TANYA CAME TO HER IN her dream. After hauling junk back and forth to the dumpster for three straight hours, so tired and dirty she couldn’t take another step, Letty finally dumped a mattress onto the floor of the hotel room, spread a blanket atop it, and pulled Maya down beside her.
“Nap time,” Letty said firmly, and for once, Maya didn’t resist, spooning up beside Letty with the stuffed elephant tucked in the crook of her arm. In a moment, she heard her niece’s breaths slow, felt her warm body relax against her own. She touched her niece’s plump, pink cheek and closed her own eyes, falling into an almost trancelike sleep.
Tanya appeared almost immediately. Her lovely face was pale and agitated, her pupils dilated. “Promise me,” she said, poking Letty in the chest. “If something happens to me, promise me you’ll take Maya and run.”
They’d had this conversation numerous times in real life and now Letty was hearing it again in her dream. Tanya swore she’d gotten sober, was going to her meetings, had thrown away the pills. Letty wanted desperately to believe her.
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Letty would always reply. Tanya was overreacting, nearly hysterical. Forever the drama queen.
“You don’t know that. You don’t know Evan. I mean the real Evan. He’ll do anything to get Maya away from me. He won’t stop until he gets his way.”
“Okay, whatever,” Letty had said, not wanting to get her sister more agitated.
“I mean it, Letty. If something bad happens to me, it will be because of him. He’s got detectives following me. I think he’s got my phone tapped. I’m being super careful, but he’s rich as shit, you know? And he knows important people. He always gets his way. Always.”
“But not this time,” Letty had said, trying to calm Tanya. “You’re doing all the right things. You’ve been in counseling, going to your meetings. That arbitrator lady told you herself. You’re a good mom. Evan can’t prove otherwise.”
That was when Tanya did it. She leaned in and whispered, “I know you think I’m being paranoid, but I’m not. If something bad happens to me, you’ve got to take Maya and get the hell away from here. Don’t tell anybody where you’re going or why. Just go. Promise me you’ll keep my baby away from him.”
“All right,” Letty said, spooked by her sister’s intensity. “I promise, Tanya. It won’t happen, but if it does, I’ll keep Maya safe.”
That day, what? Six, seven weeks ago?
“I want to show you something,” Tanya had said, taking Letty by the hand and leading her into her master bedroom.
Letty had never liked this room. Evan’s interior designer—a former girlfriend, Tanya claimed—had pulled out all the stops, covering the walls in an antiqued silver mirrored wallpaper that Tanya claimed cost four thousand dollars a roll. The ceiling was mirrored, too, and the floor was covered in a thick, furry white carpet that reminded Letty of a shaggy dog, but not in a good way. There was a crystal chandelier over the heavily draped canopy bed, and the bedspread and piles of pillows were all shades of gray and silver and white. Letty thought it was too new, too shiny, too everything, but of course Tanya proclaimed it chic and elegant.
“In here.” She followed Tanya into the walk-in closet, which was as big as Letty’s studio apartment. The closet had its own chandelier, and an antique silver-gilded trifold mirror, and a little silk-covered sofa that the designer called a canapé. A cabinet in the middle of the room held a treasure trove of Tanya’s jewelry. Three walls held racks and racks of designer clothes and accessories. Tanya had organized them by size, from what she called her “pre-Maya” days as a size two, to her “disgusting-pig post-baby body” size, which was, after all, still only a size eight.
One whole wall of the closet held shelves and shelves of handbags and shoes. Her boots, dozens of pairs of them, were lined up in rows on the floor of the shoe rack. Tanya reached around and pulled out a tall black suede boot with a wicked three-inch-high spike heel.
“These boots are made for walking,” she said, her tone conspiratorial. She shoved her hand down in the boot and pulled out a canvas tote, the kind fancy grocery stores gave to customers who thought they could save the planet by buying thirty-dollar-a-pound wild-caught salmon.
