“Double, double, toil and trouble,” Barb said. She laughed, giddy. “So I guess this is what’s it like to really have it.”
“You sound resentful.”
“Not at all. Envious? You bet. But not resentful. Not as long as I get to stay awhile. I’ve decided to pretend I’m attending a writers’ retreat. Cocktails before dinner. Therapy runs before breakfast. Bonbons and soap operas for lunch. Maybe we can hire a masseuse.”
Cole smiled, and noticed that the fierceness was gone from her eyes. Every time he started to dislike Barb, she won him back, usually by not trying so hard to have an edge.
They parked and unloaded in the dark until a porch light flashed on. Steve was about to knock on the door when Keira opened it.
“Welcome!” she said, as they filed in past her. She carried a stack of folded linens that smelled fresh from the dryer, and she was flushed.
“Beautiful spread, Keira.” Barb sounded like she meant it. She leaned over and gave Keira a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for having us.”
“Did I see a boathouse on the way in, with a couple of kayaks?” Steve sounded as excited as a kid at summer camp.
“There’s a day sailer, too, if you want to launch it. Although the sail hasn’t been out of the bag in years, so I have no idea what kind of shape it’s in.”
Cole stayed quiet, but he couldn’t help feeling caught up in the excitement. It was like arriving at a resort, even though they had plenty of work to do. The house was newer than he’d expected. Twenty years old, if he had to guess. He wondered if her parents had torn down some older farmhouse to build it. It was a solid colonial, two stories, with three upstairs gables along a slate roof, and working shutters on mullioned windows. Conventional, but seemingly solid. It would have to be to withstand some of the storms that blew in off the Bay. The back wall was no more than twenty yards from the shoreline, and he’d noticed that out by the water most of trees were stunted on the windward side, just like on mountaintops and blustery capes. Even now there was a stiff breeze, with a raw brackish tang.
The view from the foyer was of the living room and a den off to the left, with a hallway beyond. The furnishings were neither showy nor garish, but to Cole’s untrained eye everything from the light fixtures to the curtains looked like top quality, if a bit bland. Off-white walls, oriental rugs, silky upholstery. There was a big fireplace with a grand oaken mantelpiece in a natural finish, which faced a massive earth-tone couch. Oil landscapes, mostly tidewater scenes, hung from the walls.
“Wow,” Steve said. “Do we get a tour?”
“If you want. I thought you might want to get your bags squared away first.”
“Sure. How many bedrooms?”
“Four. Not counting the one out in the pool house.”
“There’s a pool house?” Barb asked.
“It’s the de facto guest house. For longer-term visitors.”
Steve hefted up his bag. “Where do you want us?”
“Upstairs. I thought I’d put Cole and you on the west side, Barb and me on the east.”
“And Colonel Mustard in the study with a candlestick,” Barb said.
Steve gave her a look. She made a face at him. “Sorry. This is fun. The whole idea of being here is fun.”
“You know,” Steve said, “maybe Captain Cole would like some extra privacy. Would it be okay if he bunked in the pool house?”
The suggestion caught Cole off guard. He immediately took it as a snub, and he knew that reacting against it would make it seem like more of one. He’d already picked up his duffel and taken a step toward the stairs, but now he reversed course, stepping toward the door.
“I’ll be comfortable anywhere you want me.”
Keira seemed taken aback, but she didn’t challenge it. Maybe after getting her way on the move she felt she owed Steve a few smaller victories. So it was left to Barb to speak up, and as usual she wasn’t shy.
“Getting a little prickly about living with the help, Steve?” It wasn’t clear from her tone whether she was joking.
“Hey, I just thought that he might like—”
“It’s no problem,” Cole said, wanting to head off any further disagreement. “I’m fine with it.”
Steve had sounded sincere. Maybe he was. But their arguments were becoming too much like the ones his parents used to have, which made him feel about fifteen. He continued toward the door to signal that the matter was settled.
“I’ll get you the key,” Keira said meekly.
He looked over at Steve, who seemed crestfallen, embarrassed by his faux pas. But the deed was done, so Cole hefted his bag and headed back out the door. The pool house was flush against the woods, some forty yards from the left side of the house. The pool itself was covered by a tarpaulin stretched as tight as a trampoline, with fallen leaves on top. The furnishings inside were comparable to what he’d already seen, and if anything, the pool house was probably a few years newer, although the air was musty and the heat was off. Keira brought along linens and a pair of towels.
“The thermostat’s here, by the door,” she said. “It shouldn’t take long to heat up. Let me make the bed for you.”
“I can do that.”
“You sure?”
“Really. It’s okay. I’m fine with it.”
Her shoulders sagged.
“Here.” She handed him a pair of keys. “If it’s privacy he wants for you, then you’re the only one who gets a key for this place. Plus one for the main house, of course. I hope we’ll be seeing you at breakfast.”
The key for the main house looked brand-new.
“You get these today?”
She nodded.
“Four copies.”
“Did you get a lock for the gate? Barb was already wondering.”
“Shit. Knew I was forgetting something.”
“I can take care of it tomorrow, if I can borrow a car. I’m meeting Sharpe up on Route 50, out past Easton.”
“Steve told me. Sharpe sounds like a piece of work. But I guess we should be glad he’s being careful. Any idea what he’s cooked up for tomorrow?”
“None. A bunch of geeks doing weird stuff together, by the sound of it. Probably worthless, but if I humor him maybe it’ll pay off.”
She touched his arm, her fingers warmer than anything in the room.
“See? You’re contributing, and you’ll keep contributing. It’s why you don’t really belong out here, so don’t feel like a stranger, and don’t act like one. Breakfast, okay? Don’t drift away on us.”
“Sure.”
Maybe she was worried he would drink out here, or maybe she just liked him. It was also possible that she would say such things to any guest, simply because it was in her nature to do so. Whatever the reason, she was right on point. It would be a bad idea to drift. He had purposely left behind his last bottle of Weed, still a quarter full. The craving lost a little more of its edge every day, although it was usually sharpest around this time of day, a few hours after nightfall. Backsliding would be an easy choice out here, so he would need to be doubly careful. Tomorrow he would probably drive past several liquor stores, just as he had on the trip to see Sharpe. Each was a temptation, but he’d resisted. He must maintain discipline. Pit stops only for the hardware store, to buy a lock, and for lunch. Maybe he’d be better off packing a sandwich.
Cole showered, which calmed him. Later, after a walk, he thought of Keira as he climbed beneath the crisp new sheets, which didn’t exactly help him settle down. He tried another tack, thinking about Carol, his children, but that was even worse. He got out of bed. What the hell, it was still pretty early. There were some books on a shelf, cheap paperbacks mostly, but none captured his interest. It was damn quiet out here, with only the wind in the trees for company. He opened the curtains on the bedroom window, with a view of the moonlit woods. Bare limbs and underbrush, the icy pinprick of winter constellations. At ten o’clock he climbed back into bed.