Chapter 4
Thursday morning gave rise to a sun so bright the light bounced off the sidewalks and warmed the ocean air. A warm June day, the weatherman said. Beach weather.
Nell walked the few blocks to Izzy’s house, smelling the grass and lilac bushes. The tang of the sea.
When Izzy had suggested she and Nell do a morning run together, it made Nell chuckle. Nell’s idea of a run no longer matched Izzy’s, even though for years they’d pretended it worked. Pregnancy was definitely slowing down her niece’s speed.
“Maybe I can keep up with you at last,” she’d said, and happily agreed to join her.
Nell rounded the corner onto Marigold Road and spotted Sam and Izzy out front.
“G’morning, Nell,” Sam called out as she approached the small frame house.
The Perry home sat in the middle of the block, surrounded by well-tended lawns, leafy trees, and nicely painted houses. Unpretentious and inviting. Friendly, was how Ben described the street.
Once Sam’s bachelor home, it had become a reflection of both Izzy and Sam after she moved in and added her own touches. The clean lines, airy rooms, and white walls highlighted Sam’s photography, while the sleek wooden furniture and brightly colored cushions spoke of Izzy’s warmth. It was homey and perfect, with a deck off the back and a lightly forested trail that wound down to the sea beyond.
“You’re running with us, Sam?”
Sam’s laughter closed the space between them. “You know I don’t punish my body that way, Nell. Now, give me a boat to sail or game of pickup basketball and you’ll see a healthy, happy guy before you.” He lifted the camera hanging around his neck. “But today I’m off to take some photos for a magazine article on scuba diving and surfing in these remarkable waters we call home. I’m just keeping my bride company for a few minutes.”
Izzy was kneeling down beside the sidewalk, tugging out a few stray weeds. She sat back on her legs, shielding her eyes against the sun. “He’s being vigilant, Aunt Nell. He’s starting to hover. Sam’s as bad as you are. Thinks if I hiccup, labor will begin. And to top it off, he insists on taking snapshots of me every time I turn around. This baby is going to be seeing tiny dots of light its whole life.”
Sam’s response was a kiss to the top of her head, followed by a gentle pat to the round of her belly—a good-bye touch to his soon-to-be-born child.
“See what I put up with, Nell?” he called back as he climbed into his car. “Sass. Nothing but sass. That’s what pregnancy has done to her.” He blew Izzy another kiss and drove off, his sandy hair flying in the breeze as he drove down Marigold Drive toward the beach.
“I do love that man,” Nell murmured, watching him disappear.
“Yeah. Me, too,” Izzy said, still crouched on the ground beside a growing pile of weeds. She finally pulled herself to a standing position and peeled off her gardening gloves.
“So, where to?” Nell asked. “Somewhere easy, I hope.”
“Definitely.” Izzy pulled on a Sox cap and tugged her hair through the band in back. “I was thinking maybe Paley’s Cove? We can go the long, easy way, through Cliffside, then down to the beach. It’s warm and sunny—the ocean breeze will feel good.” Izzy began walking down the street while she talked.
“That’s not too far for you?”
“Nope, it’ll be fine.”
Nell looked at her sideways, catching an odd tone of voice that didn’t fit a carefree run with her slow-moving aunt. It was slightly clipped, a tone Izzy didn’t use often. As if she had a mission beyond that of good health.
“You okay, Iz?”
Izzy nodded. “Fine.”
They moved on in silence for a while, Nell effortlessly matching Izzy’s pace for a change. Soon the road twisted and turned and the smaller homes in Izzy and Sam’s neighborhood disappeared, giving rise to the elegant estates that spread out over the rise of land called Cliffside. The roads here were lined with centuries-old granite walls, waist-high and broken only by iron gates that marked entry into well-manicured yards and stately homes. Stands of hemlock and sweet bay magnolias partially hid the homes from view.
Most of the homes were owned by longtime residents. Some were older than the town itself. Every now and then a narrow pathway meandered between two properties to the sea beyond, the serpentine path opening into the vast blue of endless water.
“Franklin’s place is the largest of them all,” Izzy observed as they passed an elegant estate. The house behind the wall looked as if it had grown directly out of the granite rock upon which it was built. Several smaller houses were positioned about the property, discreet and private.
“It’s the original family estate, according to Birdie. Generations of Danverses were born and died in this house. It’s magnificent.”
“Tamara talks a lot about the house when she’s in the shop. She loves living here—the mystery, the glamour, the dark hallways. She says the place is full of secret passages and doorways that open up below the cliff, right onto the beach. It’s interesting how a place can change a person. I swear her voice is even changing. Can you imagine bringing up a baby here?”
