Reluctant Housemates

by Linda Barrett

  The reception desk was empty, but Jack heard footsteps approach from the back of the building. The agent himself appeared at the end of the hall. A leonine head of white hair, sparkling blue eyes underneath bushy eyebrows, a white short-sleeved dress shirt and belted slacks, all on a six-foot frame.

  “Come on in, Jack Levine,” the man said, beckoning him. “I’ve been expecting you. We can chat in my office back here.”

  Jack followed the man and tried to follow his recitation as well.

  “I took this corner because of the windows. Worth the walk to have bright sunshine everywhere, or at least the wee chance of it during the long winters here.” Bart Quinn paused on the threshold of his office, turned to Jack and cocked his head. “Don’t you agree, lad?”

  Jack grinned and shook the man’s hand. “No argument here, Mr. Quinn. I was born and bred on the Maine seacoast. I know about New England winters! Grab all the sunshine you can.”

  “Ah! We’ve got the seasons, that’s true. The bitter and the better. But I wouldn’t trade a one of them.”

  Five minutes later, sitting across the desk from Bart, Jack felt he’d known the man all his life. More than having the “gift of gab”—although the guy was no slouch with words—Quinn had a manner of listening and watching. As if he were memorizing everything—what a person said, how a person looked.

  But he also shared information about himself. He was a widower. His Rosemary had passed on some years ago.

  “And my girls—Maggie and Thea—they somehow talked me into giving up this beauty.” Quinn held up an unlit pipe, the bowl resting in his hand. He hefted it gently, then put the stem in his mouth. “But it feels just right.”

  “Sometimes bad habits can feel right,” said Jack, “when you indulge in them long enough. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to break the habits of people and businesses polluting the North Atlantic. I wish I was as successful with them as your daughters have been with you.”

  The old man’s blue eyes opened wide. “But you haven’t given up. You’re a stubborn man, and thank God for that.” He banged the table with the side of his fist. “We’ve got to clean up the oceans no matter how long it takes, or what will our children inherit?” Bart beamed at Jack. “Very good, my boy, very good work.”

  Instantly, Jack felt he was in school again. A prize pupil, at the head of the class.

  But now Quinn was rolling his chair closer to the desk. He reached for his calendar, pen and a thick binder. Jack stared at the black cover. Had to be the current house listings. He glanced around the room and smothered a grin. A computer sat in the corner. Dark. Unplugged. How much more information, more detail, could the man have at his fingertips if he wanted it?

  Quinn glanced up just then and followed Jack’s gaze.

  “A sorrowful waste of good money,” said Bart. “My granddaughter, Lila, made me get that. She’s my business partner, and she uses one just fine. But me? I know every piece of property in this town and then some. And it’s all stored in here.” He pointed to his head. “In fact, I know where and when all the water mains were laid, sewer lines, too. That’s what comes from seventy-five years of living in the town I love.”

  Jack nodded, comfortable with the old man. Comfortable in the town. The flavor of Pilgrim Cove seemed familiar. Remembrances of his boyhood in a similar coastal town wafted in and out of his mind. Sometimes, on a Saturday, he’d sit in his dad’s office at the bank, looking at the big wooden desk and all the papers on it. Just like this one.

  But there were differences, too. While Bart’s grin was readily visible, his dad had often looked worried, taking everybody’s problems to heart. When Jack was old enough to understand, he’d begun to worry as well, about the troubles that came to their friends and neighbors who depended on fishing and lobstering for their livelihoods. Worried about folks who couldn’t make their payments for their homes or boats.

  And sometimes the problems were worse…sometimes a boat didn’t come home. Jack blinked hard and slammed that door shut fast. Before the memory took over. Damn! That was the second time today he’d had to change channels.

  “Will you be needing a place for the entire school year?” asked Bart. “Or just for a couple of months while you study our waters?”

  Jack refocused on Bart Quinn. “The year. My contract with the school board goes to next summer, almost the same length of time as the Pilgrim Cove pollution study. The conservation commission wants data on the water quality around the peninsula in every season.” He leaned back in his chair, now totally relaxed and focused on his assignments. “I’ll be measuring the amount and type of pathogens in your water and also trying to assess pollution sources regardless of the distance.”

