Riley tossed his pizza crust out the window, where it was pounced on by hungry seagulls. “Of course,” he said.
Nantucket was only thirteen miles long and four miles wide, but it was by no means a small or simple place. There were countless dirt roads and mysterious acres. Agnes didn’t know where to start looking. But wherever Dabney was, she was driving the Impala, and thus she would be hard to miss.
“Should we go east or west?” Agnes asked.
“East?” Riley said. “Maybe she went to Sconset?”
“Sconset?” Agnes said. Dabney had always had lukewarm feelings about Sconset, in much the same way Union soldiers had lukewarm feelings about General Lee. There had been a period of time, years before Agnes was born, when Sconseters had wanted to secede. They had wanted their own town building and their own board of selectmen-and this had rubbed Dabney the wrong way. Now, as director of the Chamber, Dabney had to embrace and promote Sconset-the entire Daffodil Weekend was celebrated there-but Sconset fell prey to Dabney’s rules: she would go once a year to the Chanticleer, once a year to the Summer House (but only for drinks and the piano player; she didn’t trust the food), and once a year to the Sconset Casino for a movie. Every single day of the summer, she suggested that visitors bike out to Sconset, where she advised them to have lunch at Claudette’s or ice cream from the Sconset Market-but she would never do these things herself. Agnes did not see her mother going to Sconset-for secret errands or otherwise. “Not Sconset. Let’s head west.”
Riley took a right onto Cliff Road, and Agnes began the lookout. She checked the driveways of all the grandiose homes on the right that overlooked the Sound. Maybe some friends had appeared from off-island and persuaded Dabney to play hooky from work and from Business After Hours? Her friends Albert and Corrine Maku sometimes showed up and demanded spontaneous fun. There might have been other people Agnes didn’t know about-maybe one of her couples from 1989 or 2002 or 2011?
Really, what other explanation could there be?
Riley fiddled with the radio and, finding nothing satisfactory, turned it off. He said, “So, Agnes, do you have a boyfriend?”
“A fiancé,” she said.
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Your mother didn’t tell me you were engaged, and you’re not wearing a ring.”
Nope, Agnes thought guiltily. She had taken off her ring. Agnes had accidentally seen the receipt for the ring lying on CJ’s mail table; it had cost him twenty-five thousand dollars. Agnes had nearly fainted. A twenty-five-thousand-dollar ring. Agnes could never, ever wear it to Morningside Heights, nor could she wear it on Nantucket as she led biking and rock-climbing excursions. The ring was in its box on her dresser. It was pretty but useless, a caged parakeet.
“My mother didn’t tell you?” she said.
“No, but like I said, I’m not exactly privy to office secrets.”
“It’s not a secret,” Agnes said. “Although maybe my mother wants to keep it that way. She doesn’t approve.”
“No?”
“No.” Agnes sighed. “You do know, right, that my mother is a matchmaker?”
Riley threw his head back and laughed into the evening air.
“She’s set up forty-two couples,” Agnes said, “all of them still together. She’s famous for it. She sees an aura-pink if it’s good, green if it’s bad. And my aura with CJ is green, so she can’t give her blessing.”
“You’re kidding,” Riley said.
“Not kidding.”
“I told you I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg,” Riley said. “She’s a matchmaker! No wonder she was so excited when I told her I played Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof.”
Agnes smiled. It was impossible to sustain a bad mood with this guy: he was too happy-go-lucky. “You’d better watch out,” she said. “I think she has plans for you and Celerie.”
“You think?” Riley said. “I was considering asking Celerie out, actually.”
Ridiculously, Agnes experienced a pang of jealousy at this statement. Oh my God, what was wrong with her? “You should!” she said.
“But I think she has someone back home,” Riley said. “In Minnesota.”
“Minnesota is pretty far away,” Agnes said.
“You’re right,” he said. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll ask if she wants to go up to Great Point with me on Saturday.”
Another pang of jealousy: Agnes loved Great Point. To her, the perfect summer day was a cooler full of drinks, a couple of avocado BLTs from Something Natural, and a trip up to Great Point in a Jeep like this one-top down, radio blaring.
Agnes watched as Riley negotiated the curves of Madaket Road. He and Celerie would make a good couple. Agnes had thought that when she saw them together at the office. But earlier, at the office, she hadn’t known Riley. She hadn’t heard him play “Puff the Magic Dragon,” she hadn’t watched him eat pizza, she hadn’t talked with him about her job. It was amazing how, after the past hour, she now felt like she had some sort of claim on him. The thought of him bestowing his affection on Celerie with her bouncy ponytail and her cheerleader moves and her favorite this and other-favorite that was upsetting.
No-what was really upsetting was that Agnes couldn’t locate her mother. They weren’t going to find her driving out to Madaket, of this much Agnes was suddenly certain.
“Would you mind taking me home?” Agnes asked.
Riley hit the brakes and the case of his guitar bumped against the back of Agnes’s seat, emitting a dissonant chord. “What? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Agnes said. “This is silly. It’s a wild-goose chase. I’ll just wait for my mother at home.”
“Oh,” Riley said. “Okay, no problem. But just so you know, I’m happy to keep looking.” He sounded wistful. Well, he had been enjoying the adventure, and now it was over. It had nothing to do with Agnes.
“I appreciate that,” Agnes said. “But I’d like to go home.”
Riley’s cute face with his perfect, straight white teeth settled into an expression of something like hurt or regret. But that would be erased, Agnes was sure, once he asked out Celerie and Celerie said yes. It would, no doubt, be rosy auras all around.
It was ten thirty when Dabney finally walked in the door. Agnes was sitting at the kitchen table with an empty glass of milk in front of her. She had eaten half a dozen of her mother’s oatmeal cookies and had let three of CJ’s phone calls go to voice mail.
Dabney was clearly startled to see Agnes; she nearly dropped her Bermuda bag. “Oh! Darling, I’m sorry…I didn’t expect…what are you doing…what?”
Agnes studied her mother. She was wearing the same navy polo shirt and madras skirt, penny loafers and pearls that she’d been wearing when she’d left that morning. Her hair was smooth in its headband. But something was different. What was it? She looked like she’d gotten sun. Had she been at the beach? Agnes wondered. She thought of Riley and Celerie up at Great Point, but that served only to irritate her further.
“Where have you been?” Agnes said. Her voice had a jagged edge. She could remember using such a tone with her mother only once before.
Dabney’s expression was inscrutable at first. This woman, whom Agnes had believed to be so transparent, was hiding something. Tip of the iceberg, indeed!
“Tell me right now!” Agnes said. She was only too aware that she sounded like the parent in this scenario. “You left work at noon. You didn’t answer your cell phone! You skipped Business After Hours! Where. Have. You. Been.”
Dabney’s eyes shone defiantly.
“Out,” she said.
The reversal, Agnes thought, was complete.
Dabney
She was utterly predictable; she never failed to act exactly like herself. The only surprising thing she had ever done in her life was to start this extramarital love affair.