The Vacationers

The Vacationers Plot Summary

Introduction

The plane cut through the sky, leaving New York behind. Inside, the Post family sat in silent turmoil. Jim, the disgraced magazine editor with a secret that threatened to implode his 35-year marriage; Franny, his food writer wife, seething with betrayal; their daughter Sylvia, eighteen and desperate to escape her family's drama before college; and somewhere ahead in Mallorca waited their son Bobby with his much older girlfriend Carmen. A two-week vacation on a Mediterranean island—that was the plan, along with friends Charles and Lawrence, who had their own private hopes hanging in the balance. But vacations have a way of stripping people bare, exposing what lies beneath their carefully constructed facades. The Posts were coming to Mallorca wounded. Jim had slept with a young woman at his magazine—a mistake that cost him his job and possibly his marriage. Their rented pink stone house in the mountains would be their sanctuary or their battleground. Two weeks to decide if their family could survive. Two weeks of Spanish sun, old resentments, and new possibilities. But the island itself had its own magic—a power to reveal truths, force confrontations, and perhaps, if they were lucky, lead them to forgiveness. For each of them carried secrets to the island, and none would leave unchanged.

Chapter 1: Arrival in Paradise with Secrets in Tow

Sylvia Post stood on 75th Street staring toward Central Park, willing a taxi to materialize. The idea of spending two of her last six weeks before college vacation in Mallorca with her parents felt like torture—especially now that their marriage was crumbling before her eyes. She'd never actually heard them say the words, but the walls in their limestone weren't thick enough to hide the late-night arguments. Her father had done something unforgivable. She just didn't know exactly what. The taxi rounded the corner. Sylvia waved it down and called upstairs to hurry her parents. When Franny and Jim finally emerged from the brownstone, the atmosphere between them crackled with tension. Franny slid in next to her daughter while Jim took the front seat, his knees pressing against the dashboard. "On y va!" Franny said, closing the door. "That's French," Sylvia said. "We're going to Spain." The terminal buzzed with the usual airport chaos. Jim wandered off to do his exercise walk around Terminal 7. He always walked or ran for an hour every morning, a routine shared with his son Bobby. Walking gave him space to think, and lately his thoughts were darker than ever. The board at Gallant magazine had been unanimous in their decision to let him go after his affair with the young editorial assistant came to light. Madison Vance. Just thinking her name brought a wave of shame and regret. In Madrid, they boarded a small plane to Mallorca. From the window, they could see the Mediterranean sparkling below as they began their descent. Jim had been to Spain three times before, but never like this—never with his marriage hanging by a thread, never with his career in shambles. The rented house exceeded their expectations—a sturdy stone building painted light pink with black shutters, covered partially in rich green vines. Behind it stretched a wide blue swimming pool against the backdrop of mountains. Franny clapped with delight. The taxi driver helped them with their bags and soon departed, leaving the Posts to settle in. While Franny explored the kitchen and Sylvia claimed the smallest bedroom, Jim wandered through the house, letting the quiet of the mountains wash over him. He tried to imagine the next two weeks stretching before them—eating meals together, swimming, talking. Would it be enough to save his marriage? Or was this vacation simply the calm before the final storm? That evening, they took their first swim. From the deep end of the pool, Jim watched Franny move around the kitchen. For a moment, despite everything, he felt a surge of hope. Mallorca might be exactly what they needed.

