Juli put her face in front of the peephole. “Juli Cooke. From upstairs.”
The wood paneled door swung open. “Well, hello, dear. Come in.” She preceded Juli into the living room and motioned to the sofa. “Sit, dear, and I’ll get us some tea.”
Mrs. White’s monster cat reclined on the back of the sofa. He would have looked no different on a rock ledge protecting his territory. Juli approached the sofa and he meowed. She went to the chair instead. As soon as her bottom hit the seat, Buster came in, drooling and slavering, butting the chair with his head. He liked to have his ears scratched.
Juli tried to push him away, saying in a low voice, “No, Buster, no.” She broke off, embarrassed, as Mrs. White returned.
“Oh, you bad boy. Shoo, now.” She handed Juli the glass of tea. “He’s been such a naughty boy and I told him to stay in the bedroom. He’s blind now. Old like me. Makes him cranky and needy.”
“Poor Buster. I didn’t know.” She was relieved when Buster’s limp, but still swinging tail vanished around the corner.
Mrs. White leaned her cane against the arm of the sofa and lowered herself onto the seat cushion.
“It comes to us all, if we live long enough, but I’m not complaining. I’m better off than most.”
“How’s your arthritis?”
She held up her hands. The reddened knuckles were enlarged and the fingers were crooked. “About the same. You know, I try all sorts of things—anything that makes any kind of sense to try, but no help.”
Monster cat slinked down the back of the couch and moved onto Mrs. White’s lap. She dug her fingers into his fur and he purred like a freight train. He fixed his green eyes on Juli. Was it a dare? A taunt?
He’s a cat, Juli.
“How is it going with your friend? How is he? Is he better now?” Buster had maneuvered back into the living room and settled himself on top of Mrs. White’s feet.
“Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She took a sip of tea. “He’s about the same and I expect to stay away much longer.”
Mrs. White laid one finger alongside her cheek and asked, “What else, dear?”
Juli tilted her head to the side, wondering. She hadn’t planned to tell her about the marriage. “Like what?”
The old woman’s eyes twinkled. She reached over and grabbed a book from the end table. Her lap shifted with the movement and monster cat yowled.
“Oh, hush.”
She opened the book and pulled out a slip of paper. Juli stared. A newspaper clipping. Mrs. White extended her hand and Juli walked the few steps over to receive it.
“It was in the paper?”
“You’re a married lady now. No photo, though. You should’ve had a photo and a longer write-up, dear.” She leaned forward, catching monster cat in a vise between lap and bosom. “No need to hide it. Not from me.”
“Hide what?”
“Well, the usual reason for a hasty marriage.”
“Oh. No, it’s nothing like that.” She was aghast. “I was helping my friend and we—well, we decided it would be more convenient to marry.”
How silly did that sound? Likely, Mrs. White agreed because she looked happily unconvinced.
“Well, if you say so, dear. You’ll want to give up your apartment. I shall be sorry to lose you, both as a neighbor and a tenant.”
“I’d like to keep it another month to give me time to clear it and clean it.”
“You’re a thoughtful girl. I'll miss you. Frankie said you’d be moving, although he didn’t mention a wedding.”
“He told you I’d be moving?”
“He wanted a look at the apartment. I said to him, ‘now, you know I can’t climb those stairs.’ And he said, ‘no need, Mrs. W.’—that’s what he calls me—‘no need, loan me the keys for a few minutes and I’ll take a look myself.’”
“He’s seen my apartment many times.”
“Well, and that’s what I told him. I wouldn’t let someone go in there without your permission and unattended even if he is a friend of yours. Not the way to run a house.”
“I appreciate you telling him no. I’m surprised he asked.”
“That’s because you’re young, dear. People ask all sorts of strange things.” She picked up monster cat and dropped him to the floor. He hit Buster on the way down and rolled to a stop. No one seemed perturbed, least of all Buster. She shook her feet and the dog dislodged himself.
“I don’t know how I ended up with this menagerie. Sometimes things fall into your life and without you expecting it, they stick.”
“May I keep the clipping?”
“Certainly, dear. Thirty days, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll mark it on my calendar. I’ll call you if someone wants to see it, if you wouldn’t mind meeting them here to show it for me?”
