Adrift

by Isabel Jolie

  “It’s not much of a kitchen, but if you ever need more space, you’re welcome to use mine.”

  “Oh, I don’t cook much. It’ll do fine for me.”

  A narrow door in the corner opened into a nice sized bathroom with a shower. The furniture included a queen-size bed, a nightstand, and a round kitchen table with two chairs. The back wall consisted of three windows with a view onto the marsh, and a glass door that opened onto the back deck.

  “Alice, if you’re sure about this, I think it’s perfect.”

  “It sits here empty. There’s nothing to be unsure about.”

  “Then I’ll take it. When can I move in?”

  “As soon as you want. It’s yours. I’ll warn you, I’ve got a few cats roaming around. One or two might take to you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” I wiped my hand across the counter and discovered a light layer of dust. It needed a good wipe down, but the place was actually quite perfect. “How about I pay you two hundred a month, but you also lean on me to help you out when you need it? Maybe with some special projects you come up with?”

  “I can do that. Oh, Poppy, this delights me. I’ll be so happy to have some company.”

  My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out. Gabe’s name flashed. I declined the call.

  Want to come over for dinner? Bring Gabe.

  * * *

  I sent a quick text back to Luna.

  * * *

  No time. Crazy day. Lunch tomorrow?

  * * *

  Between packing my stuff and cleaning my new space, my afternoon had flown by.

  Gabe’s name flashed on my phone. Once again, I declined the call.

  Then I sat down at my laptop to work. I scanned my email for important subject lines. One from Michael Browning caught my attention.

  BUYER FOUND - CALL ME.

  No fucking way.

  I dialed his number. On the third ring, a youthful sounding woman answered.

  “Can I speak to Mr. Browning?”

  She asked me to hold, and my knee bounced impatiently as I waited. I didn’t wait long.

  “Ms. Smith?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m in between meetings, but I found an interested buyer. They need additional information. They’ve signed an NDA. I’m going to email over the information they’re requesting.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Paragon Media Publishing Enterprises. They’re out of Spain. They’re buying up subscribers and funneling them into their own channels. If a direct purchase doesn’t work out, they’re interested in paying a lower price to maintain your account and market to your base.”

  I chewed on my nail as I considered my subscribers. I didn’t want to hose them. Of course, if they didn’t like the new content, they could unsubscribe.

  “Ms. Smith? Are you there?”

  “Yes. Send everything over. I’ll get back to you as quickly as I can.”

  “I’ll include instructions on how to gather what they need.”

  After hanging up on Mr. Browning, my phone rang yet again, flashing Luna’s name and a photo of her holding a surfboard.

  “Hey, girl.”

  “Hey. Is everything okay?”

  “Why?” A part of me hoped Gabe was asking. That maybe he had taken note I hadn’t answered his calls since vacating his house.

  “Well, Alice told Jasmine you’re moving into her carriage house. I think it’s great, by the way. Smart. But—”

  “Did Gabe say anything?”

  “No. Tate’s been in DC. He just got back this morning.”

  “Oh.” A sinking feeling crushed my innards. An alert popped up on the top right corner of my screen announcing an email. “Well, you need to spend time with Tate. Let’s get together soon, though. You can come see my new digs. I have a killer marsh view.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I hung up on her and clicked on my newly arrived email. I skimmed along, scrolling through jibber-jabber nothing language, then set about slicing and dicing the data in my Excel sheets to best answer their questions.

  Chapter 26

  Gabe

  * * *

  “Gabriel, honey, where do you keep the tea?”

  I glanced up from my phone, where I’d been waiting for a text to materialize. “Do you mean tea bags?”

  “Yes, your tea. Do you have a cabinet with tea? Or a tea box?”

  “I doubt it. I had someone set up the kitchen, but I don’t remember telling her I needed tea.” Because I don’t. “I could have some delivered. But it would take a few hours. Or you and Dad could go down to the market and pick up what you wanted?”

  My dad set the paper down on the arm of his chair and stood. “I’ll drive you.”

  Thank god.

  As Dad slipped on his loafers by the front door, he asked over his shoulder, “Do you need anything?”

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  “Where’s the cart key?”

  “In the ignition.”

  He shook his head in disapproval but withheld the commentary. The air in the room cooled and the sky outside brightened the moment the door clicked shut behind them. My parents’ on switch never flipped off. The island didn’t offer nearly enough for those two. I feared I might combust if I spent one more day trapped entertaining them.

  “What do you do for shopping? What do you mean they don’t allow cars? There’s only one nail spa? Where do you meet people? What do you do in the evenings? What do you mean there’s not a movie theater? Well, what do you do?”

  The second day of their visit, their dismay evolved into suffocating concern. “Honey, what do you do for friends? Do you shut yourself in your office all day? I know working from home allows new options, but I’m worried. Isolation can be harmful. If you need the hospital, where do you go? How far away are the big box retailers? Do you pay extra for shipping? So, if you want to go anywhere, at all, you have to get on a boat?”

  During the barrage of questions, my father read the paper. He’d been quite unnerved to learn he had to drive down to the grocery store each morning to select and purchase his morning news. Other than the newspaper issue, from what I could tell, Dad could settle into island living. He found a chair he liked and claimed it.

