The View from Here

by Hannah McKinnon

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that hosting a party with underage drinking is illegal.”

  Perry could hear Ted’s intake of breath. He didn’t want to get legal, but if he had to he would. Ted Hastings could bet his legacy membership’s ass he would. Why were some parents so reluctant to investigate their children’s actions on social media? It was the worst kind of sticking your head in the sand.

  “Listen, Perry. We’re sorry to hear about the hot water Emma got herself into. But this has nothing to do with us.”

  “All of this happened at your house.”

  Ted Hastings’s tone changed sharply. “Where your daughter clearly made some bad decisions. Look, I suggest you let this blow over.”

  Before Perry could say another word, the line cut out.

  Perry dropped his phone on his desk. For more than fifteen years he’d known the Hastings. They’d attended the same clambakes at the Club every Fourth of July. The last night of every December they’d raised their glasses in the same neighborhood homes to toast the new year. He and Ted had watched their daughters learn to walk, to swim, to boat on the same lake. And yet all of it meant nothing.

  Ted Hastings wanted no part of this. He wasn’t going to talk to his daughter to find out what happened. Nor would he be asking her to take down her posts on the internet. Over all those years he’d considered Ted a friend, a good neighbor, a fellow dad. What a fool he’d been.

  That night, the conversation still fresh in his mind, Perry changed out of his work clothes and into a golf shirt and shorts. Amelia was just coming in the front door with the mail when he came downstairs, his Club binder under his arm. “You’re not still planning to go to that board meeting, are you?”

  “If I stay home, people will only talk.”

  Amelia dumped the mail on the table. “Who cares what people think, Perry. It’s just gossip.”

  “All the more reason to show my face. We need to confront this head-on.” Why couldn’t Amelia understand? Hiding out in their big house was no way to teach Emma to resolve her issues.

  “Emma is still in her room,” Amelia hissed. “She’s been up there all day, while other kids are going to the beach. To camp. Doing everyday summer things. And yet she’s hiding out up there like some kind of shunned villager.”

  Exactly his point, if Amelia would only listen. “Which is why I’m going. Let me face it, first. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner she can get back out there herself.”

  “So she can suffer more? What we need is to get out of here. I was thinking we should take a trip. Maybe to Rhode Island? Get her away from it all.”

  Perry shook his head. “To what end? It will all still be waiting for her when she gets back. Better to get it over with.”

  Amelia looked stricken. “I disagree. You don’t know what it’s like to be a teenage girl. First the accident, and now this? She needs family time.”

  “Speaking of family,” Perry said. “Don’t tell my parents about this latest… setback.”

  “What? Why not? We aren’t perfect, Perry. They probably already know.”

  Perry laughed, sadly. “Believe me—we’d know if they did. Besides, they all have their hands full with their own issues right now.”

  “Which is why I think they should know. This is tearing us apart.”

  Perry headed for the door. “It’s tearing all of us apart. Olivia and Luci, too.”

  “Olivia and Luci? What do they have to do with this?” Something in Amelia’s voice cooled. Perry turned around.

  “The accident, of course.”

  Amelia studied him. “Perry, I don’t know what’s going through your mind, but why the concern for Olivia? You seem to be doing an awful lot for them.”

  Perry was stunned.

  “Olivia told me you went to visit them and brought her groceries the other night. She thanked me. And I had to pretend I knew what she was talking about.”

  Perry paused in the doorway. “You said yourself, there’s something vulnerable about them.”

  Amelia waited.

  “What?”

  “Did you bring her dog to the hospital?”

  Perry nodded. “I didn’t plan to. But things were so chaotic, and it’s Luci’s therapy dog.”

  “You hate dogs. You’re afraid of them.”

  Perry felt caught, although he wasn’t entirely sure at what. “It’s true. But I guess the circumstances demanded it. Besides, it’s not like anyone around here seems to need me.”

  “Of course we need you. But this isn’t some crisis at work, this is our crisis. We need to handle this together.”