Chapter 2: Fault Lines Exposed: Jim's Infidelity and Bobby's Debt

The rest of their party arrived the following morning—Bobby with his girlfriend Carmen, and Charles with his husband Lawrence. Franny clutched Charles in a fierce embrace at the airport. Her oldest friend, the one person who understood her completely. Jim watched the reunion with a twinge of jealousy. Charles had always been Franny's confidant, the shoulder she turned to when things got difficult. And now things had never been more difficult. Bobby was twenty-eight, handsome like his father but with a softer edge. Carmen was forty, toned and serious, a personal trainer who viewed the world through the lens of physical discipline. They made an odd couple—Bobby with his boyish charm and Carmen with her no-nonsense attitude. "You must be tired from your flight," Jim said, helping them with their bags. Carmen nodded. "It's fine. We watched movies." The villa had enough bedrooms for everyone, though some were nicer than others. Charles and Lawrence took the downstairs guest room, while Bobby and Carmen settled into the room next to Sylvia's. Each night, Jim waited to see if Franny would let him sleep in their bed or banish him to another room. So far, she'd allowed him to stay, though she kept to her side of the mattress as if an invisible wall separated them. On their fourth night in Mallorca, the family gathered for dinner on the terrace. The evening was warm, the mountains shadowy against the darkening sky. Carmen watched Bobby closely, her eyes narrowed. Something was wrong between them. Sylvia noticed it too, the way Bobby seemed to shrink under Carmen's gaze. "So," Franny said, passing the bread, "Bobby, how's the real estate market in Miami?" Bobby shifted in his seat. "It's okay. You know, slow season." "Slow for two years now," Carmen added, her voice sharp. The table fell silent. Jim cleared his throat. "Well, markets go up and down. That's the nature of the business." "Bobby doesn't just sell real estate anymore," Carmen said suddenly. She tossed her hair over her shoulders. "He sells supplements at the gym where I work. Protein powders." Franny's fork clattered against her plate. "What?" Bobby stared at his plate, his cheeks flushing. "It's not that big of a deal. Just to make some extra money." "Tell them the rest," Carmen pressed, satisfied with the bomb she was dropping. Bobby looked up, his eyes meeting his father's. "I'm in debt. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The supplements... I had to buy them in bulk, and they haven't been selling like I thought they would." The table erupted in reactions—Franny's gasp, Charles's low whistle, Sylvia's wide eyes. Jim remained silent, processing the number. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It was a staggering amount, especially now that he was unemployed. "We'll talk about this later," Jim finally said, his voice steady. "I'm sure we can figure something out." Later that night, as Franny and Jim lay in bed side by side, she turned to him. "What are we going to do? About Bobby?" "I don't know," Jim answered honestly. "But it's not our responsibility. He's almost thirty." "He's our son," Franny said, and for the first time in weeks, she reached for Jim's hand in the darkness. The next morning, Sylvia found her father on the terrace, staring at the mountains. "Is Bobby going to be okay?" she asked. Jim nodded slowly. "Yes. We all will be, Syl." But even as he said it, he wondered if it was true. The fault lines in their family were deeper than anyone had realized.