“What’s that?”
“My go-bag,” Tanya whispered. “Like Mama always had.”
Terri had drummed into her daughters’ heads that they should always be ready to leave any situation when, in her words, “the house burns down.”
“Girls,” she’d say to them. “A man will tell you he loves you. He might believe it too. But one day, he’s gonna wake up and decide you’re too old, too fat, too loud, or just too you. You gotta be prepared. Like they told you in Girl Scouts.
“Start by putting a little money away, every payday, no matter what. I mean cash money, where you can put your hands on it, day or night. Hide it good. And make a plan, so you can grab that bag and get out fast when the time comes.”
That day in the closet, Tanya gave Letty a peek into the bag. She got a glimpse of a velvet-covered jeweler’s box that she knew contained Tanya’s diamond ring push present, and fat wads of bills, fastened with rubber bands, before her sister snatched the bag away and returned it to its hiding place.
“Promise me,” dream Tanya said now, tugging at her arm. “Promise you’ll take Maya and get the hell away from him.”
“I will,” Letty murmured. “I promise I will.”
“Letty, Letty.” The tugging continued. She opened her eyes slowly and Maya, her very real niece, was pulling at her hand. “Letty, I need to potty.”
“Oh, honey.” Letty stood up and went to door of the bathroom, which had a pink tile floor and pink fixtures. The pink sink was stacked with more piles of discarded linens, and the pink-tiled shower stall was full of dust-covered collapsed cardboard cartons. The room smelled sour, but it held the only thing Letty really needed at the moment.
She pulled Maya’s shorts down and dangled the child inches above the pink plastic toilet seat. “Go ahead and go, baby,” she urged. Maya giggled and did as she was told.
“Gotta get that cleaning cart, stat,” Letty said. She pushed the linens aside, found a shriveled-up sliver of soap, and washed her own hands as well as her niece’s.
By six o’clock, she was standing in the mostly cleared-out motel room, her hands on her hips, staring at the stuff that had proven too heavy to move by herself. “How the hell am I gonna get this junk out of here?”
Seconds later there was a rap at the door, followed by an impatient male voice. “Hey! You in there?”
Spooked, Letty ran to the window and peered out through the fly-specked glass. She shrugged, then opened the door. Joe’s badge and gun were gone; he was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. So maybe he didn’t intend to arrest or shoot her just yet.
“Yes?” her voice was deliberately cool and she stared directly at him. Another trick from her short-lived acting class.
Without asking, he stepped inside the room and looked around. The only remaining discards were the commodes and the washing machine and one of the mattresses. After her uneasy nap session, she’d unearthed a bed frame and set it up with the least objectionable mattress, and from beneath a pile of faded floral draperies she’d uncovered a sturdy but ugly double dresser that could hold what little of their belongings she’d brought along. She’d found a worn-down broom in the bathroom and managed to sweep away the top layers of cobwebs and unspeakable crud.
“Not bad,” he said. “You did all this by yourself?”
“Me and the wheelbarrow,” Letty said.
He pointed at the washing machine. “Were you planning on leaving that here?”
Letty rolled her eyes. “Sure. I’m gonna plant a palm tree in it.”
“Okay, well, then you don’t need me.”
“Actually, I was just trying to figure out what to do with it,” she admitted.
“That asshole Chuck,” Joe said. He went outside and came back with a heavy-duty furniture dolly. “I told her he was a bum, but she’s always had a soft heart for a stray.”
“Your mom?”
“Who else?” He wheeled the dolly over to the washing machine. “Okay. I’m gonna stick the lip of this under the washer, and you’re gonna push it forward—carefully, until it tilts backward. Like a lever. Got that?”
“I think I can manage.”
Maya was watching the grown-ups with interest, her thumb in her mouth. Letty reached over and gently pushed the thumb aside. “You sit on the bed now and try to stay out of the way. Can you do that, ladybug?”
