Whisper Beach

by Shelley Noble

  They set the table, and poured more coffee, brought butter and syrup from the fridge and still Gigi and Dana hadn’t moved. Dorie brought over a towering stack of pancakes, surrounded by bacon strips, and Van and Suze took their seats.

  “Mmm,” Suze and Van said together.

  Dorie had always made the best pancakes, the best crab cakes, the best lasagna, the best of a lot of things. And it wasn’t fair that she was having trouble with the restaurant because of Harold’s low-life lifestyle.

  Restructuring the Blue Crab would be a challenge; Van mainly did apartments and office buildings. But she’d met enough people in the business to know who she could call for advice if she needed it.

  “I’m stuffed to the gills,” Suze said, when the pancakes and every morsel of bacon were gone, and the dishwasher had been loaded.

  “Which is why we’re walking into town for supplies,” Van said.

  “What about my work?”

  “You can work this afternoon while I go over to the Crab and make some sketches.”

  “You coming, Gigi?”

  “Sure.”

  Van steeled herself. “How about you, Dana?”

  “Dana will stay here with the doors locked, so take a key,” Dorie said. “She’s keeping a low profile for a while. I’m going to run down to the Crab to pick up some supplies for dinner.”

  “Right. Do either of you need anything? We’re just going to Main Street.”

  For a moment Van thought Dana was going to make a request. But she just shook her head.

  Van, Suze, and Gigi started off toward town. It was only four blocks and even though the sun was already heating the air, enough trees lined the streets to making walking bearable. Which was better than trying to find a place to park in the three-block strip of trendy stores.

  “We probably should be paying to stay at Dorie’s,” Suze said. “I planned to pay her rent anyway, but every time I bring it up she puts me off.”

  “She won’t take any money,” Gigi said. “At least she never did before.”

  “Maybe we can put some toward the Crab renovation. But first I want to make sure that Harold can’t get his slimy hands on it.”

  “Absolutely,” Suze said. “We would never have known she was in such trouble if you hadn’t tried to leave, Van.”

  “Rub it in,” Van said.

  “No, I mean it; it was a good thing. And I’m sorry I bitched about Rehoboth.”

  “Same for me about your work.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Gigi asked.

  “A minor spat,” Van said. “I haven’t been thinking straight this morning. Like I hope it’s all right for you to be seen in town, Gigi. Should you have stayed at Dorie’s? I just have to pick up some graph paper and pencils.”

  “It’s okay, I guess. It’s not like . . . It’s—”

  They stopped on the corner, waited for a car to pass, then Van and Suze started to cross. Gigi stayed behind.

  “Gigi?”

  “Don’t you wonder why Clay was living in a trailer at our house and not with me?”

  “Uh, because he was protecting the house from looters?”

  “Because he didn’t want to be with me.”

  Van blinked, took a quick look around. “I’m sure that isn’t why.”

  “Of course it is. Nothing went right for him after he married me. He bought the house with money he’d saved to open up a machine shop. But I didn’t want to live with his parents or mine, so we bought that house. Then the storm came and wrecked everything, and then Clay lost his job.

  “Everything we tried to do failed. And he blamed me.”

  “No, I’m sure he didn’t,” Suze said and shot a panicky look at Van, and they both hurried back to the curb.

  Why Gigi decided to bare her soul while standing on a street corner right downtown, Van couldn’t guess. She only knew she had to stop it, before someone overheard and it got back to Gigi’s mother.

  But what could either she or Suze say? They had no idea what had actually transpired.

  Van was acutely aware of the tears about to fall. She pulled Gigi back from the street. “Stop this. You’re grieving and not seeing things clearly. Just give it time. Try to just hang in; come shopping and try not to think about it until you have some distance on things.”

  Gigi nodded. “But I think he climbed up on that roof on purpose.”

  “To fix some shingles, Uncle Nate told me.”

  “No, to jump off.”

  “What?” Van asked, nonplussed.

  On the other side of Gigi, Suze looked worried.

