The Reef

have thought the reckless, go-to-hell, adventurous type would have been every mother’s nightmare.”
    “Not when there’s solid ground beneath.” Marla put the dough in a bowl to rise, covered it with a cloth. Finding her hands empty again, she looked around the already spotless galley. “I guess I’ll start breakfast.”
    “I’ll give you a hand.” Tate pulled a pack of sausage from the fridge. “That way the guys’ll have to clean up.”
    “Good thinking.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t have time anyway. After we eat, I’ve got a lot of calls to make. The university, the Cousteau Society, National Geographic —maybe a dozen others.” Glad for the busywork, Tate chose a skillet. “Matthew told you of his plan to make the discovery public before he confronts VanDyke?”
    “Yes, we talked about it after you’d fallen asleep last night.”
    “I wish I thought it was enough,” Tate murmured. “I wish I thought it would ensure that VanDyke would just go away and stay away.”
    “The man should be in prison.”
    “I agree, completely. But knowing the things he’s done and proving them are different matters.” As dissatisfied as her mother, Tate set the skillet on a burner to heat. “We have to accept that and move on. He’ll never pay for what he did to Matthew, to all of us. But we’ll have the pleasure of seeing to it that he’ll never have the necklace either.”
    “Still, what might he do to pay you back for that?”
    Tate lifted a shoulder as she set sausage to grilling. “The necklace will be out of his reach, and I’ll have to make sure I am, too. Along with my white knight.”
    Absently, Marla reached into a bin and selected potatoesfor home fries. “Tate, I’ve been thinking. I had an idea—I know it’s probably full of flaws, but . . .”
    “An idea about what?”
    “About VanDyke,” Marla said, gritting her teeth over the name as she scrubbed potatoes.
    “Does it involve a paring knife?”
    “No.” There was a giggle at that, followed by a self-deprecating shrug. “Oh, it’s probably stupid.”
    “Why don’t you tell me about it?” Tate flipped the browning meat with a spatula. “You never know.”
    “Well, I was just thinking . . .”
    Ten minutes later, with sausage sizzling in the pan, Tate shook her head.
    “It’s so simple.”
    Marla sighed and poked at her frying potatoes. “It’s a silly idea. I don’t know what made me think of it, or that it could work.”
    “Mom.” Tate took her mother’s shoulders, turned her around. “It’s brilliant.”
    Taken off guard, Marla blinked. “It is?”
    “Absolutely. Simple and brilliant. Keep cooking,” she said, adding a cheerful kiss. “I’m going to wake everybody up so they can see I come by my genius naturally.”
    With a sound of pleased surprise, Marla went back to her home fries. “Brilliant,” she said to herself and gave her back a congratulatory pat.
     
    “This may work.” LaRue took another scan of the spacious hotel lobby. “But you’re sure, Matthew, you wouldn’t like to go back to your early idea of cutting VanDyke into small pieces and feeding him to the fish?”
    “It’s not about what I’d like.” Matthew stood out of view in the cozy library off the main lobby. “Besides, it’d probably kill the fish.”
    “True.” LaRue sighed deeply. “It is the first sacrifice of the married man, mon jeune ami. The giving up of what he likes. A variety of women, the occasional drunken brawl, eating at the sink in underwear. Those days are over for you, young Matthew.”
    “I’ll live with it.”
    Gingerly, LaRue touched his wounded cheek, and was able to smile. “She is, I believe, worth even such wrenching sacrifices.”
    “Maybe not eating in my underwear, but we’ll work out a compromise. Everything set from your viewpoint?”
    “All’s well.” LaRue scanned the capacious lobby with its generous sitting areas, lush foliage and wide windows. “The weather is so fine there is little traffic inside. And the timing, of course,” he added. “We’re late for lunch, early for the cocktail hour. Our man is prompt as a rule. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
    “Sit down and order a drink. We don’t want him choosing the table.”
    LaRue straightened his shoulders, brushed at his hair. “How do I look, eh?”
    “Gorgeous.”
    “ Bien sûr. ” Satisfied, LaRue moved off. He took a table by the patio window, across from a deeply cushioned sofa. He glanced toward a