AFTER ISABELLE WHISKED MAYA AWAY for a much-needed afternoon nap, the Murmuring Surf regulars lingered in the parking lot even after the ambulance had departed—a rapt audience for Oscar Jensen’s first-person account of his recent ordeal.
He tightened a faded green-and-yellow-striped beach towel around his waist. “That guy was going to kill me.” He pointed to the scarlet stain on his crepey skin. “He had his arm around my neck and like to choked me to death.”
The crowd of women murmured their concern.
“And then Vikki—hey, it turns out she’s an honest-to-God FBI agent! Then, she hauls off and shoots him right in the foot. Didn’t even bat an eyelash. Pow! Just like on TV.”
Oscar looked over at Letty, who was mindlessly picking up the bloodied bandages, gauze pads, and other detritus left behind by the EMTs.
“Hey Letty, Letty,” he called. “That guy? I heard him say he’s Maya’s father. Is that right? How come he showed up here at the Surf? Was he trying to kidnap the kid?”
“Oscar!” Ava yelled, coming to Letty’s rescue. “That’s enough! Why don’t you go back to your room now? Put some ointment on your neck and a sock in your mouth.”
But Oscar was not easily discouraged.
“Man, what a weekend! First, I catch that prowler snooping around out here, then this morning, that Rooney guy tries to snatch Maya.…”
Ava threw a protective arm around Letty’s shoulder. “Come on over to my place now, hon. You look like you could use some peace and quiet.”
“And coffee?
“Definitely coffee.”
She’d just settled in at the table in Ava’s apartment when the downstairs door opened and a male voice bellowed up from below.
“Ava? Ava, are you here?”
Her hostess didn’t turn a hair. “No,” she hollered. “I’m not here. I’m off the clock. Come back tomorrow when the office is open.”
But the intruder was not to be deterred. They heard footsteps on the stairs.
Merwin Maples walked into the kitchen, out of breath from the climb and brandishing a battered aluminum walker.
“Now Ava,” he started. “This is an emergency. You see this walker? You see the legs? They’re all banged up. This thing is ruined.”
Ava poured coffee into a mug and handed it to Letty, then poured one for herself.
“What do you want from me, Merwin?”
“I think you need to buy Trudi a new walker, of course.”
Ava laughed. “Me? How is this my fault? Your wife is the one who turned her walker into a weapon.”
“But you’re the one who rented to that lowlife Rooney in the first place. And you’re the one who took up with Chuck, who invited that lowlife to move in here. I remember, I told Trudi, there’s something fishy with that character and his so-called wife. What was her name again?”
Letty spoke up. “Her name was Tanya, and she was my sister.”
“Oh. Well, uh, sorry to speak ill of the dead and all, but that doesn’t change anything,” he continued. “They were a gang of thieves.”
“And Tanya also happened to be Maya’s mother, in case you’re interested,” Ava said pointedly.
“Okay, but about the walker? These things cost money.”
“I’ll pay for the walker,” Letty said. “Trudi probably saved Maya’s life with it. Just buy a new one and save me the receipt, please. I’ll reimburse you.”
“Happy?” Ava said. She gestured to the door. “I’ll let you show yourself out.”
After they had the kitchen to themselves again, she went to a cupboard and brought out a tin of shortbread cookies. She lifted the lid, helped herself to a cookie, and offered one to Letty.
Letty dipped a cookie into the milky coffee and nibbled, remembering that she’d had no breakfast, or lunch.
“I’m sorry, Ava.”
“For what? Merwin? You don’t owe that old fool nothing.”
“No. For…” Letty made an all-encompassing gesture with her arms. “All of it. If it weren’t for Tanya, and me, by extension, none of this craziness would have unfolded right here on your doorstep. You did me a favor and took us in when I had no place else to go. You gave me a job and treated Maya and me like family. I want you to know that I’ll understand if you want me to leave now.”
“Leave? Why would I want that? You’ve been a godsend. Helped me out in the office. Got me thinking of ways to spruce up this old place, taught me how to use that damned new reservation software. You’ve made yourself pretty damn indispensable, Miss Letty Carnahan.”
“I doubt that,” Letty said.
“No, it’s true,” Ava insisted. “I’ll admit, I’ve been in a rut these past few years. Hadn’t had the energy or the gumption to give the motel the attention it needed.”
“No…”
“Yes,” Ava said. “Just between the two of us, I’ve started thinking maybe the time has come to sell the place.”