“I’m happy to. Let me know when you get some interest.”
“Perhaps you could even bring your young man by to meet this old woman?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She hugged Mrs. White and left. She didn’t try Frankie’s door again, but went straight out the front and around to her entrance at the back. She paused outside the door to read the clipping. It was small, only about an inch of text. It gave their names and the date of their marriage.
Cooke-Bradshaw Nuptials
. A ceremony on the beach, it said. The header was almost bigger than the article. She tucked it carefully into her wallet.
Who else had seen it? Maybe some of her old co-workers at Singers? Co-workers from other jobs, too, if they read newspapers, and if they remembered her name. No one would care.
Why did Frankie want to get into her apartment? Curiosity? Information?
In the pit of her stomach, she knew he wasn’t done. He’d be back.
Today’s effort to discourage him had been futile, but what could she do?
Her old apartment smelled stale. With no one around to open a window or sweep the floor, her two rooms appeared forgotten, almost lost in time. It looked unwanted and it was. The chipped vinyl and scarred Formica counter were leftovers from the past, all but forgotten. Like she wanted her past to be—forgotten. The vehemence of the feeling surprised her.
She looked through the cupboards and the drawers. The apartment was rented furnished. A few boxes—or trash bags—would take care of her belongings. She grabbed some shirts, then dropped them onto the bed. She’d come back with those bags and give all this to Goodwill or some other charity.
Leaving this time felt like goodbye.
As soon as she returned to the
Glory
, she knew. She smelled the cheap scent Frankie sometimes wore. He’d been in the house and he might as well have left his calling card on the kitchen table. A faint trail of sand marred the carpet near the front door. She stood immobile. Shocked.
“Ben?” She spoke softly, then more loudly, she called out, “Ben?”
No answer. She hadn’t expected one. Ben had been napping when she left, but Luke was supposed to have picked Ben up soon after. They shouldn’t be back yet.
Juli searched through the house, eyes sharp for signs of where Frankie had wandered and what he’d been up to. Papers might’ve been shuffled on Ben’s desk. Maybe. Upstairs in the bedrooms things might be slightly out of place, but it was impossible to be sure. It could’ve been heightened imagination. At least, he’d tried to be discreet. Clearly, he intended no one should know he’d been here.
Suppose Ben had come home and surprised him? Or had still been home asleep when Frankie broke in?
Juli couldn’t identify anything as missing. Perhaps some things had been moved in the closets? Perhaps. Maybe. Maybe not.
She checked the front and side doors for signs of tampering and found none. How had Frankie gotten inside? She checked the windows and they seemed secure. Frankie had either jimmied the locks or Ben had been careless with locking the doors. Frankie wasn’t above taking advantage of an unexpected opportunity.
What should she tell Ben? She had to tell him something. Valuable items she didn’t know about, or important papers, could be missing.
Had Frankie seen the contract?
She rehearsed the story: ‘Ben, there was sand on the carpet when I came home. I can’t be sure, but I think someone was inside.’ She’d get him to check his study, just to be safe.
It sounded totally reasonable—a reasonable lie. Well, not entirely a lie, but close enough. She was doing it for Ben’s sake. She wouldn’t do anything to put Ben or his home in danger.
The scene played out as planned. Ben found nothing missing. He didn’t say it aloud, but she could tell he believed she’d imagined the whole thing.
“Perhaps the side door didn’t latch properly?” He placed his hands on Juli’s shoulders. “The wind might’ve blown it open and then blown it shut again.”
“Maybe,” she said, but she knew the truth and this wasn’t it.
“We’ll be more careful. Okay?”
“As long as nothing’s missing, you’re probably right.” She’d done what she could to warn him short of getting into the whole Frankie mess. “Could we have some slide bolts installed on the doors? I’d feel more secure.”
Ben studied her face. He brushed her cheek lightly with his fingers. “I don’t want you to be worried about anything. I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”
She laid her head against his chest. His arms crept up around her and held her close.
When they separated, Ben frowned. “You look so serious. You aren’t afraid, are you?”
“No, I’m fine.” She was more than fine—she was moved by his kindness.
