by Leary, Ann
“Well, in Vietnam it had to do with gettin’ medical care to a patient in the first hour after he was hurt. There’s this critical hour, well, more or less, after a major injury when, if you don’t get medical help then, your chances of survivin’ go way down. I used to drive the field medic truck.”
“I didn’t know that’s what you did in the war, Frankie. I guess I’ve never heard you talk about the war at all.”
“Yeah, well, who wants to talk about that? You know,” he said suddenly, “I used to see yer crazy friend Rebecca with Peter Newbold, out on his beach at night. All last summer, they’d be cavortin’ around half-naked in the dark. I guess they thought nobody could see them. But when the bluefish are runnin’, I like to fish at night. I just row my dory off Hart’s Beach, and you’d never know I was there. I was surprised he’d start somethin’ up with her—him being a shrink and all.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because she’s wicked crazy, Hil. I know you’re friends with her, but she’s a serious nut job. I thought she seemed okay that first time I met her, when you showed her the house, but she’s got a screw loose.”
“She’s not that bad,” I laughed. “I know one of your guys pissed her off once. What happened?”
“Skully White drove up there to pick up garbage—not long after they moved in—and his truck broke down, and you know, there’s no cell service up there on the rise.…”
“Frank, your trucks are a disgrace. Why don’t you get a couple new ones so they’re not breaking down all over town?”
“What’re you talkin’ about? They’re fine. Why would I get new ones when the old ones still run?”
This made me chuckle. It wasn’t just that Frank was a miser (which he was). He also just hated new things. He was averse to any kind of change. “So what happened, up at Rebecca’s?” I asked.
“Skully knocks on the door of the house and the baby-sitter tells him she can’t let him in to use the phone ’cause the mom’s not there—she’s up ridin’, in the ring behind the barn. Skully walks up to the barn, but nobody’s ridin’. So he goes in the barn and there’s yer witch friend in the wash stall. She had stripped herself down to her underwear to hose herself and the horse off. When she saw Skully, she flipped out. Started screamin’ at him.…”
“I don’t blame her. Do you know how hot and sweaty you get riding in the summer? She must have felt very embarrassed having crusty old Skully White standing there gaping at her in her underwear.”
“Yeah? Well, Skully had to walk all the way down Wendover Rise to the Browns’ house to use a phone to call me. When I drove up to jump-start the truck, Rebecca came out of the house screamin’ at me about trespassin’ and about how she was gonna call the cops. I said, ‘How am I trespassin’? You hired us to remove your garbage.’ She said, ‘Now you’re fired, so you’re trespassing.’ Then she said, ‘If that truck’s not out of here in ten minutes, I’m calling the cops.’”
Frank laughed, relaying this. “Like I was gonna get arrested for havin’ a garbage truck break down on a job.”
It was amusing, I was chuckling, too, at the idea of Rebecca’s reaction to Frank and Skully. The idea that she was somehow threatened by these two guys. Two gentle men I’d known all my life. Old Skully White used to work in the market for my dad. He took over the butcher counter when Dad bought the store. He and Dad always restickered roasts and turkeys during the holidays for certain families who were having a bad year. I doubt Stop & Shop carries on that tradition. Skully helped out my brother, Judd, when he drunkenly drove his pickup into a ditch one night. Skully towed him out with one of Frank’s old pickups and a winch before the cops could come. He never told my dad. Just warned Judd to shape up—which he did, eventually. But my point is, Skully White is a good guy. He received his nickname, “Skully,” after he fell from a tree when he was in grade school, cracking his head open and fracturing his skull. Nobody remembers his real name; at least nobody I know does.
“Rebecca’s a little tightly wound, it’s true. She might be a little crazy,” I said, “but so are a lot of people in this town. And who cares about her and Peter? They’re hardly the first married couple to be having an affair in this town.”
“There’s somethin’ really wrong with her, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
“But in what way?”
