Whisper Beach (15 page)

They ordered, then took their cups out to the sidewalk and sat on one of the wooden benches that lined the street.

Van hadn't thought about art in years. She hadn't had time. She never went to museums and only went into art galleries to pick up something for a client. It was amazing the things people would pay for. And how much of their lives they would entrust to a virtual stranger. Van would come in to organize their living space and end up organizing their day-to-day existence.

“This is really good,” Van said, licking mango gelato off the plastic spoon.

“Hmmm.” Suze's chocolate chip dripped onto her shorts. “Damn.”

“Aren't you supposed to be working on your thingy today, Suze?” asked Gigi.

“When we get back. Besides, it's hard to work on something when you don't know if you're going to have the money to do the research. And if I don't get it, it will be useless to kill myself trying to get the research finished.

“They're supposed to send the final round of the application here. I hope they don't screw this up. The deadline for returning it is next Monday.”

“You should call them,” Van said.

“I did.”

“So if you don't get the grant, what happens?” Gigi asked.

“I have to stay in Princeton and teach and try to write at the same time.”

“And if you do?”

“I take a year off and can write it anywhere I want. I'm thinking about spending at least the fall, maybe the winter with Dorie.”

“Here?”

“What about you, Gigi?” Van asked. “Is it too early to make plans for your future?”

Gigi shrugged. “I'll have to find a job, I guess.”

“What about your old job?” Suze asked. “At the beach yesterday you said the furniture store where you'd been working would take you back.”

Gigi nodded. “But I want something with a future.”

Suze nodded. “What did you study in college?”

“I didn't go.”

Van felt the world shift. “Why not?”

Gigi shrugged. “I don't know. It just cost too much money.”

Van bit her tongue. She'd sent back the money she'd borrowed within the first year. She'd sent extra after that. More than enough to go to the local community college.

“And then I married Clay and the kids came along. Besides, Clay didn't want me to work, just stay home with the kids. Only it hasn't worked out so well.”

“Well, I'm sure something will turn up,” Van said.

“Mr. Micawber,” Suze said.

Van and Gigi both looked at her.

“Oh, right,” Van said, laughing. “Dickens. What book was he in?”

Gigi looked confused.

“It's a character in
David Copperfield
. He's always saying something will turn up.”

“And does it?” Gigi asked.

“Yes,” Suze said. “Yes. It does.”

“This is really fun,” Van said. “I can't remember when I last sat on a sidewalk bench and ate ice cream.”

“We used to do it all the time,” Gigi said. “Don't you have any friends in New York?”

“Sure I do,” Van said. “Just no time.” And not that many friends, real friends, friends who would give you the last of their money or drive two hours to take you to a hospital.

“Except, in the city, it's coffee bars and bistros,” Suze said as she scraped the last of her ice cream out of the cup. “That does it for me. You guys can stay and play, but I really have to get back.”

“We'll all go; I'd like to get a jump on plans for the Crab.”

They were a block from Dorie's when a police cruiser sped by.

“Idiot,” Suze said. “He could take out a whole family driving like that.”

The cruiser stopped in front of Dorie's.

“Uh-oh,” Van said and started walking faster.

“Do you think Dorie called him?” Gigi asked. “Is something wrong?”

Van grabbed her by the arm. “Whatever it is, let Dorie handle it.”

Van looked at Suze. Suze nodded.

“What?” Gigi asked. “Why are you two looking like that?”

“Because there's a good chance that they're looking for Dana,” Suze said.

“Good, they can have her.”

Van nudged Gigi to the side. “No, they can't. Let Dorie do the talking. And don't you dare say a word. You don't want to be responsible for Dana going back to Bud. Understand?”

Gigi reluctantly nodded.

“Or better still, just go into the house and get out of sight.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Suze said, “you could never tell a lie worth shit.
Didn't you ever wonder why we put you in back whenever we had to think up a story fast?”

“I thought you were trying to protect me.”

Suze rolled her eyes upward; it was becoming a group habit. “Just don't say anything.”

They were stopped at the sidewalk by Bud Albright.

“Anything wrong?” Van asked.

“You tell me. The door is locked, and nobody's answering.”

“Probably because Dorie is out. We're just getting back from town.” Van held up her packages as evidence.

Suze wedged herself in front of Gigi, just in case she was inclined to blab.

Another officer got out of the passenger side of the patrol car.

Jerry Corso nodded to Van, smiled at Suze. “C'mon, Bud. Dorie's not here and we have rounds to make.”

Bud ignored him. “Are you staying here?”