Ben hadn’t argued that the doorknob locks and deadbolts were enough security. Without a second thought, he agreed to add those old-fashioned slide bolts—solely for her peace of mind.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and went to begin cooking supper.
Later, standing at the porch rail and watching the evening pass into night, Juli reviewed the facts and was still certain Frankie had been the uninvited visitor. Ironic that he’d come snooping while she was at his place looking to confront him. He was taking a risk. He must believe, in a big way, he could profit from what she was doing. If he had intended the intrusion as a message or warning, he would’ve left obvious signs of his visit. The faint scent of cologne and the bits of sand from his shoes showed how careless he’d become.
Slide bolts couldn’t be jimmied with a credit card or opened with burglar tools. It was good old-fashioned manual hardware that provided extra assurance, at least while she was at home.
****
The next day Ben and Juli ran errands together. Coming out of Food Lion, they crossed the parking lot and Ben opened the trunk to deposit the bags.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Yours?”
He held up her old backpack.
“It’s mine. I forgot about it.” She hadn’t needed it or missed it. When they returned home, she carried it up to her room and tossed the pack into the bottom of her closet.
Chapter Eleven
The Harris family was replaced by the Smiths who were replaced by the Stabonacci’s.
Those first weeks of marriage were measured by the ebb and flow of vacationing families. Mom and pop and kids, and whatever relatives had come along, packed up, loaded their cars—taking a quantity of sand with them in their clothing and toys—and departed each Sunday morning. The cleaning service swept through on Sunday midday. Platoons of men and women came in, cleaned and went on to the next rental. Late Sunday afternoon the next wave of guests arrived. Neighboring houses had a similar schedule, but for some of them, the change-out day was Saturday.
The world continued revolving around her while she was caught up in a sort of lull. The sun rose, the sun set, and in-between it shined gloriously. The sun, the tides, and the waves were the ticks of a living clock.
Ben commented on her restlessness. One day in mid-June, he pointed to an ad in the local paper and said, “Here you go, Juli. This is what you need.”
“Art instruction?”
“I should’ve thought of her sooner.”
“Her? Who?”
“Anna Barbour. Some of her work is displayed at the gallery. She’s very talented, a professional and someone you can rely on. Set it up on a week-to-week basis. See if you like it.”
Alarm hijacked her composure. It was okay to scribble and scratch on her own, but hiring an artist to give her lessons? This felt like a ‘show up or shut up’ moment.
Ben crossed the room. He punched the numbers into the cordless phone and held it out to her. “Press Talk, Juli. Go ahead and give it a shot.”
****
Juli pulled up in front of Anna Barbour’s sound side home, double-checking the address, looking for any reason that would allow her to leave while telling herself she’d tried—any excuse that would let her off the hook.
When they’d spoken on the phone, Anna’s voice was natural and friendly. Yes, she was interested in picking up another student, and no, it wasn’t inconvenient at all—come on over whenever.
Nothing stood in Juli’s way except herself.
She picked up her purse and exited the car. A flagstone walk lined with jonquils led to the front porch. She held her breath and pressed the doorbell.
Anna was tall and thin. Her hair was a graying blonde pulled back into a knot at the back of her head. There was something very basic about Anna, as if she could walk out the back door, pull on her dock shoes, grab her fishing pole and head out to the dock. Juli could see the dock through the large plate glass windows facing Bogue Sound. Lawn chairs, empty and inviting, sat at the far end overlooking the water.
“Come on in, Juli. I’m delighted to meet Ben’s wife. You’ve got yourself a sweetheart of a husband there, but I guess you already know that.”
Juli followed her in. “Yes, he’s great. He talked me into contacting you.”
“I’m glad he did.” She stopped and gave Juli a long look. “Maia told me about you.”
Juli didn’t know what to say. “All good, I hope.”
“Every word of it was marvelous. Maia said you were sweet and Luke said you were very attractive, so it’s nice you’ve got them in your corner.”
“In my corner?”
“It’s none of my business, but I’ve known Adela for many years. Be patient with her.”
Anna showed her the small paintings she produced for local galleries and also sold at hotels on the mainland. “Mostly acrylic. Some oil. The larger sketches on the walls are in a variety of medium—pencil,
Conté
crayon, and pen and ink.” She turned to Juli. “What medium have you worked with?”