“She’s huntin’ him … stalkin’ him. Whatever you call it.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, he hasn’t been up here much. We do his maintenance. I plowed snow off his driveway one Friday and she must’ve drove by five times. She’s always wandering around on his beach when he’s not there—we used to see her from Manny’s boat.”
“I know she’s a little obsessed,” I said. “I guess she’s in love with him.”
“Her husband owns a hockey team. He flies around in a private jet. I wonder what she wants from Pete Newbold is all.”
“Frank, she’s in love with him. Are you too cynical to believe in love? Maybe she doesn’t want anything from him. She might just be in love with him.”
“That kind of huntin’ of him, it doesn’t seem like love. There’s somethin’ abnormal about it, if you ask me.”
“Stalking,” I laughed. “Not hunting. Stalking.”
“Whatever,” Frank said, pulling me close. “I’m gonna start stalkin’ you if you don’t quit laughin’ at me.”
“Promise?” I said, pulling away and starting to run toward the house.
“Promise,” Frank bellowed, and he chased me home, me screaming with delight, the dogs snarling and snapping at his heels.
* * *
The call came at three-thirty in the morning. I was curled against Frankie and had to pull myself from the thick curve of his body. He grumbled and tried to pull me back against him, but I brushed his arm away and fumbled for the phone.
“Hello?” I gasped. You always think somebody’s died when you get a call like that, in the middle of the night. My heart was pounding.
“Hildy?” said the quavering, unrecognizable voice.
“Yes, who is this?” I asked.
“It’s me … Rebecca.” She was sobbing.
“Rebecca? What is it? Are you okay?”
Frankie was now sitting up in bed, gazing at me.
“Peter told me he wants to end our … relationship. He’s done with me.”
“Rebecca, I’m sorry, but it’s three-thirty in the morning. Why are you calling me now? Call me in the morning. We can talk then.”
“I’ve been trying to call Peter all night, but he must have unplugged his phone. It keeps ringing. I’ve tried him in Cambridge and up here.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “I don’t think you should call him in Cambridge.”
“HE WON’T RETURN MY CALLS.”
“Rebecca,” I said softly, “think carefully about what you’re doing. If Elise finds out about you and Peter, she could tell Brian. It could be really, really bad. Think about Liam and Ben, Rebecca.”
“I HAVE been thinking about them. They’re the first thing I think of, always. I thought Peter was going to leave Elise and help me raise my boys.”
I said nothing. What could you say? I shook my head at Frankie, rolling my eyes.
“Hang up,” he mouthed.
“Now, now, for some reason, he … he doesn’t even want to speak to me. I want to come over, Hildy. I want you to do a reading. Tell me what’s really going on.”
“I don’t do that, Rebecca. I don’t know what’s going on in anybody’s mind but my own, and even that’s sort of foggy most of the time.”
“I’ve seen you do it, you’ve done it to me.”
“I can’t tell you what people are thinking, especially if I can’t see them. And even then, it’s not really their thoughts.…”
“I think he’s planning on coming up. In the next few days. I think he’s been coming up without telling me. If he does, try to talk to him, Hildy. Try to read what he’s saying and get the truth.”
/> “You know,” I said, “the thing that bothers me the most about this whole situation is that it sounds like what you need is a good shrink, and the best one around is now your ex-boyfriend.”
“WHAT? I can NOT believe you just said that.”
“Said what?”
“EX-boyfriend.”
“You just told me he doesn’t want to see you anymore.”
Now Frankie had clasped my wrist. “Hang up,” he said, aloud this time. I shook my head and moved the phone over so that we could both listen to Rebecca’s ranting.
“That’s how he says he feels right now. It’s not how he really feels. That’s why I need you to talk to him. Please, Hildy. I think … I think he’s trying to get away from Elise and can’t. She has this almost satanic power over him. It’s sick.…”
“Okay, Rebecca, I have to go back to sleep. I have to go to work tomorrow.”
