The Body in the Birches (17 page)

Will was camped out against the rear of the large shed. All that was lacking was a tent over the tidy arrangement of a cot with sleeping bag, battery-powered lantern on an upended lobster trap that also held a stack of books, mosquito repellent, and an ancient Boy Scout canteen. She opened it and sniffed. Scotch. The Scouts were definitely loosening up. A large duffle bag presumably holding some of his wardrobe was tucked under the cot, along with a pair of running shoes, Teva sandals, and dark brown leather dress
shoes. Now why would he need those here? Sophie straightened up and looked around for some sort of place where he could hang other clothes. Dress shoes said dress suit to her. Nearby, nails held some outerwear, including the jacket he had had on yesterday, the one he had draped over Autumn.

In a dark corner, she discovered a men's garment bag hanging from a hook and unzipped it. Bingo: a suit. She wasn't expecting Armani and it wasn't. She wasn't expecting Paul Stuart, either—and it was. She started to go through the pockets. Men left all sorts of things in them. Receipts, business cards. Could be he had a dress wallet, say one with a duplicate license with his name and address?

“May I help you?”

Sophie froze. Shit, shit, shit!

“Sudden need to cross-dress?” Will's voice was icy cold.

He was standing so near to her she could feel his breath on her face as he reached across and closed the bag. She removed her hands just in time to escape being caught in the zipper.

He repeated his question. “What are you doing here, Sophie?”

His tone brought all her pent-up ire to the surface and she fell back upon a tried-and-true lawyer's trick: answer a question with a question.

“What are
you
doing here? Why aren't you sailing?”

He wasn't falling for it—and he hadn't moved away. His nearness was distracting. Didn't the man have any manners at all? She couldn't get out of the corner without shoving him and it was going to have to come to that.

Pushing past him, she said, “I'm going kayaking and I wanted a particular paddle.”

“Other than the fifty or so under the front porch.” His voice sounded amused now. But she wasn't buying it.

“Yes, it's one I always use. Oh, there it is!” She grabbed a paddle that was leaning against the wall by the open door that she had stupidly not slid closed.

He followed her out, clicking shut the padlock that was seldom locked, and grabbed her arm. She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip and she stood still.

“First of all, I came back in the Zodiac for a spare gas can that Simon left here and wants on board. I'm going back out to meet them in Buck's Harbor at the marina. And next, that's a child's paddle and we both know you're no child, Sophie Maxwell.”

He tilted her chin up and brought his face down close to hers. She closed her eyes. Waiting.

And then he was gone. Strolling toward the dock.

“Have a good afternoon,” he called over his shoulder.

Driving with the two girls down the main road that led from the dirt roads to the Point, Faith saw Mandy Hitchcock in front of a small house Faith had passed often. Although sporadic attempts had been made to plant flowers in the tire planter Mainers had been using well before recycling was in and although the grass was kept mown, it was a losing battle. The lawn was home to spare parts for many other items besides cars and the cement walk was cracked beyond repair. The front door looked painted shut, and weeds had sprung up along the lintel. On other trips, Faith had seen a very large man in one of the lawn chairs. He seemed to be uninterested in the traffic that passed and that may have been because of the ever-present pile of empty cans next to him. Faith had never slowed to see what they were, but she doubted they were soft drinks, even Moxie. The man was there now. Mandy's father?

“Hey, it's Mandy, slow down, Mom! I want to say hi,” Amy said.

Faith started to slow, but seeing the look on the man's face, she kept going. Mandy's back was to them. Faith couldn't see her expression, but his was beyond livid.

“Another time, hon. We need to get going. After we check on our house and I talk to Seth, Pix said to come over.”

Faith was relieved to see Seth and his crew at the cottage. She
pulled in and parked next to his pickup. Down East was prone to vanity plates and bumper stickers. Seth had one on his rear bumper that was her favorite:
SAVE A HOT DOG EAT A LOBSTER
.

Leaving Amy to play hostess, Faith walked into the new space now connected to the rest of the house.

