ALLISON
With a plan ahead of me, I felt energized and renewed. I started a more regular exercise routine, running on the beach in the mornings. When it got too bitter outside, I used some of Patty’s old aerobics DVDs. Even Catarina and I seemed to be getting along well. She’d warmed to me, waking me each morning with a pitiful, sweet mew, nudging her wet little nose in my wrist looking for love.
After the interview, Vaughn Winters had emailed about visiting the station and meeting the rest of the team, and Tammy had sent over a box of pastries to celebrate. A few days after the Roller Derby game, Dolores had even called to apologize for telling her teammates about my rant. “Come down to the gallery whenever. See Dad’s stuff. I’ll take you out to lunch.”
I finally turned to my neglected house chores, dusting bookshelves and cleaning the stove according to John’s extensive instructions. When the inside was clean, I went outside for the power washer. I wheeled the thing out of the garage and stared at it. It looked like a miniature lawn mower. It couldn’t be that hard, right? I unwound the hose and remembered John had told me to fill up the tank with the water and mixture. Once I got it all set, I turned the machine on and almost fell over. The water pressure was high, no doubt. I felt like I was maneuvering a jackhammer.
Once I got the hang of the machine, the job was actually therapeutic. As I moved from the back of the house to the side, I was even feeling a little proud of myself. Wouldn’t Duke be surprised? He’d always made fun of my yard-work skills, or lack thereof.
As I forced off the grime, I imagined it was his face I was hosing down, blasting off that smug smile he liked to use on me. Like the time we’d gotten into a fight on a motorboat with his parents and their friends. About what—I couldn’t even remember. But I did remember him leaning against the gunwale, holding a glass of wine and shaking his head while tears streamed down my face. Don’t make a scene, Allison. You’ll just embarrass yourself.
“Whoa, you don’t want to do that.” A man’s voice behind me jolted me out of the memory.
I lost my grip on the wand, and the water went spurting all over my feet and his. I bent down to grab for it, but he managed to get there first and switched off the power.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. You scared me.”
“You shouldn’t point the water upward under the siding like that. It could rip the whole panel off.”
His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and traditional. I placed him about early seventies, but he was handsome and fit, with a good tan that hadn’t faded yet from the summer.
“This is my first time doing this.”
“I can tell.” He smiled. “John teach you how to use this? He never could get it quite right.”
“No, he—showed me, but it’s been a while.”
“Here, let me help.” I watched as he angled the water above the siding panels, moving in wide arcs. He was in command. The type that intervened and helped out when he was needed. The water drizzled down on both of us and the drops colored rainbow haze in the bright autumn sun. “It’s a good day to do this,” he shouted at me over the motor. “Right after the rain.”
I nodded and caught movement in a window next door. A woman peering out at us. The curtain shifted and she quickly disappeared from view.
The machine spurted and whirred, and he bent down to shut it off. “Ran out of solution. You need to reload it.” He pulled the bottle off the side and showed me. Empty.
“Oh no,” I said. “I still have more than half the house to go.”
He smirked. “You can always try again tomorrow. The house isn’t going anywhere.”
I laughed. “Yes. Yes, I agree.” I’d been smart enough to wear a raincoat, but my jeans were drenched, and even though the sun was warm, the cool air made the denim feel like ice against my thighs. “I’m so sorry I got us so wet.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure. Anytime.” He winked, and I felt myself blush. “I’m Phillip Bishop,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Allison,” I said.
“Ah, yes, the house sitter. Patty told us you’d be here, but she didn’t tell us how lovely you’d be.” He reached out and plucked a leaf out of my hair. “Nice scarf,” he said, tugging on one end, his knuckles brushing against my shoulder.
I tried to ignore the warmth that came through my body at his touch. “So how often are you here?”
To my relief, he grew more serious. “Not as often as we’d like, I’m afraid. We’re in the restaurant business—” At this I nodded, and he continued, unfazed. “Of course, I sometimes forget it’s a small town. Well, we’re opening a new place in Ocean City, so I’m up there quite a bit these days. Lorelei, my wife, is here more often, and my brother comes down, though less than he used to. And then, of course, we always try to get my son to join us when he can.” He moved closer and held his hand to his mouth, whispering, “Mostly for time with the granddaughter, though. Don’t tell him.”
I gestured toward the ocean. “This view is a good bargaining chip, right?”
He sighed. “Yes, but Clay is stubborn. Always busy at the college. I suppose I raised him that way. It’s like that song, you know? ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’? Oh, I’m just being depressing now, aren’t I?”
