“Is it because Aunt Ivy doesn’t have a car?”
“Oh, she has a car all right. You might not remember it, but she’s had the same car since before you were born. Since beforeIwas born. It’s a champagne-colored Cadillac Coupe DeVille with leather seats, a real beauty. She has literally only driven it to church or to the market, so it’s in mint condition. She has someone start it for her throughout the winter, to make sure it’s still running. But you’d have to be crazy to attempt to back it out the driveway—it’s as big as a boat.”
“Is that why you picked me up in a rental?”
“Yeah. Even if I managed to maneuver the Caddy to the ferry, they probably would have charged me a double fare to board. It’s so wide, it would overlap two lanes!”
“What happened to your car?”
Zoey hesitated. If she wanted her niece to be honest with her, she supposed she’d have to lead by example. “If I tell you, do you promise not to tell Aunt Ivy? And not Mark, either?”
“I won’t even tell Moby,” her niece quipped, reminding Zoey so much of Jessica’s humor that the flash of nostalgia made her breath hitch.
Zoey slowed her pace. Meandering through the park toward the beach, she explained that she’d lost her job in December. Although she’d been eligible for unemployment benefits, she’d had to stop collecting once Sylvia got sick because the rules required a claimant to be available and actively seeking work. Since she was gone so often anyway, Zoey sublet her apartment, along with the use of her car, to the friend of a friend, in order to pay her mortgage.
She didn’t go into detail about Erik, simply summing up what happened as, “I sort of let my boyfriend talk me into a series of bad investments, so I lost a lot of my savings.” She fought the impulse to add,The moral of this story is not to allow someone to convince you to do something you’ll regret later.
Gabi gave her a playful nudge. “Wow. And I thought whatIdid was dumb.”
“What you didwasdumb.” Even though she was an aunt, Zoey could assume a mom-voice when she had to. “But as I said, I trust you not to do something like that again.”
Her niece came to an abrupt stop, dropped Zoey’s arm, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. At first, Zoey thought she may have been offended by her admonishment. Then she realized she was savoring the briny scent wafting toward them. Zoey understood; frequently the sight or sound or smell of the ocean stopped her in her tracks, too. As she glanced at Gabi’s profile, she wondered if the tear streaking her cheek was from the wind or from emotion. What was it she was feeling? Did she remember coming here with her mom?
Her eyelids snapped open. “Which way do you want to go?”
Zoey suggested they walk in the sand to the end of the jetty, which was easier than tramping atop of the uneven, rocky surface. Since the tide was out, they could make it all the way to the tip without getting their shoes wet. Gabi asked why there wereNO SWIMMINGsigns posted nearby.
“Because when the tide is in, there’s a lot of boat traffic. This is more of a walking beach. When it gets warmer, we can go swimming at Rose Beach. It’s not too far from here, just on the other side of Sea Gull Light.” Zoey pointed to the sandy arm jutting into the water. Against the bright blue backdrop of the sky, the white lighthouse appeared even more radiant than usual.
“Is the house next to it really where Mr. Witherell used to live?”
“Yes, but now it’s a museum. Why, do you remember him?”
“No. When I saw him go past Aunt Ivy’s window yesterday afternoon, Mark kind of filled me in.”
“Oh? What did he tell you?”
“That Mr. Witherell used to be the lighthouse keeper. But now he lives in a decrepit little house in the valley. He said he’s mean. That twice a day he roams from one end of Benjamin’s Manor to the other, no matter what the weather’s like and that he growls at people. He told me I should stay away from him—to cross the street if I see him coming. I didn’t know if he was trying to trick me, like when he told you the Legend of Captain Chadwell.”
Zoey figured her cousin must have still been annoyed about the verbal dig Mr. Witherell made at his expense. If Mark felt spiteful toward the old man, that was his business, but to malign his character to an impressionable teenager was taking his resentment too far. While she thought it was a good idea for Gabi to be cautious around strangers in general, Zoey didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable if she crossed paths with Mr. Witherell.
“It’s true that he lives in a little house and walks every day. I’m not sure how good his hearing is. He can speak, but he usually doesn’t say much. I’ve never heard him growl at anyone, but sometimes he sort of clears his throat.
“As for Mr. Witherell being mean, I can only guess why Mark would say that. Unfortunately, you might hear kids at school or people in town saying the same thing. Aunt Ivy once told me that’s because when he was a lighthouse keeper, Mr. Witherell used to report boaters for speeding in the harbor and he broke up a few bashes—that’s what they called parties—which were prohibited on the beach after dark. Supposedly, he considered Benjamin’s Harbor his domain to protect, so he was a real stickler for the rules. A few people held grudges against him for that and they passed their attitudes down to their children and grandchildren.”
Zoey repeated the advice her mother gave her when she was about Gabi’s age, warning her that on such a small island she was going to hear a lot of gossip from the locals. New rumors, as well as old ones going back several decades. Some had an element of truth and some were completely unfounded, so she should take them all with a grain of salt.
“Regardless, I think Mark’s suggestion to cross the street if you see Mr. Witherell coming your way is rude. Mr. Witherell has served this island well in his capacity as keeper of Sea Gull Light and he deserves respect. You saw him, so you know he’s a fragile, elderly gentleman who couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to. There’s definitely no need to be afraid of him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I wasn’t. Not really.” Gabi’s half-hearted denial told Zoey otherwise. “Besides, Aunt Ivy told me he used to carry a torch for Aunt Sylvia—that’s how she put it—but that she wasn’t interested in him.”
Her aunt had once told Zoey the same thing, boasting, “Young men were drawn to Sylvia like bees to honey, but she was only drawn to Marcus.” It was hard to tell if she was prouder of Sylvia for being so attractive or of her brother, for capturing Sylvia’s heart.
Curious, Zoey asked, “Did talking about Aunt Sylvia make Aunt Ivy sad?”
“No, she was okay. I think she actually wanted tell me more stories about Aunt Sylvia but Mark was hungry for something sweet so she went into the kitchen to make those raspberry crumble bars we had last night for dessert.”
As they continued their hike, Zoey silently mulled over Mark’s instructing Gabi to shun Mr. Witherell. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she supposed he may have been concerned Mr. Witherell would say something insulting to Gabi, too—but that was unlikely since Gabi would never provoke him with an obnoxious comment the way Mark did. Zoey couldn’t put a finger on it exactly, but something wasn’t adding up and she decided she was going to wheedle the truth out of her cousin when she got home, even if he accused her of asking nosy questions. However, when they returned, Mark was nowhere in sight.