“Should be able to move back next week,” Seth said.

Faith mentally added one more week, happy they would be in their own place before the end of July.

“It looks great,” she said. “I wasn't sure those light fixtures from IKEA would work—they seemed so big when we unpacked them, but somehow suspended from the ceiling they look smaller.”

“Ayuh. Have to get down to that place—if my truck will let me cross the state border, that is.”

“Or the bridge,” Faith teased. Although Seth made frequent trips to Ellsworth and even Bangor, he rarely ventured farther. “No time,” he'd told her, adding, “if I'm going to go someplace, I want to
go
someplace. Costa Rica, maybe. The rain forest.”

“Sophie Maxwell is coming to help me pick out the color for the walls and then there's nothing else I have to decide, right?”

Seth nodded. “Babs's daughter? Well, I recall the days I used to caddy at the country club here on the island when Babs would stroll by in her short shorts headed for the tennis courts. Wanted to be her summer fling somethin' fierce, but she went for one of the Snowden boys instead. Saw her last summer and she's still got it. Also a husband, more's the misery. Number five or six, but who's countin'?”

Faith laughed and thought she'd go out to wait for Sophie by the garage so she didn't miss the house. Seth stopped her with his next words.

“Ben doing okay at the Lodge?” There was something in his tone of voice that suggested more than idle chitchat.

“Yes, why do you ask? What have you heard?” Seth had been at the dance and she assumed he already knew about Ben's little altercation. It must be something else.

“Nothing much, except his boss seems to believe in delegating authority. I hear the chef is running the show since Derek's not around much. Partying pretty hardy.”

“At the Lodge itself?”

“He's not that stupid. A few places on island, mostly off.”

“Ben hasn't mentioned anything about Derek.” Which, Faith thought, she should have picked up on earlier. Plenty about Chef Zach and the staff; nothing about his employer.

“Well, he wouldn't, would he? Not at his age. He and Tyler—Mandy, too—are good kids. I don't think you should worry.”

Sophie walked into the room.

“Worry about what? Hi, you must be Seth Marshall. I've heard a lot about you from my mother. She had a big crush on you.”

Seth looked over at Faith and pulled a comically mournful expression. “Just goes to show you . . . well, that ship has sailed. You look like your ma, Sophie, but if I may say so even prettier.”

“You may and thank you very much. Now, what are we worrying about?”

Faith answered, frowning, “Apparently Ben has an absentee boss, absent purely for personal pleasure. And sorry, Seth, I
am
worried. I wish Ben would quit.”

“My cousin Rory has been hanging out with Derek,” Sophie said. “I can ask him what's going on. A bonfire and some beers or heavier stuff. Rory doesn't do drugs. He has this whole surfer Zen thing going. More important, I've never seen him high, except at the thought of a perfect wave. But I also doubt he'd stay away from people who were, if it was a good enough party.”

“I'll ask around, too,” Seth offered.

“I suppose that's all we can do for now,” Faith said. “I know the island isn't paradise and there's always been drugs of all kinds, but there was a big article in the Bangor paper recently about heroin. How it's almost getting cheaper than buying cigarettes and definitely much less than all those pain pills.”

Sophie appeared startled by Faith's words but didn't say anything.
Faith resolved to bring the subject up when they were alone. With Samantha, too, who was staying another week. Samantha had grown up summering on the island and had friends from both now increasingly distinct groups—natives and people from away.

“I shouldn't have said anything,” Seth said. “Was trying to give you a little heads-up, but in my usual dumb-ass way, blew it.”

Faith assured him, “No, I would have been more upset if I found out you knew something about Ben's workplace and
didn't
tell me. Now, Sophie and I have to make a serious paint choice.”

After considering beige hues with a tinge of rose and almost going for Fennel Seed, the two women came to a decision: Moccasin, one shade lighter than Blanched Almond. When Seth intoned “Is that your final answer?” they chorused back “Yes!” and went to get the two girls, who were in the woods behind the house. For a few moments, Faith had forgotten all about the fact that her son could be working for not just a party animal, but also a possible druggie.