“Hildy”—Rebecca sniffled—“will you please try to talk to him? I had a bad crash on Tricky the other day. I trailer him over to the hunt club sometimes to use the ring. I set up an ‘in and out.’ I guess our stride was off. We crashed trying to jump the second jump. Tricky fell. He almost landed on me. It’s because I was so distracted. All I can think about is Peter. If you talk to him, I know you can get him to see the right thing to do.…”
I felt a slow rage coming over me. Mamie had told me about Rebecca’s bad fall. She had also told me that Rebecca was banned from riding at the hunt club unless she started working with one of the trainers there. Mamie said she had heard from Linda Barlow that Rebecca was planning to send Hat Trick back down to Trevor Brown in Florida.
“She’s ruining that horse,” Mamie had said bitterly. “What a waste.”
Now Rebecca wanted to use poor Hat Trick, and me, to manipulate Peter Newbold. A man I had known since he was a toddler. A man whose father gave us lollipops when we were vaccinated, who stopped by the house, frequently, after my mom died, just to check on my dad.
“I’m not planning on seeing Peter, Rebecca,” I said finally. “Imagine how upset he’d be if he knew we’d had this conversation. I’m not getting involved in this. I have nothing against Peter.”
“Ha, that’s very kind of you, considering the things he’s said to me about you. He told me that you’re a drunk and a manipulative scammer with your psychic act and that I was crazy to have ever let you suck all that information out of me. He called you a vampire. ‘Like an emotional vampire’ were his exact words when he described your tricks.…”
“Good-bye, Rebecca,” I said. I was shaking, but I tried not to let it show in my voice.
“Wait, no, Hildy…”
Frank pulled the phone from my grip and slammed it down on the table, and I burst into tears.
“What are you doin’? Aw, Hildy. Don’t cry, I told you she’s a crazy bitch.”
“Why would Peter say such mean things about me?” I sobbed. “I’ve never done anything to Peter.”
“Hildy, baby, don’t listen to that crazy bitch. She made that all up. Listen to me, now. Stay away from her.”
* * *
When I arrived at my office the next morning, Kendall gave me my messages. One was from Ron Bates, the real-estate lawyer. The other two were from Rebecca. I called Ron and he told me he had a client who wanted to buy the Dwight house. They were offering the asking price, $475,000. Cash.
“Who’s the buyer?” I asked. I was thrilled, of course. I had shown the Dwights’ house several times since we had put it back on the market, but the place was always in such disarray, it just seemed like a waste of time.
“The buyer wants to remain anonymous. Wendover Crossing LLC is the name on the offering sheet.”
“It must be the Clarksons, the couple who own the lot next door. That’s a smart move, to combine the properties. When do they want to close?”
“They said they’re not in any rush, but they could close right away if necessary.”
I hung up and immediately called Cassie with the news. She was ecstatic. The school in Newton had a summer program. If the buyer could do an early closing, they could move as soon as they found a new place.
When the Dwight agreement arrived, I drove it over to Cassie’s. Jake was home from school, sick, so she couldn’t get to my office. She greeted me at the door enthusiastically. Jake was standing behind her, swaying and singing incoherently.
“He knows I’m excited.” Cassie smiled. “He heard me telling Patch over the phone and he knows something exciting is going on,” Cassie said, beaming at Jake. The boy had grown, just in the months since I had seen him last.
“Hi, Jake,” I said, but he just kept singing and swaying. Cassie and I sat at the table and she signed all the papers.
“I called the school in Newton. They have a summer program that starts in June and they’re holding a spot for Jake. Patch and I are going to look at some houses tomorrow, when Jake’s in school.”
“I’m so happy for you all,” I said, and I truly was. The Dwights deserved a break and now they were getting one.
“Let me know when you find a place and we’ll set up a closing date,” I said as I left, and even though we’re not the touchy-feely type, either of us, Cassie hugged me tight before she locked the door behind me.
seventeen
I found out about Peter Newbold’s plan to sell his house from, of all people, Henry Barlow. Henry, the self-appointed AA spokesmodel, who used the Coffee Bean as his little personal sobriety salon.