It was a long, narrow room, and mostly windows, especially in the long exterior wall. It looked like an enclosed a back porch, but it was a big room, wide and long, to be used year-round. Easels, dinged and paint-spattered, were situated the length of the room, along the windows. What had been the backside of the house was unbroken but for the kitchen door and a kitchen window, and was hung from floor to ceiling with years of artwork.
“Is this all yours? I mean, did you do all of these?”
“This and more. Some are gifts from my students.”
Juli was hypnotized by the eclectic arrangement. No rhyme or rhythm. Any piece could be moved at any moment to accommodate another work of art. A living gallery, it was inelegant and— “organic. It’s organic.”
“What?”
“This wall of art.” Juli touched the empty nail holes. “It’s growing and changing.”
Anna laughed and nodded. “Yes. That’s the essence of creativity, isn’t it? I couldn’t have said it better. Now, how about a glass of tea or cup of coffee?”
“I don’t have any experience, not really.”
“Of course you do. You couldn’t go into rapture over my art wall if you didn’t feel it in yourself. You can’t tell me that feeling has never found expression.”
“Back in school I practically lived in the art classroom. Mostly pencil. Some acrylic. But it was so long ago I don’t think it counts.”
Anna gazed somewhere over Juli’s shoulder deep in thought, before she spoke. “We’ll start with pencil.”
She picked up several sheets of paper. “Take a look. I conduct several classes a week. I have a beginner class on Wednesday afternoons. The first page lists the classes. The rest are recommended supplies for each type of medium we study.”
“A class? With other students?”
“Or you can start with private lessons.”
Juli knew Anna could see her relief. Her cheeks grew hot. “Down the road a group might be okay.”
“I’m glad Ben found you. That you found each other.”
Juli was caught by surprise. Anna seemed so nice. So open. What did she know about the arrangement with Ben?
“I know I’m overstepping, but if I’m gonna step in big, I might as well go all the way.” She leaned toward Juli. “Honey, I’ve known the Bradshaw family forever and Luke for about as long. I don’t doubt your whirlwind courtship and marriage knocked ‘em silly at first, but they know as well as I do that Ben—that special angel of a man—hasn’t really been alive in many years. He never got over his first love, Miss Deborah Driver. They fell in love as kids. Everyone knew they’d end up together.”
“How did his wife die? He didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”
“It was fate. Or chance. Who knows? Deborah went to the mall at the same time a delusional man off his meds started shooting a gun at everyone he could see. She died there on the sidewalk, along with her unborn child.”
Anna continued, “Ben seemed to take it well. Too well. Everyone put it down to his faith which, make no mistake, helped him through it, but I don’t think he ever grieved properly. It grew up like a wall around him. Oh, he was open to the church and found comfort there, but when it came to his personal life and finding love, the joy of living died within him.”
They let the silence settle around them for a moment.
“When you’re ready for the group, you’ll know. You’ll discover there are all sorts of ways to learn.”
****
The next time Juli saw Frankie, she was coming out for an early morning walk. Frankie was half-hidden in the dark area around the base of the steps. She considered confronting him. She looked at her hands remembering how they’d trembled when she knocked on his door. Only a few weeks earlier, right? How quickly she’d lost her survivor’s edge. Her new role was intended to fit a softer Juli. Julianne, maybe. The girl she’d never been.
Juli stepped quietly back into the house.
She would have to ask Luke for help.
Maia and Juli had plans for lunch. When she got to the gallery, Maia was busy with a customer who looked like a serious buyer, so Juli signaled Maia to ignore her and strolled about, looking at the paintings on the walls. She found Anna’s small, vivid, inspiring sunrises and flaming sunsets. Framed in black, they were grouped like panes in a nine-light window.
Juli browsed along the wall until she reached Luke’s office, then stopped short of the open doorway. No noise, not even a rustle. Her heart thumped faster and her breathing quickened.
How could she consider asking Luke for anything? Especially something like this. She stepped back, away from the door.
Asking him for help would only confirm his bad opinion of her. She wasn’t afraid of Frankie for herself. She wanted to protect Ben.
