Montreal, she said.

French would be easier for me, he said. However the girl...

The girl was from the south of Spain and this was her first trip to the top, the man said. They had spent the summer cruising from Barcelona to here. He made a little loop with his finger, around Spain.

It became evident that the girl was not, say, his granddaughter. They were being very flirtatious with each other. It looked like they may have been seeing each other for more than a year. Elsa could see the girl had no top on, the rim of her nipples.

We were watching you, he said. It was as if we drew you out here.

He spoke then in Spanish to the girl and the girl responded.

She says you are beautiful and she hopes she will not be embarrassed—I’m sorry, that you will not be.

He moved away from the buoy, to let Elsa rest there, and she realized he’d been standing on a platform below the buoy. As soon as she had her feet, he returned. The three of them, rocking in the water with their top-heavy weight, their arms brushed each other around the girth of the buoy. There appeared to be no one aboard the yacht.

You are in one of the hotels, he said.

She pointed at one. I am behind that one, she said. Near the church.