But then he saw that she wasn't alone. A man wearing a well-tailored business suit stood facing her. Mark's heart sank and his head bowed as he continued on up the sidewalk. He turned back for one final glance, did a double-take, and stopped short in his tracks. Renie was grimacing and the man in the well-tailored suit was clutching her wrists tightly in his hands.
Mark bounded across the street and flew through the building's doorway. He found himself in a short hallway that served as a windbreak to the main studio space.
"Stop it, Gerry, you're hurting me." Mark heard Renie say.
"Did you really think I'd let you just walk out on me?" the man said.
Overhearing this short exchange told Mark all he needed to know. He raced around the corner, and into the studio. "I think the lady asked you to leave her alone," Mark said.
Both Renie and Gerry turned to look at Mark.
"And who the fuck are you?" Gerry spat at Mark. Then, turning back to face Renie, "Who is he? Is this your new boyfriend? You didn't waste any time, did you?"
"He's not my boyfriend."
"I'm just a friend," said Mark.
"Well, then get lost, friend. This is my wife, and this is private property, and a private conversation. I'm a lawyer, and you're trespassing. So, you better leave right now, before I call the cops and have your bumpkin ass thrown in jail."
"Let me save you the trouble," Mark said, pulling his iPhone from his pocket. "I just had dinner with the chief of police, Bob Hascom. We've been friends since we were kids. He's a bumpkin too, and he might misinterpret what I've witnessed here as an assault. And, being a bumpkin, he might decide to play it safe and arrest you. Then there might be an assault charge, a restraining order, and who knows what else? Maybe even the Bar Association would hear about it, and your license to practice would be in jeopardy. Of course, I'm not a lawyer..."
Gerry shot a venomous look at Renie as he released his grip on her wrists. He straightened his tie and walked toward the door, sneering at Mark as he passed. Over his shoulder, he called out, "You're really robbing the cradle, Renie. It's pathetic for a woman your age. You shouldn't be traipsing around in a leotard either, considering the way you've let yourself go."
On his way out, Gerry slammed the door so hard it made Renie jump and the front window of the studio shudder.
After a moment, Renie let out a long sigh, as though she'd forgotten to breathe for a while. Her eyes held Mark's for a moment. Then she blushed and averted her gaze.
"I was just passing by, and I happened to see what was going on through the window," Mark said. He took a closer look at her. "Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine."
Mark eyed her wrists. "Did he hurt you?" he asked.
"What, this?" Renie held up her wrists. "This is nothing," she said with a chuckle that Mark found perplexing.
"Do you want me to call the police?"
"No, I just want him gone. Please don't call your friend and have him arrested."
Mark grinned. "That's not likely to happen. Bob Hascom's an insurance salesman."
Renie looked surprised but then a smile spread across her face. "You lied."
"I lied," Mark admitted, "but it was for the greater good."
"Well, I'm glad you did. That was quick thinking. You managed to defuse the situation rather easily.
"God, you save whales and ladies in distress too? Are you Superman?"
"Well, if I am, then my Kryptonite is a Death-by-Chocolate dessert they serve at Le Pegase. Can I interest you?"
Renie hesitated. "No. Thank you, but no. It's past time for all cradle robbers to be in bed."
"Don't listen to him. He was just trying to manipulate you into feeling bad about yourself.
"Please?" he added with a warm smile, "I'd really love for you to join me."
"All right, just give me a few minutes to change."
§
At Le Pegase, Mark chose a table for two at the front of the restaurant. "Let's sit by the window and watch the world go by."
A slim waiter, dressed all in black, appeared to take their order.
"Two Death by Chocolates..."
"One," Renie said. "I'll just have a taste of yours, if that's okay."
"Are you sure?" Mark asked. "It's called Death by Chocolate, so if you just have a taste, you might only go into a coma."
Renie laughed and said, "I'll take my chances."
"Okay, one Death by Chocolate, two spoons," Mark said to the waiter. "And two espressos with lemon zest?" he added, turning to Renie for confirmation.
