Perry glared back at him. “That was my understanding.”
“Good, good. Say, we should play a round of golf. You around this weekend?”
But Perry was already making his way to the board’s table. It was five minutes past start time, and he slid into his seat beside Madeline Whitcomb, the Club’s secretary. “Shall we get started?” she asked.
Instead of returning to the dining room, Bob Engel lingered. Perry ignored this, half-listening instead as the meeting got underway. Water tests were shared by the Candlewood Lake Authority. A review of building maintenance costs was submitted. The social chair gave an update on the lobster bake preparations. Perry made no notes, and asked no questions. It was eye-opening to realize the meeting could run itself without him. In fact, the whole Club, it seemed, could.
It was at the end of the meeting, during questions and comments, when things suddenly required his attention. A woman in a pink summer dress stood up in the front row. “My name is Amy Fuller, and my family just moved in to the cove. We’d like to apply for membership.”
There was a buzz of welcome and greeting. But as Perry sat back listening, something about the woman’s pink dress and the earnest look on her face did something to him. “Why?” he blurted out.
She hesitated. “Why? Well, because we have three kids. It seems like a nice close-knit community.”
Across the room Bob Engel leaned against the wall. Perry couldn’t help it, he started to chuckle. He felt bad for the woman, he could see she was confused. Hell, so was he.
He pushed his wheeled chair back and swung around toward the windows. Candlewood Lake stretched across the clubhouse beach like a navy ribbon. The clubhouse doors were wide open, and a brisk breeze swirled through the room. “Close-knit indeed,” Perry said.
Beside him, the vice president, Dan Gibbons, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Good old Dan, whom Perry regularly paired up with on the golf course. Who hadn’t thought to give him a courtesy call either before or after their little emergency meeting. Dan smiled at Amy Fuller. “What you need to do is file an application,” he told her. He turned to the social chair, at the end of the table. “Can you furnish this nice woman with one, please? And give her a list of members. She’ll need a sponsor.”
Perry slapped the table. “No need. I’ll sponsor her,” he said.
Dan turned. “You know one another?”
“No. But why not? This is what we do here in Candlewood Cove.” Perry looked around the table, taking in the odd expressions from his fellow board members. Of course they’d all seen the photo of Emma. He cringed, imagining the women, and worse, the men, looking at his daughter in all her vulnerability. Emma had not just exposed herself. She’d exposed them all.
“Uh, thank you,” the woman said. She sat down, clutching the application.
“You’re welcome,” Perry said, too loudly. “Happy to sponsor another fine family in our community.” He stood up. “We take care of each other, right?” He turned to Mike Barberie. “Mike, remember when your daughter, Milly, fell off the dock a few years ago? Amelia dove in and pulled her out of the water, remember that?”
Mike nodded. “Couldn’t forget it if I tried. That was a scary moment.”
“Scary. Yes, it was. But we all jumped in to help, didn’t we, Mike? Because that’s what this community does when one of our own is in trouble.”
Mike blinked, wondering where Perry was going with this.
“And Caleb Richter. Where’s Caleb’s dad?” Perry looked around the room for Brad. “I recall Caleb stole a canoe last summer.” A murmur ran through the room.
“And we didn’t press charges, did we? We figured out a way for him to return it and save face. We let him work it off raking the beach each morning. Isn’t that right, Brad?”
Brad Richter didn’t look pleased to be reminded of this, let alone in front of an audience. He crossed his arms. “My son worked it off, just as he said he would.”
“Because we gave him a second chance,” Perry reminded them, sharply. “Because kids make mistakes. Right, Brad?”
Brad Richter excused himself and exited through the side doors.
Dan Engel put a hand on Perry’s arm. “I think now is a good time to wrap things up. Let’s call the meeting to a close.”
But Perry shook him off. “I’m not done here.” Perry paused. His heart was pounding. “Our kids grow up here, and we keep an eye out for them. When they’re swimming out to the dock, or out on the boat. Or getting in over their head at someone’s house party where booze is being served to underage kids. Because around here we’re family!” Perry’s voice rang in his ears and echoed through the hall. The silence that followed was painful.
Across the room in the doorway, Jim was shaking his head, gently, as if to say, “Enough.” But even Jim couldn’t help him now.
Perry offered Jim a sad smile. “It’s okay, Jimmy. I’m done now.” To the woman in pink, glancing around nervously, Perry apologized. “You should apply for membership here. Everything youthink you see?” Here, Perry turned and gestured to the ballroom. The view. The sunlight streaming in. “It’s not real. But it’s perfect.”
Perry was halfway up his driveway, his head still spinning, when he saw someone standing on the front stoop. A boy, about Emma’s age.
“May I help you?” He was in no mood to buy anything.
“Mr. Goodwin?”