Maya nodded and returned the thumb to her mouth.
Joe wrapped a webbed belt around the washer and fastened it to the dolly’s handles.
“Go,” he said.
Letty placed both hands on the machine, closed her eyes, and leaned hard into it. Seconds later, she heard a loud thud.
“Owwww,” Joe howled.
She opened her eyes. The belt had snapped in two and the washing machine seemed to have landed on his foot.
He somehow managed to shove it aside, and dropped onto the floor, cradling his bare right foot in both hands, rocking back and forth, his face contorted—either with pain or anger, she wasn’t sure which.
“Goddamn,” he cried, glaring at Letty. “I think my toe is broken.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Let me see it.”
He scooted backward, away from her. “No way.”
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she protested. “Just let me look. Which toe is it?”
“None of your business,” he snapped. He picked up a gnarly-looking rubber flip-flop, slid it gingerly onto his injured foot, stood up, and leaned against the offending washer. “Christ, it hurts.”
“Well, I said I’m sorry. But shouldn’t you have been wearing real shoes? I mean, who tries to do heavy lifting wearing flip-flops?”
“A guy who just got off work after an eight-hour shift,” he said. “A guy who was minding his own business and drinking a cold beer until his mom guilt-tripped him into helping out her newest guest.”
Letty felt her cheeks burn with a mixture of anger and her own guilt. “I said I was sorry. If you’ll let me look at it, I’ll go get some ice and try to help you wrap it up.”
“Forget it,” he muttered, “I’ll live.” He turned back to the washing machine, examining the mover’s dolly. “That asshole Chuck. Shoulda known he’d let this thing get dry rot. Even the tires are shot.”
“What now?” Letty asked.
“Now I take this piece of crap to the dumpster, go back to my place and get a decent furniture dolly. And a pair of boots.” He grabbed the dolly and walked out of the room, slamming the door as he went.
Letty sighed and sat down on the bed beside Maya, who’d witnessed the debacle. “He got a bad boo-boo,” the child whispered.
“Not that bad,” Letty said. “He’s just being a big crybaby, that’s all.”
When he returned twenty minutes later Joe was wearing dusty work boots. He wheeled the dolly into the room. “Let’s try this again. Go slow, okay?”
The second time went much smoother than the first. He wrapped the strap securely around the washer. She pushed the washing machine onto the dolly, its weight shifted, and he was able to roll it out of the room with comparative ease. He followed suit with the toilets and the remaining mattress, and when he came back from the dumpster he carried a crumpled brown paper sack, which he thrust at her.
“What’s this?”
“Peace offering,” he said, his voice gruff. “You were right. It was an accident, and I shouldn’t have blamed you. Definitely shouldn’t have cussed in front of a little kid.”
“Nothing she hasn’t heard before,” Letty said guiltily. She opened the bag and pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine and two plastic cups.
“It’s screw-top, because I figured you might not have a bottle opener, but it’s not cheap screw-top.” He shoved his hands in the back pocket of his jeans and looked at her uneasily. “You drink, right?”
She smiled despite herself. “I’ve been known to.”
He held out another bag. “This is for your little girl.”
It was a pint bottle of chocolate milk. “Her name is Maya.”
“I knew that,” he said, bristling.
“That’s nice of you,” Letty said. She held up the bottle and showed it to her niece. “Maya?”
“Chocolate milk!” Maya snatched the bottle from Letty’s hand.
“What do you say?” she prompted.
Maya was busy trying to remove the plastic seal from the bottle’s neck. “Thanks.”
“Yes, thank you,” Letty said, remembering her own manners. “How’s the toe?”
“Hurts like a mother.”
“Well,” she said, feeling uneasy. “Guess I better get back to work now.”
“What about food?” he asked.
“Ava gave us a late lunch,” Letty said. “I’ll hit the grocery store in a few minutes.”
