Tyler stopped by a row of mailboxes lined up along a raised shelf. The gray metal hoods were labeled two, four, eight, and ten. She rolled past them, and peered down the narrow lane. “Maybe we’d better walk,” she said. “Can’t be too far.”
“You don’t want to block traffic,” Nora said, flashing a smile.
“God forbid.”
Tyler drove past the entrance to Seaside. Not far ahead, the road widened into a parking area. She stopped against a log. A wedge of ocean glinting sunlight showed through a break in the low hills ahead. A footpath curved along one of the slopes.
“Nuts,” Nora said. “We should’ve brought our suits.”
They climbed from the car. A stiff breeze tugged at Tyler’s hair, molded her blouse to her body. When she turned away from the ocean, it pushed at her back as if urging her to rush.
Nora met her behind the car. She was slipping her arms into the sleeves of her red sweater. Her face was wrapped with tendrils of blowing hair. As they walked along, she buttoned the sweater.
Thank you, wind, Tyler thought.
Then hurried to Seaside. There, the trees shielded them from the wind but also kept out the sunlight. They walked in silence through the deep shadows.
Tyler shivered—partly from the chill, mostly from the knowledge that she might, in minutes, be face to face with Dan Jenson. What were the chances, after five years, that he would welcome her, that they could pick up where they left off? Slim, she thought. Minuscule. But she had come this far. There was no turning back. She clenched her teeth to stop her jaw from shaking.
From a cottage on the left, a dog began to yap. A gaunt man appeared behind the screen door. Nora raised a hand in greeting. The man stood motionless, a dim shape through the screen, staring out at them.
“Charming,” Nora muttered. “Let’s hear some ‘Dueling Banjos.’”
They passed a clapboard shack with boarded windows, then came upon a wheelless bus propped up on cinder blocks. They paused to stare at the mural painted on its side: a ghost ship with tattered sails becalmed on a glaring sea. A human skeleton clung to the helm. A giant albatross floated before the ship, an arrow in its breast. Above the bus’s door hung a sign carved in driftwood: captain frank.
“Interesting neighbors your Dan has,” Nora said.
They continued down the gloomy road to its end, where a path led toward a small, green-painted cottage with a screened porch.
“That must be it,” Nora said.
Tyler’s heart pounded hard. “I don’t see a car anywhere.”
“Maybe he’s not home yet.”
They walked down the path. Tyler followed Nora up the porch steps. Nora knocked on the door, then pulled it open. Except for a swing suspended from its ceiling, the porch was empty. That seemed odd to Tyler. Similar cottages she’d known as a child while vacationing with her parents always had porches cluttered with gear: fishing rods, a tackle box and minnow bucket, a fishnet, an old Coleman lantern, a refrigerator well stocked with soda and beer, hooks on the walls draped with rain slickers and beach towels. There was none of that.
“No doorbell,” Nora whispered. “I’ll let you do the knocking.” She stepped away from the door and sat on the swing. Its chains creaked and groaned as she pushed it into motion.
Tyler rapped lightly on the door. She waited, then struck harder. “I don’t think he’s home.”
“It’s only about four thirty,” Nora said from the swing.
Tyler cupped her hands to a glass pane in the door, and peered inside. She could see no more than the kitchen. “Maybe Barbie Doll gave us the wrong address,” she said.
“I doubt it. She was flaky, but not stupid.”
“Well, nobody’s home.”
“Shall we wait, or try again some other time?”
Tyler shrugged. Though disappointed, she also felt relieved; her eagerness to meet Dan was mixed with such anxiety that she was almost glad they had failed. “It might be a long wait,” she said. “Cops have weird hours. He could’ve just started a shift, or something.”
“Then you want to leave?”
“We don’t want to keep you from the Happy Hour.”
“I’m perfectly willing to wait.”
“No, let’s go.”
They left the porch and walked up the path to the dirt road.
“Maybe,” Nora said, “we can check a phone directory when we get back, make sure we do have the right address. You might even give him a ring, unless you’re intent on making a surprise appearance.”
“Yeah, that’s an idea.” A phone call, she thought, would be much easier on the nerves. That way, at least, she might find out how he stood. They could arrange to meet, regardless. Even if he was married or engaged or there was some other reason not to renew their relationship, she still would like to see him again.
“Ahoy there!” a man called.
Seated on a lawn chair atop the strangely painted bus, a beer can raised in greeting, was a white-bearded man. He wore a ragged straw hat, a Hawaiian shirt, and plaid Bermuda shorts.
“Captain Frank?” Nora asked.
“At your service, mateys.”
“We’re looking for Dan Jenson,” Tyler called up to him. “He lives at the end of the road?”
“Not anymore.” Captain Frank chuckled softly. “No indeed.”
“He moved?”
“You might say that.”
“Do you know where we can find him?”
“Can’t find him anywhere tonight. Try tomorrow, if you’re of a mind.”
“Where?”
He tilted the beer can to his mouth, then crumpled it and tossed it down. It landed on the layer of pine needles beside his bus. “Oh, Dan’s not far off. No, indeed. Just down the road a spell. Can’t miss it. A place called Beast House.”
“He lives there?” Tyler asked.
“I wouldn’t say that, not exactly. Go on by in the morning. Tell him Captain Frank sent you, and give Danny boy my regards.” He waved them away.
“Thanks,” Tyler called.
They started walking.
“He must work as a guard there,” Nora said.
“Yeah. I suppose. But he must live someplace.”
Nora shrugged. “You can ask him all about it tomorrow.”
“I guess this means we’ll have to take the tour.”
“You’ll love it. Tacky tacky.”
“I can’t wait,” she muttered.
“Let’s get back to the inn and get tanked.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tyler pulled to a stop in front of their bungalow at the Welcome Inn. “It’ll take me a while to get cleaned up and changed,” she said. “You can go on ahead to the restaurant, if you’d like.”
“Fine,” Nora said. “Meet you there.”
They climbed from the car.
Alone in her room, Tyler checked a drawer of the night stand between the beds. She found a Gideon Bible and a telephone book. She looked up Jenson, Daniel in the directory. The address listed after his name was 10 Seaside Lane.
According to Captain Frank, he didn’t live there now. Not anymore. No indeed.
She flipped the directory shut. The date on its cover was February 1978, making the book more than a year and a half old.
She considered dialing information.
Maybe later. Right now, she had neither the energy nor the desire. She sat motionless on the edge of the bed, the phone book resting on her thigh, and stared into space. She felt weary. Her mind seemed out of focus. In the pit of her stomach was a tiny knot of fear.
She wished that she was home in her own apartment, her life untouched by Barbie Doll, the horrible man on the highway, the leering Bix, the man who stared out like a specter from his cottage on Seaside, or Captain Frank on top of his grimly painted bus. Give Danny boy my regards.
And then she thought, Why not leave in the morning? First thing. As Nora pointed out, there’s no law you have to go looking for Dan.