Beach Rental

by Greene, Grace

  He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and stared out the window. Juli sat across from him and after a few false starts she buckled down and kept going. She lost track of time.

  “Can I see?”

  Pencil stopped, suspended over the sketchbook. “See?”

  “Yes, see.” He laughed. “You look surprised. What did you expect?”

  He rose and walked to where she was sitting. Juli held the sketchbook close to her, but not touching because she didn’t want to smear the graphite.

  “No, it’s not ready.”

  “Hand it over, lady.”

  “Yikes.” She tore the page from the spiral binding and gave it to him.

  Ben held the edges of the paper delicately to avoid marring the surface, as if the graphite markings and shadings were more than they were. Juli appreciated the care he was showing, but was also embarrassed by it. The seconds ticked by as he studied the rough portrait. She was about to yank it back when he shook his head sadly.

  “Is my nose really this big? And this ear—”

  She jumped up and moved toward him, but his sudden grin stopped her. He pulled the drawing away, safely out of reach.

  “I’m teasing. It’s wonderful. Makes me look…maybe intelligent, possibly verging on good looking?” He grinned broadly. “Can I have it?”

  “Oh, please. Give me a break. I’ve got a long way to go and a lot of practicing to do before I draw something worth keeping, if I ever do produce something worthwhile. There’s no need to say those things, not for my ego.”

  His soft brown eyes were suddenly earnest. “I am serious. Is it brilliant? Probably not, not yet, but you have a style that shows through. You’ll get better, true, but there’s often beauty in the untutored hand—a flair that can be lost if you learn to follow convention too closely.”

  “Flair? Style? Please.” She waived her hand dismissing his foolishness, yet inside she had a little glow. She didn’t totally get what he was saying, and wasn’t convinced he wasn’t mocking her, but that hadn’t seemed to be his style. She decided to take his words at face value, but with reserve, so she wouldn’t look like an idiot if he was having fun at her expense. “You can keep it if you promise not to show it to anyone else.”

  Ben walked over to where Juli sat. He took her hand and turned it over, palm side upward, displaying the dark smudges picked up from the paper while drawing.

  “The mark of an artist,” he said.

  He turned her hand again and lifted it to his lips and lightly kissed it. He released her and stepped away. She sat, stunned into silence, as he carried the drawing to his office and returned empty-handed.

  “Safely tucked away,” he said. “In case you change your mind.”

  She’d been thinking of doing exactly that before he kissed her hand. Instead, she said, “I’ll be able to do a better one for you soon, I hope.”

  ****

  On the first day of June, Juli found a card waiting for her on the breakfast table. An anniversary card. A first anniversary card.

  Humph. For the first month? It hadn’t occurred to her to get a card for Ben. It was only a month, after all. Despite their growing friendship, this was a business arrangement, wasn’t it?

  Someone knocked on the side door. Juli put the card down and went to answer it.

  The delivery man had an armful of red roses.

  “Ben,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Pardon, ma’am?”

  She signed for the delivery. “Thanks.”

  “Must be a special day.”

  “Must be.”

  She shut the door with her hip and set the vase of flowers on the table. Ben was standing at the foot of the stairs.

  “I hope you like roses.”

  “Ben.” She waved her arms as if to say ‘why?’

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Like roses.”

  “I like roses, but this is extravagant and—”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I wish you’d said something about gifts. I didn’t even get you a card.”

  “I don’t need a card. I wanted you to be surprised. I want to see you smile.”

  How could she not? She gave him the smile he wanted and then, impulsively, blew him a kiss.

  ****

  It was foolish to think Frankie would go away and stay gone. Like a hyena roaming the African bush, Frankie scented an opportunity and his greed was so strong it was beyond his ability to deny it free reign. As Ben and Juli enjoyed their sunset walk, she gripped his hand fiercely.

  He looked at her. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, sorry. Stronger than I knew.” She refused to look toward the crossover where Frankie was standing lest Ben notice and become curious. Her attention might also encourage Frankie to think he had more power than he did. He might do something reckless or stupid.