Everyone was temporary in this life she was living now. Once Ben was gone, she’d move on and never see these people again. She stepped forward.
“Mind if I speak with you?”
He looked up. His expression hardly changed, but a barrier whooshed into place between them. It amused and annoyed her. What did he have to fear?
“What do you want?”
She tried to appear cool and composed, but her pulse thrummed in her neck. “I hope you’ll help me.”
Luke stood, motion tightly contained. “Come in.”
Juli pushed the door almost closed behind her, but not totally. She didn’t want full privacy, not with Luke. There was a chair near the front of his desk. When she sat, he sat.
She ignored pointless formality and spoke bluntly. “Remember the guy in the coatroom at the Hammonds’ house?”
“Yes.”
“He thinks my arrangement with Ben can benefit him in some way. He’s shown up around Ben’s house a couple of times.”
“Nice friend you have there. Perhaps he’s found his past associations with you to be profitable.”
Juli pushed back her resentment. “I can’t help it if he’s a worthless. I’ve told him to stay away, but he won’t. I don’t want to worry Ben.”
“Meaning you don’t want to tell Ben.”
“I recall you saying something similar. About not wanting to cause him unhappiness?”
“My motives are different.” His stare never broke from hers. Challenge lit amber sparks in his eyes. “What does he want?”
“I don’t know. He keeps insinuating I’m up to some scheme and he wants a piece of it.” Juli stood abruptly. “Go ahead and say it. You think I have a scheme going on, too.”
“I know Ben came up with the idea of you two getting together. What I think is that he didn’t understand what he was buying.”
“Buying? That’s not fair. It’s an arrangement that benefits both of us. I’m not
bought
, and we didn’t
get together
—we got
married
.”
“A business arrangement,” he insisted. “I can hardly blame you for taking advantage of his… offer, but at the same time, I’ll do what I can to prevent you from hurting him, or taking him for more than he’s agreed to give.”
Juli waved her hands. “Never mind. I can see this was a mistake.”
“Wait.”
He moved from behind the desk and came to her, stopping inches away. She dug in her mental heels and didn’t give ground.
“I’m waiting.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.
“I’m being honest with you. I’d appreciate some honesty back.”
“That sounds great. Why don’t we start by you telling me why you think I’m a cheat and a fraud?”
He took a step back, crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and settled his hands on his hips. “Amanda Barlow left a ring in her coat at the party. When she returned home she remembered the jeweler’s box she’d put in her coat pocket earlier in the day. It was no longer there.”
“How unlikely is that?”
“Pardon?”
Juli laughed in disdain. “A woman puts a jeweler’s case with a valuable ring into her coat pocket and then forgets about it until she gets home from a party and happens to notice it’s no longer in her pocket? For you, it’s a foregone conclusion that the hired help stole it. Why am I not surprised? Sounds more like an insurance scam than a theft.”
“I saw your friend going through the coats.”
“What does that mean? He was probably straightening them. You know what? I don’t like being put into the position of defending Frankie, but nothing you’ve told me is any kind of evidence. And then there’s me. You also accused me of being a thief. What was that about? Guilt by association?”
“I saw you in there with him, also going through the coats.”
Juli had moved behind the chair and her fingers were nearly numb from clutching the back so tightly. To be condemned and treated like a thief on so little, on no more than assumption, made her so angry she felt lightheaded.
“I was getting my backpack so I could drive Ben home.”
They waited out a long moment of silence. Stalemate. Juli didn’t know what he was waiting for, but the next move was his.
Luke turned to face the window behind his desk. His shirt strained across his back as he crossed his arms again. He turned slowly around to face her. “What is it you think I can do to help?”
“Tell him you saw him.”
“But you said—”
She cut him off. “I know what I said. Tell him you saw him messing with the coats and that a ring was stolen. Tell him if he doesn’t stay away from Ben and Ben’s house, you’ll tell the police.”
He frowned and shook his head. “How could that help? Won’t he say if I had proof I’d have already called the police?”
“Maybe, but Frankie has history with the cops. If he thinks you, a respectable citizen, are going to put them back on his butt, he’ll probably decide it’s not worth the risk.”