Barefoot Girls (36 page)

He kept his focus up-island, finally spotting their dock. Almost home, safe. “I think I ate something bad. I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh, no! What? Was it that polenta do you think?”

Phillip nearly laughed. The dry tasteless polenta from last night he’d pushed around on his plate? He’d only been able to choke down a few bites. “I’m not sure. Just not feeling too good. We’ll do Jones another day.” Another day never. He wasn’t taking any more chances.

“You know…” Rose looked back at the receding shore. “That looked like Hannah O’Brien.”

He glanced at her and shook his head. “Oh, no, I don’t think so.”

“No, really. That
was
Hannah O’Brien. What is she doing here?”

“No, it’s not her!”

“What are you shouting about? It’s her. And I’m guessing her boyfriend. Why are you denying it? Do you know something?”

“No…” He tightened his lips and forced himself to focus on their dock which was zooming up on the left.

“You do! You know something. I can tell!”

He shook his head again. “No, I don’t.”

“How long has she been here?”

Suddenly, he was flooded with impatient anger. Couldn’t she just take his word for it? Did everything have to be a battle? “Goddamn it, Rose! Stop it!” He cut the motor and pulled up the boat sloppily against the dock, having to lean and grab the edge of the boards to pull the boat closer. He could feel her piercing gaze on him, a burning sensation, as he tied up. He didn’t want to lie to her any more than he had. He just wanted her to drop it.

“So, you’ve met her, huh? You two had a nice little conversation, didn’t you? Did she giggle and jiggle for you? Did you like that? I bet you did. Some young beautiful girl like that. Just like her mother.”

Phillip leapt out of the boat and turned back to face her. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to the bathroom. You can sit there and make up things all day long if you want. Need a hand up?” He reached down, offering his hand to her.

She sneered at his hand, her shiny pink-striped face twisting. “I don’t need a hand up. I grew up on the water. You, on the other hand, were afraid of boats when I met you. Tiptoed around in them like a little girl. Of course, I didn’t say anything at the time. Didn’t want to hurt your tender male ego.”

He looked down at his wife. What had happened to her? He hated to admit it, but the woman he loved, the vibrant proud woman he would have given his life for gladly, was gone. What was left was a bitter hateful crow, angrily picking at life and finding it wanting, her outraged cawing painful to hear. He turned without comment and walked up the dock, heading toward the house and away from her.

Chapter 31

Hannah fell down on her hands and knees and simply stared at the wooden floor for a second, her mind racing on wildly although her body had come to a stop. She was sweating and panting as if she’d been running.

No, it couldn’t be. Where was it?

She dropped down to sit on her right hip and survey the damage. Pam’s living room looked like a Nor’easter had torn through it, tumbled piles of clothes everywhere, books splayed open here and there, her neat plastic baggies filled with toiletries emptied out on the floor, the items strewn about. Her engagement ring, which she thought was in her suitcase, was nowhere to be found.  Hadn’t she put it there? She tried to replay the events of that first day she arrived in her head, but all she could remember was her discomfort with starting and maneuvering Pam’s boat, her first visit to the Barefooter house. She knew that she’d taken the ring out of the pocket in her purse, she’d already checked there. But that was it. She thought she’d put it in her suitcase late that night before falling into bed, so exhausted she was immediately asleep and powering into her dreams.

Her face felt tight, the dried tears rigid on her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried that hard, wrenching sobs that made her whole body convulse. She’d cried watching him open the gate again and pull out of the lot, cried locking it, cried all the way back to Pam’s, barely able to see where she was steering the boat and finding herself going off-course again and again. The whole time she’d berated herself for letting him see her left hand. But what would have happened now, if he’d come back here with her? The plan had been to quickly slip the ring on while he was mixing their Mean Greens in the kitchen. But the ring wasn’t where it was supposed to be. How long could she have gone on hiding her hand? And where the hell had she put it?

