Summer Breeze (23 page)

“Idols?” This time Derek sat bolt upright. “My mother does not worship idols.”

“No need to worry. Esther has calmed the widows down, and now that you and I have cleared the air, well, it’s not going to be anything to sweat about.” Charlie steered the golf cart past an oncoming truck. “The real problem may be just around the bend here. I thought I ought to mention it to you—seeing how you’re an officer of the law and you might know about such situations. Of course, it doesn’t pertain to water, but all the same …”

Derek was still picturing his mother worshipping idols in a bathing suit when Charlie braked the cart a short distance from the smallest house in Deepwater Cove. Next door to a home that was up for sale, it sat at the far end of the cove, some distance from the docks, the commons, and most of the activity. It had probably been constructed as a fisherman’s retreat before the area was platted and built into a nice neighborhood. The covered deck was no longer quite level, and the shutters needed paint.

“This house belongs to Brad and Ashley Hanes.” Charlie spoke in a low voice through the side of his mouth, as if confiding a deep, dark secret. “I know for a fact that they haven’t been paying their subdivision dues. And I hear they’re behind on their loan payments. That’s their business, of course. But what has come to be of some concern is the activity going on over there to the side of the house.”

In the fading light, Derek could barely make out what appeared to be a poured foundation and a couple of framed walls. “Are they building something?” he asked.

“Young Brad works construction, you know,” Charlie said. “He told some folks that he’s putting up a garage for his new truck. The vehicle isn’t here right now. You know, Brad spends his evenings over at that watering hole, Larry’s Lake Lounge, waiting for Ashley to get home from her job at the country club. But again, that’s their business. Trouble is, Ashley told Esther that they’re building this addition to hold a nursery for the baby. She’s not expecting yet, but she sure is hoping. That part is a secret, of course. Nobody knows but Esther.”

Derek nodded. If the Hanes kids wanted to start a family, what did he care? For that matter, what was Charlie all fired up about?

“You’ll notice they don’t have a building permit posted anywhere on the premises,” the older man continued in hushed tones. “Nobody wants to rain on their parade, but you can’t add or tear down anything in Deepwater Cove without a permit. It’s in the bylaws.”

“Well, you’re chairman of the neighborhood bylaws committee, Charlie. You’d better tell Brad before he gets too far along with the garage or baby nursery—or whatever it’s supposed to be.”

“Problem is, we don’t know if we can really enforce our bylaws. They don’t carry much weight with the county, and no one knows what the rules are way out here. Do you have any idea?”

“There are zoning laws; I’m sure of that.”

“But do they apply this far out of the Camdenton city limits?”

Vaguely irritated, Derek raked a hand back through his hair. “The Water Patrol enforces state statutes, Charlie. We don’t have authority where municipal or county laws are concerned. But I’m sure if anyone can find out the rules for construction in Deepwater Cove, it’s you. You’ve got the time and the know-how.”

The golf cart moved forward again. “I was hoping you’d have the answer for us. But Esther kept telling me that your jurisdiction was the lake and you might not know. A man ought to listen to his wife.”

They rode along in silence with Derek slapping at the occasional mosquito. Listening to his wife was apparently his biggest failing, he thought irritably. When he got home, he would have to explain to Kim where he’d been, and she was upset already. Though he had been trying harder to communicate with her about his work and the other issues she had spelled out, he found it difficult. Derek wasn’t used to talking about anything beyond whatever was happening at the time. If he was ticketing someone for a violation, he explained lake laws. If he was meeting with the Major Case Squad, he discussed homicides. If he was eating dinner, he complimented the meal. What was so wrong with that?

“Speaking of the lake,” said Charlie, who didn’t seem to have any problem talking about anything at any time, “Esther came up with the craziest notion this morning. Not too long after breakfast, I was trying to tell her what I was planning to do about servicing the golf cart, and all the while she was putting together one of those Jell-O salads with the marshmallows and fruit. You know the kind I mean?”

Derek nodded. He’d eaten Esther’s gelled salad more times than he could count.