  Perry saw the hurt in her eyes. “That’s the point. We have each other. Olivia is all alone.”

  “Funny. That’s how I’ve been feeling lately.”

  “I was just trying to help her out.”

  “That sounds nice, but it’s not your place. It’s Jake’s.” Amelia pressed her lips together.

  “And look what a fine job he’s doing.”

  He was closing the door behind him when he heard, “Be careful, Perry.”

  * * *

  Perry was already late, but he walked to the clubhouse anyway. Past the oversized houses along the water, past the lush green lawns and pillared driveway entrances. He’d worked his ass off to get into this neighborhood. The Candlewood Cove community. To be on the water, on the lake where he’d grown up. Where the air was crisper and scented with a hint of pine. Where he could think. But tonight, his thoughts ran wild.

  The board members would already be seated around the big table in the dining room, waiting. Hell, they might well have started without him. The monthly meetings were attended by many of the community members, and despite the fact the meeting was held inside on this nice summer evening, he imagined the group was likely larger than warranted. It was unlikely there was a sole inhabitant of the cove who hadn’t heard the news or seen the picture and didn’t want to dip a toe in the ripple effect.

  Jim O’Malley met him at the door. He looked at him with empathy. “Perry, good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming.”

  Perry had always liked Jim. He was a family man and a regular hand at the clubhouse, whether it was helping to get the docks in the water each year or manning the smoky grills at summer barbecues. “I’m here,” Perry said, maneuvering around him in the doorway.

  “Hey.” Jim put a hand on his shoulder, and Perry paused. “How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m here,” Perry said, again.

  Jim grimaced. “Kids. They do the damnedest things. But she’s a good girl.”

  As he crossed the special events room where they held their monthly meeting, Perry could feel others’ eyes on his back. Bob Engel, the former president, waved him over from the bar, where he was sipping a glass of bourbon on ice.

  “Perry. I wondered if I could have a minute.”

  Perry paused to shake hands. “Sorry Bob, the meeting is about to start.”

  “Ah, yes. I’m having a bite with Ginny in the dining room myself, so I’ll be quick.”

  Perry hesitated. Bob was no longer on the board, but he still had sway. Over Bob’s shoulder, Perry could see some of the other board members glancing their way. Did they know what Bob was about to say? Ted Hastings’s seat was notably empty.

  Bob got right to the point. “Look, it’s come to everyone’s attention that there was a get-together at the Hastings’s house and things got a little out of hand.”

  “Yes. It’s come to my attention that a board meeting was held this morning. Without me.”

  Bob grimaced. “I was sorry to hear about what happened with your daughter. But I’m sure you understand the board had to review this without your input. Conflict of interest, and all.” He clapped Perry on the back. “I wanted to be sure we’re all still on the same page.”

  Perry bristled. “Same page?”

  “These things tend to pass, and the less fuss we make over them, the faster they do.” He studied Perry. />
  “I’m not sure that I follow. What page are you suggesting I be on?”

  “Hey, now. All I’m saying is that we can handle this within the community. I heard you used some legalese with Ted Hastings, and I really don’t think we need to take things in that direction.” Bob swirled his tumbler of bourbon slowly.

  “Ted Hastings has a long history here. His father and grandfather were two of the Club’s founding members. His family has done a lot for us.” Bob paused. “You’ve had to work your way up here, but don’t think I haven’t noticed what a nice job you do as president. This Club has provided your family with a lot: a certain lifestyle, social connections, business networks. I’d hate to see anything change that.” Bob sipped his drink thoughtfully. “We’re all friends here, right?”

  Perry glared back at him. “That was my understanding.”

  “Good, good. Say, we should play a round of golf. You around this weekend?”

  But Perry was already making his way to the board’s table. It was five minutes past start time, and he slid into his seat beside Madeline Whitcomb, the Club’s secretary. “Shall we get started?” she asked.

