Silver Girl (13 page)

No.

On the way back home, they stopped at Nantucket Looms where Connie bought a certain kind of wildflower soap that she liked, and then they passed Saint Mary’s, the Catholic church. It was a gray-shingled building with white trim—just like every other building on Nantucket—and there was a simple white statue of the Virgin Mary out front. The Virgin held her hands out in a way that seemed to beckon Meredith in.

She said to Connie, “I’m going in to light a candle, okay?”

Connie nodded and took a seat on a bench. “I’ll wait here.”

Meredith entered the church and inhaled the vague scent of incense; a funeral Mass must have been celebrated that morning. She slipped three dollars into the slot, and even then, she felt a twinge—three precious dollars! She lit the first candle for Leo. It was a parent’s job to keep his children safe, and Freddy had failed. He had so wanted the boys to join him in business, although it had been obvious from the beginning that he would only get Leo. Leo had worked preposterous hours, and he had made very little money compared to the people who worked on the abhorrent seventeenth floor. Surely the Feds realized this? If Leo was in on the Ponzi scheme, wouldn’t he be rich, too, like the rest of them? Why would Freddy involve Leo in something illegal? How was it any different from giving Leo a handgun and forcing him to hold up a 7-Eleven?

Keep Leo safe,
Meredith prayed.

She lit a candle for Carver. Carver was a free spirit; he’d had no interest in an office job, and Freddy, reluctantly, had let him go. Carver had asked Freddy for a loan in order to buy his first renovation project, and Freddy had said no. No handouts. So Carver had gone to the bank himself, and they gave him the loan because his last name was Delinn and nobody turned down a loan to a Delinn. And now, thank God, he wasn’t involved; he was a carpenter, and he could keep a roof over his brother’s head.

Keep Carver strong,
Meredith prayed.

She struggled with the last candle, then decided she would light it for Freddy.

But she couldn’t think of a word to say to God on his behalf.

She blessed herself and stepped back out into the sun. She was ready to go home. Her wig was starting to itch.

As they pulled into Connie’s driveway, Meredith studied the front of the house. The paint had come off, but the power washing left the ghost of the word behind. If you looked closely,
CROOK
was still there—only instead of hideous green letters, it was marked by shingles that were paler than the others. Dan had come back that morning to do some touch-up work. They had missed him, but there were telltale puddles in the front yard. Dan had promised that, over time, the shingles he’d blasted would weather back to gray. In six months, he said, the damage would be completely gone.

Connie pulled her purchases from the backseat of the Escalade. “Dan was here,” she said, eyeing the dripping eaves. “I can’t believe we missed him.”

Meredith was the first one to the front door. A business card was sticking out of the screen. She plucked it—it was Dan’s card. On the back, he’d written, “Connie, call me!” Meredith felt a rush of adolescent excitement.

“Look!” she said. “He left this!”

Connie flipped the card over. Her expression was inscrutable. She said, “It’s probably something about the house. Or about the bill.”

Meredith felt a twinge of panic. The bill. She would pay it, but how much would it be? Four hundred? Six hundred?

“You’re going to call him, though, right?” Meredith said.

“Not right now,” Connie said.

Meredith didn’t push it. Once inside, she extracted the bobby pins from her head and pulled off her wig. Ahhh. Her real hair, which could now only be described as blondish gray, was matted. She tried to fix it in the mirror. Her glasses were truly awful. No man would ever leave a business card for her. But that was okay; that was absolutely for the best.

Meredith longed to go for a swim. There was the sunny deck, and there was the beach twenty stairs below. There was the golden sand and the cool, blue water. But unlike the center of town with all its busyness and crowds, being on Connie’s property spooked her.

Connie said, “There’s Harold.”

“Where?” Meredith said.

Connie pointed offshore, and Meredith saw the sleek black head surface, then disappear. Yes, only one seal.

“How long has Harold been around?” Meredith asked.

“I was wondering that the other day,” Connie said. “And I figured out this is the fifth summer.”

“The fifth? Really?”

“Wolf saw him first when he was fooling around with his binoculars. The next summer, Wolf was sick, but we came here anyway, and Wolf spent a lot of time on the deck, wrapped in a blanket. He couldn’t see very well by that point, but I would tell him every time I saw Harold. The following summer, Wolf had died, and we scattered his ashes here. Then last summer. And now this summer. So, five.” Connie was quiet for a moment, then she said, “It’s amazing how Wolf’s death has put everything into two categories: before Wolf died and after Wolf died.”