  They were more vulnerable now. Frankie knew who Ben was—could recognize him. She’d become protective of Ben, at least where Frankie was concerned.

  It was time for her to take matters into her own hands, to face down Frankie and put quits to this. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what leverage she’d use against him, but she’d think of something.

  Frankie would be most easily found at the apartment house and, while there, she could give notice. She’d still need somewhere to live when the marriage ended, but there were other, better places, with new neighbors.

  She drove into Morehead City the next morning while Ben was napping. Juli sat in the car outside of the apartment house, parked in the deep shade of a low branching tree, camouflaged, necessary or not. It was quiet on the street. No one was in sight and traffic was light.

  Juli hoped to surprise him. Frankie didn’t work mornings. He wasn’t a morning kind of guy. His sunrise beach appearance was an aberration. He preferred evening work and, like Juli, picked up work where he could get it. In the foyer, the musty smell of the old house was familiar. She liked it. It said history to her. A past with progression. Continuity? Still standing despite the blows life handed out.

  Frankie’s apartment was on the ground floor and shared the front door entrance with two other apartments. His was a studio apartment with a kitchenette.

  Juli was nervous, surprised to find her hands damp and a low-level trembling throughout her body. She needed to get this over with. She knocked, then again, more loudly. When he didn’t answer, she was disappointed and relieved, both at the same time. No matter how hard she tried to pump up her courage, she knew Frankie wouldn’t be intimidated by her.

  So, no Frankie, but at least her hands were steady again. She went down the hall and knocked on Mrs. White’s door. It was usually a wait. Juli leaned back against the wall while she got into the right state of mind. Mrs. White was a nice lady, no question, but Juli wasn’t comfortable around her roomies.

  After a few minutes, a high voice called out, “Who is it?”

  Juli put her face in front of the peephole. “Juli Cooke. From upstairs.”

  The wood paneled door swung open. “Well, hello, dear. Come in.” She preceded Juli into the living room and motioned to the sofa. “Sit, dear, and I’ll get us some tea.”

  Mrs. White’s monster cat reclined on the back of the sofa. He would have looked no different on a rock ledge protecting his territory. Juli approached the sofa and he meowed. She went to the chair instead. As soon as her bottom hit the seat, Buster came in, drooling and slavering, butting the chair with his head. He liked to have his ears scratched.

  Juli tried to push him away, saying in a low voice, “No, Buster, no.” She broke off, embarrassed, as Mrs. White returned.

  “Oh, you bad boy. Shoo, now.” She handed Juli the glass of tea. “He’s been such a naughty boy and I told him to stay in the bedroom. He’s blind now. Old like me. Makes him cranky and needy.”

  “Poor Buster. I didn’t know.” She was relieved when Buster’s limp, but still swinging tail vanished around the corner.


  Mrs. White leaned her cane against the arm of the sofa and lowered herself onto the seat cushion.

  “It comes to us all, if we live long enough, but I’m not complaining. I’m better off than most.”

  “How’s your arthritis?”

  She held up her hands. The reddened knuckles were enlarged and the fingers were crooked. “About the same. You know, I try all sorts of things—anything that makes any kind of sense to try, but no help.”

  Monster cat slinked down the back of the couch and moved onto Mrs. White’s lap. She dug her fingers into his fur and he purred like a freight train. He fixed his green eyes on Juli. Was it a dare? A taunt?

  He’s a cat, Juli.

  “How is it going with your friend? How is he? Is he better now?” Buster had maneuvered back into the living room and settled himself on top of Mrs. White’s feet.

  “Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She took a sip of tea. “He’s about the same and I expect to stay away much longer.”

  Mrs. White laid one finger alongside her cheek and asked, “What else, dear?”

  Juli tilted her head to the side, wondering. She hadn’t planned to tell her about the marriage. “Like what?”

  The old woman’s eyes twinkled. She reached over and grabbed a book from the end table. Her lap shifted with the movement and monster cat yowled.