Chapter 3: Finding Connection: Sylvia's Spanish Tutor and First Love

Joan arrived precisely at eleven the next morning. Sylvia had barely noticed the name when her mother mentioned hiring a local Spanish tutor, but now her heart skipped as the young Mallorcan man stepped into their villa. Joan was tall with dark wavy hair and eyes the color of coffee. When he spoke, his accent wrapped around words like honey. "Hola, soy Joan," he said, extending his hand to Sylvia. She managed a weak "Hola" in return, suddenly forgetting every Spanish word she'd ever learned. Franny hovered nearby, clearly taken with the tutor herself. "Perhaps you could show Sylvia some local expressions? Things they don't teach in school?" Joan nodded politely. "Of course. We'll start with the basics." Sylvia wanted to sink into the floor. Her mother's transparent admiration of Joan was mortifying. When Franny finally left them alone in the dining room, Sylvia exhaled. "Sorry about my mother," she said in halting Spanish. "She's a little intense." Joan smiled. "All mothers are, no?" He opened a workbook. "Let's begin." Their lessons became the highlight of Sylvia's days. While her parents navigated their fractured relationship and Bobby avoided discussions about his debt, Sylvia escaped into Spanish conversations with Joan. She learned about his life in Mallorca, his studies at university in Barcelona, the island's history under Franco. One afternoon, as they sat by the pool practicing verb conjugations, Joan asked, "No boyfriend at home in New York?" Sylvia felt her cheeks flush. "Everyone in New York sucks. Especially the boys at my school." Joan laughed. "Tomorrow, no books. I will show you Mallorca. The real Mallorca." That night, Sylvia could barely sleep. She stood before the bathroom mirror, studying her face. She wasn't beautiful, not in the conventional way, but something about Joan's attention made her feel seen for the first time. Not as Jim and Franny's daughter, not as Bobby's little sister, but as herself. The next day, Joan drove her through winding mountain roads to a hidden cove. The beach was tiny and perfect, a horseshoe of white sand completely secluded from the world. They swam in the crystal-clear water, and afterward, Joan spread a blanket on the sand. He'd packed a picnic—ham sandwiches, wine, butter cookies his mother had made. "This is literally the most beautiful place I have ever been," Sylvia said, watching the sunlight dance across the water. Joan moved closer. "I won't kiss you if you don't want it," he said softly. Sylvia's heart hammered against her ribs. "That would be okay." His lips met hers, and the world seemed to shift beneath her. This wasn't like the awkward fumbling with boys from her school. This was something entirely new. When they finally pulled apart, Sylvia knew she'd crossed a threshold—from girl to woman, from New York to somewhere else entirely. "I think we should have sex," she heard herself say, surprising even herself with her boldness. Later, as they lay side by side on the blanket, the Mediterranean breeze cooling their skin, Sylvia felt transformed. No matter what happened next—whether Joan turned out to be her great love or simply her first—she'd never be the same again. She'd found herself on this island, far from her family's drama, in the arms of a beautiful Mallorcan boy. "What are you thinking?" Joan asked, tracing circles on her arm. "That I wish I could stay here forever," Sylvia answered truthfully. But vacations end. Time moves forward. And somewhere on the other side of the island, her family was waiting, their problems unresolved.

Chapter 4: The Beach Confrontation: A Family Unraveling

Franny organized a beach day—a chance for everyone to relax and bond. They loaded into two rental cars with umbrellas, towels, and coolers packed with sandwiches and fruit. The beach was as golden and perfect as the guidebooks promised, though more crowded than Franny had hoped. They staked out a spot halfway down to the water. Bobby and Carmen immediately headed for a swim, while Charles and Lawrence set up their chairs in the shade. Jim disappeared for a walk, and Sylvia curled up with a book. Franny stood in the shallow water, letting the Mediterranean lap at her ankles. Everything seemed peaceful, deceptively so. When Jim returned, he found Franny still standing in the water. "Nice, huh?" he said, joining her. "It is," she replied, keeping her distance. The past weeks had worn on her—Jim's infidelity, Bobby's financial disaster, the constant pretending that everything was fine. "So it sounds like Bobby did more than get too drunk the other night," Jim said quietly. Franny looked confused. "What do you mean?" Before Jim could explain, they heard Bobby shouting from the water. "Fuck! Something bit me!" He was hobbling back to shore, clutching his leg. Jim rushed to help his son, examining the raised red pattern on Bobby's calf. A jellyfish sting. As Jim led Bobby away to treat the sting, Sylvia turned to her mother. "Bobby cheated on Carmen," she blurted out. "The other night at the club. I saw him." "What?" Franny's face darkened. When Jim and Bobby returned, Franny was pacing frantically on the sand. "Do you know what your son did?" she demanded, her voice rising. "I do now," Jim said, his tone resigned. "He had sex with another girl, practically in front of his sister," Franny shouted. Nearby beachgoers turned to stare. "Should I be happy that you at least had a hotel room?" Bobby looked stunned. "People sleep with strangers all the time. What's the big deal?" "She was not an intern, she was an editorial assistant," Jim said defensively. The words hung in the air. Sylvia froze, realizing what her father had just admitted. Bobby looked from his father to his mother, finally understanding what had been happening in their family. "Your father slept with an intern," Franny said, her voice breaking. "Your brother slept with a stranger. I don't know how this happened." "People sleep with interns all the time," Bobby said, shrugging. "What's the big deal?" Charles stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. "Don't you tell her she needs to relax, after what you did," he said to Jim. "I think we all need to relax," Jim replied, raising his hands placatingly. "You have always been such a motherfucker," Charles said, and then, to everyone's shock, he pulled back his arm and punched Jim squarely in the eye. Jim stumbled backward, clutching his face. The beach fell silent except for the sound of waves lapping at the shore. In that moment, everything that had been simmering beneath the surface of their vacation exploded into the open. Jim's affair. Bobby's infidelity. Franny's rage. Charles's protectiveness. "Let's go," Charles said, taking Franny by the arm. She gave Jim a pleading look but allowed herself to be led away. "Wait!" Sylvia called. "Don't leave me here with them." She hurried after her mother, unable to look at her father or brother. Jim stood alone on the beach, his eye already swelling, watching his family fracture before his eyes. The vacation that was meant to heal them had only exposed how broken they truly were.

