The Book of Eleanor (3 page)

I think they were actually afraid I would sue them because of the way Mary died. The thought never even crossed my mind until my friend Tara mentioned it. Sure, Fellingworth should have never let a novice employee set two of the charges, but Mary saved his life and that was why she had died that day. Her heroism killed her, not the company’s negligence. I would never sully that heroism with a lawsuit.

So I, who had always made a successful living on my own, bolstered by a small nest egg for security, now had the task of managing more than a million dollars. I stared at a trio of shrimpers out on the horizon where crystal blue sky met dusky water. I was a millionaire. A millionaire without my partner.

I walked on, following the looping path I had worn in the sand.

My new plan called for a changed life. Wanting heat and light, I had scoured the Florida area for property. I wanted a place that would combine business and living areas, since I had always worked from home, but I found nothing suitable. Property of any kind is hard to find in the massive population of southern Florida. The hurricane issue frightened me as well.

The next step was to explore southern Texas. I was somewhat familiar with the area because Mary and I had once vacationed at South Padre Island and fallen in love with the place. I worried that its rural nature would never support a reading room-café combination, but decided I just didn’t care. I wanted to live near the water surrounded by what was left of Mary.

Finding the property next to the Port Isabel Lighthouse in Lighthouse Square had been a real stroke of luck. Ruetta Torres, the elderly proprietor of a huge gift shop, had been letting her business go to care for her terminally ill husband. I contacted her realtor, Maddy Henchen, looking for business frontage, just two days after Ruetta finalized her decision to sell.

That same day, I received an e-mail from Maddy, and we both decided it was simply meant to be. Ruetta sold the gift store stock to another business owner, and I bought the huge, empty store with rudimentary living quarters in the back. I hadn’t seen it yet, only in photographs provided by Maddy, but the space seemed different enough from my previous home to provide the change I sought.

I looked at my phone to check the time, and then glanced toward the car. I sighed, knowing Oscar Marie would give me grief for leaving her so long in this unfamiliar place. Plus, I had arranged to meet Maddy at the store for a tour of the property and to get the keys, and it was almost time.

Reluctant to leave the solitude of the beach and my rambling thoughts, I turned and walked back to my car and to my new life at Lighthouse Square.

“So anyway, I turned to go through the dining room and that’s when Hasty dumped me on her.”

Melvin laughed and took another huge bite of pizza. “I’m just glad to have it at all, late or not,” he said, his voice almost obliterated by the large bolus of food. Obviously, his mama had never taught him it was impolite to talk with his mouth full. “I was starvin’.”

We sat behind the South Padre Island Conference Centre, perched on a concrete wall. The architect hired by the city of South Padre to design the new center had been a master of his art. The curved design of the building and environs made it feel as though the ocean and building were one. On the back side, where we rested, huge concrete abutments mimicked the arced wings of a gull, and the actual wall on which we sat bowed all the way toward the bay in a graceful slide of smooth, white concrete. On the bay side of the island, where the walls fetched up, the water was quieter and the wildlife active in the shallows.

I knew that from the front, the extensive footprint of the center was low in profile and appeared much smaller than its actual size. Inside, the large convention center boasted forty-five thousand square feet of meeting space, including smaller rooms and an expansive exhibit hall.

One front wall, bearing the huge, colorful mural
Orcas off the Gulf of Mexico
painted in 1994 by artist Robert Wyland, seemed to shout the structure’s importance on a global scale. This whaling wall, number fifty-three of the one hundred whaling walls painted by Wyland, featured sea creatures from killer whales to flying fish. It also featured several tarpon, the signature fish for South Padre Island. One of my favorite downtime activities was to study the wall seeking fish the artist had hidden behind outcroppings of rock and seaweed.

The entire bright yellow and cobalt center appeared sleek and modern, and
was
modern with state-of-the-art media equipment in its half dozen conference spaces.

 On one side stretched a huge parking lot that sloped toward the water while the other side offered a birding and nature center with wooden walkways spanning marshland and shoreline rich with island flora and fauna.

