Woman in Red (16 page)

“Well, dear, that’s all behind you now. Why dwell on it?” Lucy spoke with forced cheer, becoming suddenly animated, bustling to and fro, rattling pans and running the tap, exactly as Denise had done when ducking the subject. Alice suppressed a sigh. Some things never changed. Whatever had happened to make her mother so fearful of any unpleasantness—the privations she’d suffered as a child during the war or the trauma of her beloved Papa coming home a changed man—it was as irreversible as the experiences that had shaped Alice.

Alice remembered a time when she’d been that way, too. Wasn’t that what had led to her nervous breakdown? She’d kept up a brave front after David’s death, until finally the effort had caused her to come apart and scatter like so many Pick-Up sticks. But prison had cured her of faking it. There, if you lived in a dream world or put on airs, the other inmates would beat it out of you, literally in some cases. Honesty, even when raw and hurtful, had been the only means for survival.

Suddenly she found herself missing her friend Calpernia. Calpernia King had a nose for bullshit as finely tuned as a Geiger counter, and would regularly bust Alice’s chops when she tried to paint a pretty picture or give someone the benefit of the doubt. Like the time Alice had defended her cell mate, Sonia, after Sonia was accused of stealing. “You can talk all you like, don’t mean shit. You just blowing smoke out yo’ ass,” Calpernia had sniffed, her cornrowed head thrown back, her hands planted on her ample hips. A week later, Alice had found a book and pen she’d been missing under Sonia’s mattress.

Lucy glanced at the clock. “I don’t know what’s keeping your sister.” She lowered her voice to add confidentially, “Between you and me, I think she’s stretched too thin. This Spring Hill business has her in a such a tizzy, she doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going. With all those rallies and whatnot, I’m surprised she has any time at all for her family.”

“What about Gary? Where does he stand in all this?” Alice asked. She’d gotten the feeling he was only paying lip service to the cause in the interests of family harmony. Also, that all was not as it seemed when it came to her brother-in-law.

“Between a rock and a hard place, that’s where,” Lucy said, casting her eldest daughter a dark look. “He has certain responsibilities. It’s not just his wife he has to please.” A reminder that Gary, as deputy chief of police, wasn’t exactly a free agent.

Meanwhile, the debate over Spring Hill raged on. The environmental group Denise was active in had filed a lawsuit, temporarily blocking the planned development, in what was shaping up to be a bloody battle. At the center of
it all stood the mayor. Owen White had been the one to champion the development early on and put pressure on the planning commission, claiming it would create new jobs and pump much-needed money into the local economy. But there were those, like Denise, who weren’t seduced by his promise to set aside a portion of the land for a wildlife preserve. What kind of wilderness would it be, she’d wanted to know, with condos and tennis courts a stone’s throw away?

Alice’s thoughts turned to Jeremy and the day they’d hiked up the ridge at Moran State Park. She hadn’t seen him since then. He hadn’t returned any of her calls, and when she’d spoken to Randy about it, her ex-husband had cautioned her not to expect too much right off the bat. It hurt knowing Jeremy was so close yet so far from reach, but she told herself this couldn’t go on forever. Eventually something would have to give.

Meanwhile, she would continue on. Just as her grandmother had before her. Nana had been a survivor, too, taking care of her sick husband while single-handedly raising a child and putting food on the table. If it hadn’t been for her resourcefulness, the property would have been sold off years before land on the island became so valuable. Alice’s only regret was that Nana hadn’t seen any of that money in her lifetime. It was only after her death, when the house was sold, that its value was realized.

“By the way, you know who I ran into the other day? Colin McGinty,” Alice remarked, as she sprinkled herbs over the ratatouille now simmering on the stove. She warmed at the memory of their chance meeting at the library, recalling how at ease she’d felt in his company. She turned to her mother. “You knew his grandfather, didn’t you?”

“A long time ago,” Lucy answered, stirring flour into the pan drippings. “When I was a little girl, he used to come by the house to visit Mama. They were quite friendly at one time, as I recall.”

