“No! No! No! Jay exclaimed irritated. We are not going to battle with the bikinis this year. Pack two, finish up in here, and meet me in the car. No...!” screeched Jay.“ I hate it when he’s right,” she whispers to herself and then packs 6 bikinis. She exits her apt with a black rolling suitcase in tow behind her, a white mesh beach bag over her shoulder, an oversized bright white cotton floppy hat on her head, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sun, a knitted black halter top loosely cups. If she saw my flash of triumph she showed no sign of it, but Denise wasn’t a woman who missed much. She led us into the large, beautifully furnished lounge, not the dining room, and on the mahogany side-table she had set out what she called a buffet, which must have taken her all day to make. My guilty feelings were only added to by her generosity. We all helped ourselves to platefuls of lovely food, and Philip got us drinks (lemonade for me with a slice of lemon and a tinkle of ice). She. More

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