  “Oh, hush.”

  She opened the book and pulled out a slip of paper. Juli stared. A newspaper clipping. Mrs. White extended her hand and Juli walked the few steps over to receive it.

  “It was in the paper?”

  “You’re a married lady now. No photo, though. You should’ve had a photo and a longer write-up, dear.” She leaned forward, catching monster cat in a vise between lap and bosom. “No need to hide it. Not from me.”

  “Hide what?”

  “Well, the usual reason for a hasty marriage.”

  “Oh. No, it’s nothing like that.” She was aghast. “I was helping my friend and we—well, we decided it would be more convenient to marry.”

  How silly did that sound? Likely, Mrs. White agreed because she looked happily unconvinced.

  “Well, if you say so, dear. You’ll want to give up your apartment. I shall be sorry to lose you, both as a neighbor and a tenant.”

  “I’d like to keep it another month to give me time to clear it and clean it.”

  “You’re a thoughtful girl. I'll miss you. Frankie said you’d be moving, although he didn’t mention a wedding.”

  “He told you I’d be moving?”

  “He wanted a look at the apartment. I said to him, ‘now, you know I can’t climb those stairs.’ And he said, ‘no need, Mrs. W.’—that’s what he calls me—‘no need, loan me the keys for a few minutes and I’ll take a look myself.’”

  “He’s seen my apartment many times.”

  “Well, and that’s what I told him. I wouldn’t let someone go in there without your permission and unattended even if he is a friend of yours. Not the way to run a house.”

  “I appreciate you telling him no. I’m surprised he asked.”

  “That’s because you’re young, dear. People ask all sorts of strange things.” She picked up monster cat and dropped him to the floor. He hit Buster on the way down and rolled to a stop. No one seemed perturbed, least of all Buster. She shook her feet and the dog dislodged himself.

  “I don’t know how I ended up with this menagerie. Sometimes things fall into your life and without you expecting it, they stick.”

  “May I keep the clipping?”

  “Certainly, dear. Thirty days, is it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll mark it on my calendar. I’ll call you if someone wants to see it, if you wouldn’t mind meeting them here to show it for me?”

  “I’m happy to. Let me know when you get some interest.”

  “Perhaps you could even bring your young man by to meet this old woman?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She hugged Mrs. White and left. She didn’t try Frankie’s door again, but went straight out the front and around to her entrance at the back. She paused outside the door to read the clipping. It was small, only about an inch of text. It gave their names and the date of their marriage. Cooke-Bradshaw Nuptials. A ceremony on the beach, it said. The header was almost bigger than the article. She tucked it carefully into her wallet.

  Who else had seen it? Maybe some of her old co-workers at Singers? Co-workers from other jobs, too, if they read newspapers, and if they remembered her name. No one would care.

  Why did Frankie want to get into her apartment? Curiosity? Information?

  In the pit of her stomach, she knew he wasn’t done. He’d be back.

  Today’s effort to discourage him had been futile, but what could she do?

  Her old apartment smelled stale. With no one around to open a window or sweep the floor, her two rooms appeared forgotten, almost lost in time. It looked unwanted and it was. The chipped vinyl and scarred Formica counter were leftovers from the past, all but forgotten. Like she wanted her past to be—forgotten. The vehemence of the feeling surprised her.

  She looked through the cupboards and the drawers. The apartment was rented furnished. A few boxes—or trash bags—would take care of her belongings. She grabbed some shirts, then dropped them onto the bed. She’d come back with those bags and give all this to Goodwill or some other charity.

  Leaving this time felt like goodbye.

  As soon as she returned to the Glory, she knew. She smelled the cheap scent Frankie sometimes wore. He’d been in the house and he might as well have left his calling card on the kitchen table. A faint trail of sand marred the carpet near the front door. She stood immobile. Shocked.

  “Ben?” She spoke softly, then more loudly, she called out, “Ben?”

  No answer. She hadn’t expected one. Ben had been napping when she left, but Luke was supposed to have picked Ben up soon after. They shouldn’t be back yet.