Friendly enough for him to have painted her portrait
, thought Alice. “I’m surprised Nana never mentioned him. Did they have a falling out at some point?”

“Oh, I don’t think it was anything like that. It was just . . . well, you know it was the war and, after Papa came home, she had her hands full.” Lucy paused in the midst of her stirring, her expression softening. “Poor Papa. I wish you could have known him before. He was the most wonderful man. Always smiling, and never too busy to make time for me and Mama.”

“I could see that,” Alice said, gently laying a hand on her mother’s arm. The grandfather she’d known had been out of it most of the time, but he’d had his good days when glimmers of the old Joe would surface.

Nana had been devoted to him, too, but Alice had sensed that her grandmother had a hidden side to her heart. Could she have been in love with William? It was easy to imagine how it might have happened, the handsome artist and the young wife with her husband overseas. Theirs wouldn’t have been the only such wartime romance. But if Lucy knew anything about an affair, she wasn’t letting on. Either that, or she refused to believe her parents’ marriage had been anything but storybook. Knowing her mother, Alice thought it was probably the latter. Lucy would deny the
Titanic
was going down as it was sinking.

Lucy shook her head slowly, staring sightlessly ahead. “Hard to believe they’re all dead now. The years go by so quickly.”

“Speaking of which, you know the portrait Mister McGinty did of Nana? Well, it seems he left it to Colin,” Alice informed her.

Lucy brought her gaze back to Alice. “Is that so? I’d heard something to that effect, but you never know what to believe, with all the talk that’s been going around.”

“Anyway, I told Colin I’d never seen the actual painting, and he said I was welcome to stop by anytime I liked.” On the spur of the moment, she suggested, “Why don’t you come with me?”

Lucy appeared hesitant, and before she could reply Denise blew in, with Gary and the kids, apologizing for being late. Still no sign of Jeremy, though. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to show, Alice quietly removed the extra place from the table, trying not to feel too disappointed.

Dinner was more relaxed than the other night at Denise’s. Now that Alice’s niece and nephew had gotten used to her, Taylor didn’t stare at her as if she had two heads, and Ryan no longer acted as if she were company for whom he had to put on a polite show. Tonight, he might have been any teenager, teasing his sister and cracking jokes at the table. Alice, for the first time since she’d gotten back, felt like she was a member of the family once more.

Gary was the one false note. He was his usual jovial self, but it seemed forced somehow, as if he were only going through the motions. Alice sensed that he was uneasy around her, and she wished there was a way of reassuring him that she wasn’t going to do anything to embarrass him. She had no intention of violating her parole and, if any of the townsfolk gave her a hard time, she wouldn’t pick a fight. She didn’t want any trouble; she only wanted to get on with her life.

“I heard you applied for the position at Svenigan’s,” he remarked at one point. Alice must have looked surprised that he knew, for he explained, “Ina mentioned it to me the other day when I stopped in for a bite to eat.”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get the job.” Alice kept her voice light, not wanting to spoil the meal with a lot of negative talk. Anyway, the opening had been for a waitress, and she was hoping to get closer to the kitchen, where she might actually get to do some cooking.

“Too bad. They could have used you,” Gary went on, in that falsely hearty tone, as he helped himself to another slice of the roast. “In fact, I told Ina if she doesn’t find someone soon, she’s going to have to start giving customer discounts for the wait time.”

Alice put her fork down, eyeing him across the table. “She told me the position had been filled.”

Silence fell. Gary looked embarrassed. Even Denise was quiet for a change, the kids taking her cue and ceasing their chatter as well. There was only the clink of forks as Taylor and Ryan became suddenly fixated on what was on their plates.

“Would anyone like more potatoes?” piped Lucy brightly, at last.

For once, Alice was grateful for her mother’s ability to act as if everything were normal in the face of even the most awkward situations. She smiled and held out her plate, though she’d lost her appetite. “Thanks,” she said. “Everything’s delicious, Mom. You really outdid yourself this time.”

