“Oh, no, I’ve been here for a little bit,” the other man said evasively. “I just wanted to get an idea of how long it might be before we could start up again.”
“Okay, well, when are you coming back?” Tom asked.
Seth smiled in a conciliatory way. “You see, we’re not actually insured or bonded for any kind of repair work. We only do routine maintenance. We can’t do any construction or painting or anything like that. It would be illegal.”
Rosie seemed to accept this explanation, but Tom frowned at him. Tom was not licensed orbondedor even into that kind of thing. “What about in, like, your free time?” he asked.
“I wish I could, but, you know. We just had a baby,” Seth said, not even considering it. “My wife would kill me if I took on some kind of construction project.”
“I know,” Rosie said softly. “How’s the baby? It’s Harper, right?”
“Amazing,” said Seth. “So busy. Thanks for the play gym, by the way.” He lifted his phone so they could see his lock screen, which depicted a chubby toddler of at least one year of age. He looked between Tom and Rosie. “I’ve got to get home, but if you guys need a break, just give me a call. Come have a drink down-island or something.”
They waved him off, and he got back into his car, speeding away quickly down the drive with a half-hearted wave. There were no other car sounds once he was gone—just the distant gobble of the turkeys and the faraway noise of the ocean. Tom felt an immediate sense of foreboding when he looked back at the darkened inn.
“It was nice to see him, wasn’t it?” Rosie said wistfully.
“Uh-huh,” said Tom, who didn’t want to disagree with her, especially since he’d half expected the first of Rosie’s male relatives he encountered since their divorce to take him out behind the woodshed a bit. Though he was also not sure there hadbeen anything nice about the guy showing up only to not lift a single finger.
Rosie sent him a hurt look at this lack of enthusiasm.
“Babe,” he said, defending himself. “We don’t have to get started tonight. You wanna call him back? I’m all for going out and getting a drink instead. Instead of any of it.”
On firmer ground now, Rosie sniffed and firmed her mouth in an expression he used to kiss off her face if it was directed at him. She turned on the flashlight feature in her phone and marched up the front steps. She pulled the sanitation notices off the front door and stuffed them into her purse.
“No,” she said haughtily. “They’ll come when it’s all cleaned up. Which we should do now while you’re still here to help.”
7
Tom’s first impression of the reception area was that it was very cold. The second was that it was very dark. And the third was that it smelled bad: a damp, musty aroma of wet and creature.
Tom’s housekeeping was notoriously lackluster, but he didn’t think he’d ever been responsible for a smell like that. He winced and wedged the front door open to encourage more airflow. Rosie gasped and lifted the neck of her pretty silk blouse to cover her nose.
Tom couldn’t see an obvious source of the smell. But it was dark. He fumbled with the switch panel near the door, which didn’t turn any lights on.
“The power’s not still out, is it?” Tom asked.
“Richest county in the state. I’m sure it was back within a couple days,” Rose said. “Maybe a fuse blew in the storm.”
She coughed into her blouse. Tom suppressed the urge to rub her back, a thing that didn’t actually help her when herasthma was flaring up but had always made him feel better about it.
“Do you know where the box is?” Tom asked.
“No.” Rosie took several steps back, lingering in the doorway.
“Do you want to stay here while I go look for it?” Tom offered.
Rosie briefly closed her eyes, then cleared her throat. “No. Obviously, the monsters would eat you first.”
Tom wanted to squeeze her for her bravery. Rosie hated mess, hated bugs and dirt, and hated scary movies and the dark. Her music was pop, her entertainment upbeat, and her beauty routine lengthy. But her aesthetic preferences weren’t a personality trait—she crushed her foes in size-five heels.
The reception area was clear of storm debris except for the sheets of plywood nailed over the windows. The storm hadn’t been strong enough to break the glass, although the entrance was along the east side of the inn, and Tom would expect most of the damage to be on the south and west sides of the building. But there was evidence everywhere that people had picked up and left quickly.
“It’s giving low-budget horror movie set,” Tom announced as they investigated the sitting room. The decor hadn’t changed at all since he was last here: heavy, dark wood paneling, pictures of sperm whales, scented knickknacks. It looked like it was home to a nineteenth-century whaler who also made a lot of impulse purchases at the mall.Moby-Dickmeets Yankee Candle. “You could always rent it out for nonunion productions. You know. Film students. Porn.”
Rosie didn’t laugh, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “I was actually thinking it reminds me of Pripyat. The city by Chernobyl. Where they have all the endangered animals wandering around the abandoned buildings because people can’t live there anymore?”
“I saw that documentary too!” Tom said, pleased. “The Zone of Alienation. I kept hoping for a fox with two heads or something.”
