"That too," she said.
She laughed some more, and let it fade into a chuckle, and then we were silent again. She seemed to be regarding me in a different way, and I could feel her eyes studying my profile. When I turned toward her she quickly lowered her eyes.
"I can't pay much," she said.
"How bad are things with the bank?"
Her eyes began to well up. She bit her lip. "I'm on my last gasp."
I stood. "Give me a couple minutes."
I walked down the steps and circled the house, checking the foundation. I studied the overhang of the roof long enough to find two places where squirrels were getting into the attic. There were probably others. The thing about squirrels, they attract other pests, like mice and snakes. Who knew what might be living in that old attic?
The Seaside had a private wooden walkway that I followed down to the beach. The footboards were okay, but the handrails needed replacing. At the end of the walkway, there was a charming sitting area with two benches. Just beyond, a dozen steps led to the type of hard-packed sand you find on Atlantic coast beaches.
Today the sea action was moderate. Frothy waves tumbled onto the shore, dumping tiny white coquina shells that wiggled their way into the wet sand. I heard a noise, looked up, and saw a group of sea gulls traveling a straight line just beyond the surf, scanning the waves like supermarket shoppers checking the shelves for their favorite food items.
A sudden gust kicked up from the beach. I closed my eyes and inhaled the salty scent. When I opened them I noticed what might have been sea turtle tracks leading from a nearby sand dune to the water. I viewed the B amp;B from the back.
It was a gorgeous old home, probably the nicest bed and breakfast I'd ever seen. But a proper restoration would require a serious injection of cash. I wondered if the place could ever turn a profit and decided the answer was no. Nevertheless, I found myself drawn to stay there and do what I could to help. It was almost as though the old home had singled me out and expected me to report to duty. And there was something else. That feeling of serenity I'd experienced the first night back. It seemed to have come with the sudden breeze off the water. I looked around to see if anything had recently entered my space: a bird, a bit of Spanish moss, some insects…but nothing seemed out of place. I turned back to the beach, but there were no answers to be found, in fact the beach was deserted, save for two women in big hats, wading in the far distance. I watched them walking away for a few moments, and suddenly the feeling was gone. I searched again for any clue that something was moving out of my immediate space, but all I came up with was that the wind had died down. I looked out to sea a minute, waiting for another gust. When it came, there was no feeling of serenity with it.
Perhaps I was going mad. Maybe Rachel's insanity was contagious.
I walked back to the front yard and found Beth where I'd left her.
"I'll do it," I said.
"You will?"
"Subject to Rachel's okay."
Beth's eyes lit up. "Really?"
I nodded.
"I don't believe it!" she said. "Thank you!"
She started to cry, softly. I wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be all right, but I'd just moved from client to employee, and it wouldn't be proper. I stood there, feeling as useless as tits on a rooster, till she got herself together.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"It's okay."
"I'm such a baby."
"You're doing the best you can, in a tough situation."
She nodded. "Can I ask you something about your decision to stay here?"
"Sure."
"Do you feel drawn to…to The Seaside in some manner?"
I studied her a moment. "How did you know?"
Suddenly she seemed younger, almost girlish.
"Can you really cook?" she said.
"Does it matter?"
Chapter 7
RACHEL WAS BACK. I didn't ask her where she'd been, and she didn't offer any explanation.
"You want me to be a waitress?" she said.
"Beth needs us," I said.
"Beth, huh?"
"Yup."
"She's pretty," Rachel said.
"You think?"
"You know she is. Should I be worried?"
"Not for a minute."
"Just so you know," she said, "If I ever catch you cheating, I'll cut your dick off and feed it to a sea gull."
"It would have to be a helluva big sea gull," I said.
"In your dreams!"
I frowned.
"Maybe I'll just toss it in the air and let a flock of sea gulls fight over it," she said.
I winced at the visual.
"How long are we gonna do this?" she said.
"As long as it's fun for you."
"And the minute it's not?"
"We'll head to South Beach."
"Will you wear a big white chef's hat, like Chef Boyardee?"
"Not even to save my life," I said.
"In that case, I'll do it!"
Moments later she was telling Beth, "If I ever catch you fucking Kevin, I'll burn you up in your bed."
Beth gave me a look of horror and said, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
"Kevin is a gourmet cook," Rachel said.
I shrugged.
"Rachel," Beth said, "I'm about to go broke. Every nickel I own is tied up in this place. I loved-and still love-my husband. I have no interest in developing a romantic relationship with-"
She looked at me. "Is it Donovan or Kevin?"
I shrugged again.
She continued. "Charles loved this place, it was his dream. It's all I have left of the man I loved with all my heart. But Rachel?"
Rachel looked at her.
"-I don't want to have to worry that every time Kevin and I are in the same room you're going to think something's up."
"I'm only concerned about the fucking," Rachel said.
"Then you've got nothing to worry about," Beth said.
Rachel threw her arms around Beth and said, "I love you, Beth. And you'll see, I'm going to be the best waitress you ever had!"
Beth looked at me wide-eyed and mouthed the words, "Is she crazy?"
I mouthed back, "She loves you."
Chapter 8
BOB POCKET WAS a normal-sized man with an enormous round belly. Sitting in his high-backed banker's chair, it looked like he was trying to hide a basketball under his shirt. He drummed his fingers on it, and I wondered if it was as solid as it appeared. It was truly amazing, and I couldn't wait to tell Rachel about it.
"Excuse me?" he said. "You're the what?"
"Chief cook and handyman."
"Well, Mr.-"
"Creed."
"Creed." He started to sneer, then caught himself and turned it into a broad smile. "It's wonderful to have you here, you're going to love our little town. All the people are amazing, the weather's amazing, the beach is wonderful, and like I say, the people are-"
"-Amazing," I said. "I get it."
Bob Pocket seemed about to frown, but again, he found a way to show me a pleasant, though unconvincing, smile. "I'm really not at liberty to discuss Ms. Daniels' financial affairs with her employees. I hope you can try to understand that."
I passed him a notarized power of attorney. He studied it carefully before saying, "She's way behind, but we haven't begun the foreclosure proceedings yet."
"Why not?"
"Well, this is hard to explain to an outsider, but our little town has a way of attracting good luck. Good things happen here, things that can't be explained. We're just trusting that something wonderful will happen, and Beth won't have to lose her special inn. Wait, why are you laughing?"
"You'll have to excuse me," I said. "I've never encountered a benevolent banker before."
Bob Pocket chuckled. "Benevolent banker," he repeated. "I like that. I guess we are a trusting bank, with an optimistic board of directors. But after you've been here awhile it will make more sense to you. This community has been blessed, and it's astounding how much good fortune we've attracted lately."