“UGH,” AVA SAID, PUSHING AWAY from the computer monitor. She’d been working with the new booking software all morning, mumbling and cursing under her breath. “That’s enough of that for today.”
Letty came in from the storeroom, where she’d been reorganizing the shelves, and looked over her boss’s shoulder at the spreadsheet. “This looks great, Ava. You’ve uploaded all the upcoming reservations. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It was a lot easier when I just had a paper calendar and a registration book,” Ava groused. “Why is progress always such a royal pain in the patootie?”
“You’re getting there,” Letty said. “Okay, I’ve cleaned out a bunch of shelves in the supply room, and labeled everything, so I’d say that’s progress. Hope it’s okay that I threw out all the old outdated rate cards, promotional flyers, and motel stationery. I found stacks and stacks of brochures that were so old they didn’t even have our area code.”
“Good work,” Ava said.
“Letty, look what I did,” Maya said proudly. “I do good work too.”
She’d assembled a large wooden puzzle that was a map of the United States.
“That’s great, ladybug,” Letty said. “Where’d you find the puzzle?”
“I gave it to her,” Ava said. “That used to be Joe’s. And then Isabelle’s. I know I promised to clean out every closet in the place, and I did get rid of most of their old books and toys, but there were a few things I just couldn’t part with.”
Maya placed her hands protectively over the puzzle. “Mine.”
“What’s next on my list for today?” Letty asked, wiping her dusty hands on a paper towel.
“Can you get the rec room ready for tonight’s Ping-Pong tournament and then pick up my grocery list at Publix?” Ava asked. “Maya can stay here with me.”
“We’re having a Ping-Pong tournament?” Letty asked, laughing. “Really?”
“Oh yes. Everybody here is dead serious about Ping-Pong. We’ve got folks coming over tonight from the Islander, the SeaBreeze, and the Michigander.”
“Those are motels?”
“Yeah. Ruth and Al Zofchak, they’re gone now, God rest their souls, organized the first tournament, I guess maybe fifteen years ago? They were retirees from outside of Pittsburgh. We used to have folks from seven or eight motels up and down the beach playing, but a lot of those places are long gone, torn down for condos, and of course, so are a lot of our regulars from back then. The tournament rotates among the four motels left, and this year we’re hosting.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Set up the refreshment tables and the bar, and make sure the rec room bathrooms are clean. Anita’s supposed to hit them every day, but she skips them when she thinks I’m not paying attention. The girls will be in there watching television, so just work around them. You’ll find a couple of folding tables in the closet over there. And there are some plastic tablecloths on the top shelf. Joe’s going to bring over extra folding chairs when he gets off work this afternoon.”
The Murmuring Surf’s recreation room, Ava had told her, had originally been the motel’s coffee shop. It was a low-slung concrete-block building with a fifties-era zigzag cement tile roofline and large plate-glass windows facing the parking lot.
Friday morning, she found the group Ava called “the girls” watching a taped episode of Wheel of Fortune in the lounge area, which consisted of two aging turquoise vinyl sofas, a mosaic-tile-topped coffee table, and a flat-screen television.
“Hi ladies,” Letty called out, as she pushed through the heavy glass door.
Wilona Wilson, a retired African American schoolteacher from Cleveland, was the de facto leader of “the girls,” the group of regulars who congregated most mornings to watch television together before drifting together over to their assigned lounge chairs by the pool.
Billie Feldman was one of the girls, although her wife Ruth rarely joined the group. Alice Sheehan, whose silver-white bob contrasted with her deep tan, was the third, and Arlene Finocchia made up the fourth. Today they were joined by Trudi Maples, but Letty noticed that Louise Schmidt—another retired schoolteacher, from Akron—was absent.
Wilona was hopping up and down on the sofa, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew it was ‘Sugar and Spice Girls.’”
Billie Feldman snorted. “You’re the only one here who ever even heard of the Spice Girls.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Alice Sheehan said. “I think my daughter used to listen to their CDs.”
“I’ll try to stay out of your way,” Letty said, “but Ava wanted me to get everything ready for tonight’s Ping-Pong tournament.”
She began straightening the coffee cart, mopping up spilled grounds, wiping down the sugar and powdered creamer containers and replenishing the supply of cardboard cups. She emptied the trash and began sweeping the terrazzo floor.