Chapter 5: New Beginnings: Charles's Adoption and Bobby's Debt

The house felt different after the beach confrontation—quieter, as if everyone was holding their breath. Jim nursed his black eye with an ice pack, keeping his distance from Charles. Bobby spent hours swimming laps in the pool, avoiding everyone. Sylvia disappeared into her room, texting Joan and pretending not to notice the tension around her. Lawrence was the first to break the silence. He called Charles into their bedroom, closing the door behind them. "There's an email from the adoption agency," he said, his voice trembling with excitement. "The birth mother chose us. We have a baby boy." Charles stared at the screen, reading the message over and over. "Alphonse," he whispered. "Our son's name is Alphonse." They would have to return to New York immediately. The agency needed them there for paperwork, for meetings, for the moment when they would finally hold their child. The vacation they had reluctantly agreed to had suddenly become the prelude to the greatest adventure of their lives. When they shared the news with the Posts, the atmosphere in the villa shifted. Joy broke through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds. Franny hugged Charles fiercely. "You're going to be wonderful fathers," she said through tears. Even Jim managed a genuine smile. "Congratulations," he said, offering his hand to Lawrence. "That's incredible news." The celebration continued through dinner, a feast Franny prepared with extra care. Wine flowed freely, and for a few hours, the family's fractures seemed less important than the new life waiting for Charles and Lawrence back in New York. Later that night, Carmen cornered Bobby outside the pool. "We need to talk," she said. Bobby nodded, knowing what was coming. They walked into the small town, where a wedding was taking place on the steps of the town hall. A plump bride in a short lace dress laughed as her balding groom twirled her between stopped cars. "She looks beautiful," Carmen said, watching the couple. "Train wreck," Bobby replied. "Did you see the size of her arms?" Carmen turned to him, her expression hardening. "I always thought you'd grow out of this. Of being afraid." "Afraid of what?" "I'm going home," she said. "Back to Miami. Without you. This is over. I should have done this years ago." Bobby stared at her, stunned. "You're breaking up with me? Right now?" "Right now, Bobby. You're not a personal trainer, not really. And the powders don't work unless you're a bodybuilder. There's just too much bullshit." With that, Carmen walked away, leaving Bobby alone among the wedding revelers. He'd come to Mallorca with a girlfriend and a secret debt. Now the girlfriend was gone, the debt exposed. But somehow, standing there watching the newly married couple dance in the street, Bobby felt lighter than he had in years. Back at the villa, Franny and Jim lay side by side in bed, contemplating the future. "What are we going to do?" Franny asked. "About Bobby's debt?" "I don't know," Jim answered honestly. "But we'll figure it out." For the first time in weeks, Franny reached for his hand in the dark. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet. But it was a beginning.

