The residents of the complex had started preparing by mid-morning. Noud and Bernard were setting up Carlos’s grill near the pool.
“Should we put it on the grass or the stone?” Noud pondered.
“On the stone. The lawn wouldn’t take it well.”
“But what if something drips from the rack? It’ll stain the ground.”
“That’s easier to scrub off than fixing trampled grass.”
“Should we ask one of the women?”
“Which one? They’ll all have different opinions, I bet.”
“María José?”
“Not a good idea. She and Carlos are on a break.”
“Still, she might have a good suggestion.”
“Let’s talk to Günter instead. He’s always hovering around the grill anyway.”
“Alright, let’s call him over. There’s beer in the fridge—we’ll offer him one. Better to get to know him before the party starts.”
“You sure this isn’t a dumb idea?”
“The party? I don’t know,” Noud shrugged. “If it goes badly, we won’t organize another one. But I think it’s a great idea. At least we don’t have to go far to say goodbye to the year.”
“In T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops,” Bernard grinned in satisfaction.
Dajana, Viktoria, and Pauline were preparing various side dishes and salads at the German family’s place. Recipes from Slovak, French, American, and German cuisines were all put to use. Günter watched the cheerful bustle in the kitchen from a respectful distance. Although he was glad to see Viktoria enjoying herself, he was uneasy about yet another female friend entering the picture—this time, Pauline. The French mother’s fiery and unpredictable nature had already made every man in the complex tread carefully. Her face turning crimson in a flash and her clenched fists were generally attributed to the fact that her husband was constantly being called away on business, leaving her alone with their two energetic daughters. None of the women doubted Rob’s infidelity. After all, why else would a man travel so much, if not to lead a double life?
The retirees took charge of making dessert. Since Ludmilla wasn’t fond of sweets, she baked potato dumplings and cabbage strudel instead. María José, combining her passion with heartbreak, made batch after batch of stunningly colored and shaped bonbons and petit fours, occasionally taking a swig from the bottle of almond liqueur.
“Rob.” Ted’s voice drilled into the American’s back like an ice pick.
It took effort for Rob to turn around. He couldn’t stand his argumentative neighbor anymore.
“I was thinking,” Ted began, “we could decorate the partition walls. Pablo brought some string lights. You could ask that Uwe kid to help too. Not that I can stand the look of him, but three of us would get more done.”
Rob blinked a few times, caught off guard by Ted’s uncharacteristic behavior. Still, he wanted to contribute to the preparations—though he’d have preferred to tag along with the Dutch guys.
“What about the Slovak guy?” Rob asked hopefully.
Adrian, with his blunt and simple-minded ways, would surely handle someone like Ted better in case of disagreement. And a long decorating session was a minefield of potential conflict. Rob could barely handle his wife’s temper—let alone Ted’s absurd outbursts.
“That guy’s useless. All thumbs,” Ted said flatly, pushing up his Coke bottle glasses.
“He’s supposed to be a plumber. Can’t be that clumsy.”
“He’s not coming,” Ted replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
Rob resigned himself to the fact that he was in for a long and unpleasant few hours. He already felt sorry for Uwe.