“Well, she wasn’t paying a bit of attention to me. When I grumbled about it, she turned around and said, ‘Charlie, a woman is like a fish. If you want to capture her, you’ve got to find the right bait, dangle it in front of her, and then reel in nice and slow.’ Can you believe that? Esther—talking about fishing! The woman hasn’t tossed out a line in twenty years. But this afternoon while I was working on the golf cart, I thought about it, and sure enough, Esther was right.”

“You say that a lot,” Derek commented.

“Because she usually is.” Charlie chuckled. “I’ve lived nearly a lifetime with the woman, and she rarely lets me win an argument. So I’ve learned to pay attention when she tells me something. That fishing idea of hers, for example. Not too long after she told me about it, I had a hankering to go to Aunt Mamie’s Good Food for supper. On Friday nights, Mamie’s features an all-you-care-to-eat shrimp special. Sautéed, breaded, peel-and-eat—you name it. But when I suggested eating out, Esther got all upset with me—fuss, fuss, fuss. So that’s when I decided to go fishing … for my wife.”

“For Esther?”

“That’s right. I wanted to catch her and get what I wanted from her—a trip to Mamie’s for the shrimp special. So I sat down on the chair right across from Esther, and I looked her right in the eye—just the way you study a fishing hole before you cast your line. Then I threw out the bait. ‘What’s wrong, Esther, honey?’ I asked, sweet as you please. Right away, she bit. She started telling me everything that was bothering her, and I shut my mouth tight. You can’t talk if you want to catch a fish, you know.”

Derek did know. He also knew that when Kim started talking about everything that was bothering her, the last thing he wanted to do was sit there gazing at her. He wanted to bolt in the opposite direction—as fast as he could. But Charlie was continuing his tale as he drove the golf cart along the moonlit road.

“The whole time Esther talked,” he told Derek, “I kept on looking at her, studying her, not saying a word, just nodding my head. I was itching to pick up the remote and see if the ball game was on TV, but I wanted to eat at Mamie’s even more. So I kept my hands still, just the way you do when you’re reeling in a big ol’ bass. And Esther kept talking. She said she had made that salad, and her feelings were hurt that I would prefer to eat out. She confessed that she had always been insecure about her cooking. She told me she thought Mamie’s could fix shrimp better than she could, and she figured that was why I wanted to eat there.”

Derek was trying to listen, but he was getting kind of drowsy. All this talk of Jell-O salad and shrimp had made him hungry, and the slow pace of the golf cart was about to put him into a trance. The more Charlie talked, the more Derek envisioned Esther Moore as a largemouth bass. He could almost see her swimming closer and closer to Charlie’s goal of eating out at Mamie’s as she talked and he reeled her in.

“I didn’t move a muscle,” Charlie went on. “I just leaned forward and listened. She was talking about her salad, but when she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and went to dabbing her eyes, I started to realize what she was really feeling. Her fussing at me didn’t have a thing to do with Mamie’s. It was all about the fact that Esther’s mother had never taught her how to cook, and that made her insecure about her culinary skills all her life. So you know what I said? I said, ‘Esther, you are the finest woman the good Lord ever made. You learned how to be a better cook than your mother ever was—and you taught yourself. Furthermore, I prefer your Jell-O salad to all the salads in the entire universe. And I feel exactly the same about your shrimp.’ You know what Esther said to that? She said, ‘I love you, Charlie. Put on your shoes, and let’s go eat supper at Mamie’s.’ And that’s exactly what we did.”

Derek felt as though he had just been handed that largemouth bass in a frying pan with a pat of butter and a sliced-up lemon. Charlie hadn’t reeled in a trip to Mamie’s. He had landed his wife’s heart—hook, line, and sinker.

When Kim heard Derek’s footsteps on the porch, she decided to try to intercept him before his mother did. Somehow, Kim
had
to convince Derek to send Miranda back to St. Louis if they wanted any hope of peace in their family. Tensions were strained to the bursting point, yet the man at the center of the hurricane seemed blissfully unaware. And that infuriated Kim.

