Gladys shuffles back over to the table. “She’s coming up this weekend.”
The rich, spicy scent of tomato sauce and melted cheese waft up from the dish between us. My stomach growls, loudly. Ispent the day cleaning all six cabins to prepare for the holiday weekend, and I’m wiped. Gladys slides the spoon from my hand and clucks her tongue at me.
“Sit your ass down before you fall over, baby girl. Did you eatanythingtoday?”
I scowl at her. “Oatmeal. A granola bar around noon. The last renters in the Lopez cabin practically destroyed the kitchen. And don’t get me started on what they left in the hot tub.”
Gladys chuckles and sets a generous serving of lasagna in front of me. “Worse than the Fourth of July last year?”
“Much.” I shudder. Clancy banned those folks for life. But somehow, I think this weekend will be even worse.
“I’m going to Anacortes tomorrow for supplies. You comin’ with me?” Gladys asks.
I cover my flinch by shoving a bite of lasagna in my mouth. I shouldn’t. Every time I go to the mainland, I run the risk of leaving a footprint. Or running into someone who’ll recognize me. I have no idea if Bastian still has people looking for me. After all, he shouldn’t be able to buy friendships frominsideLeavenworth. But if his little cadre of shitheads are still out there—still alive—I’d be a fool to let myself get caught on a security camera.
If only the deep freeze in the basement weren’t almost empty. I haven’t been off the island in two months. And if Bella is coming to visit, Gladys probably needs to stock up on…well…everything. She can’t haul all that shit herself.
I tip the bottle of beer to my lips. It’s my last one, and this weekend, the temperature is supposed to hit ninety.
With a sigh, I dab my lips with a napkin. “I’ll drive. But you’re paying for the gas.”
Her triumphant smile should piss me off. It does, on some level. But Gladys is more than my only friend. She’s two partssurrogate grandmother and one part older sister who gets off on being a bad influence. And she’s fun. I don’t have a lot of fun.
“Did you talk to Clancy about getting an internet connection?” she asks through a mouthful of cheesy goodness.
I shake my head. “Don’t need one. Yours is good enough for me.”
“Baby girl, I won’t be around forever. You know that.”
A sudden wave of panic twists my stomach. “Gladys? Is something?—”
“No, no, no.” She waves her hand—with the fork—around and gives me her biggest smile. “I’m healthy as a whole herd of horses. Went to the doctor a month ago and he confirmed it.” With a wink, she glances down at the campground. “I should see if Mr. Silver Fox is taking on new patients. Or you should.”
“Don’t need a doctor,” I mumble into my beer. In truth, it’s been five years since I even had a checkup, and that was at a free clinic in Boise.
“You need something. Or…someone.” Gladys reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. Her veins stand out dramatically against her paper-thin, wrinkled skin. “I worry about you, Nat.”
“I’m fine?—”
“You’re not. Do you know why I’m either at the boathouse or sittin’ in the courtyard by the general store every single day?”
“So you won’t have to be in that big house all alone?” I ask.
Gladys’s eyes shimmer for a breath before she blinks her tears away. “That’s part of it. There’s so much of Donald there, some days, it hurts. But mostly, I make myself get up and go somewhere because no one should spend all their time alone. Have you talked toanyonethis week who wasn’t stayin’ at the resort?”
She already knows the answer. So when I keep my mouth shut, she clucks her tongue and sighs. “That’s what I thought.You’re too young to wither away and die here, Nat. It’s time you do somethin’ about that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Doc
“Fuckers.”Every few steps, I stoop to shovel another piece of trash into the black plastic bag. Bottle caps, cigarette butts, and burnt-out shells from too many fireworks littered the beach, but the needles sent me far over the edge. Thank God I had a small sharps container in my medical bag.
I’d contemplated spending the holiday weekend up here. But from the looks of things, I made the right choice staying home. The city was bad enough. From my house in West Seattle, I could see—and hear—the fireworks from Bainbridge Island and Lake Union. But money buys many things. Soundproofing. Anxiety medication. Noise-cancelling headphones.
By now, everyone is back at work, and the island is eerily quiet. Nat was scrubbing the boathouse deck when I arrived and barely nodded in my direction. Gladys was nowhere to be seen. Probably a good thing. That woman is a busybody of the highest order. I didn’t need another one of her “interrogations.”
Especially since the campsite was trashed. I hiked up to the little general store, bought a box of trash bags, and got to work.Now, I lug two of them, full to bursting, up the trail to the dumpster next to the boathouse.
