged her and hated her on the basis of her profession, without taking time to get to know her, or to give her the benefit of the doubt. And that was what hurt the most. She’d liked the glimpse she’d had of the man inside that hard shell. She had a peculiar thirst to get to know him better. But that wasn’t going to be possible now, she knew.
She stood up, wiped away the tears and started down the sidewalk toward the patio bar. She’d like to have sampled one of those island drinks, like a Bahama Mama or a piña colada. But not at a time like this, when she felt like the end of the world. Drinking was only a crutch for pain, and Nikki didn’t like crutches. She swept through the sparsely populated bar on her way upstairs. She wasn’t even surprised to find that her dinner companion wasn’t among its patrons.
CHAPTER THREE
NIKKI WENT BACK UP to her room overlooking the front of the hotel and stood quietly by the window, looking out over the struggling air conditioner to the streets below, to the horizon. Instead of magnolia trees there were towering palm trees, making a landscape that seemed alien. It wasn’t particularly dark on the horizon, as if the island were perpetually lit up by something other than streetlights or the moon. It wasn’t anywhere near the pitch darkness of a Georgia moonless night.
She studied the international grouping of flags over the front of the hotel, recognizing one as British, one as American. All around there were people. Hotel employees called greetings to each other as they passed. Tourists got into and out of cabs at a fantastic rate. And there Nikki stood, all alone, her heart down around her ankles, with that arrogant man’s words ringing like chapel bells in her ears. Vulture. Parasite. She was an idealist, believing that what she did with a typewriter might make some small difference in the world. A story about a child with a disability being honored might inspire another child to try when he or she had given up. A story on an elderly person getting involved in politics might encourage another, more depressed senior citizen to look at life in a brighter way. A story on drugs might keep someone from trying them, might save a life. That was why Nikki wanted to write. Not to get rich. Not to get famous. Only to help.
But how could she expect Mr. Big Shot to understand ideals? She doubted if he even had any, past getting richer. The flags misted and blurred. Who cared, anyway? She didn’t.
* * *
AFTER A RESTLESSLY hot night, during which the valiant air conditioner didn’t seem to make even a small difference, she rolled over and turned on Radio Bahamas. She listened to a news broadcast followed by a sermon in a delightful British accent, followed by a series of current American top pops and a few golden oldies mingled with the happy calypso beat, the goombay beat, which the Bahamas was famous for. The music made her feel better as it teased her lips into a smile, got into her bloodstream and bubbled. She threw her feet over the side of the bed and got up to dress.
The coffee shop opened at seven each morning, so she hurried down for her egg on a muffin and coffee, and to get ready for another day of sightseeing. Today she was going on a seashell hunt, on one of those tours she’d learned about at the desk. But first she was going to have breakfast and lie in the sun for a while.
The little coffee shop’s trade was brisk. She stood in line for ten minutes, and in exchange for her American currency she got a number of beautiful Bahamian coins and a dollar bill with colorful fish and a photograph of Queen Elizabeth. The money here was as colorful as the scenery, as bright and gay and sophisticated as the people themselves. She was beginning to learn the softly accented English the Bahamian people spoke, to understand their fascinating culture. Each morning now, it had become a habit to go down Bay Street and buy the morning newspaper from the blind vendor near the clothing shop. The elderly gentleman had relatives in the States, he’d told her, although he’d never