Renie nodded her approval.
The waiter returned a few minutes later with their order. He'd forgotten dessert spoons, so Mark and Renie used the demitasse spoons that had come with their espressos.
"Ladies first," said Mark.
He watched as Renie took the spoonful of chocolate into her mouth and withdrew the empty spoon through pursed, red-coated lips.
"Well?"
Renie closed her eyes. "Mmm, this is really, really good."
"I told you."
When they'd finished coffee and dessert, Mark ordered pastis on the rocks with water on the side.
"I want to apologize, again, for my uncle's fantastic delusions. I tried to set him straight, but I don't think, given his current condition, that he understands he did anything wrong. It's just baffling to me as to why he would do that, especially when so many things in the journal don't seem to be made up. Do you have any ideas?"
Renie's eyes were downcast. "Don't be too hard on him. He was very kind to me, and he never did anything that was remotely untoward or inappropriate."
She quickly changed the subject, asking Mark questions about his work and telling him about her younger sister, who was a second violinist with the Boston Symphony.
"Tanglewood is the Symphony's summer home. I was visiting my sister one summer, and met Gerry. That's how I came to live in the Berkshires."
Mark and Renie spent over an hour in pleasant conversation, smiling constantly and laughing often. At midnight, they slowly ambled up Elm Street and discovered that their vehicles were parked just a few spaces apart.
"Thank you, Mark...for everything."
"There's one thing I'd like to thank you for."
"What's that?"
Mark broke into his devilish grin. "You look absolutely fantastic in a leotard."
Chapter 51
MARK WAITED SEVERAL days before trying to contact Renie again. There were questions about the Keeper's Log that gnawed at him, but it hadn't felt right to say anything specific about that at Le Pegase.
He wanted answers, but more than that, he wanted to see her—he wanted to have her in his life. He tried her phone a few times over a period of several days, sent texts, and left voice messages twice. Soon it became obvious to him that she didn't want to have contact.
Mark reluctantly accepted that, aside from the possibility of a chance encounter in the small community of Cape Ann, he would never see her again. He sat on his sofa holding the Keeper's Log and the yellowed envelope marked For Renata just as he had that first night after Peter had thrust it into his hands.
How readily he had believed what Peter had written in the Keeper's Log. Why wouldn't he? What would compel Peter to have invented such an astonishing story and confession?
And he had just as readily accepted Renie's repudiation of the journal's contents. She had told him that Peter had fantasized the whole thing, and he'd believed her. Just like that.
But she hadn't said the whole thing was made up, had she? In fact, she hadn't refuted anything until she read Peter's description of their lovemaking. Mark had watched Renie closely as she read each and every word of the Keeper's Log, and never once before had she challenged its veracity. Perhaps she was just too embarrassed, or perhaps she was telling the truth and that part was a fantasy. But that didn't mean everything in the Keeper's Log was a lie.
But with Bridey Gallagher long dead and Peter Ahearn incoherent and oblivious, Renat
a Raposo was the only viable, living witness to what had really happened at Rose Hip Point.
Or was she?
Mark sat upright when the realization hit him like a thunderbolt. There was one other person who was very much alive and very much coherent who might be able to shed some light on the truth.
§
Mark parked his truck on Washington Street in Gloucester and walked across the road to Vasconcelos's Portuguese Market.
Jaime "Jimmy" Vasconcelos stood behind the meat counter. His hair was thinning but still very dark. A pencil was tucked behind his ear, and bifocals perched on the end of his nose. He smiled broadly when he recognized Mark.
"Mark Valente, it's been a while since you've been in here."
"I know, Jimmy—it's been too long."
"That's because you don't eat right. All you bachelors eat that processed pre-packaged crap. You gotta shop here. You get fresh food here, you'll live longer."
"Okay, Jimmy, you win. I've been sufficiently rebuked."
"Good. Now is it true what I hear about Pete?"