  “So, you’ll be working two jobs,” said Bart. “Between the fresh ocean air and a bunch of high schoolers, you’ll sleep well at night, boy-o!”

  The agent had it almost right. Jack would be working three jobs, not two. But his own book project was private business, certainly not part of the federal or county budget.

  “My boat’s docked at the marina,” said Jack, “and I’m taking a week to visit my folks in Maine. I like dropping by whenever I have the chance. So, what will you have available, if anything, when I return? Or will I have to stay at a motel until the summer renters are gone?”

  But the old gent was shaking his head, a grin slowly creeping across his face. “Nope. I don’t think so. We’ve had some big goings-on lately, and a pretty property I operate might just be available in a week. A very pretty piece for someone like you.”

  Jack rested against the back of his chair, content to watch The Quinn in action. “Someone like me?” he asked softly. “What exactly does that mean?”

  The agent leaned over his desk closer to Jack. “Oceanfront,” he said. “Right on the beach.” He stabbed the air with the stem of his pipe as he spoke. “She’s a sturdy old ship herself, and a real beauty. Two-and-a-half stories with a widow’s walk on top. The upstairs apartment is what we call the Crow’s Nest. Small but ample enough for a single man. Two bedrooms, large eat-in kitchen, a wide deck where you can view the horizon. Separate entrance on the side.”

  Jack knew he’d take it even if it were no more than a single room. To be right on the beach was a piece of luck he hadn’t expected.

  “And the price?” asked Jack.

  “Aah. An interesting question.” Now Bart Quinn leaned back, a faraway look in his eye.

  “Interesting?” asked Jack. “The rent is the rent.”

  But the agent shook his head. “Not quite. Sea View House is supported by the William Adams Trust. The first William Adams founded the town, you see. It’s come to be a special house for people needing it.”

  “Mr. Quinn,” interrupted Jack, “I’m not into mysteries. I’m a self-sufficient guy, and while I’m not rich, I’m not particularly needy. Just name the price, and if I can swing it, we’ll have a deal.”

  Quinn’s eyes sharpened, and Jack suddenly felt as though he were on a slide under a microscope.

  “Well, now,” said Bart Quinn in a soft voice. “Seems to me that the kind of person you are remains to be seen. Many discoveries have been made around here lately—a lot of self-discovery.”

  Jack felt himself start to squirm, then almost glared at the man. “If you’re hanging a Doctor Is In shingle next to your real estate sign outside, I’ll tell you up front—I’m not interested!”

  Quinn burst into laughter, picked up his pipe and went back to stabbing the air. “You made my day, boy-o. Yes, indeed. I’m thinking that Sea View House will work out just fine.” He relaxed again, his eyes twinkling. “The rent’s a sliding-scale fee, and normally you’d pay full rate—what with the two jobs you’re handling.”

  “I’m not looking for any favors,” said Jack quickly. “I pay my way and no loose ends.” Never any loose ends.

  “No favors, Jack Levine. Just the usual off-season rate,” said Bart. “Summer tenants are still there. You’ll be taking over fall and wi
nter. We’ve been having a lucky streak lately with that house, the kind that keeps my imagination lively. I’d like nothing better than to see that luck go on and on.”

  “Define ‘lucky streak.’ What type of luck?” Not that he was superstitious, but in addition to being a man of science, he was first a man of the sea and knew better than to thwart her in any way. Bart, himself, had called Sea View House “a sturdy old ship,” and…uh-uh, Jack wasn’t taking chances. “What kind of luck?” he repeated.

  “Good luck, of course,” replied Bart. “The last two sets of tenants had life-changing experiences there.”

  “Such as…” said Jack, still not comfortable with all the talk of luck.

  “While they lived in Sea View House, they fell in love. Laura and Matt’s wedding was at the beginning of the summer, and Shelley and Daniel’s will take place this Christmas.”

  “Love? Your tenants fell in love?” repeated Jack, so relieved he began to laugh. He laughed until his sides hurt. “Is that all? Mr. Quinn…”

  “Call me Bart. Everyone does.”