Meredith nodded. She certainly understood that: the before and the after.

“Let’s have lunch,” Connie said.

Connie wanted to eat on the deck, but Meredith refused.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Connie said.

“I can’t help myself,” Meredith said. “I feel exposed.”

“You’re safe,” Connie said. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that,” Meredith said.

Connie was holding two beautiful plates of food. “Okay, I’ll eat inside one more time. But after this, I’m eating outside if I want to. I’m lying on the deck, just like I did the other day. I’m going for a swim.”

“You won’t swim until August,” Meredith said. “Admit it, you think the water’s too cold.”

“The water is too cold,” Connie said. “But I’ll walk on the beach. And if they want to photograph me walking on the beach, so be it. I’ll give them the finger. That’s what you have to do, Meredith. Mentally give them the finger. Let them know they don’t scare you.”

“They do scare me,” Meredith said.

Even inside, lunch was delicious: tuna sandwiches with hothouse tomato and the farm lettuce, great globs of mayonnaise, the subtle tang of mustard. They drank cold cans of sparkling Italian lemonade.

Connie had Dan Flynn’s business card next to her plate. She said, “I’m sure he just wants to know where to send the bill.”

Meredith said, “Call him and find out.”

Connie made a face. Then she picked up the phone. Meredith stood to give her friend some privacy, and Connie snapped her fingers and pointed to Meredith’s chair.

“Stay,” she said. “I can’t do this alone.”

Meredith sat.

Connie said, in a bright voice, “Hi, Dan? It’s Connie Flute calling. From Tom Nevers? Yes, it looks great. I’m so
relieved.
You’re a lifesaver!” She paused and her green eyes widened. “Oh? Tonight you mean? Gosh, well… I have other plans tonight, I’m afraid. What about tomorrow night?” She bit her lower lip. “Okay, that sounds great. And would it be okay if Meredith joined us?”

Meredith waved her arms and shook her head so violently, she heard wind in her ears.
NO!

“I can’t leave her here alone,” Connie said. “Especially not after what happened.”

Meredith mouthed, “You go! I’ll stay here!”

“Okay, that sounds perfect. Seven thirty, Company of the Cauldron. Wonderful. You’ll come pick us up at six? So early, you’re sure? You’re sure it’s not out of your way? Oh, don’t lie—it’s out of everyone’s way! We could just meet you at the restaurant. Really? You’re sure? Okay, okay, fine, drinks sound fun. So… we’ll see you at six. Thanks, Dan! Bye-bye.” She hung up.

Meredith said, “What the hell are you thinking?”

Connie collapsed in her chair. She fiddled with the bread crusts that were still on her plate. “He asked me out to dinner. To the Company of the Cauldron. Which is the most romantic restaurant on earth.”

Meredith groaned. “I’m not going with you.”

“You have to,” Connie said.

“Oh, come on, Connie. Why?”

Connie massaged her forehead. “I’m not ready to date. Normally, I would have just told this guy I’m not ready—but if you come with us, then it won’t be a real date and I’ll be okay.” Connie’s cheeks were flushed and her green eyes were shining. She liked Dan. And why not—he was good-looking, he was the right age, he’d lost his wife. But Meredith knew that if she refused to go, Connie would call Dan back and cancel. How was this any different from Connie insisting that Meredith come with her to Radnor High School three afternoons a week to watch Matt Klein wrestle when they were in the eleventh grade? How was it different from driving with Connie past Drew Van Dyke’s house in the middle of the night to make sure his car was in the driveway and not parked in front of Phoebe Duncan’s house?

“This is high school all over again,” Meredith said.

“That’s what life is,” Connie said. “It’s high school, over and over and over again.”

It would be nice if that were true,
Meredith thought. In high school, no one died of prostate cancer. In high school, no one was operating a $50 billion Ponzi scheme. The fact that what was happening right now was like high school was something to rejoice about, she supposed.

“All right,” Meredith said. “I’ll go.” She didn’t
want
to be left in the house alone; it would absolutely petrify her. “Did he sound upset that you were dragging me along?”

“Not really,” Connie said.