  Instead of returning to the dining room, Bob Engel lingered. Perry ignored this, half-listening instead as the meeting got underway. Water tests were shared by the Candlewood Lake Authority. A review of building maintenance costs was submitted. The social chair gave an update on the lobster bake preparations. Perry made no notes, and asked no questions. It was eye-opening to realize the meeting could run itself without him. In fact, the whole Club, it seemed, could.

  It was at the end of the meeting, during questions and comments, when things suddenly required his attention. A woman in a pink summer dress stood up in the front row. “My name is Amy Fuller, and my family just moved in to the cove. We’d like to apply for membership.”

  There was a buzz of welcome and greeting. But as Perry sat back listening, something about the woman’s pink dress and the earnest look on her face did something to him. “Why?” he blurted out.

  She hesitated. “Why? Well, because we have three kids. It seems like a nice close-knit community.”

  Across the room Bob Engel leaned against the wall. Perry couldn’t help it, he started to chuckle. He felt bad for the woman, he could see she was confused. Hell, so was he.

  He pushed his wheeled chair back and swung around toward the windows. Candlewood Lake stretched across the clubhouse beach like a navy ribbon. The clubhouse doors were wide open, and a brisk breeze swirled through the room. “Close-knit indeed,” Perry said.

  Beside him, the vice president, Dan Gibbons, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Good old Dan, whom Perry regularly paired up with on the golf course. Who hadn’t thought to give him a courtesy call either before or after their little emergency meeting. Dan smiled at Amy Fuller. “What you need to do is file an application,” he told her. He turned to the social chair, at the end of the table. “Can you furnish this nice woman with one, please? And give her a list of members. She’ll need a sponsor.”

  Perry slapped the table. “No need. I’ll sponsor her,” he said.

  Dan turned. “You know one another?”

  “No. But why not? This is what we do here in Candlewood Cove.” Perry looked around the table, taking in the odd expressions from his fellow board members. Of course they’d all seen the photo of Emma. He cringed, imagining the women, and worse, the men, looking at his daughter in all her vulnerability. Emma had not just exposed herself. She’d exposed them all.

  “Uh, thank you,” the woman said. She sat down, clutching the application.

  “You’re welcome,” Perry said, too loudly. “Happy to sponsor another fine family in our community.” He stood up. “We take care of each other, right?” He turned to Mike Barberie. “Mike, remember when your daughter, Milly, fell off the dock a few years ago? Amelia dove in and pulled her out of the water, remember that?”

  Mike nodded. “Couldn’t forget it if I tried. That was a scary moment.”

  “Scary. Yes, it was. But we all jumped in to help, didn’t we, Mike? Because that’s what this community does when one of our own is in trouble.”

  Mike blinked, wondering where Perry was going with this.

  “And Caleb Richter. Where’s Caleb’s dad?” Perry looked around the room for Brad. “I recall Caleb stole a canoe last summer.” A murmur ran through the room.

  “And we didn’t press charges, did we? We figured out a way for him to return it and save face. We let him work it off raking the beach each morning. Isn’t that right, Brad?”

  Brad Richter didn’t look pleased to be reminded of this, let alone in front of an audience. He crossed his arms. “My son worked it off, just as he said he would.”

  “Because we gave him a second chance,” Perry reminded them, sharply. “Because kids make mistakes. Right, Brad?”

  Brad Richter excused himself and exited through the side doors.

  Dan Engel put a hand on Perry’s arm. “I think now is a good time to wrap things up. Let’s call the meeting to a close.”

  But Perry shook him off. “I’m not done here.” Perry paused. His heart was pounding. “Our kids grow up here, and we keep an eye out for them. When they’re swimming out to the dock, or out on the boat. Or getting in over their head at someone’s house party where booze is being served to underage kids. Because around here we’re family!” Perry’s voice rang in his ears and echoed through the hall. The silence that followed was painful.

  Across the room in the doorway, Jim was shaking his head, gently, as if to say, “Enough.” But even Jim couldn’t help him now.