  “Bart, then. Your imagination is going to get a rest! Bring out the lease. I’m ready to sign.”

  RACHEL HUMMED TO HERSELF as she finally headed back to her parents’ house after the job interview. She’d detoured to the high school grounds near the neck of the peninsula, just to refresh her memory and note any external changes. There weren’t any. The two-story, U-shaped brick building looked exactly the same as when she’d been a student there. The grounds were in good shape, and the football team had been practicing on the field behind the school. With land at a premium, the field was used for a variety of sports depending on the season. Rachel smiled to herself as she pulled into her parents’ driveway, recalling how busy the groundskeepers became getting ready for the change of seasons and games.

  She climbed the back steps to the porch and went inside through the kitchen door, inhaling the fragrant aroma of her mom’s cooking. Her stomach rumbled. Loudly.

  “Just in time!” Pearl beamed from her spot by the stove. “Everyone’s just in time. Your brother and Susan and the kids are inside.” Without waiting for a reply, she called into the adjoining rooms. “Time to eat. Rachel’s home.”

  “What is that delicious smell?” asked Rachel as she walked toward her mother.

  “Garlic, Rachel. It’s always the garlic. Roast chicken, summer-squash-and-zucchini combo, and sweet potatoes. Nothing too fancy, but healthy and filling.”

  “So, how was the interview?” Lou Goodman walked into the kitchen, followed by Rachel’s brother, Alex, and his family.

  “I’ll tell you later. Now I want to see my favorite brother and sister-in-law.”

  “He’s your only brother, Aunt Rachel.” Patient exasperation from Alex’s twelve-year-old daughter.

  “Hi, Jennifer. And you’re my favorite niece!”

  The girl nodded. “I know. You’ve only got one of those, too.” She walked into Rachel’s open arms. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Unexpected tears sprang to Rachel’s eyes as she hugged the child. “I’m glad to see you, too, sweetheart. I love you, Jen.”

  And then Susan and Alex greeted her. Susan’s friendly smile was reflected in her sparkling eyes, in her tight hug. Alex studied her silently, his glance roving from her head to her toes. He bestowed a perfunctory kiss on her cheek, then said, “Still skinny and still unsettled.”

  “I do declare,” drawled Rachel in her best Southern accent, “that you’re still so-o perfect, Alex Goodman, that it’s pos-i-tive-e-ly unnerving.”

  She turned toward her nephew who had stood apart. “Hi, dude,” she greeted in her normal voice. “Enjoy yourself last night?”

  “You were okay with Jack, weren’t you?” he replied, a slightly wary look on his face.

  So his name was Jack. “A friend of yours, kiddo?”

  David shrugged. “He keeps his boat at the marina where I work. He knows a lot of stuff. About the ocean and marine life. He studies it. He’s been up and down the entire coastline of North America lots of times.”

  The man’s attitude about the ocean was starting to make sense. “He was fine, David. Don’t worry about it.”

  Five minutes later, after satisfying her first hunger pangs, Rachel felt her dad’s gaze on her.

  “Are you going to relieve the suspense?” asked Lou. “How did the afternoon go?”

  Rachel shrugged. “There were five people, Dad. They asked me a lot of questions, and I gave them honest answers. Whether or not they liked what I had to say, I don’t know.”

  “It still knocks me out,” began Alex, shaking his head, “that a girl who hated to study when she was in high school, and who got such lousy grades, winds up in charge of a high school’s academic performance. Does that make any sense?”

  Rachel took a breath, but Lou was quicker. “It makes perfect sense,” he said. “Rachel’s the best person for the job—she knows how teenagers feel when they have trouble in school.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Alex, his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot me if I just don’t get it.” He looked at Rachel, then at his dad. “And I really don’t. If it hadn’t been for swimming, she wouldn’t have gotten into college at all.”

  Suddenly, his gaze darted toward his son, then back toward Rachel. “David’s a great starting forward for the school. Are you going to tell him not to worry about grades and studying because he can always get a sports scholarship, and maybe be drafted by the NBA?”