“Yes,” Van said.

“Is Dana here?”

“Dana? Why would she be here?”

“Is she?”

“I don't think Dorie would invite Dana to visit with me here. Do you?” Van slathered on the sarcasm.

“Guess she did sort of screw up your life, didn't she?”

Van felt Suze move closer to her. She didn't need to. Van knew how to handle bullies. She had spent her first months in New York pretty much on the streets, and she'd been a fast learner.

“Yeah, she did. So I don't think you'll be finding her anywhere around me.”

“If you see her, tell her I need to talk to her.”

“Sure.”

Bud strode away. Jerry nodded and followed him. Van waited until they drove away, then went up the walk to the driveway and
around to the side door. It was locked. Van felt around under a flowerpot and found the key that Dorie had always kept there.

She opened the door, stood while Gigi and Suze went inside, then came in and relocked the door. She looked at the key, then put it on the kitchen counter. “I don't think we'll be leaving this outside for a while.”

“I can't believe you talked to him like that,” Gigi said.

“I was perfectly polite,” said Van.

“Well done,” Suze said, and she and Van began to laugh.

The door to the hallway opened a crack. “Is he gone?”

Dana stood in the opening, looking black and blue and colorless.

“Yeah. But I wouldn't stand near the windows; he might get it in his thick head to cruise by again.”

Dana's lips tightened. She nodded abruptly and left the room.

“She didn't even thank you,” Gigi said.

“She had nothing to thank me for,” Van said.

“You lied to Bud for her.”

“I didn't lie.”

“I don't know why she's still here,” Gigi said. “After all she's done. I mean I'm sorry she got beaten, but . . . Oh, what am I saying, I'm terrible. I'm sorry for her.”

“It's all right, Gigi, you don't have to like her,” Suze said.

“And you don't have to be angry at her on my behalf,” Van said. “It's all water under the bridge.”

“I'm going upstairs.” Suze stopped at the door. “I'll be down for happy hour.”

Van was itching to get to work on her plans for the Crab, but she couldn't very well leave Gigi sitting in the kitchen by herself any more than she could tell her it was time for her to go home. Besides, she wanted to make sure Bud was truly gone.

D
ORIE RETURNED AROUND FIVE O'CLOCK, LOADED DOWN
with plastic shopping bags. Suze and Van were sitting on the front porch sipping pomegranate martinis. Suze was reading, and Van was sketching some designs that she thought might work for the dining room at the Blue Crab. Gigi had gone home. Dana had declined to join them, even though Van had made a point of knocking on the door to her room. There was no reason to continue holding that particular grudge.

“Why didn't you call?” Van said as she hurried to take some of the bags from Dorie. “I would have picked you up. What's the point of a rental car if you don't drive it?”

They carried the groceries into the kitchen and began unpacking them.

“Holy cow, are you expecting an army?”

“No, I just thought I might as well start stocking up for the winter.”

Suze peeked into one of the tins. “Yum, ravioli with vodka sauce.” She put the container down.

“Where's Gigi?” Dorie asked.

“Had to go do something with the kiddies.”

“Do you girls want to invite her for dinner?”

“Maybe we should,” said Suze. “I think she is feeling a little left out.”

“She spent hours with us today,” Van said.

“I think it's the ‘us.' I may be wrong, but something she said while we were at the beach yesterday made me think she's afraid I'm replacing her as most favored nation.”

“What?”

“In illiterate terms, she's afraid you like me more than you like her.”

Van hesitated. Gigi was right. She and Van had been like sisters when they were younger, but now Van couldn't find even a spark of what had once held them so close. She was much more in tune with Suze, even though they had different professions, lived in different cities, and hardly ever saw each other.

“Am I particularly dense?” Van asked. “Should we be worried about her? She burst into tears this morning in the middle of town, said Clay didn't want her, that he fell off the roof on purpose and it was all her fault.”

“Her husband just died way too young,” Suze said. “She's bound to be fragile—and maybe just a little guilty for what she perceives as something that she should have done or would have done. It's a classic reaction.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.”

Suze shrugged. “Maybe. Dorie?”

“She's had a lot on her plate for the last few years, but I doubt
if Clay meant to kill himself if that's what she's thinking.” Dorie handed Van the bag of food. “Put that in the fridge, will you? Suze, could you pour me one of those red drinks?”

“We ran into Bud on our way home,” Van said as she put the food away.

“Close encounter of the worst kind,” Suze agreed as she poured Dorie a martini.

“Where?”

“On the sidewalk in front of the house.”

“Where's Dana?”