“Mom wanted me to check the fridge, to see if it works,” he said, pointing to the kitchenette area just outside the bathroom door. There was a single-bowl stainless-steel sink, which was piled with a jumble of sixties-era electric percolators, and as advertised, an apartment-size refrigerator sitting beneath a chipped Formica counter that held two electric burners.
“I’ve been so busy clearing the place out, I haven’t even gotten to the kitchen,” Letty admitted.
Joe knelt on the floor and opened the fridge door. He put his hand inside and shrugged.
“Needs a good cleaning, but it’s cold.” He stood up and dusted his hands on his backside.
“Looks like you’re good to go,” he announced.
Letty followed him outside. A pair of elderly women sat on rusting metal chairs in front of the unit two over from hers. They were dressed alike, in flowered pastel blouses, white knit pants, and pastel sun visors. One was tall and skinny, with long bony arms and short gray hair, and the other was shorter, softer, and rounder, with shoulder-length hair worn in a stiff pale blond pageboy.
“Hello there, Joseph,” the tall skinny one said, peering up at Letty from behind thick tinted glasses.
“Hey, Miss Ruth,” Joe said, nodding. “Miss Billie.”
“Who’s your friend?” the round one asked. She wore cat-eye glasses on a chain around her neck and she put them on now and stared, unsmiling, at Letty.
“Oh, uh, this is Letty.”
“Hello,” Letty said.
“Are you moving in?” The skinny one pursed her lips and shook her head. “To the storage unit?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Letty said, lapsing into the Southern manners Mimi had drummed into both her granddaughters. “I’ve spent the day cleaning it out. Joe just hauled the last load out to the dumpster.”
“We noticed,” Ruth said. “We were wondering what was going on over there.” She nodded in the direction of Letty’s room. “Ava didn’t notify us that she would be renting out the storage unit.”
“It was a last-minute decision,” Joe said cheerfully. “Okay, ladies. If you have any questions, I’m sure my mom can answer ’em.”
Ruth, the tall one, pointed an accusatory finger at Maya, who clung to Letty’s hand. “Whose child is that?”
Maya retreated behind Letty, hiding her head.
“Mine,” Letty said, instantly on the defensive.
“Joseph?” Ruth said, raising her voice. “Is Ava aware that this person has a child?”
“Yup,” Joe said. “Like I said, any questions, concerns, bring ’em up with Mom.” He scuttled away toward the parking lot without even a backward glance.
“Well…” Letty said. Her hand was on the doorknob. “Nice to meet you ladies.”
“Dear?” Billie said. “Since you’re new, I think I should let you know that most of us here at the Murmuring Surf have been staying here for years.”
“Years and years and years,” Ruth added.
“We’re used to things a certain way,” Billie said.
“Ava never used to rent to people with young children during the season,” Ruth said sternly. “We thought we had an understanding.”
“You have something against children?” Letty heard her own voice harden.
“Only when they’re living in the room in proximity to ours,” Ruth said. She peered over her glasses at Maya, examining her as she might a dead roach. “This is a quiet place. That’s how we like it. No stinky diapers in the trash cans, no screaming kids splashing in the pool, leaving toys all over the place for folks to trip over.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Letty said, turning to leave.
These two! Terri would have called them nosy old biddies, or worse. She knew the type from her own childhood. She had a vivid memory of pursy-lipped church ladies, peering at her and Tanya as Terri dropped them off at whatever Sunday school was closest to wherever they were living at the time.
“Isn’t your mother coming to church? Where do you girls live? Will your daddy be picking you up after services?”
Letty, mortified, would shrug and look away, but Tanya, her feisty little sister, wasn’t having it. “None of your business!” she’d shout.
“Where’s the child’s father?” Ruth asked, one eyebrow raised expectantly.
Maya wound her arms tightly around Letty’s knees, sniffled, and ducked her head.
“I really couldn’t say,” Letty said. She gave the two a curt nod, picked up the child, and retreated to her room.