I had planned to go into the office that Sunday, just a week before Memorial Day, because I wanted to start working on the Santorelli proposal without Kendall and the phones to distract me. I decided I would grab a coffee at the coffee shop, imagining that I would be the only one there at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning. I had imagined wrong. Henry was arriving just as I was, and he greeted me with a warm hug and a big “Mornin’, Hildy.”
We ordered our coffees and Henry asked me how I was doing. It was such a loaded question. He didn’t want to know about my health, or my business, or my grandchild—all the things that mattered to me. He wanted to know if I was “sober.” Well, yes, I was sober, so I said, “I’m doing great, Henry. Really great. Business is a little slow this time of year, but the weather is starting to warm up and people are beginning to look. I have a few exciting listings coming up.”
“Yeah, I hear the Newbolds are sellin’. Whatta they askin’ for that place? Right there on the beach and everythin’. Gotta be worth a wicked lot, that place.”
“The Newbolds?” I said. “Peter and Elise Newbold?”
“Yeah, Doc Newbold’s kid.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” I said.
“What? I thought you’d be the broker. Doesn’t he have his office in your building?”
“I think you’re mistaken, Henry. They’re not selling, as far as I know,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure they are. Hannah Mason told me. She does their cleanin’. They’ve been cleanin’ out their attic, the cellar, the garage. Newbold’s wife was up all last week, driving her crazy. They’re trying to get the house ready to be shown. That’s what Hannah told me anyway.”
I just stood there staring at him. It was a little bit much to take in.
“See, if you came to more meetin’s, Hildy, you’d know all the stuff that goes on in this town.”
I had forgotten that Hannah was in AA. It was true, what Henry had said. People never talked about local gossip during the meetings, but afterward, when people stood around sipping coffee or smoking cigarettes outside of the churches, that was when you could really get an earful. The kid with the pierced eyebrow who ran the Coffee Bean handed me my coffee.
“You’re sure about this, Henry?” I asked.
“Yup,” he replied.
“Thanks.” I went out, got in my car, and drove to Wind Point Road. The Newbolds’ house stood there, as it always had, a Federal-era beauty at the end of a private road, right on a private beach. It had
been in the Newbold family for generations. It was worth millions. There was no broker’s sign on the lawn. Yet. But if what Henry had told me was true, if the Newbolds had been talking to a broker, the only alternative to me, really, at this end of the market, would be Wendy Heatherton at Sotheby’s.
Peter’s father had been my family’s doctor for years. I was Peter’s landlord. I had known him since he was a baby.
It was the business with Rebecca, of course. The thing that didn’t make sense was the fact that Rebecca had stopped by my office a few days after her middle-of-the-night phone call and had told me cheerfully that she and Peter had patched things up. They were back together again.
It had been the week before, early Wednesday morning, after she dropped the boys at school. She walked in, greeted Kendall cheerfully, and then stuck her head into my office.
“Hey, Hildy? Do you have a second?”
“Um, sure…”
Rebecca sat on the chair across from my desk and smiled at me somewhat sheepishly.
“I’m so sorry about that call the other night,” she said.
“Not at all, Rebecca. Don’t give it another thought.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that everything has been sorted out between me and Peter. We’re back together. We had a long talk the next day. He was so sorry, so apologetic.” Rebecca was staring down at her fingernails as she said this.
“What? Rebecca, that’s wonderful,” I said, though I was completely fed up with both of them. A vampire, he had called me. I wouldn’t let either of them know how much this hurt me, so I asked, “How are the boys?”
Just then, the UPS man walked up the side porch with a package, and Rebecca’s head swiveled around.
“Rebecca,” I said, “Peter is never here on Wednesday. You know that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” she said, smiling. “I think I talked him into coming up today.”
“Isn’t he at the hospital on Wednesdays?”
“Usually. He told me he might take the day off, though. He missed me during our … misunderstanding. I miss him terribly. I called him last night. He was a little annoyed, I think.”