Another of my favorite pastimes was losing myself for hours in the wildlife area. I would go often during the off-season, the high heat of summer, when I would have the preserve to myself. Ally, the resident alligator, and I had become fast friends. I would share all the peccadilloes of my life while she basked on the shoreline or in the marsh grass, listening with endless patience. Mama never missed the chicken cubes I filched from the walk-in either. I believe all therapists should be paid, one way or another.

It was peaceful here on the back terrace, with gulls circling lazily overhead and the sun brightened blue of the bay soothing my senses. I reclined back against the wall, my legs and arms dangling comically over both sides, and listened as Melvin chewed.

I thought about my sad woman. I envisioned our romance, our life together as a couple. Was she as fun-loving as me? Would she adore Mama and eagerly become part of our little family? Would I love her family? I wondered if she had a father. I never had and was insatiably curious about all father and daughter relationships.

“So who is she?” Melvin asked, swiping at his mouth with a balled-up napkin.

“Just my future wife.” I felt his eyes on me. “Oh, give it up, Mel. You know damn good and well how I am. Don’t give me any crap,” I muttered, laying a forearm across my eyes.

“Yeah, I get all that, but how can you be
sure
she feels the same way?”

I envisioned the heavy scowl of confusion that no doubt rested on his dark, mustachioed face. I ignored the question, as usual. There was no explanation. You’d think these people, who had known me the whole of my life, would understand that by now.

“I wish I knew her name. She’s beautiful. A natural blonde, like me, but way pretty.”

“If she’s your future wife, where is she?” Melvin asked pointedly. “Is she even here for good or is she just a Winter Texan?”

I chewed my bottom lip, relishing the late afternoon sun on my face. “Now that’s a good question. Trust you to bring it up.”

Melvin laughed. We’d been friends since primary school. He was one of the few who didn’t fear me or scorn me. In fact, he was one of only three people who would stand up to me and shove me back on the reality track when I veered south of it.

“I don’t know. I was washing up, so I watched her from the bathroom window when she got in her car and left. Texas tags. She looked so cute carrying her big to-go bag.” I smiled at the memory.

Melvin sighed. “Man, you got it bad. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’ve never felt like this,” I replied, swinging my legs over and sitting up. “Guess I’m finally in love.”

I studied my worn athletic shoes, thinking about the impact this would have on my life. Was I up for the emotional involvement, for the extreme caring that being in love required? Could I expose myself to someone new and let them know how truly strange I really am?

A glob of dried mozzarella clung to one of my shoes. Seeing it reminded me of the day’s fiasco and I cringed. I used the toe of the other sneaker to push the crusty cheese off onto the sidewalk. It rested there, shaped curiously, as if eyeing me with disbelief.

“What about Cathy?” Melvin asked. He picked green pepper slices off the pie and munched them like candy.

“We’ve been done for months. Why?”

“She still has it for you. And you can’t tell me you don’t know that.”

I nodded slowly. Cathy was certainly wonderful enough, and our years together had been pleasant. I’d woken one morning, however, and felt her next to me. Really felt her on that deeper level. I realized I was using her, and she was using me. I had been going for a type of acceptance because being with her pulled me into her small network of island lesbians, a somewhat normal place where I wanted to belong. Cathy’s life with me provided financial help and allowed her to be part of the sick sort of fame I possessed here.

“You know, we never made love after that first month. I mean hardly ever. It just wasn’t important to her. All the passion went away, I guess. On her part.” I stood and straightened my shorts. They had bunched up while I wriggled on the concrete wall.

Melvin tossed a half-eaten slice of green pepper into the box with a huge show of disgust. “Way too much info, Ange.”

I laughed at his expression, determined to give him a hard time. “This one though, I can tell, we’re gonna be so hot together.” I licked my lips and lifted my eyebrows suggestively.

“Okay, lunch is over,” Melvin said, closing the pizza box and moving with unusual speed. He lifted his bottle of soda and moved toward the back entrance of the convention center.

I laughed and leapt to grab his arm. “Hey, you gotta pay me for that! Tip me good too, so I can take my new lady love out on the town.”

