Lottie laughed. “Well, that’s doubtful, too, what with the fair and everything leading up to it. What about next week?”
“Too late.”
“Too bad. You could always come here, but we’re booked solid until after Labor Day.”
“I figured as much. Well, thanks, Lottie. If you hear of anything, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me in mind.”
“No problem.” Then Lottie hesitated. “Wait. What about the fire station?”
“The fire station?”
“There’s a big room that they use for meetings, but those are mostly at night. There’s a table and chairs. And a small kitchen with a microwave and fridge, so you could bring food or make tea or whatever. I know it’s town property, but . . .”
“But if no one was told . . .”
“Well, then, no one would know.”
It went without saying that “no one” referred to the politicos in Edgartown, because Chappy was governed by them.
“It will only be for ten days.”
“I’ll let you know. My husband’s a volunteer fireman.” The last sentence wasn’t really news because, at one time or another, most Chappy year-rounders were.
“You’re my savior, Lottie,” Annie said.
“Let’s hope it works. If not, I’ll keep my radar on for something else.”
They hung up and Annie vowed to get Lottie something special for her trouble. Maybe something handcrafted by Annie’s dear friend Winnie Lathrop, an Aquinnah Wampanoag who lived up island—perhaps a piece of her pottery bowls or a pair of wampum earrings. Annie didn’t think the gift would be considered graft . . . but on the outside chance that she could be wrong, she’d be sure not to mention it to law-and-order John.
Returning to the spreadsheet, she began to consider topics for the blog posts. Sometime after two o’clock there was a knock on the cottage screen door.
“Hey, Annie, are you in there?” It was Lucy, John’s younger daughter, and she sounded in distress.
Annie closed her eyes, counted to five (Lucy wouldn’t be patient enough to wait for her to reach ten), then said, “Come on in, honey. I’m in the writer’s room.”
* * *
“She’s impossible.Impossible,” Lucy said as she marched in.
As badly as Annie wanted to ask if Lucy was talking about Abigail or her mother, she suppressed it.
“I’m serious, Annie. I’m going to run away.” She flopped down on the beanbag chair that Annie had tucked into the corner for when she wanted a timeout from the ergonomic office chair with lumbar support and headrest that she’d splurged on when she’d moved into the cottage. And for when Lucy visited.
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know.” She coiled the end of her caramel-colored single plait that she’d recently started wearing draped over one shoulder. The small splash of freckles around her pixie-like nose was one of the few hints of childhood that, so far, she’d retained. “They’ll find me if I’m on Chappy. Maybe I’ll hitch a ride up island. Do you think Winnie can put me up in that big house of theirs?”
Annie smiled. “I slept on Winnie’s floor one night with Bella, when Bella was a baby. But I’m not sure they have a spare room, what with Winnie’s family—her ‘clan,’ as she affectionately calls them—growing every year. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Lucy moaned. “Itreallysucks.Shereally sucks. Why can’t I have a sister who doesn’t suck?”
Wheeling away from the small desk and moving closer to the beanbag, Annie said, “Well, I never had a sister, so I can’t help you there. Sorry.”
“All she does is sit on the bed with her earbuds stuck in her ears, listening to music while she looks at stupid clothes on her computer. Like she needs a drop-dead wardrobe because she has somewhere special to go.” She rolled her eyes. “She won’t talk to me. And worse, she totally ignores Restless.Restless!Why would she ignore him? What’d he ever do to her?”
Restless was the adorable dog that John had adopted from the shelter. He had grown a lot over the summer; he was black and white and fluffy, and John was convinced he had a good deal of Bernese Mountain Dog in him. Most of all, Restless loved people, and people loved him back.
“I can’t imagine he did anything. But I do know it must be hard for her right now. She cares a lot about you and your dad, but she made no secret about not wanting to live here. Things in Plymouth must have been really uncomfortable for her to have come back.” Annie was rather proud of herself for sounding calm and understanding about the latest bit of turmoil that had arrived on yesterday’s two thirty boat.