While Letty worked, the girls chatted among themselves, gently ribbing each other over missed clues.
She was setting up the refreshment table during a commercial break when Trudi turned to Arlene. “Doesn’t Letty remind you of someone?”
Letty ignored the comment, spreading out the red-and-white-checked tablecloth, smoothing out the fold marks. She went back to the closet for the second table. Arlene was sitting forward on the sofa, staring at her.
“Now that you mention it,” Billie said, “she does have one of those familiar faces.”
“It’s been driving me crazy,” Trudi said. “Letty, did you ever do any acting?”
Here it comes, Letty thought, trying to stay calm. “Yes, I tried acting. I wasn’t very successful at it. Every girl who goes to New York thinks they’re going to be the next Jennifer Lawrence. And then they end up working in a diner. Like me.”
“Were you ever on television?” Arlene asked.
“That’s what I said,” Trudi agreed. “She reminds me of someone I’ve seen on television.”
Wilona got up and refilled her coffee cup, stopping to study Letty’s face up close. “Trudi’s right. You’re sure pretty enough to be in show business.”
“I did some tiny bit parts,” Letty admitted, “but it was so long ago, I didn’t even keep track.”
“We don’t mean to pry,” Wilona said, “but you’re not exactly a senior citizen like all the rest of us who’ve been coming here for years. So, Letty dear, how did you end up here at the Murmuring Surf?”
Uh-oh, Letty thought. Here it comes. She needed to end this discussion.
“I had a bad breakup with my boyfriend, and I just wanted to get out of town, so I got in my car and started driving.” This was all true, if you stretched a point, which she didn’t mind doing.
“Isabelle tells me the little girl is your niece,” Alice said. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re raising her. I have a grandniece up home in Traverse City that I’m very close to. She usually flies down in April and drives back home with me at the end of the season.”
“She’s quite the little swimmer, your niece,” Billie commented. “Shouldn’t she be in school, though?”
“That child isn’t old enough to be in school yet, Billie,” Wilona said. “Not even five yet, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” Letty said. “Maya’s only four.”
She found an old-school aluminum Coleman cooler in the closet and set it on top of the table for the bar, then headed into the bathrooms with a roll of paper towels and spray cleaner.
When she emerged, the girls were intently critiquing Vanna White’s outfit, which today consisted of a short, slinky red halter dress. “I liked it better when she wore those pretty long formals,” Trudi said. “But these young girls today, all they ever want to wear are those awful yoga pants and hoodies.”
“Vanna isn’t exactly a young girl,” Billie said. “I bet she’s fifty if she’s a day.”
“That can’t be right,” Arlene protested. “I read in People magazine that she’s got grown kids.”
“Okay, ladies,” Letty said, pausing at the door. “Have a nice day!”
She felt giddy but guilty, wheeling a shopping cart full of groceries around the supermarket without Maya, sipping a Starbucks latte and breezing past the aisle of sugary cereals without having the child clamor for Froot Loops.
Motherhood, Letty reflected, was the most exhausting thing she’d ever done. She adored her niece, but bearing sole responsibility for another human’s well-being was overwhelming. Not to mention terrifying.
For once, she thought wryly, she’d discovered something Tanya had not overexaggerated.
“You have no idea how tired I am. I can’t remember the last time I had an uninterrupted night of sleep,” Tanya would exclaim on Sunday mornings when Letty arrived for her regular playdate with Maya. “You have her for three hours, but the rest of the time it’s just me.”
“And the help,” Letty pointed out. “A nanny, a once-a-week housekeeper, and preschool.”
“You try it sometime,” Tanya had shot back. “Now I get why Mama was only too happy to ship us off to Mimi every chance she got. If I never have to wipe another snotty nose or poopy butt, I will die happy.”
The thought of her sister brought sudden tears to Letty’s eyes, but she shook them off. Crying wouldn’t bring Tanya back and it wouldn’t help Letty figure out how to bring Evan to justice. She’d been scared and powerless long enough now. It was time to fight back, she decided. Just as soon as she figured out how.
An hour later, she was unloading groceries when the door to unit 11 opened and Sheila Bronson emerged. “Help!” she cried, spotting Letty. “Come quick. I think Harry’s having a heart attack.”