Chapter 6: Reconciliation: Navigating the Path to Forgiveness

The next morning brought chaos as Charles and Lawrence packed for their hasty departure. The house buzzed with activity—Franny cooking celebratory pancakes, Jim helping with bags, Sylvia making coffee. Only Bobby seemed withdrawn, processing Carmen's departure. "They're going to be really good parents, don't you think?" Bobby asked, watching Charles and Lawrence embrace in the doorway. "I do," Franny said. "I really do." Bobby looked thoughtful. "You know, I don't even like real estate that much. Or working out. I mean, I like working out because I like to feel healthy, but I don't really care if I have the best body in the world." He paused. "I wonder how hard it is to adopt a baby." "Let's just deal with one thing at a time, sweetie," Franny said, placing a stack of pancakes in front of him. After Charles and Lawrence left for the airport, the house felt emptier. Jim spent hours in Gemma's study, reading books about Buddhism and staring out the window at the mountains. Franny took tennis lessons from Antoni Vert, a retired Spanish tennis pro she'd admired in her youth. Sylvia continued her Spanish lessons with Joan, though their relationship had cooled since their day at the hidden beach. Jim couldn't shake his worry about Franny and the tennis instructor. One afternoon, he convinced Terry, a British motorcyclist he'd met at the beach, to help him follow them. They tracked Franny and Antoni to a seaside restaurant in Palma, watching from a distance as they shared a long, leisurely lunch. When Franny left the restaurant alone, Jim intercepted her on the road back to the tennis center. "Jim," she said, surprised. "Are you following me?" He crouched down by her car window. "Maybe." "Why, if I may ask such a pedestrian question?" "Because I love you. And I don't want to lose you. Not to some tennis pro, not to anyone." Jim opened the car door and reached for Franny's hand. "I'm the one who fucked up. Fran, I am so sorry. I will do anything. I can't be without you, I can't." Franny traced the outline of Jim's black eye, which had started to turn green. "It's healing," she said, and tilted her head up in a way that meant he could kiss her. And he did. That evening, they made love for the first time since Jim's affair had come to light. It wasn't a declaration of forgiveness, but it was a step toward it. They lay together afterward, their bodies cooling in the night air. "I love you as much as I hate Gemma," Franny said, referring to the house's owner who had unexpectedly arrived earlier that day. "Which, right now, is a lot." "I'll take it," Jim replied, holding her close. Meanwhile, Sylvia received an email from Joan canceling their next lesson. She opened the door the following morning expecting him, only to find Gemma—tall, blonde, and impossibly sophisticated—on the doorstep. "I'm Gemma," she said. "It's my house!" The owner's arrival meant disruption—Franny and Jim had to move from the master bedroom to Charles and Lawrence's old room. But even this inconvenience couldn't dampen the tentative peace that had settled over the Posts. On their last night in Mallorca, Bobby approached his parents with a decision. "I think I'll come back to New York with you," he said. "Just for a while. Until I figure things out." Franny couldn't hide her delight. "We'd love that," she said, squeezing his hand. As they packed their bags for the flight home, each member of the Post family reflected on the vacation that had begun with such tension. They'd arrived in Mallorca wounded, their family bonds strained to breaking. But somehow, in the heat and light of the Mediterranean, they'd found their way back to each other—not completely healed, but moving in that direction.