  Dining out helped fill time. But my parents had now been to every restaurant on the island. Dad researched flights from his iPad over breakfast at Delphina’s. He did it discreetly, while Mom asked about the absence of lifeguards on the beach. If I’d been having a better year, I might have hoped they’d move their flights up to this evening. But, given my luck, I didn’t hold out much hope for such an occurrence.

  The low hum of the television grated my last nerve. While my mother prepared for her trip to the market, I paced the living area, searching for the tiny remote. I lifted Dad’s newspapers, searched underneath the sofa, and lifted cushions. I spied the sliver of silver on the back of Dad’s seat cushion and shut it off. He looked up from his paper briefly but didn’t say anything.

  In my office, all three television monitors were generally on. I liked it that way on a stock market day. But on a Saturday, news was crap and loaded with commercials.

  “You want to come with us?”

  “Nah, I have some things to check on.”

  “Okay. So, I turn left out of your driveway?”

  “Yes. You should recognize Federal. It’ll be the first wide street on your right.” Street signs weren’t overly prevalent, so pretty much everyone got around with visual recognition.

  “Okay, dear. We’ll be back in a bit.” She patted my cheek.

  “Have fun.” I was pretty sure my Dad rolled his eyes. I closed the door on them and reveled in the silence.

  Sometime later, my cell rang. I answered without checking the name. Big mistake.

  “Gabe, finally. You’re a difficult one to catch.”

  “Caroline.” Fanfuckingtastic. “How’s it going?” I spun my office chair around, spinning three-sixties.

  “Well, I’m
calling to ask you that question.” The spinning chair slowed to a halt.

  “Everything here is good.”

  “Really? Is that why Clare and Dale flew down to check on you?”

  Bitch. I exhaled and flipped open my laptop. “What do you want, Caroline?”

  “Why the attitude? I’m calling as a friend. I spoke to my dad, and he says he thinks the case against you is shaky at best. He’s willing to give you a shot.”

  I spun the chair around again. “If all I needed was a job, I’d get one.”

  “Are you sure about that? Would any other firm touch you with an ongoing Justice Department investigation? How long before the SEC comes knocking?” They already had, but my lawyers were dealing with it.

  “And so why would your dad be willing to bring me on?”

  “He says as long as you cover any legal costs, he’s open to bringing you in. He’s always liked you.” Caroline’s dad happened to also be golfing buddies with my dad. Our moms were friends, too, although they’d never seemed as close as the men. I spun around and around, weighing my options. Tempted. The stillness of the place had intensified since my parents’ arrival. I itched to get back to the city, to hear horns honk and someone shout a solid round of obscenities. Energy. I needed to be surrounded by life and hustle. I almost craved the smell of exhaust.

  “Reed says you might have a reason for staying.” Caroline’s unstated question brought me back to the conversation at hand.

  “You’ve been talking to Reed?”

  “He says you’re seeing a…hooker.”

  “What?” That fucking piss ant. “No. I’m not.”

  “The blonde who stopped by when Lauren and I were there? You’re not seeing her?” I stood and paced the office, reining in a surging temper. I swallowed the urge to tell her to fuck off, but only because I might need her dad. Closing doors wasn’t an option.

  “Caroline…” My tone served as warning.

  “No, Gabe. I’m impressed. You’ve clearly grown up…I mean, she’s not exactly a model, is she?”

  Her condescension pissed me off. Poppy not only outshone Caroline in the looks department by a factor of ten, she had heart and drive. I’d pick Poppy over Caroline any day of the week, as would way too many men, judging from her subscriber base, and I had half a mind to tell her, but I refrained.

  “Well, if she’s the reason you’re still stuck out there, just keep in mind you’re a pilot. You can fly back on the weekend for a release, or whatever you need from her. And still keep your life going in the city. You don’t have to throw away your career for a temporary fixation.”

  What, exactly, did Reed tell her? I leaned over my desk and watched as my father tugged on the steering wheel to make the turn into my driveway. The market trip had been way too quick.

  A heavy sigh filtered through the line. “You know, Gabe, in our world, lots of married men even have women like her they keep on the side. You can have it all.”

  I lifted the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Did I hear her correctly?

  “I gotta run. My parents got back. I’ll reach out to your dad. Thank you for putting in a good word for me.”

  “Any time, Gabe. You know I still care, right?” I knew. We’d dated off and on for years. I’d always expected she’d be married by now. I suspected she had the same expectations for herself.

  The front door opened. I remained in my office behind closed doors. The TV from the den turned on and droned through the wood doors, as did the faint sound of china clinking against marble. I checked my texts again.

  No response to any of my texts. The ones where I’d casually asked “You there” didn’t particularly warrant a response. We’d often send those to each other and then call if we received a Y in return. But my longer texts, telling her my parents arrived, asking her if she’d be around once they left, the absence of a response to those texts spoke volumes. I’d screwed up.

  It could only mean I’d pissed her off when I asked her to clear out. But I’d been right. She had no idea how nerve-wracking an interview with my parents could be. All the questions they’d unload on her. Especially if they thought we were living together.