Letty dropped the sack of groceries she’d been toting and raced to the unit. The bedroom door was open and the first thing she saw was Harry Bronson, stretched out on the bed, clutching his chest and groaning. “I’m okay,” he protested, rolling onto his side. “I’m okay.” He didn’t look okay to Letty. His face was pale and flecked with perspiration. He was a beefy man, built, Letty thought, like the beer trucks he’d driven before retirement.
“Did you call 911?” Letty asked.
“He won’t let me call,” Sheila said, wringing her hands.
“No,” Harry growled. “I’m fine.…” His face contorted in pain. “Shit, it hurts.”
Letty reached for her phone. “Then I’ll call.”
“Goddammit, I said I’m fine!” Harry tried to sit up, but sank back down onto the bed. “Just leave me alone.”
“Harry! You don’t have to yell. She’s just trying to help,” Sheila said, starting to weep.
Letty backed out of the motel room, followed by Sheila. “He’s so stubborn, but he’s been having these chest pains since lunch. He swore it was just heartburn, because he ate kielbasa, and it always gives him heartburn.…”
Ava came out of the office and trotted over to where the two women stood in the breezeway. “Sheila? Is everything okay?”
“Well, not really,” Sheila said, her voice trembling.
Letty spoke up. “Harry might be having a heart attack. He’s been having chest pains for over an hour, and he’s pale and sweating, but he won’t let her call for an ambulance.”
“He doesn’t trust doctors down here,” Sheila said, glancing over her shoulder into the unit, where they could hear the husband softly moaning.
“I’m going back to the office and calling Joe,” Ava said. “Letty, stay here with Sheila, please.”
Letty reluctantly went back into the darkened bedroom. The nightstand beside Harry was littered with pill bottles and the remnants of a messy sandwich.
“Aspirin,” Letty said, remembering something she’d read somewhere about first aid for heart-attack patients. “Sheila, do you have any aspirin?”
“Y-y-yes,” the older woman stammered. She scrabbled around on the nightstand, shook out a capsule, and offered it to her husband.
“I think you’re supposed to chew it, not just swallow it, to make it work faster,” Letty said.
“Leave me alone,” he muttered, but after a moment, he took the tablet and chewed.
“Has he had chest pains before?” Letty asked.
“I told you, it’s just heartburn,” Harry said. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
Joe DeCurtis looked down at the stricken man on the bed, while Ava, Sheila, and Letty hovered nearby. “I called 911,” he announced. He sat on the bed next to the patient. “Don’t think I’m getting fresh,” he said, “but I’m gonna unbuckle your belt and unfasten your shirt.”
He touched the side of the man’s face. “Come on, Harry,” he said, grabbing his arm. “Let’s get you sitting up. It’ll make it easier for you to breathe.” He helped the older man to a sitting position, then slid a pillow under his knees. “Now lean forward if you can,” he said, his voice calm. “That’ll help pump blood to your heart.”
He looked over at Sheila. “Does he take nitroglycerin? Any kind of heart medication?”
She shook her head. “He had an episode like this last summer, when we were at the lake in Wisconsin. The doctor there prescribed it, but then the symptoms went away, and we never got it filled.”
“We had him chew an aspirin right before you got here,” Letty volunteered.
“Good idea,” Joe said. He kept his hand on the stricken man’s back. “Hang in there, Harry. The dispatcher I talked to said the EMTs were five minutes out.”
Right on cue, they heard the high-pitched sound of an ambulance drawing near. Letty stood outside in the parking lot, waving it toward the unit.
Ten minutes later, the paramedics wheeled the patient out of the room on a stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped over his face. “They gave him nitro because it looks like it actually is a heart attack,” Joe said, touching Sheila’s arm. “They’re going to take him to the emergency room.”
“I’m going too,” Sheila said, but Joe pulled her back. “They won’t let you ride in the ambulance. I’ll take you myself.” He glanced back inside the room. “Why don’t you grab all his medications? The doctors are going to want to know everything he’s taking. And don’t forget his ID and yours and your insurance cards.”
“Okay,” Sheila said. “I will.”
“We’ll lock up here,” Ava told her. “You just go with Joe. And let us know what the doctors say.”
The ambulance pulled away, lights flashing and siren screaming. Sheila buried her face in Ava’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you,” she said.