Melvin groaned but managed to juggle pizza box and bottle and fish out his money clip at the same time. He made as if he wasn’t going to tip me, just handing over cash for the pie, but ended up laying a ten on me. He winked. I leaned to kiss the end of his nose.

“Later, dude,” I said as I headed around the building, shoving the cash into the front pocket of my shorts.

Maddy Henchen was much smaller than she sounded on the phone. I towered over her at my five-foot-eight height and probably outweighed her by twenty-five pounds. I had expected her to be in her sixties, but certainly not as energetic and perky as she appeared. It seemed her powder blue track suit and white athletic shoes were not just a fashion statement.

After exchanging pleasantries while Maddy unlocked the door, I stepped inside, placed Oscar Marie’s carrier in the middle of the large, bare room, and let my gaze roam the building I had bought on faith just a few short months ago. Sound carried under the long, low ceiling, and stepping on the wooden floorboards set off a flurry of echoes.

“This was built in the early 1980s,” she explained, laying her hand against the painted cinderblock wall with something like fondness. She turned to look at me. “What do you think of the shelves? Don’t they look great?”

I studied the walls laddered with new bookshelves with a critical eye. A young local man named Heriberto had built them and he’d done a good job. They looked like part of the original architecture. I’d been worried, having never met the man, because I usually like to look someone in the eye when I hire them to do a job. Maddy had recommended him and handled the hiring. I could not fault her judgment. I was reminded anew that there was a noticeable difference in something lovingly handmade and something haphazardly produced.

“Yes, he does do good work. You were right,” I said, running a hand over the dark, smooth surface of one of the shelves. Mounted on an intricate wooden framework, they stretched the entire length of the walls on both sides, and gleamed in the subdued sunlight from the front windows. “This building is really long, isn’t it? Unusual,” I murmured.

Oscar Marie mewed as if in agreement.

Maddy slowly blinked her pale blue eyes. “Oh, not an accident. The design allows you to take advantage of the street storefront as well as the Laguna Madre out back. Let me show you.”

I followed her toward the back of the building. The northern wall was painted an unusual muted sea-green shade. Strangely attractive. Our target was an age darkened but ornate wooden door on the left side of this wall. I assumed it would guide us into the rear of the store and the living area that Maddy had described on the phone.

“What’s this door here?” I paused. A heavy, mysterious looking set of double wooden doors centered in a wall on the right seemed to mock my new ownership.

“Oh, goodness, I almost forgot.” Maddy strode to the door on the right and twisted the knob. The door clicked open reluctantly.

“This is a storage area that they used when it was a gift shop. I always thought that the Torreses should have extended their living area into this space. There’s even an outside entrance. I guess she didn’t want the bother at first, then when Elizondo went into the hospital, she just lost interest,” Maddy mused.

I stepped into a large, open room almost as large as the showroom, which contained several wooden carousels that had obviously been used in the gift shop, as well as a few long tables and other random pieces of furniture. Large bare side windows revealed the brightly painted blue cinderblock wall of the business next door. The front facing windows gave me a good view of the huge white cylinder of the Port Isabel Lighthouse.

“Nice,” I sighed. “Maybe I could put several sitting rooms in here.” I suddenly realized my furniture needs had just leapt up a notch.

“Hmm. Good idea. That would work,” Maddy said, a finger to her chin as she considered the space. That same finger then indicated a space just left of the entry. “A little conversation area would be nice here.”

“It is going to be a reading room,” I murmured. “No reason not to expand into this part.”

“Oh, yes. With floor lamps and plump little chairs,” Maddy continued her earlier thought. “That would be perfect. There’s no place in The Point exactly like that so it would definitely be innovative.”

We moved out of that room and into the partially furnished rear apartment. The living area was as small as she had stated, but it was plenty big enough for me. A modest living room, furnished with an overstuffed sofa and one Queen Anne chair, both in desert hues, stood to the left. The bay side of the room offered a dominant dining room bordered by large windows framed by dark beige drapes. This area would be a perfect workroom. I felt the first tentative stirrings of excitement. Maybe the move would be the positive step I needed after all.