Ben had never kept anything from Tyler, who was not only a summer friend, but also his best friend, period. Tyler had come to Aleford many times and Ben had taken the bus up during ski season to go to Sugarloaf with Tyler's family. So, as soon as he had a chance, he told him about the pills in Derek's desk drawer, as well as finding their boss dead drunk on the beach, a scene that grew more revolting in the telling.

Tyler wasn't surprised. “Dude definitely has some problems. Just hope he doesn't run this place into the ground before the summer ends. It's a good job. Pays way better than other places on the island.”

“Think we should tell Mandy?”

“She probably knows, but yeah, I think we should during break. She just came in. Said she could drive us home.”

Ben thought about the party Rory had been urging Mandy to
go to and got mad all over again. He went into the dining room, where she was setting tables, to ask her if she wanted to walk with them on the beach later. The three of them always headed there during their breaks instead of joining the other staff grabbing smokes by the rec hall.

“Hey,” he called out. “Tyler said you could take us home. Thanks.”

He was surprised at the panicked look she gave him. Maybe it wasn't convenient for her to give them a ride?

It was hot inside the room. The AC had been turned off after breakfast and wasn't back on yet. Mandy had taken off the Lodge turtleneck and sweatshirt she had been wearing the other day, too, and was in a tank top. As he approached she frantically pulled the turtleneck over her head and Ben stopped, momentarily frozen in his tracks.

Mandy's neck was severely bruised. And from the marks, it wasn't hard to tell what had done it—two hands.

“Mandy! Who did this to you?”

She pulled the neck up high to her chin and the sleeves down, but not before Ben noticed there were bruises on her arms as well. “It's nothing, Ben. I'm handling it.
Please
don't tell anyone. I mean it. Not even Tyler. Especially Tyler.”

“But, Mandy—” Ben made no attempt to disguise the anguish in his voice. “I can't just sit by and let someone hurt you!”

She gave him a slight smile. “Oh, he's not going to hurt me again. Don't you worry about that. He's not going to hurt anyone again.”

Ben had to be satisfied with that and the hug she gave him, murmuring, “It will be all right. I swear.”

Then he went back into the kitchen sick with secrets.

When Faith arrived at the Millers' cottage, the two girls headed straight for the beach, which had more sand than most on Sanpere.

As soon as they left, Faith and Pix both started talking at once.

“You go first,” Pix said. “Mother told me that Marian is doing well and the surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. That's wonderful news. Now, how's Seth coming along? When does he think you can move back?”

“He said a week, so . . .”

“That means two.” The friends were used to finishing each other's sentences and Faith laughed.

“Everything looks great and Sophie helped me pick out the wall color. Sort of like a whole milk latte. It's called Moccasin and it does remind me a little of a light beige brushed leather one. I love picking out paint. Wish we could do something about the parsonage walls.”

As a new bride, she was able to get the vestry to approve new paint for the yellowed walls, but only an extremely neutral palette.

She wanted to tell Pix about what Seth had said and see whether her friend still thought Ben should work at the Lodge, but first she had to find out how the new addition to the family was going.

“How is Dana settling in? It must have been terrible for him to lose his mother like that. Was she sick long?”

“I haven't really had much time to talk to Arnie—or Claire. They've been on the go since they came.”

“How long are they staying?”

A shadow crossed her friend's face and she quickly banished it with a smile. “Until Labor Day weekend. Arnie wants to take Dana to the Blue Hill Fair. They've been reading
Charlotte's Web
together. Isn't that wonderful?”

“Pix! It's me! Or I, whatever. Talk! This has got to be hard for you. Arnie and Claire never spend that much time here. I know he said he'd retired, but what about her work?” Claire was a financial adviser with a firm that had offices in Santa Fe, Tucson, and Albuquerque.

“She's arranged to telecommute once her vacation is over.”

“From The Pines! Ursula still has a dial phone, or a push-
button one, anyway. Don't tell me the house is going to be wired for the Internet! I just can't see it.”