The shrill of a siren behind them drowned out the end of the sentence. Izzy and Nell spun around just as Tommy Porter rounded the corner in his police car, a light flashing on top.
Instinctively, they stopped and looked around to find something worthy of Tommy’s sound effects. Just then, the wide electric gate guarding the Danvers’ driveway opened. Franklin and Tamara stood just inside. Between them, his head hanging low, a tangle of wet blond hair falling over his forehead and a surfboard strapped to his back, was Justin Dorsey.
Tommy slid out of the car and walked over to Franklin Danvers, his eyes taking in the silent Justin. “Hey, Mr. Danvers, what can I do for you?”
Franklin shook Tommy’s hand and motioned toward Justin. “We’ve got a little problem, Tom.”
For a minute Tommy didn’t say anything. Then, “So, what’s he done now?”
Justin looked up briefly. Then he spotted Nell and Izzy standing on the side of the street, and a sheepish look of relief washed across his face. My rescuers, it said.
“Trespassing,” Franklin said. “And upsetting my wife.”
Tommy looked over at Tamara. Through a slit in her silky green caftan, a strip of tan skin and bikini straps peeked through.
She looked upset, that was true. Nell felt a strange urge to protect the young man—not for personal reasons, really. But accusing him of trespassing on the Cliffside Beach was silly. At one time or another, nearly every Sea Harbor teenager spent time on the private coastline that wound around behind the properties. Izzy herself had probably spent some time on the rocks, watching surfers master the high waves that often developed where the land jutted out.
“Trespassing?” Nell looked at Justin, then Tommy.
“Well, sure,” Tommy said. “Legally speaking, anyway. There are signs all over saying it’s a private beach.”
But his reluctance to immediately slap a fine on the young man—or arrest him—was as evident as Tamara Danvers’ uncomfortable stance.
She stood silent, as if she wished she were anywhere but standing between her husband and a young ponytailed surfer, his hair still wet and sand coating his legs. She took a step closer to Franklin and away from Justin.
Justin looked uncomfortable, standing in a sleeveless wet suit. He shoved one hand in the thigh pocket, his feet shifting back and forth.
“Justin?” Tommy focused all his attention on Janie’s cousin now. “Is there anything you want to say?”
Justin shrugged. Then the familiar smile came back, but forced this time. “Hey, Officer Tom, I was, like, trying to catch a couple waves.”
“Waves, my foot,” Franklin said. “I came home from the office unexpectedly and it’s a damn good thing I did. I went up to my bedroom to get something and spotted this kid through the window, down there on the lower terrace, hands outstretched like he was a moocher expecting a handout.” He glared at Justin. “You don’t belong here.”
Justin hung his head again and managed a weak “Hey, sorry. We were just talking, hanging out for a minute. Didn’t mean any harm, Mrs. Danvers.”
Tamara looked away, her jaw rigid.
“Hanging out? I don’t think so.” Franklin looked over at Tamara, who was now distancing herself from both Justin and her husband.
“I need to lie down,” she said. “Just let this go, Franklin.” A flash of anger appeared in her eyes, but it wasn’t clear who the object of her anger was.
Franklin frowned. “Tamara needs to rest—and I’m sure we all have more important things to do today than continue this conversation.” He looked sternly at Justin. “But I suggest we come to an agreement, young man. This is private property. You are trespassing and harassing my wife. I’ll ignore it this time because Tamara needs to get inside. But if you want to surf, try Good Harbor over in Gloucester. Or Long Beach. Not my backyard. I don’t want to see you back here again.”
With that, he nodded to Tommy, offered a polite smile to Izzy and Nell, and walked back through the iron gate.
While the gate slowly began to close, they caught a fleeting glimpse of the wealthy investment banker wrap his younger wife in a protective embrace and walk her slowly back down the cobbled drive to the house.
Justin heaved a sigh of relief.
Tommy walked over to him. “What is it with you, Dorsey? Mr. Danvers is a decent guy. He wouldn’t have called me just because you were surfing back there or walking the beach. You shouldn’t be bothering the people who live around here. Don’t you ever use that thick skull of yours to think?”
Justin stood in silence, one hand cupping a worn fanny pack on his waist and the other balancing his board.
“I think Franklin is just being overprotective of his wife, Tommy,” Izzy said.
“That’s his choice, right? Justin upset her apparently.”
“She’s pregnant,” Nell said.
Tommy shrugged. “Sure, makes sense, I guess. My ma always got prickly when she was having another one. You touchy, Iz?”
Izzy laughed. “You’ll have to ask Sam, Tommy.”