She was almost at the front door when she heard Derek’s voice on the porch. Through the screened window, she could see his silhouette. He had hunkered down and was talking to Lydia, who had stretched out on the swing, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes. Kim reached for the doorknob, but she paused as she heard Derek speaking.

“What’s wrong, Lydia, honey?” he asked, laying a hand on the arm of the swing.

It had been so long since Kim had heard a gentle tone in her husband’s voice that she stood unable to move in the darkened foyer. For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Lydia sniffled. “I hate this family,” she said.

Derek moved over and sat down on the wicker rocking chair near the swing. “You hate this family?” he repeated. “You mean me, Luke, your mom, and Grandma Finley? Or do you still like some of us?”

“I like Luke,” Lydia said. “I like Mom, too, but it makes me sick the way she’s been acting. She’s such a grouch.”

“Hmm.” The chair squeaked a little as Derek began to rock back and forth.

Kim eased down onto a chair near the door. She watched the silhouetted shapes and listened through the open window as her husband and daughter talked. For some reason, it felt almost magical to hear their voices. His was deep and manly; hers was small and almost timid. Though Lydia spoke with belligerence, she often sounded fragile and even afraid. Kim wondered if Derek had any idea how delicate the girl was, hovering on the brink of her teens, wondering who she was, unsure of her future. She remembered feeling so much like Lydia, and yet Kim knew Derek must have no idea what to make of such a tightly wound ball of confusion, fear, and hope.

“Grandma Finley is okay,” Lydia told him. “She’s just weird. You know what I mean? She’s got that altar on the deck. People can smell the incense—and she wears her bathing suit to do her tai chi.”

“I thought she wore a robe too.”

“She takes it off!” Lydia groaned. “It’s so embarrassing. I could die. If Mom ever did anything like that, I would just kill her.”

“
Die. Kill.
Strong words. You thinking a lot about death, kiddo?”

“Well, wouldn’t you? I mean, she’s your mother, Derek. Aren’t you creeped out by her? You should have seen the pizza she tried to make tonight. It was all Parmesan and spinach and weird herbs. She’s just strange. I don’t know how you even turned out normal.” Lydia fell silent for a moment. “But I don’t want her to leave us. I mean, like, I wouldn’t want her to really
die
. Or you either. Or Luke.”

“Oh yeah. Sure, I know.” Derek rocked some more.

“That’s how it feels around here. Like everything’s breaking apart and about to die. We already went through that, Luke and me, when Mom and Dad got divorced. It’s not that I mind having you for a stepdad. But I hated it when they broke up. Even though he wasn’t the best father, he was all we had. And then we had to live in that stupid shelter. And then that crummy little house with the leaky roof. Then we got you.”

“Yeah, that was next.”

Kim realized Derek was saying almost nothing, yet for some reason Lydia had decided to talk to him. Calmly. She was sitting up now, her feet curled under her and her arms wrapped around the chain that held up the swing. In the rocking chair, Derek had leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was looking at Lydia, nodding as she spoke. The intensity of his concentration almost frightened Kim. She had never seen her husband so purposefully focused.

“You’re all right for a stepdad,” Lydia admitted. “But why did you have to go and invite Grandma Finley here? We were doing okay without her. Every time I look at her, I remember that she’s staying with us to make sure Luke doesn’t die. And that just bugs me. Luke can take care of himself, and if he messes up, then I’m there to watch out for him. I mean, I do remember what happened on the Fourth of July, and I’m glad Grandma Finley was able to find Luke’s insulin kit so fast. But it’s always confusing around here. Who’s in charge? I mean, is Grandma Finley living with us forever, or is she going back to St. Louis? It’s like things never feel normal. First we lost Dad, then we got you, and now we have Grandma Finley—but we might lose Luke, or Grandma Finley might leave. Or stay. And I’ve heard you and Mom fighting. You guys might get divorced like she did with Dad, and then you would leave. You can’t trust anyone in this family. I just hate it.”