  She needed to get over it. I’d be leaving for New York soon. Given everything going on, it looked like I’d be back there next week.

  I opened a spreadsheet and scrolled through it. But I didn’t see the numbers. I fumed. There was no reason for her to meet my parents. Parental meetings happened when you’d been dating a while, when you thought there might be a future, or if the introduction might lead to business opportunities. But the way Caroline referred to her. If Lauren and Caroline made her feel like she was somehow lower than them… I crumbled yesterday’s list, pissed at the thought. If they pulled some sorority girl bullshit, then I made it worse by not offering a parental meet and greet. Fuck.

  I joined my mom in the kitchen where she hovered over a stainless steel kettle. “Did I own that?” I asked, pointing to it.

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s a good one.”

  Hm. Interesting.

  “Gabriel, we’ve moved our flight up to this evening. We’ll need to leave right after lunch, I think. Since we have to take a boat, then drive. Your mother is going to need time to change into her airport outfit once we make it over to the ferry terminal. They have restrooms there she can use, right?”

  An airport outfit? Right. They both wear boat shoes.

  My dad raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer.

  “Yeah, they have restrooms. I think they’re nice.” The ferry terminal, as far as public transportation locations went, seemed fine to me.

  I placed my palms flat on the counter and faced my mom. “Do you have time to meet someone?”

  The smile on my mother’s face spread instantaneously. “Of course? Who would this be?”

  “I’m not sure we have time, Clara,” Dad folded his paper and dumped it into the trash can. Remember to pull the paper out and put in the recycling.

  “Oh, we have time. We won’t go to the club for lunch. We’ll eat at the Sand.”

  “Sand Piper?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “I’m not sure they have lunch.”

  “Well, the market has sandwiches. I saw them on the board. We’ll have time.” She sipped her tea and eyed my father over the white rim. My dad headed down the hall, presumably to pack.

  She opened her mouth, and I held out an index finger as I backed away. “One minute. I have to go to the restroom.” Avoiding my mom’s questions in a polite manner had become an art I’d mastered.

  With the golf cart fully loaded, I fielded unavoidable questions right and left as I drove them over to Poppy’s.

  “So, is Poppy the girl Lauren mentioned?”

  “Not sure, Mom.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s working on opening her own restaurant.”

  “Really? A restauranteur. What kind? Where? Not here?” Disbelief raised her tone an octave with each successive question.

  “Yes, here.”

  “There’s enough business?”

  “Seems to be.”

  She frowned. My mom had her own interior design firm, and while the bulk of her clients resided in Connecticut, even she found herself traveling from time to time to expand her business reach. From the back seat, Dad never uttered a word.

  When we arrived, I asked my parents to wait in the cart. I pounded on Poppy’s door, certain she was hiding inside. I called her. She never answered. I texted her to let her know my parents wanted to meet her. If I slighted her by not wanting to introduce her to my parents, surely stopping by with them would fix things. How much longer could she freeze me out?

  Chapter 27

  Gabe

  * * *

  The rectangular images of ten different lawyers flitted around on my oversized monitor. Some women, some men, all in suits. African American, Asian, Indian, Caucasian. The legal firm I chose to represent me did a kick-ass job in ethnic diver
sity, but they did not, however, do a fantastic job at closing out a case. I had a stack of invoices to prove it.

  “Henry,” I said, speaking over a junior lawyer on the team. “Hank,” I repeated, pressing down on my key to attempt to gain the floor. The one lawyer droned on about an upcoming SEC meeting and the documents he planned to bring.

  “Did you say something, Mr. Chesterton?” Henry, the leader of my legal team, asked.

  “Yes. Thank you. I want to be clear. You are to give the Justice Department, and the SEC, and any other government body each and every bit of information they ask for. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “The legal counsel for Belman is opposed to that, sir. They would—”

  “I don’t care. I am paying for your time. Not Belman. You do what I say. And yes, last week, we were cooperating with Belman. This week, I am no longer employed by them. I am your only client. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “My goal is to prove my innocence and end the investigation into me. I’m exploring joining other firms, and this hanging over my head holds me back. Plus, as much as I love seeing your faces on Zoom, I’d like to remove this action item from my calendar as soon as possible.”

  “We understand. It would help, sir, if…do you think you could be in DC later on this week? We might need you in New York too.”

  “You tell me where to be and when, and I’ll be there.”

  When we ended the call, optimism surged, an unfamiliar sensation of late. Leading the charge for my own legal defense felt good. Belman’s lawyers had been holding me back, all part of an elaborate chess game they played, only with my life as a pawn. Clearing the board and playing a new game reminded me how much I liked the game—how much I liked driving the charge.

  Outside, a light rain sprinkled, splattering the windows and darkening the deck. With meetings done and not much else to do, I lay back on my sofa. I dialed Poppy. Her voicemail once again picked up. I disconnected. The silent treatment pissed me off. I clicked over to the OnlyFans site. I hadn’t been on in ages, but given she’d been MIA for days, I was curious to see what she was telling the world was going on in her life.