  Van took a breath. “Gigi, people don’t jump off two-story roofs on purpose. At best he would break a leg or collarbone.” Only in Clay’s case it had been his neck. “Besides, there are better ways to go if that’s what you mean.”

  “Oh, no. It worked perfectly well.” Gigi sniffed. “Is it too early for ice cream?”

  Van stared at her cousin. What kind of gear switch was that? From her husband’s possible suicide to ice cream.

  “Yes,” Suze said. “We just finished breakfast, and I for one don’t have room for more. Let’s do a little shopping first; there are some great little boutiques here.”

  “I can’t afford boutiques,” Gigi said.

  “Neither can I,” Suze said. “But we’re going to window-shop and pretend.” She took Gigi by the elbow and practically dragged her across the street, shooting a look to Van over her head.

  Van followed, speechless and beginning to really worry. Is this what made Gigi seem so fragile? She thought her husband killed himself because of her? And yet, how could she talk about suicide in one breath and want ice cream in the next? It didn’t make any sense. They stopped at the window of an antiques store.

  “You have lots of money,” Gigi said to Suze.

  “My parents have lots of money. I am living on a professor’s salary.”

  “Professors don’t make a lot of money?”

  “In a word, no.”

  “Then why don’t you get something that pays better?”

  “Because I like what I do.”

  They moved on to the next store, a dress boutique.

  “Aren’t you married?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to get married?”

  “This looks interesting. Shall we go in?”

  “Sure.” Van opened the door, and Suze walked in but not before cutting her a look that begged her to help out.

  “Well, do you?” Gigi continued, following them in.

  “Gigi, that’s enough. Let’s look at the earrings.”

  They managed to distract Gigi for a few minutes while Van bought a pair of seagull earrings for Dorie.

  “They’re really expensive,” Gigi said as they returned to the sidewalk.

  “Well, maybe a little. Is Untermeyer’s still here? I need to pick up some graph paper.”

  They crossed the street to Untermeyer’s Five and Dime, a relic from before Van was born that had managed to stay alive by adding upscale skin products, high-end beach toys, curios and jewelry to the cards, candy bars, and sundries.

  Van felt a momentary pang. She’d once sold her sea glass paintings here. Right in the display case over there, now filled with handcrafted curios with price tags that would have made her rich back in the day.

  She wandered to the back of the store past the cards to the office supplies, picked up a few things. Most of her work she did on computer, but she liked to get a hands-on sense of the space she was working with.

  She took her things to the counter where an older woman rang up her purchases. “Why, Gigi Daly. Is that you?”

  Gigi jerked around. “Mrs. Untermeyer. How are you?”

  “I’m just fine, but I should be asking you how you are? Though it looks as if you’re doing fine, too.”

  Van caught the undercurrent of disapproval in her voice. “Gigi was very kind to keep me company while I picked up a few things I needed,” Van said. She leaned over a
nd said confidentially, “And Amelia wanted us to get her out of the house. So sad.”

  “Yes, it is.” Mrs. Untermeyer studied her curiously. “You look familiar. But I’m afraid I can’t place you.”

  Van smiled. Considered. Decided what the hell. “I haven’t been back in a while. I’m Vanessa Moran.”

  It took a few seconds for Mrs. Untermeyer to assimilate the information. “Oh my goodness, and here we were all thinking you were dead.”

  “Rumors of her death have been greatly exaggerated,” Suze quoted.

  Van shot her a quelling look.

  “Well, I’m so glad they weren’t true. Are you here for the art festival this weekend?”

  Van had noticed the posters in the stores they passed and hadn’t thought much about them.

  “Uh, no, just here for Gigi. I don’t paint anymore. Not since I left.” Her artwork belonged in the past with all the other things that hadn’t worked out.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Well, you still might enjoy the festival. So nice to see you.”

  Van paid for her purchases, and they said good-bye to Mrs. Untermeyer.