"I don't know what you've heard, but it's true that he's alive. He's not well, though. He has some kind of Alzheimer's, and he's being cared for at the Soldiers' Home near Boston."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mark. Pete was good people. I liked him a lot."
"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Jimmy. Didn't you used to deliver groceries to him at the lighthouse?"
"Among other things," Jimmy punctuated this statement with a sly grin. "You remember that?"
"Well, no, I was pretty young back then, but Pete remembered it."
"Pete's got the Alzheimer's but he still remembers me?"
"Well, not exactly. He wrote about it a long time ago."
Jimmy looked around the store, and then leaned toward Mark and half-whispered. "Did he write about the weed?"
"Yeah, he did, Jimmy, but that's not why I came to see you."
"What do you need?"
"This is going to sound kind of weird, but did Pete have a woman in his life then?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely."
"Really? Who?"
"I have no idea."
"You didn't recognize her?"
"Recognize her? I never even saw her."
"I don't understand, Jimmy. If you never saw him with anyone, how do you know there was anyone?"
"New underwear."
"Excuse me?"
"New underwear...and other stuff, of course."
"Of course. Could you maybe elaborate a little?"
"Look, I really liked Pete. He's a couple of years older than me, but he was always real nice to me when we were kids—he was always nice to everybody. I looked up to him.
"You don't remember, because you're too young, but Pete was a mess when he came home from the war and that girl threw him over. Kids used to taunt him. I mean, just think about it: He loses his brother, he gets maimed so bad he can't play his music no more, and his fiancée dumps him. And it all happens almost at once. It was like he got hit by the perfect emotional storm. He didn't even wanna go out no more. So he asked me to deliver everything out to the lighthouse so he wouldn't have to go nowhere.
"He didn't even shave after he got home—not for like three years. I don't mind tellin' you he didn't smell too good some of the time either. He just didn't care. He didn't see nobody and nobody saw him, so what the hell?
"Anyway, I used to bring him everything—groceries, beer, booze, a little weed...
"Then, all of a sudden, there was a change in him. He tells me to bring him shaving stuff, cologne, new underwear...and he doesn't want any more hard liquor or weed. Oh, and instead of macaroni and cheese and canned stuff, all of a sudden he wants fresh veal.
"But, the biggest change of all? Pete. was. happy. He was like his old self again. He had that gleam in his eye, and he was smiling, joking, even. Now, let's review: What makes all of that happen in a guy?"
"Hmm," Mark said.
"Precisely, hmm." Jimmy agreed.
"When did this happen, Jimmy?"
"I don't know exactly, but it was several months before he disappeared."
"And you have no idea who this person might have been?"
"No, but come to think of it, I know somebody who might."
Jimmy told him about a conversation he'd overheard one night long ago, and it reminded Mark about another Keeper's Log entry that deserved a second look.
Chapter 52
April 27, 1975
FILE THIS ONE UNDER bad timing: I was waiting for Renata when I saw somebody coming up the lane pushing a baby carriage...
An April shower had passed. Now the noontime sun shone, and made mirrors of the water-filled ruts that dotted the lane on Rose Hip Point. A young woman maneuvered a baby carriage around the potholes as she approached the lighthouse grounds.
Tourists usually arrived in automobiles, but it wasn't unheard of for locals to walk the picturesque, mile-long lane to reach the tip of the point and admire the stunning views for a time before trekking back.
Whenever Peter saw strangers approach, whether by car or by foot, he'd disappear into the house until they had left the property. He had turned his back to the stranger in the distance and walked toward the light keeper's quarters when a flash of recognition made him spin back around.
The last time Peter had seen Cindy Everhart was the night she had broken their engagement, and his heart.
Then, her blond hair had been straight and long enough to touch the small of her back. Now it was darker and cut into a wavy, gypsy cut that barely reached her shoulders. The top half of a red and white flip-top box of Marlboros protruded from the front pocket of her cutoff denim shorts. She wore a white peasant blouse, and brown leather sandals. When they were fifty feet apart, Cindy gave Peter an exaggerated wave, a broad smile, and yelled, "Hi."