She got back on her hands and knees and crawled over to the suitcase and started patting it down again, digging through each of the zippered compartments, willing herself to feel the ring’s hard round presence.

“Come on! It’s got to be here…”

Her cell phone rang, jangling out the default ring. She paused and sat back on her heels. Should she answer it? It wasn’t someone that she knew, or at least not a number she’d programmed into her phone. No, she didn’t want to deal with it. She leaned forward again to continue her search.

Then she jerked, looking up and realizing who it could be. Was it Daniel? Maybe his cell phone was dead. Maybe he was calling from a pay phone over at Jones Beach. What if he’d changed his mind, wanted to come back? Or maybe he just wanted to talk to her and a few words would make things right again.

She scrambled to her feet and ran for the phone, which was sitting on the kitchen table, and snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah? It’s Mr. Harris. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Hannah swallowed hard. Mr. Harris. Oh, God. She’d avoided him so well up until now, ignoring the overdue rent in her only recent communication: a note left in their mailbox right before leaving for Captain’s saying she’d be back soon, was away seeing family. It wasn’t a complete lie. This island was like family, every house a familiar face, the gentle thump of waves against the boardwalk a mother’s heartbeat.

“Oh, hi Mr. Harris. What’s up?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, this is an uncomfortable situation to say the least. I hate to press you, I really do. It’s just the rent. You know that Ginny-“

She cut him off, not wanting to hear about Ginny and what she wanted yet again. “I’ll get the rent. I can even pay interest if you want. My book is really doing well and I’m sure I’m going to get a big royalty check soon.” Or not. She knew she had to earn out her advance first. Or was it a big enough of a seller to earn out already? She tried to remember the contract she’d slid over the desk, handing it off to her agent, who was only a year older than she was. Why hadn’t she read it? When would she get paid? The excitement of getting published had made her reckless. She couldn’t lose her cottage. It was her pride and joy. Maybe the garden was neglected a bit now, the flowers left to wilt, the ground dry, but it was nothing she couldn’t fix.

“Oh, wow! Congratulations, Hannah! You and Daniel must be excited. What a way to kick off your future together. He must be so proud of you. Oh, and your mother, too.”

She thought of the framed cover and list that Daniel had given her, the tender care behind it. All of it, everything he had ever done for her was like that – thinking of her, wanting to make her happy. And she couldn’t even wear his ring. Her mother had been proud, too, before the horrible truth came out. Hannah's throat was tight, so dry. She swallowed painfully. “I…yes, it’s good news,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“But come on. You’re probably getting ready to move in with Daniel as we speak. That’s where you are right now, isn’t it? In New York? We’d be happy to waive any back-rent as a gift to you, a going away present as it were. Ginny’s dying to move in and you’ve pretty much flown the nest, so why don’t we help you? No rent, forget about it – use the money for your honeymoon, and I’ll be happy to lend a hand or hire a few to help you move. What do you say?”

“Oh, no! I’m not moving in with Daniel. I mean, not yet. We will. But, uh…I’m old fashioned. I don’t believe in living with someone until you’re married. And we haven’t even set the date yet.”

Mr. Harris coughed a little and was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “Well, then. We’ll have to come up with another wedding present for you, I guess. The thing is, though, we need the rent. Two months overdue is quite a lot and we’re already into the third week of October, so we’re going to need November’s rent too, which would make it three months. We want to be helpful to you, but the lease, our agreement, has to be honored. We’ve only charged you half of what we could have gotten for that cottage. Oh, and you’ve earned it, fixed it up very nicely. We love what you’ve done. But still, you’ve got to honor our agreement. I hate to say this, but if I don’t have a check in hand by the end of this week for at least one month’s rent, we’re going to have to call it a day. You do understand, don’t you?”

