Chapter 32
E
lizabeth began to give Bailey daily reports on her attempts to ferret out Captain Jack’s real name. She flirted with Louis, the sixty-something-year-old owner of Louis ZA!, the best pizza shop in town, but if he knew Captain Jack’s real name, he wasn’t about to tell her. He simply joked about it. “He won’t tell you, eh? That’s our Jack! I never knew he had such a closed mouth! Especially the way he chows down on our extra-large, extra-cheese, extra-thick-crust, meat lover’s special! Don’t worry about him, pretty lady. What can I get you? A personal-sized margherita pizza, maybe?” And she got pretty much the same reaction everywhere. From the bank, to the flower shop, to the antique store, to the bookstore, to the ice cream parlor.
“I even bought a triple scoop with sprinkles,” Elizabeth said. “And they still wouldn’t break.” Even though it was nice to see Elizabeth with a raison d’être, she was worried it was all going to get back to Jack. She didn’t want him thinking they were nothing but a bunch of snoops. And Elizabeth had been hogging a lot of Brad’s time lately too. It seemed every time Bailey turned a corner, Elizabeth was off with Brad for a private walk or having an animated chat by the windows in the kitchen, and every time Bailey walked into the room, they would immediately stop talking and just stare at her. Bailey was starting to feel like the odd man out. At least next weekend would be good. Jesse was coming, and they were also having a going-away party for Jake and Angel, who had just announced that they were going to go off and see the world. Bailey was relieved. Things had been so stressful with Brad that she was ashamed to admit she’d entertained a few fantasies about Jake lately. It was just so flattering, the way he still looked at her once in a while, as if he would drop Angel in a heartbeat if only Bailey said the word. It was normal to fantasize, Bailey told herself, men probably did it every second of the day. But she did feel guilty. Her best friend would straighten her out. Yes, a dose of Jesse was exactly what she needed.
She also talked Brad into having another movie night on the patio. She picked
Planet of the Apes
since it was Brad’s favorite and Thomas had never seen it. It didn’t go as well as Bailey had planned. Thomas actually made fun of the movie all the way through, and even though he didn’t say a word, Bailey could tell that Brad was furious. Thomas was probably just acting out. How could the kid not pick up on how cool Brad had been toward him?
Later, when they were alone, in the kitchen, Bailey finally confronted Brad. But he wasn’t about to concede any guilt. He just threw his arms up. “I didn’t want him here in the first place!” he said. They heard a floorboard squeak. Their heads swiveled to the door separating the kitchen from the living room. It was still slightly swinging as if someone had just gone through it, and the tide clock was swinging to High Tide.
“Oh God,” she said. “What if that was Thomas?”
“He shouldn’t be sneaking around,” Brad said.
“It’s the kitchen. He could have been coming in for a snack.”
“Maybe it was my mother.”
“Your mother would have just stayed,” Bailey said. “You have to go talk to Thomas.”
“And say what?”
“Tell him you want him here.”
“Bailey.”
“I don’t get you. You’re not like this.” Brad didn’t answer. But he did look as if he was at least taking in what she was saying, so she kept going. “You are someone who cares about people. You’re hurting his feelings, honey.”
“I know,” Brad said. “I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.”
“I think you need to tell him that,” Bailey said. “Please.” Brad nodded and picked up an apple from the bowl on the counter.
“I’ll go see if he wants this,” he said.
“Thank you,” Bailey said. He got as far as the door when Bailey called out to him. “Wait.” Brad stopped. Bailey opened the cupboard and reached around to her secret place in the back. She threw him the bag of the really good chocolates. Brad laughed, tossed the apple back at her, and went to find Thomas.
It seemed to work. Thomas went back to following Brad around, and although Brad wasn’t exactly his normal exuberant self, Bailey could see that he was at least making an effort. The week flew by and before she knew it, she was in Island Supplies buying items for the going-away party. She kept her eye on Jack as she shopped, and as usual he watched her openly, sipping now and again from what appeared to be a glass of Scotch.
