Novalee blinked several times just like her mother had, then managed a smile. “Hi,” she said. She looked at Kory. “Good you’re okay.”
Danelle put her head close to her daughter’s. “That’s enough,” she whispered, loud enough they could all hear.
“Thanks,” said Kory. He rubbed steadily at the back of his head.
Arie could see his overwhelm by the expression on his scraped-up face. And why not? she thought. In a single day, the boy who’d spent his entire life in a backcountry cabin had seen the ocean for the first time, nearly drowned in it, and been yanked out by a larger group of people than he’d ever seen all at once. She took his restless hand in hers.
“Now that we’re here,” she said, “let’s get these clams on the fire before they expire of old age.”
In almost no time, they were eating. The potatoes were fully roasted on their bed of kelp, skins split and papery, smelling earthy and familiar. Handy laid another layer of bull kelp leaves over the top of them, and Arie spread the clean razor clams on that. She covered the clams with more leaves and sprinkled the leaves with a little seawater. In the space of two minutes they were cooked, steamed to perfection by the hot potatoes and the damp seaweed.
“We’re short on dishes,” quipped Curran, handing around yet more leaves of kelp, “but we have plenty of this stuff. Don’t worry—we washed it.”
Somehow, it was perfect. In the early twilight, the campfires of other beach- dwellers flickering here and there on the shingle, they sat on the cool sand and ate with their hands. The potatoes were still hot enough they had to take care not to burn their fingers. The crispy skins had picked up salt from the kelp leaves and were the perfect foil to the clams—delicate and sweet, a little chewy.
“That really did it,” said Clyde. “My lord, we’ve been eating out of cans and boxes for so long I forgot what real food tasted like.” He licked the fingers on his right hand with decided care and flipped his kelp-plate off into the dark. “Not that I couldn’t eat about three times that much,” he added, and winked. “Never let it be said Clyde Atterbury let the end of the world get in the way of his appetite!”
“Such a treat,” said Danelle. “Wasn’t it, Novalee? A real treat.”
“Yes mama,” said Novalee.
“Thank your hostess, then.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Hostess, if you don’t mind,” said Arie, and laughed. “I’ve naught been called that before, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything. It was our pleasure to share it, after the day we’ve all had.” She gave Clyde a little sidelong glance. “Meager offering that it was, of course.”
“It was perfect,” said Ashe. “I actually feel a little more human right now.”
“Damn good,” said Curran. “Especially that humongous one you got, Kory. I really enjoyed it. Thanks.”
“You didn’t eat the giant,” said Kory. “I did. It was the best clam I ever had.” He gave Curran a mischievous half-smile, and Arie was happy to see him looking wholly himself again. He was bookended by Renna and Ashe with Talus lying directly on top of his feet, and he looked about as content as a boy can be.
They were quiet awhile, satisfied, it seemed, to watch the fire as the evening darkened into true night.
“More people staying here on the shore than I would have expected,” said Arie.
“Pretty standard,” said Clyde. “Since we’ve been here, anyway.”
“Seems exposed,” said Handy.
“That’s because it is,” said Clyde. “Weather, other people. Hell, seagulls and crabs. How’d you like to wake up with a big old Dungeness clamped on the end of your dingus?” He threw back his head and howled at his own wit.
“So you don’t stay down here?” said Arie.
“We have a van up in the parking lot,” said Danelle. Clyde gave her a long look; she put her chin down and stared into the fire.
“Are you talking about that transit van?” said Curran. He and Handy exchanged a brief look.
“Yes,” said Ashe. “That’s us.”
“Roomier than it looks, said Clyde. I had that honey on the lot when the poo hit the saw blade. Full tank and tricked to the hilt.”
“Lot,” said Curran. He squinted at Clyde for a moment, then jumped up, a look of goofy surprise on his face. “I knew I knew you! Clyde, right?
Clyde sported a smile that was part Mona Lisa, part Cheshire Cat. “Clyde Atterbury,” he said. He was leaning over on one elbow, picking his teeth with a stiff stem of beach grass.
Curran laughed and slapped one thigh. “You gotta see the rides at CLYDES!” he sang. “Clyde’s auto mart.”
“Been using that jingle since it was my dad’s lot,” said Clyde. “He was Clyde senior, of course. I’m junior.”
“Well, damn,” said Renna. She sounded wryly amused. “Practically a celebrity.”
“Hi praise from a lovely lady,” said Clyde, showing his marble-monument teeth around his makeshift toothpick. Renna said nothing.
Curran sat down again, still smiling. “Blast from the past,” he said.
“As I said, the lot was a godsend when everything fell apart. We had two decent RVs. Full tanks—or near-to.”
“You have two vehicles, then,” said Handy.
Clyde’s determined grin faltered. It wasn’t much, but Arie saw it wobble. “Did have,” he said. “We, uh, lost the other. Couldn’t be helped.”
“Broke down?” said Curran.
“Accident,” said Clyde. “Worst luck, that. We lost a good man. Ashe’s man.”
“Damn,” said Curran.
“That is bad luck,” said Arie. “To live through the Pink—the both of you—only to die in a road accident.” She looked at Ashe. Even in the low firelight, Arie could see the woman’s jaw had a hard set. She rested her elbows on her bent knees and had one forearm cocked beside her face. The better not to look at Clyde, thought Arie. “I’m so sorry to hear it, Ashe,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Ashe. “It sucked.”
“Anyway, we still had the transit van,” said Clyde, “so that was lucky. Room for comestibles and whatnot. We hoped to get out of New Hemings, at least. Thought the Greater Northern Alliance would have resources or help.” He shrugged. “Something.”
“You didn’t get far,” said Handy.
“No,” said Clyde. “More bad luck.”
Handy rose and put another branch on the fire. “You’re sitting on four flats up there.”
“Damn vandals,” said Clyde. “We stopped here to catch our breath, I guess you could say. After the accident. We were, oh…kinda shook. Understandable, a thing like that. Anyhow, we hadn’t been parked up there but a day and a night. We got ready to hit the road, and we find that. All four shoes knifed. How we slept through it, I have no idea.”
“How long ago?” asked Arie.
“Some time back,” he said vaguely. “Long enough the battery died on me.”
“We didn’t have hardly no gas anyway,” said Danelle. “Mostly why we pulled in here. Isn’t that right, Clyde?” She looked at him the way a kowtowing pupil looks to teacher for an attagirl.
“Not really,” said Clyde. There was zero happy huckster in his tone now. “And what have I told you about double negatives, Danelle?” He stared at her until she looked away. “Anyhow,” he said. “This would be a stupid place to stop on purpose.”
“Good you were so well-supplied, I guess,” said Curran.
“Has a huge cargo well under the floor. Helluva sweet camper.”
“That took real foresight,” said Arie. Ashe made a quiet sound, a small snort, barely audible under the constant sound of breaking surf.