Peter remained motionless and expressionless, but Cindy's smile didn't lose any of its luster. When all that separated them was the length of the carriage, she said, "How are you, Pete?"
"How am I? Cindy, what are you doing here?"
"I think about you a lot, Pete, and I just wanted to say Hi and see how you were. So, how are you?"
"I don't get it, Cindy. I haven't seen you for how long? Not since you..."
Cindy tilted her head and batted her eyes. "Don't be like that, Pete. I know I hurt you, but I was young and immature back then. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. We were really close once, and I was hoping that we could at least still be friends.
"And look, I'm a mommy. This is Parker, isn't he cute? Thank God he's sleeping right now. He'll be six months old next Tuesday."
"How's Chip?" Peter's tone oozed sarcasm.
"How should I know? He split like three months before Parker was even born. Get this: He's never even seen his own kid. He's shacking up with some chick over in Rockport. He was boffin' her the whole time. Good riddance. But I don't even get a dime because he works under the table.
"I was so far behind on the rent that I got evicted from my apartment. What was I gonna do, not buy formula?
"So, I'm back at my mother's for now, and I work part time as a chambermaid over at Rocky Neck."
"Sorry, Cindy, that's really tough."
"Tell me about it. The whole thing is so bogus. He always wanted to party, but I could never count on him for anything in real life, you know? He's just an immature asshole."
Cindy began to tear up. "You were never like that, Pete. You never treated me like shit. That's why I've been thinking about you so much. I know I was awful to you, and I was hoping you could forgive me, and maybe we could try again."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I miss us, you know? And I thought maybe we could give us another chance, find the love again."
There was a time when Peter had been fixated on all the things he wanted to say to Cindy, all the names he wanted to call her. But now he just said, "Cindy, you don't want me, you just want somebody. You don't know what
love is, and I doubt that you ever will. But one thing I do know..." He was about to say I'm too good for you, but he wondered what Renata would think if she heard him say something so spiteful. Instead he said, "Never mind. Good luck, Cindy. I'm sure you'll find someone."
At that moment little Parker started to cry. Cindy's eyes were baggy and red from exhaustion. "Yeah, right, who's gonna want me now, Pete?" She turned the carriage around and went back the way she had come.
Peter watched as Cindy made her way down the lane. He felt sorry for her, but his feelings for her had been childish, and they were firmly in the past. Then he saw Renata walking toward the lighthouse and his heart soared.
When the two women met on the lane, they stopped and chatted for a moment. Peter saw Renata point in the direction of her house, and then bend over to coo at little Parker.
Minutes later, Peter was drawing Renata into a welcoming embrace and kissing her passionately. When their kiss ended, Renata looked back at the lane. Cindy had reached the bend in the road near Bridey Gallagher's house.
"Do you know that woman, Peter?" she asked.
"Just someone I used to know in high school."
§
They made love all afternoon and saw each other's bodies for the first time.
"You're still the most beautiful woman in the world."
"That's how you make me feel. And that's why you're the most beautiful man."
At sunset he watched with a sinking heart as she walked down the lane.
But she returned every day that week. Each morning he waited for her to appear at the bend in the lane near Bridey's house. He would come down to meet her and together they would walk hand-in-hand to the lighthouse.
When Renata spoke, Peter studied the movement of her lips as she formed each syllable, took each breath.
They smiled constantly. In fact, it was rare when they didn't. Only the passion of their lovemaking could erase their smiles.
Chapter 53
MARK VALENTE AND LINDA Gonsalves sat on two of the four grey plastic patio chairs on the backyard deck of Linda's tiny rented house in East Gloucester. The chairs were grouped around a round table that was covered with a blue-and-white-checkered tablecloth. On it, Linda had placed an acrylic pitcher of iced tea and two matching cups.
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