“My mother-in-law is subtly asking around town about you,” Bailey said. Jack let out a loud laugh.
“Subtle my ass,” he said. “She came in the other day and practically tried to fingerprint me.” Bailey laughed too.
“You know she’s not a bad-looking woman,” Bailey said.
“Never said she was,” Jack said.
“She’s been asking everyone in town your real name.”
“And?”
“Sealed like a drum,” Bailey said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Jack said. And he did. On second thought, getting involved with a booze hound probably wasn’t the smartest move Elizabeth could make.
“Do you have any steaks?” Bailey asked. Jack often got great shipments of meat and fish. The only problem was you never knew when he was getting what. Although it fit Bailey’s new, “go with the flow” lifestyle. She never knew if they’d be having pork chops, or tilapia, or rib eye. Jack took whatever sales were being offered.
“Expecting some nice juicy ones tomorrow. You having a party?”
“Yes,” Bailey said. “And you’re invited.”
“It’s not a surprise wedding, is it?” Jack asked. “With me as the groom?”
“Come now,” Bailey said. “I don’t hate my mother-in-law that much.” Jack laughed again. Mystery name, drinking, and womanizing aside, Bailey did really like Jack.
“So what’s the occasion?” Jack asked.
“Jake and Angel,” Bailey said.
Jack dropped his glass on the counter. He grabbed the bottle, poured another drink. “Oh yeah?” he said. It wasn’t his usual voice. It was as if he was trying to sound curious, but underneath he was really furious. Bailey wondered if he had a secret crush on Angel. “What about them?” He was definitely having some kind of reaction.
“It’s a going-away party,” Bailey said. “They’re leaving.”
“What do you mean, ‘they’re leaving’?” This time, Jack didn’t even try and hide his reaction. Was it because of the drinking? Bailey made a show of cocking her head.
“You sound upset,” she said. Actually, he sounded downright pissed off, but Bailey didn’t want to start a fight.
“No, I just . . . You know. It figures, doesn’t it? Get a good contractor in town and he takes off at the drop of a hat.” Was that it? Had Jack been getting a take for recommending Jake?
“Of course we could still use him,” Bailey said. “But the kids are in love. Gotta let ’em go and see the world, right?”
So that married women like me don’t end up accidentally getting kissed again.
She wasn’t about to say that to Jack either. He switched back to his happy-go-lucky self.
“I’ll bring the steaks,” he said. “And wine. What does Brad’s lovely mother like to drink?”
“She’s a recovering alcoholic,” Bailey said. “She no longer drinks.” Jack suddenly looked like he wanted to uninvite himself. He fell into a brooding silence as he rang up her purchases. Maybe all men were somewhat like Brad. Flirting and joking one minute, scowling the next. It was impossible to figure them out. They weren’t too good at picking up on women’s subtleties either. Bailey had to stand there for quite a while, looking forlorn, before he finally caught on that she wanted a ferry ride home.
Jesse arrived late Thursday afternoon, and Bailey was thrilled the weather couldn’t have been nicer. Summer was still hanging on to its warmth during the day, yet giving the air a touch of a breeze in the evening, hinting that fall was on its way. Sunsets lately had been lazy and breathtaking. Red and purple stripes raced across the sky, then melted in a soup of dark orange before falling to navy and then black. And then the stars would come out, popping across the sky and shining like crystal droplets. Bailey couldn’t wait to just gaze at the stars with her friend and catch up on their lives. Sure enough, Jesse fell in love with the place on sight. It made Bailey feel good to hear her go on about how beautiful, how remarkable it all was. Brad seemed proud too, and Bailey hoped it would help him get over his recent doubts.