Chapter 7: Departure: Taking Home More Than Memories

The last morning in Mallorca dawned clear and bright. Sylvia paced the living room, waiting for Joan to arrive for their final Spanish lesson. When he finally appeared, their goodbye was painfully awkward—a quick kiss on both cheeks, a formal handshake. The romance that had flared so briefly on the hidden beach had cooled to ash. "Have a safe flight," Joan said politely. "Will do," Sylvia replied, crossing her arms over her chest. As Joan drove away, Sylvia felt a strange mix of disappointment and relief. She'd lost her virginity on this island, experienced her first taste of adult desire. The boy hadn't turned out to be her great love, but he'd given her something valuable nonetheless—a glimpse of who she might become once she left her family behind. At the airport, Bobby faced a decision—his flight was booked to Miami, but there was nothing for him there. Carmen was gone, his apartment full of unsold protein powders, his bank account empty. The Posts were able to get him a standby ticket to New York. "You're so lucky," Bobby said to Sylvia as they waited at the gate. "You're just starting. In less than two months, you're going to be in a whole new place, surrounded by thousands of new people who have no idea who you are or where you come from. You can be whoever you want." Sylvia looked at her brother with new understanding. For all his mistakes, he was trying to find his way, just as she was. "Want some gum?" she offered, extending the pack. Jim took one last walk through the terminal, stretching his legs before the long flight. Despite Franny's apparent forgiveness, he knew their marriage wasn't fully healed. His job would still be gone when they got home. He was sixty years old, starting over. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. When he returned to the gate, he found Franny waiting for him. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Where are the kids?" "They're on the plane," she replied, taking his arm. "It's okay. They won't leave without us." They boarded together, among the last passengers. Franny settled into her seat and waited for Jim to sit beside her. Despite the circumstances, she was delighted to have Bobby coming back to New York with them, her two children under her roof for a little while longer. As the plane began to move down the runway, Franny wove her fingers through Jim's and held their clasped hands in her lap. He leaned forward to stare out the window at the receding island. When the wheels left the ground, Franny rested her cheek on Jim's shoulder. She lifted her chin toward his ear and said, "We made it, Jim." There was nothing in life harder or more important than agreeing every morning to stay the course, to return to your forgotten self of so many years ago, and to make the same decision. Marriages, like ships, needed steering and steady hands at the wheel. Franny wrapped both arms around Jim's, her grip firm and ready for any turbulence ahead.

Summary

The Posts had come to Mallorca fractured—a husband unfaithful, a wife betrayed, a daughter caught in between, a son adrift in debt and a relationship going nowhere. The Mediterranean sun exposed every fault line in their family, forcing confrontations they might have avoided at home. Jim faced the consequences of his affair with a young woman at his magazine. Bobby's financial disaster and infidelity came to light. Sylvia discovered both heartbreak and desire in the arms of her Spanish tutor. And Franny, the emotional center of the family, had to decide whether thirty-five years of marriage was worth salvaging. Yet in their two weeks on the island, each of them found something unexpected—not just pain, but possibility. Charles and Lawrence received the news that would transform them into parents. Bobby freed himself from a relationship that had long stopped serving him. Sylvia stepped into adulthood on her own terms. And Franny and Jim, despite everything, discovered that their bond, though tested, might still be strong enough to endure. As their plane lifted off from Mallorca, they carried home more than memories—they carried the first fragile shoots of forgiveness, of new beginnings, of islands within themselves where wounds could finally begin to heal.

About Author

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Emma Straub

Straub investigates the complexities of family dynamics and personal growth through her insightful narratives. Her novels, including "All Adults Here" and "Modern Lovers," delve into the intricacies of relationships and self-discovery. By crafting characters who are relatable yet flawed, Straub connects with readers on an emotional level, encouraging them to reflect on their own experiences and choices. Her stories often unfold in richly depicted settings that serve as both backdrop and catalyst for the characters' journeys, providing a nuanced exploration of human behavior and societal norms.\n\nStraub's method involves blending humor with poignant observations, allowing her to tackle serious themes with a light touch. In "The Vacationers," for instance, she portrays a family's vacation as a microcosm of their larger issues, using the setting to amplify underlying tensions and facilitate character development. Readers benefit from this approach as it makes complex subjects accessible and engaging, offering both entertainment and insight. Her ability to balance levity and depth ensures that her books resonate with a wide audience, from those seeking a thought-provoking read to others in search of an emotionally satisfying story.\n\nMoreover, Straub extends her passion for storytelling beyond her writing. As the owner of Books Are Magic, an independent bookstore in Brooklyn, she fosters a community of readers and writers, underscoring her commitment to the literary world. This dual role enriches her understanding of the evolving landscape of literature, enhancing the authenticity and relevance of her work. Therefore, Straub's influence extends beyond her books, contributing to the cultural fabric of contemporary literature and encouraging a love of reading in her community.

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