  Perry offered Jim a sad smile. “It’s okay, Jimmy. I’m done now.” To the woman in pink, glancing around nervously, Perry apologized. “You should apply for membership here. Everything you think you see?” Here, Perry turned and gestured to the ballroom. The view. The sunlight streaming in. “It’s not real. But it’s perfect.”

  * * *

  Perry was halfway up his driveway, his head still spinning, when he saw someone standing on the front stoop. A boy, about Emma’s age.

  “May I help you?” He was in no mood to buy anything.

  “Mr. Goodwin?”

  Perry met him on the bottom step. “Yes?”

  The kid looked like he would very much rather be somewhere else. “I’m Sully McMahon. I’m a friend. Of Emma’s?”

  The name was familiar, but Perry didn’t recognize him or his name. But that didn’t matter, because Emma was in no shape to have visitors. Especially some teenage boy.

  “I came to see how she was doing,” he added nervously.

  And then Perry realized how he knew the boy’s name. “Wait—were you at that party?”

  Sully started to answer, but Perry was catching up. “You were in the photo. With my daughter. Weren’t you?”

  Perry felt his face flush as it did when he was angry. Only he was already angry from all the blows he’d endured that week. The blows that just kept coming. And here was another one, in high-top sneakers, on his front step.

  “I wanted to say hello to Emma.” The kid had balls, Perry had to give him that. He wanted to snap him in two. “To see how she’s doing.”

  “How the hell do you think she’s doing?” Perry hissed. He leaned in and watched with satisfaction as Sully leaned back. “Were you the one who got her drunk?” A worse thought popped into his head. “Did you touch her?”

  Sully put his hands up. “No, no way, sir. I would never. I mean, we were all drinking. But I like Emma. She’s a great girl.”

  “Damn right she is!” Perry got right in Sully’s face so he could see the fear. “Get out. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

  The door flew open and Amelia appeared. “What’s going on?”

  Perry jerked back. “This is Sully. He’s just leaving.”

  Sully reversed, his hands still up. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin. I just wanted to say hi to Emma. I’m leaving now.”

  When Perr
y stormed inside and slammed the door shut, he looked up to see Emma at the railing upstairs, looking down at them. “Was that Sully McMahon?”

  Amelia was wringing her hands. “He came by to check on you, honey.” Then, “Who is he?”

  “No one,” Perry said, cutting across the marble foyer to his office. “He’s no one at all.”

  Phoebe

  Rose, the construction loan officer, did not look surprised to see her. But she also did not look happy. “The inspector has informed us that work has stopped on the house?”

  “Sadly, yes.” Phoebe fiddled with her wedding ring, something Rob told her she did when she was anxious. She was not there to beg, but she was also not there ready to give up. “I want to talk with you about options. Is there any way we can sell the property back to the bank, and then, using our equity, somehow complete the construction and buy it back?”

  “We are looking at default. Our inspector went out yesterday. According to his report, the funding available is not sufficient to cover the cost of the project, and the time line for the building completion is also therefore at risk. From our perspective, we don’t like to foreclose on unfinished homes. If foreclosure is our only course of action, we’d at least rather foreclose on a finished home. That said, we don’t want to expose ourselves to further financial risk.”

  “Does that mean there’s a way for us to finish the project and save it?”

  Rose folded her hands. “If by ‘save’ you mean complete it, then yes. That is our goal as construction loan holder. But if you mean maintaining the house as your own, I’m afraid without additional outside funding or further investment on your behalf, then no. We would need to complete it as much as possible, and then go into foreclosure sale.”

  Without further sentiment, Rose opened an office file, the kind of file Phoebe had previously looked upon as a little manila door opening. Over the course of the project, there had been so many of them, and behind each manila door so much possibility. Files with architectural designs. Files with town hall permits. Files with loan payout schedules and inspector’s reports. The contents of all equaling one thing: her dream house. But not this file. As Rose paged through a sheaf of contractual papers dense with text, Phoebe felt the encroaching shadow of a door closing.