Bailey wished Elizabeth weren’t in the master bedroom so that Jesse could stay there, but Jesse insisted she liked the smallest room anyway. It had a nicer view onto the river and she loved the wood-burning stove. Although it was nice to have dinner and a walk along the river as a group, Bailey was looking forward to some much-needed alone time with her friend. Luckily, Jake and Angel voluntarily retreated to their tent, and Brad invited Thomas and Elizabeth up to their loft to watch a DVD. Bailey and Jesse took a bottle of wine into the main room, joined only by Tree, who curled up at Bailey’s feet.
“You seem really happy,” Jesse said.
“I am,” Bailey said. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Bailey filled Jesse in on Brad’s recent sulking. She admitted it was probably all her fault for inviting Elizabeth Jordan. Jesse pointed out that the fact that Bailey had stayed with Brad despite learning that their home was owned by a committee earned her a lot of leeway. Bailey agreed, although she wasn’t sure Brad did.
“What about the ghost?” Jesse said. “Any recent sightings?” Bailey decided not to tell Jesse the truth. What good would it do to tell her about the woman talking to the baby, or Olivia’s ashes disappearing, or the music box playing late at night? Filling Jesse’s head with a bunch of stories before sending her upstairs to bed right underneath the attic would be a form of abuse.
“All quiet lately,” Bailey said. “Personally, I blame the Girl Scouts. Just making up stories to get badges.” It prompted Bailey to fetch the guest book, and the two of them spent considerable time laughing over some of the entries. The rest of the evening Jesse regaled Bailey with stories of the ER and dating in New York City, which was scarier than some of her most traumatic patients. Several hours and a few bottles of wine later, they were ready for bed. Bailey decided to just curl up and go to sleep on the couch. She didn’t feel like walking over to the lighthouse; besides, Tree was probably already snoring in her spot.
Bailey lay on the couch, eyes open. Except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional chirp of a cricket, it was all quiet. She debated going back to the tower. Maybe Brad was awake, waiting for her. But she was tired and had drunk too much wine. The last thing she needed was to trip on the spiral staircase and break an ankle.
She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but the next thing she knew she was standing in the lighthouse loft, wearing her wedding dress. In real life, her dress had been beautiful but simple. A classic style, no frills. In the dream, it was all lace and bounce and layers with a plunging neckline. Tree was beside her with a dozen yellow roses in his mouth, whining up at the tower. Suddenly, Bailey heard Brad shout from above.
“Help!” She started up the iron staircase leading to the Crow’s Nest. Tree barked out a series of warnings, but refused to follow. It was difficult to climb the steps—her crinoline kept catching on the treads—and then Tree grabbed her train and tried to pull her back down. She knew if she wanted to save Brad, she’d have to let the dress rip. As soon as she had the thought, she heard the deep tearing sound of the material being yanked away. She hauled herself up through the small door; her arms felt weak, her body heavy.
The first person she laid eyes on was the naked bird-watcher. He was sitting in the Crow’s Nest with the psychiatrist Martin Gregors. Bailey realized, before they even opened their mouths, that they were up there discussing
her
.
“She never finishes anything,” Martin said.
“Me?” Bailey said. They ignored her.
“She blames Brad,” the bird-watcher said.
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I don’t blame Brad,” Bailey said. “I just . . . tolerate him sometimes.”
Bird-watcher started counting off Bailey’s offenses on his fingers. “They had that surf shop and she never even learned to surf.”
Martin pecked out a note with his index finger on his iPad. Therapy had gone digital. Where had she been? She leaned over to see what he was writing.
Never learned to surf.
“It takes years to learn,” Bailey said. “I concentrated on setting up shop instead.”
“How could Brad keep it going when she hated the sport?” Bird-watcher said. In real life Bailey would have been mortified for forgetting a guest’s name—Business 101: use their names!—but in the dream she just wanted to pluck him like a turkey and stuff him.
“I let you sit naked at my dining room table!” she yelled.
“What about the sweater shop?” Martin asked.
“She was allergic to the wool, remember?” Bird-watcher said.
Martin started to chuckle. “Would you buy a sweater with snot—”