Hannah felt very cold and still. She slowly lowered herself onto a chair beside the kitchen table, cradling her phone in both hands. She didn’t have it. She saw in her mind’s eye the last time she’d checked her checking account’s balance online and how ridiculously low it was. She’d let herself blow it off, hoping that somehow things would work out, certain the Harris’s would let her slide for a while. And they probably would have, if it wasn’t for Ginny and her sudden desire to live in the now-charming cottage on her parents' property. If it was still the run-down decaying shack that Hannah had moved into, Ginny would have turned her nose up at it.

“Couldn’t…could you wait a little longer?”

“I’m sorry, Hannah, but we have waited. We won’t go after you for the back-rent if it’s too hard for you to get.  Hey, I remember having financial woes when I was your age. You’ll get things sorted out eventually, trust me. Ah, youth! How things always seemed so dire. So it sounds like I shouldn’t wait until the end of the week? Or are you going to get a check to us?”

Her mind scrambled through her options, each as unlikely as the last. The only real choice would be to beg her stepfather to loan her the money, but she couldn’t, not right now with the way things were with her mother. “I don’t know, um, I’ll try. At least, wait. Okay? Just wait.”

“Sure. And if you can’t, we understand. We will need you to vacate in that case, though.”

“But, I, it’s a bad time, really. Can you wait another couple weeks?”

“Hannah, we’ve been more than patient. And we truly understand, but I’m going to have to put my foot down. This weekend, all right?”

“But I can’t get moved out this weekend!” She heard her voice rise and lowered it. “Sorry. I just, I don’t have anyone to help right now.”

“Oh, is that all?” Mr. Harris said. “Tell you what. I’ll hire a few men and we’ll put your things upstairs in the barn. There’s plenty of room up there and you can come get them whenever you’re ready. No rush. How does that sound?”

She sighed, her breath shuddering out. Did she have a choice? And he was being kind about it, wasn’t he? Why did she feel as if she was being robbed, and that she was supposed to smile and be grateful for it?

“Thank you,” she managed and nodded a curt little nod. “But wait until the end of the week, please. I just need to check on a few things.”

“Absolutely. I’ll wait for your call.”

“Okay, talk to you then.”

“Til then. Bye now.”

She pressed the end button and sat at the kitchen table, still and staring, but not seeing. The tears that always seemed to be waiting to fill her eyes lately had finally receded and with the ebbing of that tide, her whole body felt dry and cool and empty, like an abandoned shell on a beach.

Chapter 32

As soon as Keeley hung up the phone she had regretted impetuously picking it up in the first place. Now, walking toward Cocotte Jolie for the luncheon Brooke had immediately suggested once she heard Keeley’s news, she felt actual dread. What had she done?  It had simply been too perfect not to share, too exactly what Brooke wanted to hear not to pour it in Brooke’s ear and hear the happy sound of praise that would certainly ensue.

Later the same day of the committee meeting with Brooke and Tatiana, somewhat tipsy from drinking two glasses of wine and feeling cozy after soaking in a hot bath and letting the bone-deep cold melt away, she had greeted Ben when he’d arrived home shortly after seven. She was in the kitchen getting a glass of water, still wearing her favorite fuzzy pink bathrobe and matching slippers with her long hair piled loosely on her head in a sloppy bun, when she heard him in the foyer and ran to see him.

“Sweetheart! Oh, I’m so happy to see you. How was your day? Mwah!” she said and kissed him on the lips noisily.

He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and then held her at arm’s length. “Look at you, what a sight for sore eyes you are. Ow, and they really are sore. They’re killing me from staring at those damn spreadsheets all day.”

“Let me get you a drink. That’ll make you feel better.”

He shook his head, his lips twisting down. “Ugh. I wish I could. But I’ve still got more to do.”

“Oh! No!” She stuck her lower lip out, doing her best disappointed little-girl impression. Sometimes it worked.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly before stepping back, hands still on her arms. “You are so cute when you make that face. But I’m sorry. I don’t have much of a choice tonight. I’ve got to have all of my ducks in a row for the Board tomorrow. But we’ll go out for dinner tomorrow night, wherever you want. And we’ll order a big bottle of champagne, too. How does that sound?”