  “I forgot you sold your glass art at Untermeyer’s,” Suze said when they were back on the street.

  “So had I. Okay, let’s get ice cream and get back to Dorie’s.”

  They walked three abreast past a real estate office and an art gallery.

  “Hey, look,” Gigi said. “That’s a picture of the Blue Crab.”

  Van had to look twice. A large oil painting was displayed in the window. It was definitely the Crab, but in former days, just as funky but more colorful. The painter had managed to catch the spirit of the old hangout. “Maybe we should see how expensive it is; it would look great in the entrance, wouldn’t it?”

  But when they went to the door, a sign read CLOSED FOR INSTALLATION.

  “Oh, well, we can come back Saturday,” Suze said.

  “Why Saturday?”

  “The art festival.” She pointed to the blue-and-white poster in the window. “Saturday, nine to six. Sounds like fun,” Suze said. “Maybe we’ll find some paintings on velvet.”

  Van laughed. “Do they even make those anymore?”

  “Sure they do,” Gigi said. “I have one of the sunset, and it’s so pretty.”

  Suze shook her head. “Oh, Gigi.”

  “What? It’s one of the few things I saved from the hurricane.”

  They came to the ice cream shop, another throwback to a simpler time, but like Untermeyer’s, it had upgraded—to the six-dollar scoop with designer flavors.

  They ordered, then took their cups out to the sidewalk and sat on one of the wooden benches that lined the street.

  Van hadn’t thought about art in years. She hadn’t had time. She never went to museums and only went into art galleries to pick up something for a client. It was amazing the things people would pay for. And how much of their lives they would entrust to a virtual stranger. Van would come in to organize their living space and end up organizing their day-to-day existence.

  “This is really good,” Van said, licking mango gelato off the plastic spoon.

  “Hmmm.” Suze’s chocolate chip dripped onto her shorts. “Damn.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working on your thingy today, Suze?” asked Gigi.

  “When we get back. Besides, it’s hard to work on something when you don’t know if you’re going to have the money to do the research. And if I don’t get it, it will be useless to kill myself trying to get the research finished.

  “They’re supposed to send the final round of the application here. I hope they don’t screw this up. The deadline for returning it is next Monday.”

  “You should call them,” Van said.

  “I did.”

  “So if you don’t get the grant, what happens?” Gigi asked.

  “I have to stay in Princeton and teach and try to write at the same time.”

  “And if you do?”

  “I take a year off and can write it anywhere I want. I’m thinking about spending at least the fall, maybe the winter with Dorie.”

  “Here?”

  “What about you, Gigi?” Van asked. “Is it too early to make plans for your future?”

  Gigi shrugged. “I’ll have to find a job, I guess.”

  “What about your old job?” Suze asked. “At the beach yesterday you said the furniture store where you’d been working would take you back.”

  Gigi nodded. “But I want something with a future.”

  Suze nodded. “What did you study in college?”

  “I didn’t go.”

  Van felt the world shift. “Why not?”

  Gigi shrugged. “I don’t know. It just cost too much money.”

  Van bit her tongue. She’d sent back the money she’d borrowed within the first year. She’d sent extra after that. More than enough to go to the local community college.

  “And then I married Clay and the kids came along. Besides, Clay didn’t want me to work, just stay home with the kids. Only it hasn’t worked out so well.”

  “Well, I’m sure something will turn up,” Van said.

  “Mr. Micawber,” Suze said.

  Van and Gigi both looked at her.

  “Oh, right,” Van said, laughing. “Dickens. What book was he in?”

  Gigi looked confused.

  “It’s a character in David Copperfield. He’s always saying something will turn up.”

  “And does it?” Gigi asked.

  “Yes,” Suze said. “Yes. It does.”

  “This is really fun,” Van said. “I can’t remember when I last sat on a sidewalk bench and ate ice cream.”

  “We used to do it all the time,” Gigi said. “Don’t you have any friends in New York?”

  “Sure I do,” Van said. “Just no time.” And not that many friends, real friends, friends who would give you the last of their money or drive two hours to take you to a hospital.

