“You’ll join me?” Birdie said.
“I’ll let you enjoy your family,” Barrett said.
“Please?” Birdie said. “Everyone else has scattered.”
Barrett paused. His eyes swept over her and perhaps took in the check on the table.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll sit for a minute.”
“Good,” Birdie said.
“Let me,” Barrett said, and he took the wine and corkscrew from her. He opened the bottle like a professional. “I waited tables at the Boarding House for a few summers there. Got pretty good at this.”
“I see,” Birdie said.
He poured two glasses of the Sancerre. “This isn’t as cold as you’d like it, probably. And you know the fridge isn’t exactly a Sub-Zero. I’ll bring ice tomorrow in a good cooler. And I’ll bring gas for the Scout. It still runs. I started her up last week.”
“Amazing,” Birdie said. “You know, I got the Scout stuck out on Bigelow Point when I was pregnant with Tate. Chess was just a baby. She was crying while Grant tried to dig the tires out with a plastic bucket and the tide was coming in. I thought we were going to sink the car for sure, but Grant dug and pushed and we must have had a little help from above, because we got it out of there. I remember that like it was yesterday.”
Barrett smiled. Was she boring him?
“Here’s a check for the house,” she said. “And we agreed on seven hundred and fifty dollars a week for you while we’re here, plus expenses, plus gas for your boat. I know it isn’t cheap.”
“That’s more than fair,” Barrett said.
“And you’ll come every morning and every afternoon?”
“I will,” Barrett said.
“It’ll be all the usual stuff,” Birdie said. “Groceries, newspaper, gas, ice, trash, firewood, laundry back and forth to Holdgate’s, plunge the backed-up toilet…”
“Remember not to flush toilet paper or anything else,” Barrett said. “Put up a sign if you have to.”
“The outdoor shower works?” Birdie asked.
“It’s a spritzer, cold water only,” he said.
Birdie smiled. “That used to drive Grant nuts.”
“Part of the Tuckernuck charm,” Barrett said.
“And…” She paused long enough to get his attention, but once she had his attention, she felt bashful. “Oh, I don’t know how to say this…”
“What is it?” he said.
“Well, I don’t want your time here to be all work,” she said. “You’re not our servant, after all. I want you to relax, have a glass of wine, bring your boys over if you can. I know Tate and Chess would love to… spend some time with you. Especially Chess. I told you she was getting married and I told you her wedding was called off, but what I didn’t tell you was that over Memorial Day weekend, her fiancé, or ex-fiancé I guess he was by then, died in a horrible accident.”
“No,” Barrett said. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“He was rock climbing in Moab,” Birdie said. “He fell and broke his neck.”
“Oh, man,” Barrett said.
“He was a good boy,” Birdie said. “And Chess feels guilty because she didn’t treat him very nicely at the end.” She clamped her mouth shut. Two sips of wine had gone straight to her head.
Barrett nodded.
“Chess is depressed, she needs help, and I’m not sure what to do. You noticed she’s shaved her head?”
“I noticed.”
“I’m worried sick about her,” Birdie said. “Earlier, when you said you lost your wife…”
Here, Barrett looked at the table.
“It occurred to me that you and Chess had something in common. Sort of. And maybe talking with you would help her.”
Barrett sipped his wine, then set the glass down and twirled the stem. “I’m not really into the whole support-group thing.”
“I wasn’t thinking of anything so structured…”
“I’m into survival,” Barrett said. “I have two little boys to think about. They require a lot of me. I don’t have time to sit around commiserating with other people who’ve lost significant others…”
“I understand that,” Birdie said.
“Maybe you do,” Barrett said. “But probably you don’t.”
Birdie looked at him. “Oh, God, you’re right. I probably don’t. I just thought maybe the two of you could hang out.”
“Hang out?”
“Maybe you could take her out on your boat.”
Barrett stared at Birdie over his wineglass.
“Didn’t you take her out when you were teenagers?”
“I took her to Whale Shoal for a picnic,” Barrett said. “I had quite a crush on her back then.”
Birdie tried not to appear anxious. She tried not to think of Chess as she had seen her twenty minutes ago-alone in the dim attic room, staring into space, looking as forlorn as Sylvia Plath or some other tortured soul. She had taken her cap off, and her bald head was exposed. Birdie had to avert her eyes. Without her hair, Chess looked sick, she looked alien. She looked like a full-grown baby. Birdie needed someone to help her. She tried not to appear like she was paying Barrett Lee $750 a week to be her daughter’s male escort, though nothing would make Birdie happier than to see a friendship spark between Chess and Barrett Lee. He could help restore her confidence, make her laugh. If Grant knew she was thinking this, he would reprimand her. What in God’s name are you thinking, Bird? Stay out of it!
Birdie pushed the check across the table. “It would be nice if you hung out,” she said. “We all like you.”
“Well, I like you, too,” Barrett said. He nodded at Birdie’s cell phone, which was on the table. Birdie had forgotten about it. “There’s no hope for that here.”
“Oh, I know,” Birdie said quickly. She picked up her phone and studied it. “Really? No hope?”
“Actually,” Barrett said, “there is one place on the island that gets reception.”
“There is?” Birdie said. “Where’s that?”
“If you’re good, I’ll tell you.” Barrett stood up, pocketed the check, and said, “Thanks for the wine, Mrs. Cousins. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Birdie said. “God. I hate to be pushy…” She did hate to be pushy, but she was desperate in a way she couldn’t explain or defend. He turned to her with a wary look in his eye; he probably thought she was going to bring up Chess again. “Can you tell me where the place is that I can get reception? Please?”
Barrett chuckled. “Someone you want to call?”
Birdie didn’t know how to answer. On her last night with Hank, he had taken her to Lespinasse for dinner, and then they had gone to the top floor of Beekman Tower and drunk champagne and danced. Hank had gotten them a room at the Sherry-Netherland for the night and they had made love on the exquisite sheets. The window at the foot of their bed overlooked Fifth Avenue. Hank had roses sent up in the morning on the breakfast tray, along with champagne and melon and strawberries. They asked for a late checkout so they could enjoy the champagne and each other and then go back to sleep for a while. Birdie had worried that the whole thing was costing a fortune, and Hank said, “It very well may be, but we are alive and in love and I would happily go bankrupt romancing you, Birdie Cousins.” Birdie almost wished they had spent their last night at a bingo hall or a pizza joint, because then perhaps her heart wouldn’t ache this way. Just thinking about the pink roses in the sweet little vase on the tray made her want to cry.
“Yes,” Birdie said to Barrett.
Barrett said, “Bigelow Point. Probably right where you got stuck in the Scout, at the very end. Reception clear as a bell. But don’t tell anyone. The last thing anyone on this island wants is to see the four of you ladies standing on that beach using your cell phones.”
Birdie said, “Of course not. Thank you, Barrett, for everything. I mean it.”
“No problem,” Barrett said.