  Juli searched through the house, eyes sharp for signs of where Frankie had wandered and what he’d been up to. Papers might’ve been shuffled on Ben’s desk. Maybe. Upstairs in the bedrooms things might be slightly out of place, but it was impossible to be sure. It could’ve been heightened imagination. At least, he’d tried to be discreet. Clearly, he intended no one should know he’d been here.

  Suppose Ben had come home and surprised him? Or had still been home asleep when Frankie broke in?

  Juli couldn’t identify anything as missing. Perhaps some things had been moved in the closets? Perhaps. Maybe. Maybe not.

  She checked the front and side doors for signs of tampering and found none. How had Frankie gotten inside? She checked the windows and they seemed secure. Frankie had either jimmied the locks or Ben had been careless with locking the doors. Frankie wasn’t above taking advantage of an unexpected opportunity.

  What should she tell Ben? She had to tell him something. Valuable items she didn’t know about, or important papers, could be missing.

  Had Frankie seen the contract?

  She rehearsed the story: ‘Ben, there was sand on the carpet when I came home. I can’t be sure, but I think someone was inside.’ She’d get him to check his study, just to be safe.

  It sounded totally reasonable—a reasonable lie. Well, not entirely a lie, but close enough. She was doing it for Ben’s sake. She wouldn’t do anything to put Ben or his home in danger.

  The scene played out as planned. Ben found nothing missing. He didn’t say it aloud, but she could tell he believed she’d imagined the whole thing.

  “Perhaps the side door didn’t latch properly?” He placed his hands on Juli’s shoulders. “The wind might’ve blown it open and then blown it shut again.”

  “Maybe,” she said, but she knew the truth and this wasn’t it.

  “We’ll be more careful. Okay?”

  “As long as nothing’s missing, you’re probably right.” She’d done what she could to warn him shor
t of getting into the whole Frankie mess. “Could we have some slide bolts installed on the doors? I’d feel more secure.”

  Ben studied her face. He brushed her cheek lightly with his fingers. “I don’t want you to be worried about anything. I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”

  She laid her head against his chest. His arms crept up around her and held her close.

  When they separated, Ben frowned. “You look so serious. You aren’t afraid, are you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She was more than fine—she was moved by his kindness.

  Ben hadn’t argued that the doorknob locks and deadbolts were enough security. Without a second thought, he agreed to add those old-fashioned slide bolts—solely for her peace of mind.

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek and went to begin cooking supper.

  Later, standing at the porch rail and watching the evening pass into night, Juli reviewed the facts and was still certain Frankie had been the uninvited visitor. Ironic that he’d come snooping while she was at his place looking to confront him. He was taking a risk. He must believe, in a big way, he could profit from what she was doing. If he had intended the intrusion as a message or warning, he would’ve left obvious signs of his visit. The faint scent of cologne and the bits of sand from his shoes showed how careless he’d become.

  Slide bolts couldn’t be jimmied with a credit card or opened with burglar tools. It was good old-fashioned manual hardware that provided extra assurance, at least while she was at home.

  ****

  The next day Ben and Juli ran errands together. Coming out of Food Lion, they crossed the parking lot and Ben opened the trunk to deposit the bags.

  “What’s this?” he asked. “Yours?”

  He held up her old backpack.

  “It’s mine. I forgot about it.” She hadn’t needed it or missed it. When they returned home, she carried it up to her room and tossed the pack into the bottom of her closet.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Harris family was replaced by the Smiths who were replaced by the Stabonacci’s.

  Those first weeks of marriage were measured by the ebb and flow of vacationing families. Mom and pop and kids, and whatever relatives had come along, packed up, loaded their cars—taking a quantity of sand with them in their clothing and toys—and departed each Sunday morning. The cleaning service swept through on Sunday midday. Platoons of men and women came in, cleaned and went on to the next rental. Late Sunday afternoon the next wave of guests arrived. Neighboring houses had a similar schedule, but for some of them, the change-out day was Saturday.