  Her original indignation at her brother’s remarks began to soften. He was worried about his son—his son, who was better on a basketball court than at a desk with books. “I haven’t lost a kid’s trust yet, Alex,” she said in a quiet voice. “Or a parent’s respect. And I haven’t set them against each other. Take it easy, Dad,” she said to him with a wink. “We’ll work it out.”

  Alex stared at her for a moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched. “Maybe,” he said. But then he shook his head. “No offense, Rachel, but I’m not sure I want you involved with David’s education.”

  How could she not take offense? “It’s time to let go of the past and get into the present.” Rachel stared at her brother, trying to will him a new attitude.

  “Well, I, for one, think you’ll do a wonderful job,” said Susan. “Both our kids are crazy about you.”

  “Thank you, Sue. And I’m crazy about them.” She grinned broadly at her niece and nephew. “It’s so good to see you two brats.”

  Good-natured protest followed, just as she’d hoped. She didn’t want Jennifer and David caught up in any tension among the adults.

  She looked around the table at her family. “We’re so lucky,” she said. “In fact, I’ve had a lot of luck lately. When the tornado struck Round Rock, the school year hadn’t started and no kids or staff were hurt.”

  “Thank God for that,” said Pearl.

  “Did you know that the state of Massachusetts has the third-highest amount of tornadoes of all the states?” asked David.

  “How’d you know that?” asked Jennifer.

  “Looked it up on the Net.”

  “You did?” asked his father. “Are you interested in meteorology, David? That’s great. There are such good colleges…”

  Rachel watched the interchange. Her brother’s eyes shone with enthusiasm and hope. She’d seen it all before, not only with Alex, but with other fathers who thought their kids needed a career choice by the time they hit puberty.

  She watched as her nephew shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Dad. I like a lot of different stuff. I like working on the boats at the marina. I like playing basketball. I like fishing off the jetty. So, don’t start on me, okay? School’s not even in session yet.”

  Storm clouds on two faces. Familiar territory. Every time she visited Pilgrim Cove, a variation of the father-son discord came up.

  “You and I, David, must have been on the same wavelength last week,” said Rachel. “I jumped on the Internet, too, after
we got over the shock of the twister. Did you see the articles about the tornado chasers?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “You need special training for that, and it’s better to work in teams so one drives and one takes pictures….”

  Rachel looked around the table. Everyone seemed suitably impressed as David continued to explain what he’d read. Including her brother.

  Just give your boy breathing room, Alex, and he’ll figure it out.

  But she’d bet odds, her brother couldn’t do it. Alex was so quick himself, an engineer with a fabulous memory and so much ability. But he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, or didn’t want to understand that David wasn’t a reincarnation of himself. The truth was that David shared more characteristics with Rachel at the same age. A fact Alex wouldn’t want to admit.

  Rachel’s heart squeezed for both these males in her family. She knew that Alex loved his son dearly. If she got the position in the local high school, maybe in time, her relationship with her brother would change.

  A change Rachel would certainly welcome.

  RACHEL WOKE UP EARLY the next morning, washed and dressed quickly and met her dad in the kitchen. Breakfast at the Diner on the Dunes was on the agenda.

  “C’mon, Rachel. The ROMEOs all want to see you and hear about yesterday’s meeting with the committee.”

  “I’ll just bet they do,” she replied. “Those guys still have their fingers in every pie around here, don’t they?”

  “Those guys include me!” Lou pointed at himself as he led her out the kitchen door to the driveway. “And we sure do. The library’s been humming with new volunteers we’ve recruited—including Laura McCloud Parker, Matt Parker’s new wife. And Rick O’Brien got involved when we helped out the lovely woman who’s renting Sea View House right now. Her name’s Shelley Anderson, and her ex-husband sent down a private investigator. We didn’t like that.”

  “My goodness! Sounds like the ROMEOs are not slowing down at all. So the chief was put to work.”

  Lou nodded and headed his Plymouth sedan down Oceanside Road toward Dunes Street. “The ROMEOs still help out around the town. Sam Parker and Matt donate materials from the hardware store, and Ralph Bigelow does some electrical work for those who need a helping hand. Some older folks, some younger, down on their luck. We each do what we can. Without the red tape. That’s the best part.”