Elodie followed her sister up the street, which was packed with pedestrians. Bikes whizzed past in every direction and cars moved at a crawl. Celeste told her she picked the first busy week of the season.
“Apparently,” Elodie said. “I couldn’t find a decent hotel.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I decided just to make it a day trip.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of a long day trip. So what brings you here? CabaretFest?”
Elodie offered a tight smile.
“No. I needed to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds serious.” A pedicab drove past, the two people in the back blasting dance music from their phones. “Should I be sitting down for this?”
They crossed the street and followed an alleyway to the water. It turned breezier, the air thick with brine. They passed a few wooden buildings—a house and a garage, some kayaks on a rack, and a wooden shack—like a small tollbooth or mini office—under a boat rentals sign. Beyond that, the area splintered off into separate docks. They sat on a bench.
“How lovely,” Elodie said.
Celeste turned to her.
“Yes. It is. And I’m happy for you to finally see it after all these years. But I’m guessing you’re not here for the view. What’s going on?”
Best to just come out with it. “I need your signature on a document.”
“Mine? Why?” Celeste seemed genuinely confused.
“Just some minor bureaucracy before I proceed with an auction.” She opened her bag and pulled out the contract. “Whitmore’s likes to make sure all their T’s are crossed, that sort of thing.”
Celeste looked skeptical. Elodie anticipated this. “If you want a share of the proceeds, I’m willing to negotiate.” Pearl barked, and Elodie knelt down to calm her.
“No—it’s not that. I’m just surprised that you need my signature. I have nothing to do with Pavlin & Co.” She stood up and walked toward the water. Elodie followed her, thinking, No more surprised than I am, believe me!
“Again, just a formality.”
Celeste stopped walking when they reached a dock. She turned to her and said, “I need to think about it.”
“Think about it? What on earth for? You just said yourself that you have nothing to do with the company.”
“Mercury’s in retrograde.”
“I’m sorry, what?” So clearly Celeste had never outgrown all that astrology nonsense. When they were young, it was all, “I’m an Aries and you’re a Gemini, so even though we don’t have a lot in common, we won’t be in conflict or competition.” Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
“It’s bad luck to sign contracts when Mercury is in retrograde.”
Elodie exhaled loudly. “When is it out of retrograde?”
“In twenty-three days.”
Elodie crossed her arms. A strong breeze off the water lifted her hair and she patted it back into place.
“I just told you I’m not staying overnight.”
“And that’s entirely your choice. Now I have to get back to work.”
With that, Celeste walked away.
Unbelievable! Did she really think that would be the end of it? That Elodie would just retreat back to the city, tail between her legs?
“You don’t even have your tail between your legs, Pearl,” she said.
That’s two bad quarters in a row . . . You need to do more.
She wasn’t waiting twenty-three days to lock in the auction, that was for damn sure.
As usual in their family, things were going to get ugly. She texted her driver that her plans had changed: She was staying. Of course her sister had to choose to live in a beach town that could not be more out of the way.
With a sigh, Elodie stood up from the bench and walked away from the marina back toward the street. On her left, a house caught her eye: A sign hanging off the deck announced, Room for rent, water view. See Lidia for details.
The house was a bit ramshackle, all weathered clapboard with a cluttered garage or workshop of some sort on the ground level. Stairs led to a deck and a second-floor entrance, and a Portuguese flag waved from the roof.
It wasn’t exactly the Carlyle, but surely it would be tolerable for just one night. All she needed to do was to make her point by not driving off the second Celeste gave her a little resistance.
Elodie looked around and turned back to a small booth offering boat rentals and tours of the bay. A man stood inside selling tickets. He was broad-shouldered, with deep-set dark eyes and white hair. His baseball cap read Long Point.
“Excuse me. Do you know where I can find . . . Lidia?”
He pointed to the house.
“I meant, is there a number I can call?” Elodie said.
“It’s up to you,” he said, smiling in amusement. “But I don’t know why you’d call on the phone if you can just stand at the foot of the stairs and holler up to her.”
Uncivilized, she thought, marching toward the house. The town, her sister, that man. She’d long ago accepted the fact that money couldn’t shield her from all of life’s indignities. But it should at least buffer her from this type of nonsense.
Although it violated all sense of propriety, Elodie tied Pearl’s leash to the wooden banister and climbed the steps to the second-floor entrance of the house. She knocked twice and got no response. She peered through the screen door and saw a kitchen.
“Hello?” she called out. No response.
Elodie walked back down to the boat rental booth.
“Excuse me,” she said to the man.
“I’m Tito,” he said.
“Tito,” she said, “it appears no one is available.” She reached into her bag for her business card, then realized she hadn’t brought any. “Do you have a piece of paper I could write my number on?”
He handed her a brochure for Barros Boatyard. The name was familiar. She thought for a minute and realized it was Jack’s last name.
“Do you have a brother?” she asked.
“Sure do. Manny. Do you know him?” He looked skeptical.
“No,” she said. And then, thinking of last names, she realized she should use her mother’s maiden name for this inquiry. People saw the name Pavlin and always charged more because they knew she had deep pockets. She pulled a pen from her bag and jotted down the name “Elodie Lowe.”
“Please give this to whomever is in charge and let them know I’d like the room for the night. And I’d like to check in as soon as possible.”
“I certainly will . . . Elodie,” he said, reading the card. Something about the way he said it seemed rude. Presumptuous. Perhaps the town was just very informal, but either way it ruffled her feathers. She needed a strong martini.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, if you could please direct me to the nearest place I can find a cocktail.”