“Upstairs,” Van said. “I asked her if she wanted to come down for happy hour, but she said no . . . through the door.”

“I know she's not your favorite person, but Gigi isn't the only one around here who could use a friend.”

“Van has tried, we both have . . . a little,” Suze said. “Dana just doesn't make it easy.”

“Well, put yourself in her place.”

“I'd never let a man or anyone do that to me,” Van said.

“Don't you think Dana thought the same thing, once? Nobody goes out and plans to be abused,” Dorie said.

Or to be treated the way Harold treats you,
Van thought.

“So she comes here, not for the first time, and instead of finding a soft place to land, she runs into you and Suze. Both successful and sophisticated.”

“Me?” Suze barked out a resounding laugh. “I'm changing to wine; this sweet stuff is making me hear things. Where did I put that corkscrew?”

“Well, you are when you aren't distracted,” Van said. “Which is hardly ever. It's right where you left it last night. On top of the bread box.”

Suze stuck out her tongue. “But of course.”

Van smiled. “See, very sophisticated.”

Dorie put both hands on the table and frowned at them.

“Van, you ran out of town because of something you think Dana did.”

“Something she and Joe did.”

“Whatever. You left town, and no one hears anything about you for over ten years. Then suddenly you come back all dressed to the nines, sophisticated, manicured and saloned to near perfection.

“And Dana shows up at the door wearing cheap clothes and beaten to a pulp. She's bound to feel humiliated and just a little defensive.”

Van tried to feel remorse, but she just kept thinking the words
white trash
. Except for Suze, they'd all come from pretty much the same background. Working-class families. They'd all had to work summers. Van and Dana also worked part-time after school.

Van had gotten out and made something of herself. Gigi had a family even if she was going through some bad times. What did Dana have? Would she still be getting made up and going to Mike's to come on to the barflies when she was forty? Fifty? Van shivered. “Does she even work?”

Dorie nodded. “Now she works part-time at the Blue Crab.”

“You gave her a job?”

“She lost her job at the nail place because the clients complained about the bruises.”

“That's awful, but you can't really blame them. What about the diners? Those bruises and cuts could definitely put you off your food.”

“She's been working in the kitchen, but she'll have to move out front this weekend.”

Suze came back to the table carrying the corkscrew but no wine bottle. “Why doesn't she get help?”

“I've tried. I know Joe has tried.” She shot a look at Van. “And it's not what you think. He's just a friend.”

Van waved her statement away.

“We've all got our lives to live. It helps if you've got some folks around you who want you to succeed.”

Yeah, Van could have used a few of those when she was creating a new life for herself in New York. But then she had, hadn't she? Two of them were sitting right here at the table.

Dorie went upstairs to ask Dana to join them; she was gone for a while.

Suze set the table while Van got the food out of the fridge. “Think I should set four places in case Dorie talks her into coming down?”

“I guess. If she does come down and there are only three places, she'll get all bent out of shape.”

Suze pointed a handful of forks at her. “You're determined not to cut her any slack.”

“I told you, I'm not holding a grudge. But I'm not going to act like one big happy family, no matter what Dorie wants. I take full responsibility for what I did, but it doesn't mean that I forgive them for what they did. Though in a way I'm glad I found out just how faithful Joe would be before I ended up milking cows as a way of life.”

Suze shrugged. “I wonder what's taking Dorie so long?”

“Old age,” Dorie said, banging through the door, just like she was at the Blue Crab during the dinner rush.

“Guess you didn't convince her to come down?”

“She's having some pain. I gave her a couple of aspirin.”

They sat down to dinner. The fourth place setting sat empty while they ate; the symbolism wasn't lost on any of them.

As soon as dinner was over and the dishwasher was loaded, Suze went upstairs to “do some research” and, Van thought, probably worry about the forthcoming grant. Dorie went to check on Dana.

Van sat on one of the porch chairs, nursing a cup of coffee even though the night was muggy and hot and the citronella candle did little to chase away the mosquitoes.

Life was weird. Here was Suze, from an
über
rich family, wanting to live at Dorie's old beach house on her own earnings. Gigi was back living at her parents' house with her children. Dana was hiding out at Dorie's.

And Van herself? She was supposed to be on a vacation that she hadn't wanted to take and at a place she'd picked at random. And here she was, spending her time off in Whisper Beach to work on revitalizing the Blue Crab.

Inside, the telephone rang. Van heard Dorie answer it, talk for a few minutes.

Dorie stuck her head out the front door. “That was Amelia. She wanted to know if Gigi was making a nuisance of herself.”

