50
THE INVITATION TO MATTEI and Rhonda’s wedding still sat on the lazy Susan where Zee had left it. She had told Mattei she was coming, but she called the office now, just to confirm that she would not be bringing anyone. At some point Zee would have to go to town to get a wedding present, but not today.
It was cold for the end of August. Channel Five had promised a warming trend by Friday, which would be good for Rhonda, since the ceremony was outside on Sunday night. The reception was at the Boston Harbor Hotel, something Zee would not have predicted. Though everything about this wedding seemed to be much more traditional than she expected, the hotel was a great location for Zee, who could just catch the ferry from Salem and walk across from Long Wharf to Rowes. It also gave her an excuse to escape early. The last ferry of the night left for Salem at ten.
The office would be closed all month, but she knew that Mattei would be checking messages. She hadn’t told her what had happened, that she’d stopped seeing Hawk, or even that Hawk was really Adam. The story was too complicated and coincidental to be believed, much less understood. Mattei was already worried that Zee was preoccupied with Lilly Braedon. If she told Mattei that Hawk was Adam, she was afraid that Mattei’s alarm bells would go off and she would believe that this was something Zee had known all along, something she’d pursued. Zee would tell Mattei eventually-she would have to-but not yet. Not until she figured out how to frame it. She was glad the office was closed for the traditional month of August. She didn’t want to talk.
What Zee did instead was to look into nursing homes. During the last few weeks, Finch had lost a lot of ground. More often than not these days, he called her Maureen, something he’d done on occasion since she arrived but that he was now doing with alarming regularity. Zee knew it was time. She wanted to be proactive, to pick a good place, a facility that treated both Parkinson’s and the Alzheimer’s crossover he was experiencing more and more lately. She interviewed and rejected at least six places before she found one that she actually thought Finch might tolerate. It was a combination of assisted living and nursing home, with a special unit dedicated to early dementia. Finch had taken two falls in the last few weeks. It was clear he needed more care than he could get at home. Unfortunately, the place she liked had a long waiting list. Even full-paying patients like Finch could expect to wait almost a year.
In one sense she was relieved. She knew that it was the right thing to do, but it still made her sad to think of Finch in a home. Zee added his name to the waiting list, but then she took another tack, hiring Jessina full-time and augmenting Finch’s daily care with more help on nights and weekends. Though she was still having doubts about her choice of career, Zee knew she had to get back to work. This new plan would allow her to commute back and forth to Boston.
She’d met Melville for dinner a few times since her breakup, at Nathaniel’s and at 62 on Wharf or at the Lyceum or the Regatta Pub. Melville was still a foodie at heart, and she was glad to join him for a delicious meal when invited. The night Finch fell for the third time, they had been together at the Grapevine, sitting in the outdoor garden and eating their famous chowder when Jessina called Zee’s cell.
By the time they got back to the house, the EMTs were already there. Jessina was crying, and Finch was lying flat on the floor in the hallway, his walker upended. His breathing was irregular, and he was in and out of consciousness.
The EMT suspected a broken rib, maybe a punctured lung.
Zee rode in the ambulance, and Melville followed behind. It took eight hours before they admitted Finch into a room, and Melville waited in the lobby all night.
Finch had two broken ribs. He looked as if he’d been beaten. He had a bump on his right temple.
“He has a scalp hematoma on his right temple, and they were worried about hemorrhage,” Zee said when she finally came out to send Melville home. “He seems confused. But now they’re convinced that his confusion is from the dementia, so they can give him the painkillers he needs.”
Melville went home, but he returned the next morning. He didn’t come into the room but hung back in the hall, waiting for Zee to see him and come out.
“You look terrible,” he told her. “Why don’t you go home for a while and get some sleep.”
“What if he wakes up?” Zee said.
“When did he get his last shot?” Melville asked.
“About an hour ago.”
“I’ll sit with him. If he starts to wake up, I’ll get out of the room quickly and give you a call.”
She wasn’t sure.
“Go,” he said.
She did go home, and she did sleep.
And though Finch didn’t wake up, Melville sat with him for the rest of the day.
IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, Finch was allowed a few visitors. Mickey came by. He brought Finch a chop-suey sandwich from the Willows and Zee a bag of the popcorn he knew she liked. Finch didn’t wake up enough to eat, and Mickey ended up consuming the sandwich.
Finch slept most of the time, and when he did wake up, he seemed more confused than usual, as much a product of the continuing painkillers as the dementia. Ann came to visit every afternoon, bringing tea and novels from Cornerstone Books for Zee to read. She loaded her iPod with music she knew Zee would like and loaned it to her.
Melville came by every day after work, though he always sat in a chair by the door and didn’t speak much while he was there. Whenever Finch’s eyes blinked awake, Melville would slip out the door so quietly it was almost as if he’d never been there at all.
51
THE LABOR DAY SAIL was scheduled to leave the wharf at 6:00 P.M. on Friday. Hawk got to the Friendship just as they were casting off.
“I figured you weren’t coming,” Josh said. “Thought maybe you’d run off with Zee and gotten yourself married.”
“No such luck,” Hawk said. If there was any way he could have gotten out of this commitment, he would have done it. He didn’t want to be anyplace near Salem. But he’d given his word. They were heading north to the Isles of Shoals for the weekend, stopping for an event on Star Island. Many of the historic tall ships were making the trip, which was essentially a benefit to raise money for the National Park Foundation. There would be pirates and privateers and people singing sea chanteys and telling maritime ghost stories. Same old same old, Hawk thought. The weekend was advertised as “Labor Day Fun for the Whole Family.” There was nothing Hawk wanted to do less. At least they weren’t staying for the Monday holiday. They would be home late Sunday night.
ANN CHASE WALKED ACROSS PICKERING Wharf and back toward her store. Mickey Doherty was being even more ridiculous today than usual. She’d come over to complain about his monkey. Mini Mick had jumped on her cat, Persephone, from the top of the window box where Ann grew her herbs. When he tried to ride the cat, she went wild and dug scratches into the monkey’s face.
Ann was an animal person, and she certainly felt bad about the monkey’s injuries, but maybe this time Mini Mick would learn a lesson.
“Sounds like my boy got what he deserved,” Mickey said, putting the monkey into the cage he’d fashioned out of an old supply closet, its door removed and replaced with chicken wire. As the cage doors closed, Mini Mick began to masturbate enthusiastically.
Mickey chose that moment to ask Ann out to dinner.
It was unfortunate timing, and she frowned in response.
“Is that your answer?”
For a long time, Mickey had been telling Ann she should ditch the guys she usually favored and go out with him.
“Come on, time to give up the crunchy granolas and the weird war-locks and give me a go,” he said. “I’ve been asking you out for the last three years.”