by Lynne Norris
“Who could forget? He was raking in a few hundred dollars a week when we were working here for minimum wage,” Mike said.
“What are we going to do if he’s in trouble?” Grace asked.
“Nothing. It’s not our problem. He’s always looking for the next get rich fast scheme. He’ll find out the hard way that never works.”
“Do you think that’s why he’s been pushing so hard to get them to sell the farm?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know. Even if they did sell, the money doesn’t go to any of us until they’ve both passed.”
“I can’t believe we’re even talking about this,” Grace said and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Tony’s out of his mind.”
“Enough then. Like I said, it’s Tony’s problem, not ours.”
Chapter Six
EMMA STRUGGLED TO claw her way from the depths of helpless despair threatening to overwhelm her. She woke with a strangled gasp. Through the slit in the curtains she could tell it was still dark outside. Her heart hammered in her chest and her pulse thrummed in her ears.
“Just a bad dream,” she said, trying to grasp at the fleeing tendrils of a nightmare.
She had a recollection of being out on a ship in the ocean. In her dream it was the middle of the night. A primordial fear propelled her forward and she remembered running out onto the deck. Salt spray stung her face as it blew across the bow. The moon was full and stars punched through the inky blackness of the night sky. The light illuminated the waves crashing against rocks, growing darker and massing in ominous jagged clusters.
Frantic, Emma climbed the stairs to the bridge and tried to convince the crew members on watch about the rocks they were headed directly toward. They laughed and told her there were no rocks. When she insisted, one of the crew brought her over to the map. It showed there were no rocks where she had seen them just minutes ago. No amount of arguing would convince them of the danger she knew was approaching. When she rushed back out on deck she could see the pale gleam of the spray as the waves continued to crash against the rocks.
As the panicked feeling Emma woke up with ebbed, she perceived the throb of a dull headache. Too much wine last night, she thought. Way too much wine, she decided when she sat over the edge of the bed and pressed her palm against her forehead in an effort to control the dull ache. Even the sound of the bottles scraping over the glass shelves of the medicine cabinet as she searched for ibuprofen was too much noise for her to bear.
Too wound up to go back to sleep, Emma dressed in jeans and navy blue long sleeve pullover, made a pot of coffee and toasted a bagel for breakfast. Maybe the dream was her subconscious chastising her denial at what was so clear to her in hindsight.
If she was brutally honest with herself Emma knew she got caught up wringing every last bit of profits out of her trades. Instead of getting herself and her clients the hell out of the markets, she followed the herd and paid dearly.
Still, Emma couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding the dream had left her with. She paced restlessly around the cottage stopping at a window to look outside while she waited for her coffee to brew. She cupped her hands against the glass, and ghostly silhouettes of trees took shape as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The glare of headlights splintered the darkness as a car sped past on the road.
When the coffee was done Emma walked outside, the first hints of dawn visible as wisps of faint light painted the horizon. Emma wiped the dew off one of the Adirondack chairs with a terrycloth towel. She held the mug of coffee in her hands, enjoying the rich aroma the steam carried on its vapors when she sipped it.
How ironic it felt that her life had been turned upside down, but out here nature went on unfazed by the generational depression gripping the nation. Tiny birds flitted among the branches of the trees and trilled softly as the brightening sky heralded a new day. Squirrels darted here and there stopping to dig frantically in the soil, burying their treasures at the base of the large oaks that dotted the property.
From the hill above the lake, Emma watched the sun slip above the trees, the light dancing with the fog that was suspended above the surface of the placid water. A faint breeze ruffled her hair as it blew in across the lake. Emma shivered, pulled her arms tight around her and settled deeper into the chair. Her thoughts mulled over the first few weeks of her forced sabbatical.
She tried to adhere to a schedule. Rising early, she would shower, make herself breakfast and then power up her laptop and go online to pour over the job opportunities.
It was a joke.
She lost count of how many online applications she filled out over the weeks. The only responses she got back were the empty, hollow automatic replies thanking her for her interest in the position. Once she got an e-mail telling her she was over qualified.
As much as she tried to believe that she was in control of her life she wasn’t. Her entire narrative had changed overnight. How she saw herself in the world was altered and she wondered if her life would ever go back to the way it was.
Ever since she graduated college she’d been chasing financial security. She was so sure she found it pursuing her career at SMB Capital. Everything she was told since she was a kid, “go to college, get a degree so you can find a good paying job,” came undone in June. Fifteen years of trading stocks, leveraging capital and brokering deals with legends of Wall Street left her prepared to do precisely nothing when everything came unhinged. It was as close as she’d come to feeling like a complete failure. Her eyes brimmed with tears and the tranquil scene in front of her blurred.
GRACE WALKED INTO her father’s store at seven thirty. She’d been up since well before dawn taking care of chores on the farm and wanted another cup of coffee before her next stop. The line of customers was almost the length of the counter. Fresh coffee sat in glass carafes on hotplates. The deli was the local stop for commuters and business owners passing through the center of town. The police were frequently in and out during the day to buy lunch or another cup of coffee to get them through their shift.
