“No, I haven’t had any sudden brainstorms,” Emma admitted. “But I’m starting to feel uneasy and guilty about us up here lazing around, enjoying ourselves, not knowing what the hell the fall is going to bring. I know we needed a break after being cooped up all spring with the pandemic, especially Juliette, but we’ve had our fun. I’m ready to go back.”
“The fall is clearly not going to be pretty,” he said. “As soon as the United Nations Week got canceled, I knew all our projections went out the window. That week alone was going to put our company on the map.” With their professional connections with the NYPD, they had had hundreds of referrals, seeing as United Nations Week was an enormous strain on NYPD resources. Back in December they were concerned about having enough manpower to cover even half of the requests.
“Aren’t you worried about how we are going to weather this pandemic with all the talk about a fall surge?” she asked. “I mean, we’re already behind on our mortgage.”
Both Brian and Emma had been thrifty and fiscally conservative even as children. When they started working for the NYPD, they’d saved more than their friends and colleagues, and also invested wisely. When they had married following Emma’s graduation from the ESU Academy and just before Juliette’s birth, they’d been able to splurge on one of the few freestanding, Tudor-revival, single-family homes in Inwood, on West 217th Street. It was a mere block away from her parents’ home on Park Terrace West. The house was their only major asset besides the Subaru.
“A lot of people are behind on their mortgage payments,” Brian countered. “And we spoke with our loan officer. Plus, we do have some cash receivables. The mortgage is not going to cause a problem. I think we’ve made the right choice to keep our cash to cover our other major business-related expenses, like Camila’s salary.”
Camila Perez was Personal Protection LLC’s only employee. When the pandemic exploded in the New York area, she’d moved in with the Murphys and had been living with them ever since. It was one of the benefits of having a house with adequate living space. Over the course of the spring she’d become more like family than an employee. The Murphys had even encouraged her to come with them to Cape Cod, but she had responsibly declined in order to handle anything that came up in relation to the company. During the previous week, there had been a couple of inquiries about Personal Protection providing security for some high-end fall weddings in the Hamptons.
“You are obviously handling this all better than I am,” Emma confessed. “I’m impressed that you’re able to compartmentalize so well.”
“Truthfully, I’m not doing that great. I’m worried, too,” he admitted. “But my worry comes mostly in the middle of the night when my mind can’t shut down. Out here on the beach with the sun and surf, thankfully it all seems so far away.”
“Do you mind if we continue talking about this now, while we’re enjoying this glorious scene? Or do you want me to shut up?”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Brian said. “Talk as much as you want!”
“Well, what’s bugging me at the moment is whether it was a good idea for both of us to leave the NYPD together,” she said. “Maybe one of us should have remained on salary.”
“In hindsight that might have been prudent,” Brian agreed. “But that’s not what we wanted. We both felt an entrepreneurial tug to do something creative and outside the box. How could we have decided who would have the fun challenge and who would have had to continue slogging with the same old, same old? Draw straws or flip a coin? Besides, I’m still confident it is all going to be just fine as soon as this damn coronavirus disaster works itself out. And we’re certainly not alone. Millions are caught in this pandemic squeeze.”
“I hope you are right,” Emma said with a sigh, before quickly slapping the side of her head. “Damn! Those mosquitoes are back. Why aren’t they biting you?”
“No clue.” He reached behind her chair for the can of OFF and handed it to her. “I guess I’m just not as sweet as you,” he said with one of his typical mischievous smiles.
Chapter 2
August 19
It was the raucous sound of a flock of seagulls loudly arguing with one another out in Wellfleet Harbor that awoke Brian after yet another pleasant night’s sleep. Rolling onto his back, he looked out the window through the white sheer curtain fabric, wondering what time it was. He looked at his phone and saw that it was 6:25. Glancing over to Emma’s side of the bed, he saw that she was already up, like almost every morning lately, and he smiled in anticipation of the pastries that would be waiting for him once he got out of bed.
With the birds still squawking in the distance, Brian got up to use the cottage’s single bathroom, but just before entering from the common hall, a glance into the living room surprised him. He could see Emma fast asleep on the couch. Being that she was an early riser, he guessed she’d possibly had a poor night’s sleep, perhaps from worrying about their precarious financial situation, a subject she’d been raising every day since the night of their barbecue. Fearing he was correct, he made it a point to be as quiet as possible. Coming back out of the bathroom, he had another idea that would make it even less likely he’d disturb her. He’d be the one to head out and get the pastries. Whatever the reason was that had her sleeping outside of their bed, he thought she deserved as much time to rest as she wanted.
After silently pulling on some bike shorts and a shirt, Brian checked to see if Juliette was stirring. She wasn’t, which he expected. With the amount of exercise she’d been getting combined with being allowed to stay up later than usual in the evening to play board games, she must have been exhausted. Satisfied, he carried his bike shoes while tiptoeing through the living room. As carefully as he could, he closed the otherwise noisy screen door without a sound, pleased he’d managed to leave without waking his wife.
Cycling past the Wellfleet Harbor, he could see the source of the seagulls’ frenzy, which was still ongoing. Fishermen were cleaning their catches. Beyond the harbor, Brian passed through the attractive downtown of Wellfleet with its well-maintained period buildings, some of which were hundreds of years old, and he was particularly enamored of those with neo-Grecian Doric columns.
Unfortunately, most of the rest of the trip was on the main highway, which lacked the scenery of the smaller roads. But it wasn’t far and there was almost no traffic. To get maximum benefit from the exercise, he cranked up his speed, arriving at the bakery in less than fifteen minutes. Although the shop had yet to open, there were already several people waiting as a testament to its popularity.
Twenty minutes later, Brian was back on his bike, now heading north. When he arrived at the cottage, he returned his bike to the garage and then entered as quietly as possible. To his surprise, Emma was no longer on the couch. Instead, she was now back in their room curled up in a fetal position on the bed, and though her eyes were open, she didn’t stir upon his arrival.
“I feel terrible. I had a very bad night.”
“I’m so sorry, my sweet,” Brian said as he sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” He was surprised to see her sick, because she was the most resistant of the three of them when it came to winter colds and other ailments. The usual progression was Juliette first, probably picking up something at preschool or at one of her playdates, and then she’d give it to him. More often than not, Emma wouldn’t succumb, despite being the major caregiver.