On Folly Beach (49 page)

Maggie’s hands stopped shaking, relieved to know that Robert wasn’t there to ask her about the suitcase under her bed. “That’s terrible. Was it somebody I know?”

“I doubt it. His name was Richard Kobylt. Ring a bell?”

She shook her head. “No. Should it?”

“I was hoping it might. Because of your store, you get to meet a lot of people and hear a lot of talk. I was hoping you might recall the name, maybe tell me who else you might have seen him with in your store. He’d been stationed at the air base for about six months, and I know he traveled to Folly often for the dancing and the girls.” They avoided eye contact as if they were both thinking about Cat and the night Robert met her on the pier.

“Do you have a photograph?”

He nodded and slid out a small photo from his breast pocket and handed it to her. She studied it closely, seeing a young man with a smooth, round forehead and dark curly hair. He was smiling, a nice, easy smile, and it saddened her to think that he was now dead.

She handed the photo back to Robert, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t seem familiar to me at all.”

Robert regarded her carefully, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. “Thanks, anyway. It was only a hunch.” He sat back in his chair. “So how are you, Maggie?”

“I’m fine, thanks. The store’s doing well despite the shortages, and Lulu’s had top marks in her class at school last year. The baby’s real healthy and has a strong set of lungs on him that he’s not afraid to use.” She smiled, somehow feeling the need to erase the crease of concern between his eyes.

Robert smiled back. “I love babies. I know that sounds stupid coming from a man, but I always pictured myself with a household full of them.” He looked away. “Don’t know if I’ll get the chance now.”

Maggie leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “I know what you mean. Believe me, I do. But don’t give up hope. I’ve learned that sometimes if you don’t give up, you can make things happen.”

He looked at her closely, as if really seeing her for the first time. “You’re a good person, Maggie.” He put his hand over hers on his sleeve. “Maybe I went after the wrong girl that night. Think how different our lives would be.”

She felt the tears prick the back of her eyes, allowing herself one second to imagine Peter with Cat, and herself with Robert and how she wouldn’t have to leave everything behind. “Don’t say that, Robert. There’s no going back, ever. And it will make you crazy thinking that you can.”

He was silent for a moment before dropping his gaze from hers. He took a long swallow of his tea and placed the empty glass on the porch railing before standing. “If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask me. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Maggie placed her hands in her lap. “I will, Robert. Promise. And thank you.”

“I’ve got to go,” he said, pulling on his hat again. “Thanks for your time. And the tea.”

Maggie stood, too, wondering why he wasn’t moving.

Finally he asked, “How is Cat?”

“She’s . . . she’ll be fine. Motherhood has been a huge change for her, and she needs more time to get used to it, that’s all.”

He looked away. “Is she . . . happy?”

Maggie held back all the words she wanted to say. “You’d have to ask her that yourself.”

His eyes narrowed as he nodded. “Yes, well, thanks again for the tea.” He headed down the steps but paused on the last one, turning back to her as if with an afterthought. “By the way, Maggie, do you by any chance know where Peter is?”

She shook her head. “No. He travels so much for his father’s business that he doesn’t always know where all he’s going when he heads out.” She thought for a moment before deciding that Robert was a safe person to tell. “I know that he was going to Washington, D.C., first, but after that, I have no idea. I think he’s due back sometime next week. Why?”

He paused for just a second before answering. “Oh, just thought that with all of his traveling, he might have run across Richard Kobylt—maybe have something to add.”

“I’ll tell him to get ahold of you when he gets back.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” Robert said, replacing his hat. “I’d appreciate that very much.” He sent her one last look, which she couldn’t quite decipher; then he left, his shoes crunching on the unpaved road. She watched him for a few minutes as he approached a jeep he’d parked down the road despite the empty spaces in front of the house, wondering briefly why he’d parked so far away.

She picked up the glasses and opened the front door and paused, not sure if she’d imagined the sound of footsteps in the upstairs hallway. After placing the glasses on a table, she tiptoed up the stairs and past the crib in the hallway, where Cat had kept it even after Peter had left. Maggie noticed that Cat’s door was cracked open slightly. Putting her cheek against the door, she peered inside, her eyes widening in surprise to find the bed empty. Opening the door fully, she examined the empty room. The bed was unmade, and the clothes Cat had worn the day before were thrown on the floor.

A soft thud sounded from the bedroom across the hall, and Maggie walked quickly to the door and thrust it open. Cat was crouched on the windowsill, her hand on the latch. She looked up at Maggie, her face blank. “It’s so damned hot in this house. I’m trying to get a cross-breeze going.”

“Please don’t, Cat . . . ,” Maggie said, stepping forward. But she was too late. Cat had already bumped the stuck window with her hip, managing to catch herself on the sill at the very last minute to keep herself from falling.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

Cat shrugged, jumping down from the ledge and brushing her hands together. “It worked, didn’t it?” She strode past Maggie to the door, keeping her eyes averted and leaving no doubt that she’d heard Maggie speaking with Robert.

The baby began to fuss, and Maggie followed Cat into the hallway, surprised to find that Cat had scooped up the baby and was attempting to soothe him by patting on his back. Maggie knew that Johnny preferred to be cradled instead of being held over the shoulder, but she kept silent.

Maggie wiped her hands on the front of her dress. “Well, since you’re awake, I’m going to head off to Folly’s Finds. I’ll be back by six to start dinner.”

She turned to head down the stairs but stopped when Cat spoke. “How did you know when Peter said he was coming back? He only told me.”

Maggie didn’t turn around, not knowing if she could trust her face. “He must have mentioned it at dinner.”

“No. He didn’t. He only told me when he kissed me good-bye and you weren’t there.”