Tommy laughed, too, but when he looked away from the women and back to Justin, the smile fell away and his voice was stern. “As for you, I suggest you listen to what the man said. You’re becoming a major nuisance around here, and whether he’s overprotective or not, he could have slapped a fine on you for trespassing. You were lucky this time.”
Without waiting for an answer, he climbed back into the squad car, made a sharp U-turn, and drove back toward town.
“Close call, huh?” Justin said, catching up with Nell and Izzy as they headed down the hill toward Paley’s Cove.
“Tommy’s right,” Nell said. “You need to do as Mr. Danvers says.”
“Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, as if he’d already forgotten the suggestion—or the incident. He tucked the board beneath one arm and shifted his fanny pack, checking the clasp. “But Tom was cool, right? Do you think he’ll tell Janie?”
Izzy picked up a slow run down the hill, and Nell kept pace, both women ignoring the obvious answer to his question. Of course Tommy would tell Janie. In fact, he had probably already called her on his cell. Justin Dorsey is trouble, he’d be telling her.
“Where are you headed, Justin? Do you need help getting that board somewhere?” Nell asked.
“Hey, thanks, but no. I was running some errands for the clinic and used Janie’s car. It’s down at Paley’s Cove.” He picked up a little speed to keep abreast of the two women, his flip-flops slapping against the firm dirt path.
They rounded a curve in the road and began the gentle descent down to Paley’s Cove, spread out below them like a glistening half-moon.
Nell knew Izzy liked running here along the smooth sand, even though she seemed distracted today as they neared the curve of beach. Perhaps it was a result of the ruckus up at the Danvers place.
Or, as Ben would be quick to say, perhaps it was simply Nell’s imagination. Worrying without cause. She’d done too much of it lately.
“Guess I’ll leave you ladies here,” Justin said as they neared the water’s edge.
He looked around the beach for a minute, as if half expecting to see someone—perhaps Franklin Danvers coming after him with a shotgun. Then he forced a smile back to his face. “Gotta get back to the clinic. The printer doesn’t work again. I’m becoming indispensable over there, but they’re going to have to figure out how to get along without me soon.” He waved at old Horace Stevenson, sitting across the road on his porch, and then called out with a jubilant smile, “Have a great day, ladies! I sure am going to.”
And he was off, sprinting across the beach to the narrow park- ing lot.
“Great day?” Nell murmured. Justin seemed to be unaware that he’d almost gotten thrown in jail. She watched him as he strapped his board to the top of Janie’s car, wondering if Janie knew her car was running errands that included a trip to the beach—and a visit to Franklin Danvers’ wife.
Justin reached into the front seat, then closed the car door and walked a few yards to the steps, bending low over the granite wall, as if in thought. The tip of a cigarette glowed in profile. Nell wondered if something was wrong. But before she could call out, he crushed out the cigarette, climbed into the car, and was headed toward town and the clinic.
What did he mean, he’d be leaving the clinic soon? Nell wondered if Martin Seltzer was finally getting his way. But Justin seemed happy about the possibility, not sad. Was he quitting? She turned toward Izzy, wondering if she had the same thoughts about this unpredictable young man.
But Izzy’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. She had stopped running and was staring across the beach at the parking lot, one hand cupped over her eyes, squinting.
“Izzy?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, Izzy turned and scanned the beach, her gaze on the scattering of people. A young couple, lolling on a blanket. In the distance, some teenagers frolicked in the waves, pushing one another and laughing, the morning sun warming their tan, firm bodies.
“Are you all right?”
Izzy nodded slowly. “You’ll think I’m foolish. No, you’ll know I’m foolish.” She pointed back toward the stone wall that separated the parking lot from the sand, to a gray object near the spot where Justin had been smoking.
Nell hadn’t noticed it before—she’d been focused on Justin. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have given it a second glance even if she had seen it. People brought all kinds of things to the beach. From where she stood, it looked like a small beach chair.
“It’s the baby car seat,” Izzy said.
Nell looked again, nodded, waited.
“There isn’t a baby anywhere on this beach,” Izzy said. “And there wasn’t a baby here yesterday when I ran, or the day before that, or . . .” She stopped, her words falling to the sand. When she looked up, her face was pinched with worry. “It’s the same car seat that’s been here every day.”
“Maybe the mother is walking with her baby along the shore, beyond the breakers where we can’t see her,” Nell suggested. “Perhaps over on the Danverses’ beach. I’m sure it’s fine, Izzy.”
Izzy shook her head. No, the mother wasn’t walking along the beach. Izzy was sure of that.
And the baby wasn’t there, either.
There was only a car seat.