Clay? Where had I heard that name? But before I could figure it out, a woman rounded the corner, a drink in her hand.
“Depressing now, honey? Or always depressing?” She was smiling, but I felt the tension in the air. “What is he going on about now?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t want to be caught awkwardly in the middle of a marital spat.
“Lord, Phil, you’ve rendered the poor woman speechless.” She still had a half smile, and a voice that seemed slightly condescending, like the joke was on me.
“Not at all. I’m teaching our lovely neighbor here how to clean the house.”
“Ah, yes.” She paused, assessing me. “You’re a weather person, is that right?” She said it in the same tone she would use to point out a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk.
“I’m a meteorologist, yes,” I stammered, startled.
“On television.” It was a statement, but I nodded anyway. “Good. You should replace the young woman on our NBC station. She is, frankly, a nitwit.” She extended her hand. “I’m Lorelei Bishop.”
At that moment a little girl, bundled up in a thick hooded sweatshirt, came running around the corner of the house, clutching a doll in her hand like she was trying to make it fly. She stopped short, stared up at me with beady eyes. “Are you a zombie?”
“Letty,” Lorelei said, rubbing the child’s arms briskly through her sweatshirt. Mrs. Bishop had high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted eyebrows, but her face was angular. Her steel blue eyes looked warily at me, but her large mouth curled up in amusement at the little girl. “We don’t talk about zombies. Now please get inside. It’s getting chilly.”
“Brains,” the little girl said, twisting her mouth in a ridiculous grimace. “They eat brains.” She picked up her doll and marched into the garage.
“Her mother lets her watch these awful movies,” Lorelei said. “I think they’re perfectly horrid.”
“I think they’re character-building,” Phillip said, winking at me. A fierce gust of wind swept up between the houses. “This weather’s been terrible,” he added. “I’m missing all my complaints about the humidity.”
“This is actually a nice calm before the storm,” I said. “There’s been a strange cold front in the north, closer to Canada, and it’s been fighting with the warmer air for a while. But it will move here soon, do its griping here for a few days.”
Lorelei studied me. “Well, you would know.”
“Beautiful and smart. What a combination. Lorelei’s right. You should replace the local weather girl.”
Was this his regular MO? His harmless flirtation earlier now seemed almost malicious in front of his wife. I thought of Duke again, at his boring company picnic when he’d insisted on having Maron as his teammate during horseshoes. Watching him “coach” her on the proper way to throw the horseshoe, while I stood off to the side with some of the other wives, sipping warm Coke out of a plastic cup and trying to think of nice things to say. How pathetic I’d been, dismissing my jealousy even as the prickling beneath my skin had told me that things weren’t right...
“Allison?”
Lorelei and Phillip were looking at me funny.
“Sorry, what?”
“I was saying you should come with us to the club,” Phillip said slowly. “The Autumn Harvest is coming up. It’s next Thursday evening.”
“Oh my, that’s so nice. But I couldn’t—”
“It’s the final party before the club closes for the winter,” he interrupted. “The food is good. It’s our treat.”
I took a step back, nearly tripping over the power washer. “Thanks, but I’ve been kind of a homebody here. Trying to get things done. Taking advantage of the peace and quiet, you know?”
“Have you been downtown yet?” Lorelei asked, taking a sip of her drink, though it appeared to be nearly gone.
“I have.”
“You need to go to The Sweet Spot.”
“Actually I have. Several times. The internet here at the house is so spotty.”
“Oh really?” Lorelei’s eyes lifted. “What did you think?”
“Good coffee.”
“The best,” she said, her voice growing warmer, like I’d finally said something she thought wasn’t idiotic. “She’s got the best coffee around here. And you’re right—a good internet connection. I’m sure you’ll find it a favorite place of yours.”
The little girl came running out of the garage, trailing a homemade kite behind her. She ran between the houses, out toward the beach.
Phillip called after her. “Letty! Don’t go too far. It’s getting dark.” Then to me, “You really must come to the Autumn Harvest dinner with us. The whole family will be there.”
I looked to Lorelei. She was also nodding. “You can meet some other people in town, too. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”
I opened my mouth to decline politely, but then something made me stop. You can’t hide forever, Allison. This is your start-over. Your new life.
“Yeah. Sure. Okay,” I said. “I’d love to meet the family. You said everyone?”
“The whole lot of us,” Lorelei said, her eyes glistening, and I realized that the drink in her hand wasn’t her first of the evening. “Think you can handle it?”