“This just vacation for you?” Suze said.
“Stop the third degree,” Marie said, “and let the woman catch her breath.” She turned to Leslie. “She’s the mayor of Sound’s End and feels that gives her the right to pry into everyone’s life.” Her light tone took most of the sting out of the rebuke.
“Not right, but responsibility,” Suze said. “This is a nice little town and I just want to keep it that way.”
This isn’t a woman to think kindly of a prostitute on a summer holiday, Leslie thought. A car drove slowly into the driveway diagonally across from the Rogers Cottage, and a collective sigh went up from the three women. As a tall, nicely built man climbed out, leaned into the backseat, and pulled out a plastic bag, Suze said, “That’s Brad DeVane. Isn’t that a wonderful name? Sounds like a western hero. We don’t know much about him except that he’s a New York City cop who’s here for a few weeks. I think he’s getting over some kind of trauma and he’s pretty evasive about it. He’s been here since Monday. He works out, I understand, and spends most of the rest of the day closeted in that cottage, coming out in the late afternoon to swim. I think he’s really sad about something. Maybe he lost his wife or his partner was shot in a gang war.”
“Suze, cut it out. You’ve romanticized him into something bigger than life—the stereotypical brooding hero,” Marie said. “To me he just looks sad all the time.”
Tongue in cheek, Leslie said, “You haven’t been able to check out his résumé, Suze?”
Suze looked a bit embarrassed. “Okay, I guess I do pry a bit, but I’m just being protective. What if he shot some big-time gangster and someone’s after him?”
“Oh Lord, Suze,” Marie said. “Get real.”
Leslie watched Brad go into the house. He really was well built, with great shoulders and a nice looking butt. She couldn’t see his face, however, and great bodies didn’t mean much. She’d certainly seen enough of them. “Is that his house?”
“That’s part of the same hotel you’re in. The Whitsons moved out about two years ago and the hotel bought it. He’s only here for a few weeks I gather.”
Leslie pointed to the house next to Brad’s, the second of the five that faced the ocean. “And that one?”
“That’s me,” Suze said, “and Marie and Joe are two houses down. The one in the middle belongs to Vicki Farrar and her daughter Trish, who just graduated from high school.” Suze sighed. “They’re a strange pair.” Leslie glanced at the grey-shingled house with the little silver sports car in the driveway. Cute car.
Marie chimed in. “Vicki is a predatory female if I ever saw one. She hits on every man between the ages of eighteen and fifty. Actually we don’t get many men over fifty but I think she’d hit on them, too. She’s been trying with Brad but getting nowhere.” She grinned. “It must frustrate the hell out of her. She’s in her thirties; tall, gorgeous, and stacked; and loves to show off her figure in tight shorts and bikini tops.”
Leslie quickly calculated. If Vicki’s in her thirties with a daughter already graduated, she must have had her really young.
“We’re all just a little jealous I think,” Abby added.
Marie continued, “Trish, on the other hand, is just ordinary looking. She’s eighteen but still gangly like a young teenager, all knees and elbows.”
“And flat chested, which makes Vicki furious,” Suze said. “Like it’s her fault. They make quite a pair. The lion and the mouse.”
The women chuckled. “I’m on the end,” Abby said. “The house belongs to one of my husband Damian’s friends and we’ve come here for the last three summers. The kids love it.” Leslie noted something almost defensive about the way Abby spoke.
“So, let’s get back to you, Leslie,” Suze said. “What do you do in the big city?”
Leslie had thought about how she’d answer that inevitable question. “I’m part of a small business. We deal in remodeling.” She did, in a way. They remodeled the rooms in Club Fantasy frequently, to suit the wishes of their clients.
“You mean interior decoration?” Suze said. “I could use some help with my living room.”
“Enough,” Marie said. “Leslie’s on vacation. Stop trying to get free advice.”
“Actually,” Leslie said, “we deal more with professional space.” She groaned inwardly, worried she’d forget what story she’d told.
“Oh, of course. Like doctors’ offices.”
Leslie said nothing. She didn’t want to lie, but she’d let these women jump to their own conclusions.
Abby glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get going. It’s getting time for me to make dinner. Mark and Tammy! Come on over and get ready to go inside for dinner!” she called as she stood, shook out, and folded the towel she had been sitting on and began to put sand toys into a large, yellow plastic pail. When the two children ran up, she introduced Tammy, aged seven and Mark, eight.
With perfect manners, Mark thrust out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Morgan.”
She shook. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Do you have any kids here?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not,” she said.
“I’m sure the Martinellis will be home soon,” Abby said to the slightly lonely looking little boy.
Maria glanced at her watch. “Absolutely. Phillip and Stacy should be getting home from their friend’s house within the next half hour. I’m sure they’ll be out and about a little while later.”
“Can we go out after dinner?” Mark whined. “Please, Mom.”
“You can go back outside after you finish eating,” Abby said. “I’ll sit on the porch and you can go only as far as you can see me clearly.” Mark’s face brightened.
“Me too?” Tammy said, putting her shovel and strainer into the bucket.
“You, too.”
Marie turned to Leslie. “Phillip’s ten and Stacy’s nine but they all seem to play together despite their different ages.”
“And your other children?” Leslie asked.
“Joey and Paul are gone now, both working upstate. Actually Joey’s engaged. Melissa’s seventeen and since she got her own car I only see her when she comes home to sleep. She does hair at the salon in the mall and works about a zillion hours a week. You’ll have to give her a try. She’s very talented. Tony’s fifteen. He’s working in construction with a friend in Rhode Island for the summer.”
“I’ll never keep them straight,” Leslie said, smiling ruefully.
“That’s okay, Joe and I sometimes get them tangled.”
“Kevin and I just have two,” Suze said. “Kevin Jr., he wants to be called KJ right now, is seventeen and a bit of a handful as you can imagine, and Eliza is fifteen and a typical teenaged girl.” Motherly pride filled her voice as she talked about her children. “They’re both around town somewhere. They’ll be working soon enough so my husband, Kevin, and I agreed that they could enjoy this summer without having to work.”
“Okay, kids, let’s get going,” Abby said and she, Mark, and Tammy plodded across the sand toward one of the wooden staircases that led up to the top of the seawall.
“She’s quite a case,” Suze said, checking to see that Abby was out of earshot. “Her husband parks her here so he can be free to do whatever he pleases during the week.”
“You don’t know that,” Marie said, shaking her head.
“Come