David Cierello, the Deputy Chief of police, stood in the back of the line. He was tall and lean with the build of a runner. His hair was clipped close to the skin along the sides and back of his head and was only slightly longer on top. He looked haggard with a five o’clock shadow covering his jaw and upper lip.
“Hi, Grace,” he said.
“Looks like it’s been a long night for you.” His radio squawked and she heard the dispatch ask one of the units for their 10-7.
“It’s been a busy few weeks.”
“Every time I read the police log in the weekly paper it’s longer.”
He grunted his acknowledgment of that fact. “How’s your father doing?” He moved up to the counter and ordered two coffees and a bagel.
“He’s walking better. I wish he would listen to what the doctor tells him. I caught him lifting crates of fruit up into the truck the other day.”
“Did you expect him to listen?” David asked.
“No.”
“Your father has to be one of the most stubborn men I know.”
“That stubborn streak is what got him through the past six months,” Grace acknowledged.
“I’m sure of that.”
Officer Cierello turned down the volume on his radio as the officer in question responded with his location. “We had reports of six cars broken into last night. Don’t know why people leave important things out in plain sight.” He leaned in speaking in low tones close to her ear. “One of the cars had the owner’s briefcase and his wife’s pearl necklace was inside it. He was bringing it to be fixed and forgot he left the briefcase on the passenger seat.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it.”
“What else happened?”
“Three houses out by the lake community got burglarized too.”
Grace was about to walk around the counter when she stopped and asked, “The lake community on the west end of town?”
“That is the only one we have.” David frowned at her expression. “What’s the matter?”
“Ah, someone I know just moved back into her father’s house there a few weeks back.”
“Does she live there alone?”
“I...I’m pretty sure she does.” Grace had no idea and hadn’t even considered whether Emma did or not.
“The houses that were hit all had families with kids. Whoever it was obviously cased the houses, knew the routines of when everybody was out and when they would be back.”
“That doesn’t sound like something a bunch of amateurs would pull off.”
“No it doesn’t. Give your friend a head’s up. Tell her to keep her doors and windows locked when she’s out. My advice is to get a big dog or have an alarm system installed.”
AFTER CHECKING ON things in the back storeroom and pouring two cups of coffee, Grace walked out and climbed into her truck. Her mother not so subtly reminded her to check on Emma and invite her over as she was walking out the door. The invitation from her mother now was to come for the day and stay for dinner. If nothing else her mother was dogged and persistent. Grace adjusted the volume on the radio higher as Daughtry’s voice sang about going home to the place where he belonged.
Grace really wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to talk to Emma except that she was simply comfortable with the order of her world as it was and what to expect from it. She’d had enough turmoil in her life over the last two years. Emma was outside her inner circle of the people closest to her and she was hesitant to allow anyone inside her life that might disrupt her routine.
She put the unsettling thoughts aside as she turned right onto the main road that circled the lake. There were thirty cottages that ringed the lake and each of them had a view of the water. A wooden dock moored to the bottom of the lake floated in the center. Grace’s mother remembered what Emma’s address was because she sent a card after the memorial service for Emma’s father. In her usual organized fashion she’d written the address into her little black book she kept in the kitchen drawer.
Grace recognized Emma’s Mercedes parked in the driveway and pulled in behind it. With a sigh, she stepped out and climbed the two steps to the front door, carrying the two cups of coffee in a recycled beverage tray. She knocked on the front door and waited. When there was no answer she knocked a little louder causing the screen door to rattle against its frame.
“Emma? It’s Grace.” Frowning, Grace opened the screen to knock on the inside door and realized it was ajar. David’s report about the burglaries flashed through her mind and her heart rate ticked up. “All right, calm down. She probably just went for a walk.”
Grace placed the coffees on the railing and peered in through the windows on either side of the door and gawked at the damage. “Well crap, those are some ugly ass holes in the wall. She couldn’t have gone far.” Grace looked out across the property and saw the Adirondack chairs sitting in the back yard facing the lake. She thought she could see the silhouette of someone through the slats in one of the chairs.
“Emma,” Grace called out and picked up the coffees before she climbed down the steps.
Emma stood and looked directly at her. Emma’s chestnut collar length hair was windblown and her cheeks were a healthy pink from the morning breeze. Behind her the lake took on a ghostly appearance with the fog lifting gently in the breeze.
“Grace?” Confusion plainly evident on Emma’s face she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I...” Grace hesitated searching for the answer. “Good question,” she said under her breath. Grace silently cursed her mother’s suggestion to invite Emma to the annual cookout for the farm staff. Her plan to simply offer the invitation seemed to fly out the window. “I was at the store this morning. Thought I’d drop by and bring you some coffee,” she said, walking closer. Emma looked like she’d been sleeping or crying. Maybe both. “Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I came out here to watch the sunrise and fell back to sleep,” Emma said and hugged her arms around her trunk.