  “Except, in the city, it’s coffee bars and bistros,” Suze said as she scraped the last of her ice cream out of the cup. “That does it for me. You guys can stay and play, but I really have to get back.”

  “We’ll all go; I’d like to get a jump on plans for the Crab.”

  They were a block from Dorie’s when a police cruiser sped by.

  “Idiot,” Suze said. “He could take out a whole family driving like that.”

  The cruiser stopped in front of Dorie’s.

  “Uh-oh,” Van said and started walking faster.

  “Do you think Dorie called him?” Gigi asked. “Is something wrong?”

  Van grabbed her by the arm. “Whatever it is, let Dorie handle it.”

  Van looked at Suze. Suze nodded.

  “What?” Gigi asked. “Why are you two looking like that?”

  “Because there’s a good chance that they’re looking for Dana,” Suze said.

  “Good, they can have her.”

  Van nudged Gigi to the side. “No, they can’t. Let Dorie do the talking. And don’t you dare say a word. You don’t want to be responsible for Dana going back to Bud. Understand?”

  Gigi reluctantly nodded.

  “Or better still, just go into the house and get out of sight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Suze said, “you could never tell a lie worth shit. Didn’t you ever wonder why we put you in back whenever we had to think up a story fast?”

  “I thought you were trying to protect me.”

  Suze rolled her eyes upward; it was becoming a group habit. “Just don’t say anything.”

  They were stopped at the sidewalk by Bud Albright.

  “Anything wrong?” Van asked.

  “You tell me. The door is locked, and nobody’s answering.”

  “Probably because Dorie is out. We’re just getting back from town.” Van held up her packages as evidence.

  Suze wedged herself in front of Gigi, just in case she was inclined to blab.

  Another officer got out of the pass
enger side of the patrol car.

  Jerry Corso nodded to Van, smiled at Suze. “C’mon, Bud. Dorie’s not here and we have rounds to make.”

  Bud ignored him. “Are you staying here?”

  “Yes,” Van said.

  “Is Dana here?”

  “Dana? Why would she be here?”

  “Is she?”

  “I don’t think Dorie would invite Dana to visit with me here. Do you?” Van slathered on the sarcasm.

  “Guess she did sort of screw up your life, didn’t she?”

  Van felt Suze move closer to her. She didn’t need to. Van knew how to handle bullies. She had spent her first months in New York pretty much on the streets, and she’d been a fast learner.

  “Yeah, she did. So I don’t think you’ll be finding her anywhere around me.”

  “If you see her, tell her I need to talk to her.”

  “Sure.”

  Bud strode away. Jerry nodded and followed him. Van waited until they drove away, then went up the walk to the driveway and around to the side door. It was locked. Van felt around under a flowerpot and found the key that Dorie had always kept there.

  She opened the door, stood while Gigi and Suze went inside, then came in and relocked the door. She looked at the key, then put it on the kitchen counter. “I don’t think we’ll be leaving this outside for a while.”

  “I can’t believe you talked to him like that,” Gigi said.

  “I was perfectly polite,” said Van.

  “Well done,” Suze said, and she and Van began to laugh.

  The door to the hallway opened a crack. “Is he gone?”

  Dana stood in the opening, looking black and blue and colorless.

  “Yeah. But I wouldn’t stand near the windows; he might get it in his thick head to cruise by again.”

  Dana’s lips tightened. She nodded abruptly and left the room.

  “She didn’t even thank you,” Gigi said.

  “She had nothing to thank me for,” Van said.

  “You lied to Bud for her.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “I don’t know why she’s still here,” Gigi said. “After all she’s done. I mean I’m sorry she got beaten, but . . . Oh, what am I saying, I’m terrible. I’m sorry for her.”

  “It’s all right, Gigi, you don’t have to like her,” Suze said.

  “And you don’t have to be angry at her on my behalf,” Van said. “It’s all water under the bridge.”