Van sat up. “Did she really say that?”

“You know Amelia.”

“All too well. What did you tell her?”

“That Gigi needed to be with her friends.”

“And?”

“Well, Amelia has always been the one who knows best . . . about everything . . . but she finally conceded that Gigi had been showing more life in her since—well, let's not say since the funeral—but since you and Suze came.”

“Great. Make me feel responsible.”

“Anyway, I suggested she let Gigi come for a bit during the day, and she agreed as long as she got home to put the kids to bed.”

“Wait a minute,” Van said, turning fully to look at Dorie. “Why does this sound like a playdate?”

“Because Gigi is not thinking straight these days. She's fallen into a stupor. We've all been there, where you just couldn't get motivated.”

“Dorie. When were you ever not motivated?”

“There've been times,” she said vaguely. “And if you haven't gotten to that point yet, I hope you don't ever. I'm going to bed now. I'm beat.”

“Dorie?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I can help streamline your business if you want. Not the financial and ordering but organization of the kitchen and front of house. But it will take some work, and maybe some things that you won't agree with.”

“I'm counting on it. Hell, if it works, I'm for it.”

Van grinned. “You are a piece of work, you know that?”

“And proud of it. But are you going to be around long enough to do it?”

“It won't take long, but we'll need bodies. I'll try to enlist Suze and Gigi, but I need a few strong guys.”

“I've got 'em. Are you sure you want to spend your vacation working?”

“It's not work to me. And, besides, I have some other stuff to do here.”

“Oh?”

Van automatically held up her hand. “I'm not going to renew old acquaintances, or go dredging up the past, if that's what
you're thinking. But I have to decide what to do with the house.” A little twist of pain clutched her gut as she remembered how spotless the house was and how empty of any bit of her father's presence. “Whether I offer it to Gigi or sell it, it has to be dealt with. I don't want to be responsible for Gigi refusing to take charge of her life, or to keep her dependent on me or anyone else.”

“Gigi has always been dependent on her family and friends.”

“Things didn't change when she married Clay?”

“Evidently not; seems she just transferred her dependence to him.”

“Is that what happened? She—I don't know—acts like she's still a girl.”

Dorie cackled. “Honey, you're all still girls. Just wait till you see what's waiting for you down the pike. Gigi is not your responsibility, but you do what you feel is right for you about the house.” She yawned. “If anybody needs me, I'll be watching the
Late Night News
in my room.”

“Good night.” Van stretched back on the cushion, tucked her feet up under her, and listened to the sounds that floated up from the beach. The distant hush of waves. The thread of music from the pizza joint that stayed open most of the year. A shouted greeting. But it all sounded far away.

Van felt a strange kind of calm. She didn't trust it. Was it true calm or just the calm before the storm? She didn't think she'd ever be able to fully relax or feel comfortable in Whisper Beach again. Always a memory, or perhaps a living person, was waiting to ambush her.

All the more reason to deal with the house. That would be her last real tie to the town. Dorie and Gigi could always come to the city. She might even phone them now and again. Suze was just a
train ride away. But that was it. The others—her father, Joe, and Dana—would become part of a distant and blurry past.

But first she would reorganize the Blue Crab, as a gift for all the things that Dorie had done for her.

The front door opened.

Van glanced up, expecting Suze or Dorie.

It was Dana. She didn't say anything but sat down on the chair across from Van.

The silence stretched, but since Van didn't know why Dana had come out or why she'd sat down, she waited.

Dana finally cleared her throat. Maybe it was hard to talk. Maybe Bud had tried to strangle her. “You know, you were my best friend.”

Van was sure she must be hearing things.

Dana as best friend? None of them had even really liked her that much. She could be fun, and she knew where to buy liquor and find the rich boys, but none of them really trusted her not to forget them when she found something or someone more interesting. Leave them stranded when she suddenly got a chance to leave a party with some guy who had a car.

Best friend? Was Dana rewriting history? Or was she setting Van up for another sucker punch? How could she trust Dana after all she had done?

“I know you probably don't believe me. And you probably didn't even like me, even then, but you were the only person who was nice to me. I mean really nice.”

And look what it got me,
thought Van.

“I know you hate me, I don't blame you. I don't like myself much either.”

Van was tempted to say that was obvious since she let Bud beat up on her like she did. No woman with any self-respect would let
that happen. Though maybe Dana didn't have self-respect. That would account for a lot.

“It wasn't my fault. What happened.”

Van sat back. “I was wondering when you'd get back to that. Whose fault was it, Joe's?”