Cecily slouched, hip thrown out. “I don’t know how Maribel puts up with you.”
“That makes two of us,” Mack said. “I’m impossible.”
“Not an excuse,” Cecily said. “When are you going to ask her?”
“I don’t know,” Mack said. “Maybe around the time you graduate from college.”
“You are impossible,” Cecily said.
“So,” Mack said, “tell me about the boyfriend.”
“He’s smarter than you and much better looking,” Cecily said. “But you’re changing the subject. When are you going to ask Maribel to marry you?”
“Did Maribel send you out as her scout?” Mack said.
“No.” Cecily avoided his eyes by inspecting her other foot. “We just want to know.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Mack asked.
“The world,” Cecily said. “When are you going to marry her, Mack?”
“I don’t know,” Mack said. “One of the things you’ll learn as you grow up is that sometimes ‘I don’t know’ is the only answer you’re going to get.”
“Please spare me the growing-up bullshit,” Cecily said. She looked past him into the lobby. “Can you believe Mom and Dad won’t let me work the front desk? Dad’s putting me on the beach. At least I’ll get a tan. Who’s that working?”
“Love O’Donnell,” Mack said. “She’s nice. You’ll like her.”
“I’ll have to like her later. I’m going back to bed.”
“The Beach Club opens today, Cecily. That makes this your first day of work.”
She waved at him and headed back through the minefield of shells to her house. “I’m the owner’s daughter,” she said. “I do what I want.”
Andrea Krane and her fifteen-year-old son, James, arrived on the late ferry, which docked at 10:30 P.M. Mack was working the desk, giving Tiny the night off, and he let Jem go home early. The lobby was quiet. From the front porch, Mack watched the lights of the ferry approach the island. Andrea was on that boat, standing on the upper deck trying to pick out the lights of the hotel from off the dark coast.
I’m right here where you left me. Last July he watched her boat leave from this very spot. It was morning then and Mack waved his arms, although he knew she couldn’t see him.
When the ferry headed around Brant Point and Mack heard the long, low horn announcing the boat’s arrival, he went back inside and sat behind the desk. Twenty minutes later, Andrea walked in the door. She was in sweatpants and a navy blue windbreaker, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She carried a huge duffel across her back and a suitcase in each hand. Mack scrambled to help her.
“I got it,” she said irritably when he reached for her bags. “If you help, you’ll throw me off balance.” She made it to the front desk and let everything drop. “Here I am.” She took a deep breath and looked at the quilts, the wicker chairs, the fireplace, the plants. “God, I love this place. I’d like to buy this place. Do you think Bill and Therese would sell it to me? No, don’t say anything. Just let me take this all in. In a minute, it’s going to feel like I never left.”
Mack hadn’t seen Andrea in eleven months, he hadn’t heard her voice or smelled her scent, and yet here she was in front of him, exactly as she had been when he last kissed her.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
Mack kissed her.
“Do that again,” she said.
Mack kissed her with more intensity, although still not the way he wanted to kiss her. If it weren’t in violation of her rules, he would carry her back to room 18 and make love to her right then and there. Instead, he stepped back.
“How was your trip?” he asked. “And where’s James?”
“He’s in the truck, rocking,” she said. “That should give you some indication of how the trip went. As soon as he gets out of his routine, he starts to panic. I bought him a book about airplanes to keep him occupied. His new thing is planes. We’ve been getting up at six o’clock each morning and driving to BWI to watch them take off.”
“Let’s go get him,” Mack said. “I have his room all set up with the bedspread. That might make him feel better.”
“You’re a doll,” she said. “And remember, don’t let him upset you.”
Mack had known James since he was five years old when he was afraid of toilet seats and he held his hands over his ears and screamed in a strangled voice. Every year Mack hoped James would become cured of his autism. Dealing with James was frustrating and even a little scary. Mack felt a familiar dread as he followed Andrea out to her truck.
James sat in the passenger side of Andrea’s green Ford Explorer with his head bent, rocking back and forth. Andrea opened the door, but the rocking continued. James’s rocking blocked out all other stimuli; it was his way of keeping himself under control.
“Climb out of the truck, James,” Andrea said. She waited a few seconds. “Climb out.”
James stopped rocking and got out of the truck like an automaton. He was such a handsome kid, with Andrea’s honey-colored hair and gray-green eyes. Puberty had come to James this year-he was taller, with faint whiskers above his lip.
“Say hi to Mack,” Andrea prompted.
“Hi, Mack,” James said.
“Hi, James. I’m glad you got here safely.” Mack looked at Andrea. “Are there other bags?”
“I’ll get them,” she said. “You take James to his room.”
“Follow me, James,” Mack said. He took the boy’s arm but James pulled away. James opened the door to the truck and Mack thought he was going to climb back in and start rocking again but all he did was pick up a book.
“Understanding Aeronautics,” James said. “Three hundred twenty-five pages, illustrated, heavy stock laminate paper. Copyright 1990. Reprinted 1992, 1994. This copy belongs to James Christopher Krane.” He tucked the book under his arm and followed Mack through the lobby, out the back door and along the boardwalk to room 17.
Mack stepped into the room and James followed. “This is your room, James.”
James sat immediately down on the bed and started stroking the bedspread. “James’s blanket,” he said.
“That’s your blanket,” Mack said. “Nobody uses it but you.” It was a green chenille bedspread, the kind the hotel rooms had ten years ago. Now all the rooms had hand-stitched quilts, but Mack stored one chenille bedspread in the utility closet for James.
Andrea opened the door that connected with room 18. “Mom’s room is right here, remember, James?”
James turned on the TV.
“James, please put your clothes in the dresser,” Andrea said. “We’re going to be here for three weeks.”
“Twenty-one days,” James said.
“That’s right. Twenty-one days just like always. Let me show you where the bathroom is.” Andrea turned on the bathroom light. “It’s right here. And Mack took off the toilet seat. There’s no toilet seat in here, okay, buddy?”
James stared at the TV. “No toilet seat,” he said.
“That’s right, no toilet seat. No reason to be afraid. You’ve stayed in this room many times before. Do you feel comfortable?”
James stared at the TV.
“James, I asked if you felt comfortable here.”
“Are we going to the airport in the morning?” James asked.
“Yes, we are, we’re going to the Nantucket airport.”
“Okay,” James said.
“Okay. Mom is going to unpack and then go to sleep. Knock on my door if you need anything.”
Andrea beckoned Mack into her room.
“Good night, James,” Andrea said.
“Good night, James,” Mack said.
“Good night,” James said. “Good night.”
Andrea shut the door and fell back onto the bed. “What an exhausting day. Every day with James is exhausting but travel really drains me.” She unzipped her windbreaker. Underneath she wore a red T-shirt. “Do you notice a difference in him?” she asked.
“That’s not fair,” Mack said, plunging into the leather chair. “You know him much better than I do.”