Chapter 5

Ralph's team did OK at the volleyball tournament, all things considered. They'd have done better, but they had the handicap of being a pickup squad. Half were unfamiliar with the rules, having forgotten everything they'd learnt in middle school and not having played the game since. Sheila, Candy and I were drafted into the squad, despite our protestations of a lack of talent, experience or desire. Candy had played a lot of volleyball over the past week and proved to be in practise. The rest of us, an enthusiastic but noticeably out-of-shape Ralph included, could be best described as being in malpractice.

The team had not had a chance to play a single set as a full team before their first competitive game. Combined the obvious deficiency of talent with the lack of any sort of strategy and tactics beyond "hit ball over net, lather, rinse, repeat", we were very thoroughly beaten in the first round by a squad who had driven in from a university in Pennsylvania – it turned out, all of them were there on various sports scholarships, and were quite physically fit. It was like a squad of 8-year-olds trying to play tackle football against the Green Bay Packers. In the consolation round, we faced another experienced squad, a crew of Quebeckers captained by a priest who was also a high school Phys Ed teacher. As a result, Saturday afternoon saw us out of the games, with Ginny and Ralph playing petanque against her kids, and Sally, the corporate legal beagle, playing against Sheila in a game of chess with the oversized pieces near the pool.

"Something's changed," I noted to my sister as we sat on chaise lounges by the pool on that warm sunny Sunday afternoon. "You're a lot more relaxed."

It was true; the slightest teasing or joking around her would previously been as intelligent as looking for a gas leak with a lit candle. Now, she was firing the teasing right back, laughing all the way. Her face actually looked younger and prettier as she'd relaxed.

"Well, I've had a chance to unwind. I can't believe how peaceful this place is."

Just at that moment, four giggling kids jumped into the pool simultaneously, making that "peaceful" comment somewhat dubious. Sitting in our poolside lounge chairs beside their landing zone, we were caught in the back splash.

"And I've had a chance to have fun!" she said, laughing as she shook the droplets off her hair.

Just then Ralph and his wife walked up, with a stranger in tow. Ralph introduced us to a potential investor in the firm's IPO, a fellow by the name of Christian. Ginny immediately and unhesitatingly went into her "professional" mode. As if she were back at the office and wearing power dress and pumps, she began to "sell" the company to this man, unconcerned that both she and he were completely naked, aside from the watch on his wrist and the studs in her ears. As she and he wandered away, talking ROI, projected sales, target markets and other such terms of endearment, Ralph whispered conspiratorially in my ear.

"She really wasn't a naturist when she left on this trip, was she?" It really wasn't a question.

"Nope. She hid it well, I trust?"

"I give her top marks for her acting. Her tan lines were the only things that gave her away." He let his gaze take in Cindy, who was breaking the pool's surface like a trout leaping for a fly-fisherman's lure. "Her daughters, I notice, still have a bit of tan line, too."

To Ralph's amusement, I described the scene at the start of her trip, when she first learnt her daughters would be running around in nature's swimsuits.

"She must really trust you, to let her kids go off like that on such short notice."

"That, and I was her last resort. There are no such things as boarding kennels for kids."

Ralph laughed again. "Well, I'm not going to say anything to her when this is over, except that when this is through, I expect to see her and her kids at the non-landed club events."

I snickered at that.

Sunday supper was the celebration of the end of the volleyball tournament, with the awards given out ("What a cute skunk!" said Cindy, as she saw her sister's individual trophy for "most honest").

At the end of the winning team's speech, Paul, the resort owner, announced, "We have one final speaker today, and I'd appreciate your full attention. George, if you please," and with that he yielded the podium to me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, about four years ago, I was most fortunate to meet the most lovely, wonderful woman in the world. She has been my support, my rock, and my inspiration, and tonight, I'd like to ask her ... to be my wife." Corny, I know. I'm not really one for big fancy speeches. I took the ring from where I'd hidden it earlier behind the podium, and went down on one knee in front of Sheila. She was blushing redder than any cottontail, but not from sunburn!

As the crowd laughed and applauded, she nodded enthusiastically, and I slipped the ring on her finger. As she cried tears of happiness, we embraced and kissed in front of the entire resort.

And just like that, the weekend was over, and Ginny was on her way to the West Coast, to finish the company's Initial Public Offering dog-and-pony show. Her daughters settled back into the routine at the camp, playing with the friends they'd made and enjoying themselves, romping in the sunshine as the remnants of their tan lines vanished like the morning dew.

Their trip stopped in Los Angeles and San Francisco (where Ralph and his crew enjoyed a pleasant evening spent watching the sun go down at Baker Beach – nude, of course), then to Seattle, Washington, and finally to Vancouver, where everyone "had to" visit Wreck Beach.