“I could check my appointment book.”
“That was a joke, right?”
“Yeah.” She lay back down, ran both hands through her hair and held it by the ends away from her head as if to yank it from the scalp. “Jesus, I guess depending on Mia, how she is, I guess I take on my new and illustrious position as head housekeeper! I guess I might get called on to help plan a funeral.”
Roddy closed his eyes, shook his head back and forth.
“I should get back,” she admitted.
“Yeah.”
“I’d rather stay . . .”
Roddy nodded. “Your bed back at the Lodge’ll give you a hell of a better night’s sleep than here.”
“A little lonely, though . . .”
Roddy went back to shaking his head. “Oh boy,” he said. “Oh boy, am I in for it now . . .”
Suzy grinned mischievously. “And why’s that?”
Roddy’s head just wagged back and forth.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Suzy asked.
“I’m sure you will,” he answered.
Suzy quietly shut the door to Roddy’s cabin and started up the path toward her truck. She was just passing Eden’s house when something moved on the porch. Suzy yelped. She backed away, peering into the shaded darkness. In seconds, the shed door slammed and Roddy was rushing toward her, the bedsheet clutched around his waist.
“What happened? Are you OK?”
She nodded, gestured to the porch. “There’s something on the porch. It’s probably just a raccoon.”
A light went on inside the house. Roddy grabbed a log from Eden’s woodpile. There was shuffling from the house, a series of lights flicking on inside as Eden made her way to the back door. She pushed open the screen and flipped on the porch light to reveal Squee crouched beside the rocker like a criminal caught in the searchlight, head darting, trying to decide which way to flee.
The porch light also brought to Eden’s attention her son, a log raised over his head, his other hand gripping a sheet around his otherwise naked body. And Suzy Chizek, standing on the path between the house and the driveway, looking as if she didn’t know which way to run.
“Jesus Christ, Squee!” Roddy dropped his log to the ground. “What the hell?” He clutched the sheet tightly.
“I’m not staying at Grandma and Grandpa Vaughn’s. I don’t care what you do to me, I’m not staying there.” Squee remained squatting in the shadows by the outdoor sofa’s armrest.
“For goodness sakes,” said Eden. She opened the screen door again and held it ajar. “Come on inside. We’ll give Penny a call, let her know where you are.” Squee scuttled up, his eyes on Roddy the whole time, lest he pick up the log again and lunge.
Roddy and Suzy turned to each other and began to speak at the same time.
“You OK?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying.
“Go on. Go back to Mia.”
“OK.”
“Get some sleep,” he said.
“Yeah, OK.” She backed away a few steps, then turned and walked briskly toward the truck.
Roddy watched her drive away, then went down to his shack to put on some clothes.
“Toga party’s over?” Eden said, smirking, as Roddy came to the back door. Squee was at the kitchen table eating graham crackers with milk, and Roddy shot Eden a look through the screen.
“You get ahold of Penny?” Roddy asked. Eden nodded. Then, with a mustering of will that perhaps only Eden could have perceived, Roddy pulled open the door and stepped into Eden’s home. He went and stood behind Squee, put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and gave him a playful and affectionate shake. Squee’s body went slack under Roddy’s hands. Roddy dropped to his knees at the boy’s side. “What happened?” He searched Squee’s face for signs of distress. “You OK? Are you OK?”
Squee had straightened up quickly.
“Something happen at your grandma and grandpa’s?” Roddy asked. “How come you ran off like that? What’d you do, go out a damn window? Jeez. Squee . . . you’d’ve scared your grandma half to death. What’d you go and do that for?”
Squee could be as evasive as Eden. “I like it here,” he said.
“And we’re very glad to have you,” Eden jumped in. “But that doesn’t make it OK to go running out on your grandparents like some sort of . . . runaway.”
Squee stood up suddenly and stepped away from the table as if he might make a dash for it. Eden pretended to notice nothing. “You finished with these?” she asked him, her hands near his glass and plate.
Squee nodded, disarmed. “Are you going to make me go back?”
“Of course not,” Eden said. “You’ve disrupted everyone’s rest enough tonight already. You’ll stay here and we’ll handle all this in the morning.”
Squee looked to Roddy. “Can I stay with you?”
Practically before the question was out of Squee’s mouth, the “No” was out of Roddy’s.
Eden laughed. “You’ll stay up here in Roddy’s old room. In Roddy’s bed from when he was your age.”
Squee was clearly disappointed.
“Yeah,” Roddy agreed. “There’s more room for you up here.” And with that he seemed to take full stock of the fact that he was inside Eden’s house, which really wasn’t someplace he liked to be. He turned to his mother: “You got everything under control up here?”
Eden tried not to crack a smile. “I think we’re fine,” she managed to say.
“Where are you going?” Squee blurted, then looked embarrassed.
“Just back down to my place.”
“Can I come?” Squee asked.
Roddy winced inwardly, struck dumb for a moment until Eden jumped in: “Oh, so you don’t want to stay with me either?” She sniffed dramatically.
“I’ll see you in the morning, OK partner?” Roddy said.
Squee nodded but did not meet Roddy’s eyes. Roddy reached out and tousled the kid’s hair. He made a quick exit through the back door.
“Let’s get you to sleep, OK?” Eden said to Squee. He followed her obediently down the hall.
MOREY OPENED HIS BAR to the mourners that night, gave them a place to gather and grieve, locked off the pool table, unplugged the juke, though the muted TV was on as always. Morey tended bar himself since Merle Squire was at home with Lance. There wasn’t a big crowd, just a few tables of people talking more quietly than usual, drinking harder alcohol, drinking it more slowly. They all went home early. Last to depart, at half past twelve, were Brigid and Gavin, who purchased a fifth of whiskey from Morey, under the table, before they left.
They crossed the footbridge over Fisherman’s Cove, then stepped off into the sand and made their way slowly along the beach, feet dragging, circling back and around each other. They were just passing the Lodge dock when Gavin looked up the hill then turned back to Brigid and said, “Would you want to camp, maybe, on the beach tonight?”
“Would I want to . . . if what?” Brigid asked.
“Um . . . if I asked you if you wanted to?”
Brigid mulled this over. “Fucking in the sand . . . it’s terribly gritty, don’t you think?”
Gavin stopped. “Could you preserve just an ounce of mystery here? Just like one little element of the romance of it or something? Would that be so hard?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Brigid laughed. She was in a position with him now that she liked—at least, one she felt she understood. He was not half as menacing when she could see where he stood, anticipate where he was heading. He was a romantic after all, not so rakish as she’d imagined.
Gavin raised his hands as if addressing gods in heaven. “I can’t win,” he said. “What have I done to deserve this woman? What have I done wrong?”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Brigid cooed.
“I ask the lady to camp out on the beach with me—such a nice gesture!—something I think she’s wanting me to do, and what does she do? She makes fun of me! Incredible!” Gavin’s drunkenness was becoming apparent. “What’s a man to do, I ask?”