“He must have mentioned it in passing, then.” Maggie took another step.

“That must have been it.”

Maggie continued down the stairs. “I’ll see you at six, then.” She reached the bottom without turning around, trying not to hear the cries of an inconsolable baby and feeling Cat’s knowing eyes on her back the entire way.

ON WEDNESDAY EVENING, LULU LOOKED at the clock on the wall behind the cash register for about the thirteenth time in the past twenty minutes, relieved to see it was finally five o’clock. All day long she’d been waiting for Peter to come back, like he’d promised Maggie, and the entire time Lulu wished very, very hard that he wouldn’t. A bad storm was coming up from Florida, and as she watched the growing clouds and felt the thick, warm wind, Lulu couldn’t help but hope that Peter would change his mind and not return at all.

She began to do the closing duties Maggie had taught her: sweeping, counting the money in the register before locking it, reshelving any out-of-place items. She was only ten, but Maggie said she was mature for her age and could be trusted to do the things she’d been watching Maggie do for as long as Lulu could remember.

Maggie hardly ever let Lulu close alone, but all day long Maggie had been fidgety, dropping things and calling customers by the wrong names. And every time the bell over the door rang, she’d rush to see who it was. It made Lulu sick to her stomach because she hadn’t figured out a way to stop Peter from taking Maggie away without letting Maggie know that he wasn’t the person she thought he was. Sometime in the last week, Lulu had figured out that keeping Maggie on Folly wasn’t really about Lulu at all: it was about protecting Maggie from a truth that would hurt Maggie so much she might never get better.

When Maggie finally left the store, she said she was going to the beauty parlor and, if anybody came by looking for her, to tell them that was where she was. Lulu knew she was talking about Peter but had to pretend that she didn’t.

As Lulu bent below the counter to find her book, the bell over the door jangled and her whole body froze. She even thought about staying where she was and pretending nobody was in the store but before she could even make up her mind, she heard Peter’s voice.

“Lulu.”

She looked up and saw that he’d come behind the counter and stood about two feet away from her.

Swallowing, she grabbed her book and stood. He was without a hat, and his hair was messy, as if he hadn’t had time to comb it. His shirt was untucked, his shoes dusty, and his tie loose, and he was sweating like he’d been running. She wondered if he was sick because he didn’t look like Maggie’s Peter at all.

“Hello, Peter. Maggie’s not here. She’s at the beauty parlor.” Lulu clutched her book tightly in front of her, her fingers sweaty.

“I know.” Of course he knew. His voice sounded dry and she almost asked him if he wanted a Coca-Cola, but she didn’t want him staying that long.

“I need you to give her something.” Peter’s eyes narrowed, and Lulu thought that maybe she should be frightened. “Not like that note I told you to put in the bottle tree a while back. Maggie told me she didn’t get that one.” He took a step forward but Lulu didn’t move. Nancy Drew wouldn’t have either.

He handed her a thick book, and when she looked down, she read the title Gulliver’s Travels.

“Something very bad could happen to you if Margaret doesn’t get this—do you understand?”

Her mouth had gone so dry that she was surprised when words managed to leak out. “Yes, sir.”

He straightened. “You want your sister to be happy, don’t you?”

Lulu nodded.

“Then don’t interfere again. This is an adult situation that you can’t understand. But I love Margaret and she loves me. That’s all you need to know, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” she managed again.

They both looked toward the door as footsteps approached. Peter ducked out of sight from the door’s window as Mrs. Rhodes came up to the door and turned the handle. Peter must have locked it behind him when he came in because the door didn’t open and Mrs. Rhodes turned and walked away, her footsteps gradually disappearing down the wooden sidewalk.

Lulu glanced back at Peter and saw him watching her. “You go on home now and give that to Margaret when she gets back. Don’t tell anybody where you got it from.” He began to walk toward the back door but stopped when he was next to her with just the counter in between them. “You forgot to hide your wagon the other night.” He looked right at her, and his eyes seemed to get darker as she watched. “I don’t know what you’ve heard with all your sneaking around, but you need to forget it all. Saying one word about any of it would be the same as killing Margaret. Or baby Johnny. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

Lulu shook her head, her pigtails flying; she knew not to even attempt to make any sound.

“Good. So give Margaret the book and keep quiet. Because I know how to find you. Remember that.”

Lulu flinched as he walked back toward her, then reached behind her to the closed cabinet against the wall, where they kept supplies and where Maggie kept her purse. Lulu watched as Peter pulled out Maggie’s suitcase and a small train case that had once been their mother’s. Tucking them both under his arm, he turned and made his way past her to the back of the store.

“Don’t forget what we talked about, Lulu.”

Lulu tried to answer but no words fell out of her mouth. She waited for a full minute after hearing the door open and shut before she raced to the door and locked it. Crouching down next to the door, she opened the book looking for a note in the margins like all the others she’d found. It hadn’t been hard to do since Maggie kept all of Peter’s books on the top shelf, where she thought nobody else could reach them.

Wetting her finger, Lulu began turning each page. She’d made it only to page twenty before she found Peter’s handwriting. When she’d first found the writing inside one of the books, she’d wondered why he’d made it so different from the handwriting he used in signing her Nancy Drew book for her, but she understood it all now.

Smoothing down the page, she read what Peter had written: Finally, darling! Tonight. 7:00. I’ll be waiting. Lulu rested her head against the door and closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly so the tears wouldn’t come out, but they did anyway. She didn’t want Maggie or the baby or anybody to get hurt. But she couldn’t let Peter leave with Maggie, either—and while Peter had been talking to her, she realized that it was because of so much more than just Maggie or Lulu. It was because of Jim and Amy’s father and Mrs. McDonald’s son. It was because it mattered that they had died.