The distraction of Mrs. Grayson’s stroke was beginning to wane, as, fairly or unfairly, almost everything in life does, replaced by the human demands for shopping, cooking, and updates on celebrity divorces. She was still in the hospital, poor thing. She’d had a mild stroke but would recover her mobility in time. Her son had insisted on having her moved to Mass General in Boston and, when she was released, to a fancy rehab facility about forty-five minutes away. It was an irony that David had noted before: wealthy offspring who’d paid minimal attention to a parent when she was healthy spent vast sums on the best medical care when she got sick, especially if it guaranteed keeping them at a distance. Money is easier to dispense than affection, even for the most miserly.
Naturally, in his mind, David’s imaginary daughter would have been attentive to him throughout her life, freely dispensing as much affection as he’d earned. In gratitude for her kindness, he’d off himself at the first signs of irremediable trouble and spare her the expense and boredom of overseeing the slow decline. Abrupt endings were problematic in movies but rarely—after the initial shock—in life. He thought about death as often as he thought about the period of his life before he’d been born, which is to say, close to never. His view of the subject was an Epicurean one: it was not an event he would experience, so why worry? It would be like spending hours trying to figure out what to wear for his date with Zac Efron.
Beachy Keen was housed in a shingled building that, like the majority of the buildings on the Neck, appeared to be tilting in response to the prevailing winds. The girl at the register was young, probably not more than fifteen, and decked out in heart-shaped sunglasses and a beach costume that seemed like an unintentional but nonetheless unwholesome reference to Lolita. She greeted David with cheerfulness that struck him as both rehearsed and genuine. Seeing this sunny girl with her broad grin, David found it impossible to imagine Mandy standing in her place, playing the same role. No wonder it hadn’t worked out.
“If I can help you with anything,” the girl chirped, “just let me know. My personal favorite item in the store is the Beach Tree. It’s such a fun gift, they’re flying off the shelves. They’re our Signature Item!” She made this announcement with the reverence one might use to say “recipient of the Nobel Prize!” “And you’re in luck because they’re 70 percent off. Today only. Pretty great, right?”
David had a strong suspicion that “today only” was a variation on a lie, but he hoped he’d never return and have reason to find out the accuracy of his suspicion.
“I’ll check them out later,” he said. “I was hoping I might have a word with the owner, if she’s in.”
She cheerfully told him she’d check and stepped into an office in the back of the store. The owner strolled out, dressed for a Caribbean cruise, and shook his hand. She told him that she was delighted he’d come in, but that she had finished buying merchandise for the season.
“That’s not why I’m here,” he said, insulted that she thought he was a salesman hawking the kinds of trinkets the store stocked. Even worse was coming.
“Well, I’m not hiring now, either, so if that’s…”
“It certainly is not. I’m a friend of Julie Fiske, Mandy’s mother. I was hoping you could tell me a little about your experience with having Mandy work here.”
The owner looked at the girl behind the counter and indicated with a gesture of her manicured hand that he should precede her into her office. There was no window in this dark alleyway of a room, but an air conditioner was turned on, blowing in chilled, unbeachy air.
“I don’t like to talk about former employees in front of Trisha. She’s very bright for her age, as you could probably see.”
“She is extremely enthusiastic,” David said, a fact he’d taken, in this context, as evidence of a lack of intelligence.
Elaine nodded and smiled. “She’s a find. She came in one day and fell in love with our stock. She was looking for a gift for her mother’s birthday. She and her mother are very close.” There was an emphasis on this last bit of information that made David think it was a comment on Mandy’s relationship with Julie. “I actually had to talk her into working for me. I pleaded with her. I needed someone different from Mandy.”
The name clearly left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“I’m sorry that didn’t work out,” he said. “I’m helping her with her college applications, and it would be useful to understand why you let her go.”
Further prompting was unnecessary. “If you take everything we said about little Trisha’s personality, enthusiasm, and retail instincts and imagine the polar opposites, you’ll have some idea of what Mandy was like as an employee. I think it’s safe to say she was a complete disaster.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said. He didn’t doubt there had been problems, but considering how little was at stake here, “complete disaster” surely was inappropriate. “She spoke so highly of you and your merchandise.”
“It would have been nice if she’d shared some of that supposed enthusiasm with the customers. Sales have shot up since I let her go.”
“When was that, by the way?”
She produced the date instantly, the way one would produce the date of a marriage, birth, or release from prison. It struck David as almost alarmingly long ago.
“I suppose business must pick up at that time of year anyway, doesn’t it?”
“When you have an employee with an attitude, it doesn’t much matter what the date is. I don’t blame her entirely. I didn’t realize at the time I hired her that her mother was involved with Airbnb.” If that was the tone she used to utter “Airbnb,” how did she articulate “White Supremacist Movement”?
He decided it was best to turn officious. “Yes,” he said. “Short-term rentals are becoming an important part of the tourism industry worldwide.”
She eyed David and sipped from a lipstick-stained coffee cup with a sailboat on it.
“Oh, they certainly are. They bring in hordes of people who are used to shopping online for the lowest prices. At brick-and-mortar stores, they try to make deals, as if we’re all used-car salesmen. On top of that, the Airbnb hosts are undermining the established B and B’s who play by the rules, have standards, and are members of the Chamber of Commerce. And they make it ten times more difficult for legitimate, year-round, long-term tenants.” She put down the coffee cup and looked at him as if she’d scored an irrefutable point. “I’m surprised your friend Kenneth didn’t discuss this with you. He’s helped craft a petition to regulate them in Beauport, assuming we can’t ban them outright. I believe your friend Julie’s house was listed in his evidentiary findings.”
This was infuriating news. Kenneth had driven him home after Mandy’s call, had come into the house and been helpful setting Mrs. Grayson up until the ambulance arrived. He’d poked around with what David had assumed was simple gay-male curiosity about the window treatments. Now he realized he was responsible for letting the enemy into their camp. No doubt, he’d been looking for code violations and more “evidentiary findings” (please!) for his report.
He heard the door open in the shop and the bustle of a few people entering. “It’s nice and cool in here,” a woman said. “You’re lucky you get to work in air-conditioning all day.”
“Aren’t I?” Trisha enthused. “And I get to work surrounded all day by these incredible treasures you can’t find anywhere else. If you want to know my personal favorite…”
No, it was ridiculous for Mandy to have even tried working here.
David stood, ready to make his escape. “Kenneth mentioned she’s probably at a different store out here. Do you happen to know which one?”
“As far as I know, she hasn’t been out on the Neck since the day she left here with her tail between her legs. I’d have heard from the storeowner if they were considering hiring her.”
David thanked Elaine and said, “By the way, Mandy’s SAT scores were extraordinary.”
Elaine was already examining receipts. “I’m sure that will be of interest to someone,” she said.
* * *
As he was walking home, wondering where it was Mandy went when she claimed to be going to her job, Michael called him.
“We’re at a dead end,” he said. “They’re not budging past the twenty-five thousand, and I’m afraid the whole deal is going to collapse. Renata pointed out a few problems with your lease that make it less airtight than I thought. I confess, I’m probably not as up on California statutes as I should be. To her credit, she’s begun looking again for something you can maybe afford. It turns out I had her wrong all these years. She invited me to a party her husband is throwing next week. Since you won’t be able to buy in Belle Reve or whatever that town is, let me know when I need to go back to my own apartment. Twenty-five thousand is better than nothing.”