Letty raised a surprised eyebrow.
“I get offers all the time. People dropping notes in the mail slot, sending me emails, or just knocking on the office door. It’s developers who want to knock the place down and build another big resort hotel, or some of these damn hipster types who want to make it into one of those pricey boutique hotels.”
Even though they were alone, Ava lowered her voice. “It’s crazy the money these people are offering.”
“It makes good business sense,” Letty said. “You’ve got about three hundred feet of unobstructed Gulf-front property here. But would you really consider selling the Murmuring Surf after all these years?”
“Well…” Ava’s voice trailed off. “The trouble is, I really love this old dump. I love all the families who started coming here when their kids were young, and now those kids are bringing their kids. They send me Christmas cards and birth and wedding announcements. And of course, our snowbirds, the regulars who’ve been wintering here for decades, they’re like family. I hate to think about how they’d feel if I were to sell the Murmuring Surf. Where would they go? We’re sort of the last of a dying breed here. And you know, every year or so, I’ll get a call from someone’s kids back home, telling me their nana or granddad has passed away, and they won’t be joining us this winter. Or worse, we’ll have one of our guests pass away while they’re down here.”
“That’s happened?” Letty asked, horrified. “People have died, right here in the motel?”
Ava gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Maybe half a dozen times over the years. That’s why I always ask our older guests for a phone number for their next of kin, up home. Just in case.”
“It’s none of my business,” Letty said, “but if you still love running the Surf, why should you sell out?”
“I just think it’s selfish on my part,” Ava said with a shrug. “I’m sort of sitting on a gold mine here. If I were to sell, Joe could start up a business of his own if he wanted to, and Isabelle, she wouldn’t have to worry about paying for college, or anything else for that matter.”
“And what about you?” Letty asked.
“I guess I’d do whatever people do at my age. Retire. Take up crossword puzzles or knitting. Maybe travel.”
Letty laughed. “I don’t see you as a knitter or a puzzler.”
“True. But this is Isabelle’s last year at home. She’ll head off to college in August. I haven’t let myself think about what happens after that.”
Letty nodded in sympathy. “That’s exactly how I’ve felt, ever since the day I found Tanya—back in New York. I’ve been living day to day, not daring to think about what happens beyond tomorrow, terrified that Evan, or the police, would try to take Maya away from me. That was Tanya’s biggest fear, you know.”
“You’re not much like your sister, are you?” Ava asked. “I mean, personality-wise.”
“Tanya was like my mom. Beautiful, impulsive, a free spirit. I’m probably more like my grandmother, who helped raise us. We were pretty much on our own by the time we were Isabelle’s age. I’ve always just been boring and dependable.”
“Nothing boring about being dependable,” Ava insisted. “I don’t like to hear you run yourself down like that, Letty. You are every bit as beautiful as your sister was, but in a different way. You’re sort of a wise old soul, aren’t you?”
“That’s what my grandmother used to tell me,” Letty admitted. “I think me moving to New York to try and become an actress was just a way of trying to rebel against what everybody expected of me.”
“Nothing wrong with spreading your wings and following a dream, especially when you’re young,” Ava pointed out. “I wish I’d done that, instead of getting married when I was just a kid.”
“I’m not so young anymore,” Letty reminded her. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t have a college degree, or a career, or a home. What I do have is a four-year-old child depending on me to make better choices than her mother did.”
“You will,” Ava said, patting Letty’s arm. “What’s going to happen with Maya now?”
“As it turns out, Tanya had a will. And she named me as Maya’s guardian.”
“A will? And she wasn’t but, what did you say? Thirty-two?”
“It was very unlike Tanya,” Letty agreed. “She’d gone through a lot, but I think for the first time in her life, she was thinking about someone besides herself. I’m not saying she was a model citizen. I mean, she was a willing participant in Declan Rooney’s scheme, and then she let Evan think he was Maya’s father, but that was her idea of self-preservation.”
Ava scowled. “God knows that rascal Rooney wasn’t father material.”
“And neither, as it turns out, is Evan Wingfield. I’m not naïve enough to believe that him being arrested today is the end of this story. He’ll fight tooth and nail to get what he wants.”
“Even from a prison cell? Even after he finds out he isn’t Maya’s biological father?”
“It was never really about Maya. This is about money. He’s probably got a lawyer arranging bail right this minute.”
“Would a judge really award custody of a child to a murderer?” Ava asked.
Letty drained her mug and stood up. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”