Right: men would do anything for Connie, including having dinner with the wife of the biggest robber baron in history.

“And what plans do we have tonight?” Meredith asked.

“Plans?”

“You told Dan you had plans tonight.”

“Of course I did,” Connie said. She stood to clear the table. “I couldn’t let him believe we were
staying home.
Don’t you know anything?”

Their “plans” for Saturday night included eating a goat cheese soufflé and Caesar salad for dinner—it was like something Meredith used to order at Pastis, and Connie had whipped it up herself. And after dinner, Connie invited Meredith upstairs to Wolf’s study to look at the stars through Wolf’s telescope.

“Wolf knew all of the constellations,” Connie said. She pointed the telescope out the window. “I only know Orion, the Big Dipper, and Cassiopeia.”

“I can find the Little Dipper,” Meredith said. “And the Pleiades. And I know what the Southern Cross looks like.” Meredith had seen the Southern Cross on a trip she and Freddy had taken to Australia. They had been staying in the northwestern seaside town of Broome, which was the remotest place Meredith had ever visited. Freddy had a friend from business school named Michael Arrow who owned a huge pearl farm in Broome. Michael had been an investor; he had lost the pearl farm, which had been in his family since 1870. Michael had been a good guy, open and likable; he had been a friend. Meredith wondered how Freddy felt about cheating Michael Arrow.
Goddamn you, Freddy!
she thought (zillionth and fourth).

What Meredith remembered about Broome was the open-air movie theater Michael had taken them to. They had sat on swings and watched a movie under the stars. Meredith couldn’t remember what movie they’d seen, but she remembered Michael saying, “And that beauty there? That’s our Southern Cross.”

Meredith wondered if she’d ever see the Southern Cross again. Freddy, most certainly, would not.

Through the telescope, the stars looked closer, though they were still just stars, just points of light that were millions of miles away.

Connie said, “Freddy bought you a star, didn’t he?”

Meredith nodded but said nothing. Freddy had bought Meredith a star and named it Silver Girl, after the lyrics of a song that Meredith’s father used to sing her.
Sail on Silvergirl, Sail on by, Your time has come to shine, All your dreams are on their way, See how they shine.
The song was “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Every time it came on the radio, Chick Martin would reach for Meredith’s hand.
Oh, if you need a friend, I’m sailing right behind.
Chick Martin had bought the album for Meredith’s birthday. He played the song before each of her swim meets. They had slow-danced to the song in the living room in the hour before Meredith’s graduation. He had played the song on a cassette during every driving lesson after Toby broke up with her and left town for the summer. Meredith had played the song on her turntable again and again in the cold, lonely days after Chick Martin dropped dead of a brain aneurysm. She had the old album upstairs in her sole cardboard box; it was now, and always had been, her most precious possession. Even though technology had rendered the album all but useless, she couldn’t bear to part with it.

Meredith had explained the meaning of the song to Freddy, and, years later, when
NASA
made it possible for private citizens to buy and name stars, Freddy had bought a star for Meredith and named it Silver Girl.

Whoa.
That was hard to think about, for many reasons.

Meredith excused herself for bed.

Connie was so excited about the date with Dan Flynn that Meredith felt herself growing excited by osmosis. Connie spent all day on the deck in the sun, diligently applying
SPF
15 to her face and keeping cucumber slices over her eyes like a movie star. Meredith watched Connie from the safety of the living-room sofa, where she lay reading a book. More than anything, she wanted to be outside, but she couldn’t relax while worrying that someone might photograph her. The paparazzi in New York had been relentless, swarming the awning of Meredith’s building for days. But this was more insidious—the hidden camera, the secret, gazing eye recording Meredith’s every move. Whether or not there was anyone out there watching her didn’t matter. Meredith felt self-conscious; she felt guilty. She didn’t belong on a sunny deck on Nantucket.

She wanted to call Dev to see if he had any further news from Julie Schwarz about Leo’s case. Had they discredited Deacon Rapp? Had they found Mrs. Misurelli? Meredith switched on her cell phone and held her breath as she waited for calls or texts to come in. Nothing. Then she realized it was Sunday and even Dev, as hard as he worked, wouldn’t be in the office. He would be on a lake fishing somewhere, or strolling in Central Park. Hell, even the Feds—the nameless, faceless Feds—would be enjoying summertime today.