They were cleaning up in the kitchen afterward when Denise took Alice aside, saying, “I’m sorry about what happened—with Svenigan’s, I mean. Gary didn’t mean anything by what he said.”

“I know he didn’t,” Alice replied lightly. “Anyway, it’s no big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal.” Denise’s cheeks reddened. She looked as if she were about to cry . . . or tear someone a new one. “They should have hired you. It’s unfair. It might even be illegal.” Her expression darkened. “In fact, I have half a mind to tell Ina Svenigan where she can put her marionberry pie.”

“It’s all right,” Alice said, more firmly this time. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. It’s just . . . people can be so petty sometimes. I hate to see you go on being punished for something that happened so long ago,” she said.

“Relax, okay? I’m not one of your charity cases.” Alice had meant it jokingly, but it came out sounding hard.

Denise drew back, hurt. “I wasn’t implying . . . ”

Alice laid a hand on her arm. “I know you weren’t.”

A corner of her sister’s mouth turned up in a rueful smile. “Okay. I’ll back off. But you have to promise to let me know if you need anything. Even us tree huggers need a warm body to rescue once in a while.”

“I promise. But no hovering, okay?” Alice handed her a dish towel. “I’ll wash. You dry.”

Two weeks into her job search Alice was more discouraged than ever. She couldn’t even get hired to do temp work. It all boiled down to one thing: she was unemployable. A convicted felon who also had a reputation for being mentally unstable.

It had been another long and frustrating day when she dragged herself to the eatery near her motel where she often took her meals, one rainy day in November, a hole-in-thewall
seafood shack that specialized in fish-and-chips, appropriately named Fisherman’s Catch. She’d gotten to know the owners, Captain and Baby, who were a couple of real characters. Baby, so nicknamed because of her tiny stature—she couldn’t have been but five feet tall—was perpetually bellowing out orders to her huge, shambling ox of a husband, a retired merchant marine turned short-order cook, in a voice loud enough to bring the whole fifth division running. Yet for all her hollering, he was devoted to Baby, and she to him. “Ain’t she something?” he’d say with a chuckle, gazing in worshipful adoration at his red-headed scrap of a wife, as she bustled about, issuing orders, like the world’s smallest commando.

With her customers, Baby liked to take charge as well and she saw to it that they got what they needed, even if it wasn’t what they’d ordered: a kind word when someone was down, a piece of advice for those in need of counsel, a kick in the ass when called for. What Alice liked most about coming here was that Baby and Captain treated her no differently than they would anyone else. They had to know her history—who on this island didn’t?—but from the way they acted it was obvious they couldn’t have cared less.

“What’ll it be, hon, same as usual?” Baby rasped today.

“Soup of the day and the toasted cheese sandwich,” Alice said, like always.

Baby’s response never varied either. “Sure you wouldn’t like a piece of pie to go with that? On the house.”

Alice summoned a smile as she handed back the menu. “Thanks, not today. Any more freebies and I’ll be putting you out of business.”

“That wouldn’t be hard to do.” Baby leaned in to confide, “Between you and me, we’re not exactly getting rich off this
place. Fact is, we’re barely staying afloat. Some retirement, huh? Me and the Captain, we had it all planned out. Sell when the time was right and move someplace warm, where it don’t rain eight frigging months out of the year.” She cast a doleful glance out the window, where the rain was pouring down in sheets, her brown nugget of a face crinkled in irony. “So much for that pipe dream.”

“You’d really sell this place?” Alice was surprised. Baby and Captain seemed as much a fixture as the cloudy marinevarnished tables and fishing net that drooped from the ceiling, studded with dusty sand dollars and starfish so ancient they looked as if they’d turn to dust if you so much as touched them. “In a heartbeat,” Baby replied without hesitation. “If some poor sucker was fool enough to make us an offer, we’d be out of here so fast you wouldn’t see us going.”