“She'll probably have her tubes tied after this. I wouldn't blame her. But that works for me too,” he said, laughing, and Maxine groaned in sympathy.
“Poor woman. I don't know what we can do. Thirteen-year-old girls are famous for this kind of behavior. It's going to get worse before it gets better.”
“Call me when she gets out of college,” Blake said, as he got ready to leave. He stopped in the kids' rooms to see all of them, kissed them goodbye, and then lingered at the door for a minute with Maxine.
“Take care of yourself, Max. I hope this guy is good to you. If he isn't, tell him he'll have to deal with me.”
“Say that to Arabella too,” she said, hugging him, sorry that Daphne had given them such a hard time on the vacation. “Where are you going now?”
“London for a few weeks, then Marrakech. I want to get the work on the house started. It's not really a house, it's more of a palace. You have to come over and see it sometime.” But she didn't know when that would be. “I'll probably be in St. Bart's by the end of January. I'll pick up the boat there and float around for a while.” She knew the story. The kids probably wouldn't see him for a long time. More than likely not until their summer vacation. They were used to it, but it still made her sad for them. They needed to see more of Blake than they did. “I'll stay in touch.” Sometimes he did, and sometimes he didn't, but she knew where to look for him, if she had to.
“Take care of yourself,” she said, hugging him at the elevator.
“You too,” he said, hugged her back, and was gone. It was always a strange feeling for her when she said goodbye to him. It made her wonder at times what life would have been like if they'd stayed married. He would have been gone all the time, just as he was now. It just wasn't enough for her, to have a husband in name only. What she needed was what she had finally found, a man like Charles, who would stick around. He was the ultimate grown-up.
A car was waiting to take them to the hotel and Arabella was dazzled as they drove through the city. The impressive Koutoubia Minaret was the first sign of Marrakech that caught her eye, and they drove through the central plaza, Jemaa el Fna, at twilight. It looked like the stage set for a movie. Even in her travels through India, she had rarely seen anything as exotic, there were snake charmers, dancers, acrobats, vendors selling things to drink, mules being led by their owners, men in long robes everywhere. It was straight out of
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