“I guess you already had your morning coffee,” Grace said indicating the mug sitting in the grass next to the chair.
“I could use another one. Truthfully, I fell into the bottom of a bottle of wine last night.”
“You did what?” In spite of herself, Grace laughed and held the cup out to Emma. “You have my condolences. I’ve stared into the bottom of a few over the years and wondered how I ended up there.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Emma removed the lid and carefully sipped the drink.
“You left your front door open.”
“I did?”
Grace shifted, aware of Emma watching her intently. Something about the look Emma was giving her threw her completely off guard. She’d spent the last year licking her wounds and recalibrating her sense of who she was. The undisguised curiosity in Emma’s eyes left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. “When I knocked, I saw the door was open.”
“I must not have pulled it closed behind me.”
“You can’t do that Emma. You’re off the main road, tucked away out here. Nobody would know if something happened.” Grace watched Emma’s eyes widen in alarm.
“It’s so quiet. I guess I figured nothing could happen out here.”
“I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound all bitchy about it.” Grace held her hand up against the sun that shone in her eyes as it broke out from behind some clouds. She felt off balance and edgy, part of her wanting to turn and run. “Three homes got broken into in this neighborhood last night.”
“Three! But how did you find out about them if they just happened?” Emma asked.
“The police come into the deli all the time so we hear about what’s going on in town.”
“That’s certainly handy to have that relationship with the police. Did they say which houses?”
“No. I didn’t ask.”
“They could have been on the other side of the lake,” Emma said conversationally.
“Maybe,” Grace said.
“So is that the reason you came out here?” Emma took a sip as she eyed Grace curiously. “To tell me about the break-ins?”
“No. I...are you free next Sunday?” Grace managed to get out.
Emma burst into laughter and in the middle of laughing started to cry. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy,” she said when she was able to talk again.
“Just wasn’t exactly the response I was expecting,” Grace said feeling foolish and completely out of her depth at the same time. “What was so funny?”
“You asking me if I was free on Sunday.”
“Why is that funny?” Grace watched Emma wipe the tears from her cheeks. She jammed her free hand into her pocket resisting the idiotic urge to reach out and wipe them away herself.
“I’m unemployed.” Emma started to laugh again. “Apparently, I’m free every day. Look at me.” Emma turned around, her arms spread out away from her sides. “I’ve been sitting out here listening to the birds and staring at the lake since before the sun came up.”
“Not a bad way to pass the time.” Grace acknowledged while she sipped her coffee and avoided Emma’s gaze. “I’m sorry you lost your job.”
“Me too,” Emma said quietly. “I thought when I left it would be on my terms. Instead it was like watching a slow motion train wreck for months, knowing something bad was coming but not sure when—and then one day it was all over.”
“Why didn’t you leave if you knew things were falling apart?”
Emma looked away, her lips pursing into a thin line before she answered. “A month ago I might have taken anyone’s head off who asked me that question.”
“And now?” Grace asked.
“I didn’t trust what my gut was telling me. Denial, normalcy bias, call it what you want. Besides that there was nowhere safe to run to.”
Grace could see the hurt and pain in Emma’s eyes. “Listen, I didn’t mean to barge in on you. If you’d rat
her be alone I understand.” Part of her hoped Emma would say yes. The brief visit she envisioned in her mind wasn’t going as she planned. Grace felt herself teetering dangerously close to letting well-constructed walls come down.
“No, no. I’m sorry. I’ve been holed up here alone for a couple of weeks and apparently I’ve managed to lose my manners in the process. Please, sit down.” Emma grabbed the towel she’d dropped into the chair next to hers and wiped off the dew.
Ordinarily, Grace would have declined the invitation to sit for a while. She had a long list of things to take care of on the farm as she did everyday but something about Emma’s unguarded expression made her want to stay. Grace settled into the chair and gazed out at the lake. If nothing else, listening to other people took her mind off her own problems. Whatever it was, Grace sensed that Emma just needed someone to be there with her.
They sat in silence, both looking out at the water with the early morning fog curling up from its surface. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace studied Emma, noting the sheen of clear polish on her neatly manicured nails. Fleetingly, she imagined Emma dressed in power suit and heels walking through one of the vaunted hallways of a Wall Street firm. She wondered if she wore skirts or pants suits, then just as quickly shoved the unbidden thought aside. “Did you find someone to repair the damage inside?” It was lame but it was all Grace could think of asking.
“How did you know about that?” Emma asked.
“Small town, people talk. My mother’s known the hardware store owner for years.” She cleared her throat and added quietly, “I saw the holes when I looked in the window.”
“Those are just the ones in the living room. The smaller ones I can handle. I don’t know how to fix the big ones properly. Aside from that all I have to do is paint—everything.”
“What about insurance? It should cover the damages.”
“Ordinarily yes.”
“Why do you say ordinarily?” Grace asked turning in her chair to face Emma.