“And now what? You’ve been plotting? Reporting my plans back to him? Youhavebeen spying on me!”
Cece had never really conceived of it as spying, but seeing Lorraine writhe in anger and humiliation is mildly entertaining; after all, this is the woman trying to put her out of a job. “Let’sjust say you haven’t been the only one collecting signatures. What? Did you think we wouldn’t be prepared for the town hall?”
“And to think I let you drink my good wine.”
“Just admit it—this has never been about the cove. You just don’t want more people coming around.”
“This is about protecting our natural resources and maintaining the authenticity of our neighborhood.”
“You think a few rows of oyster bags are gonna destroy an ecosystem? Do you even know what oysters do? They clean the water!”
Lorraine seems to have gotten over the shock of Cece’s betrayal. She pushes the pen through the clipboard. “I’ll expect you off my property by the end of the week.”
“Suits me,” Cece says, her cheeks hot, fingernails itchy.
“Well, I best be going,” Lorraine says and spins in her Birkenstocks. “You two behave, now. We can’t have the cops getting called every time there’s a row in this house.”
“What’s a row?” Lacy asks after Cece’s slammed the front door closed.
“It’s nothing,” Cece says, clutching her hands to make them stop shaking. What’s just happened?Suits me—what had she been thinking?! Now she’ll have to find a new place to live. Lorraine! Cece hates herself for once thinking so fondly of her, for looking up to her!
“Was she talking about when the police came? When my parents were fighting?” Lacy says.
Cece is too drained to lie. “Yes.”
The girl goes quiet, a different quiet from her usual sassy silence. She moves to the couch, Bernard sniffing at her heels, andplops down into the cushions. Cece wants to comfort the girl but doesn’t know what to say or do. There’s so much she doesn’t know about the situation, and even if she did, she’s no mature adult, dispenser of wisdom.
After a while, Lacy speaks, her voice agitated and uneven. “My dad isn’t a bad guy.”
“I don’t think he is.”
“But people in this neighborhood do. People like that woman.”
“People don’t always know what’s really going on. They just pass judgment,” Cece says, the guilt welling in her chest.
Lacy chews her bottom lip. “What I said before. About my dad leaving. That isn’t entirely true. I mean, he did leave, but that’s only because my mom asked him to…or at least I think that’s what happened. I don’t know all the details, but I know it wasn’t all his idea. I mean, it’s not like he abandoned me.”
“No one thinks that.”
“I just get angry, you know? I wish he didn’t live so far away.”
Cece wants to sit next to Lacy and embrace her, hold her close, but she doesn’t know how the girl will react and is wary of crossing boundaries. Lacy already suspects she’s her father’s girlfriend. Cece can’t risk confusing her more. “You can be as angry as you want,” she says. “That’s your right.”
By now the house is dark, and Cece turns on some lights. She lingers in the kitchen to give Lacy space. She drinks a tall glass of tap water, then another. Cece feels closer to Morgan than she ever has, like she’s glimpsed therealMorgan, like he’s finally let her in. Except that he hasn’t. Whatever she’s learned or understands about him is because of Lacy. And what she knows now—Siobhan’s temper, his money problems, his daughter—only makes everything seem more convoluted. And even if it were possible…even if they tried…could such a man, a good and decent man, make Cece happy, with all his material limitations?
The faucet leaks, a steady and ominousplunk. Why had she gone to the door? She should have just stayed in the bathroom and let Lacy handle it. Where will she move? Jonathan’s place, of course—he’ll be more than happy to take her back. It’s the simplest solution. It makes sense. She can commute from Stamford up to Noank. The drive will be hell, but she doesn’t see any other option.
It’s around ninethirty when Morgan pulls into the driveway. Cece’s sitting on the porch stairs and finishing her third glass of wine (she deserves it after today), citronella candles burning at her feet.
He takes his baseball cap off and runs thick fingers through his matted hair. He looks worn-out, puffy bags under his eyes. She offers him a seat next to her, which he accepts after lumbering up the stairs, stepping gingerly, as if he might wake his daughter inside.
“Sorry. I had no idea that was gonna take so long. Siobhan’s lawyer is a nightmare.”
“That must mean they’re good.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”
“She’s trying for full custody?”
