“You’ll be the second call we make,” I said.
She was still standing in the doorway when we pulled out of the drive.The sun was still high and the heat had settled into the pavement and the air smelled of salt and cut grass baking in the afternoon.
Dash held my door open and I got in.He came around and started the engine and we sat there for a moment without saying anything.
“Henry has a son,” I said finally.
He put the car in gear and we headed north.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
We madeit back to Grimm Island just as the sun was losing its argument with the horizon, that deep shade of orange that turned the marsh grass to copper and made everything look better than it was.I was tired down to my bones and my feet hadn’t forgiven me for the Keds, which had seemed like a reasonable choice that morning.
Dash’s SUV smelled like coffee and the faint cedar of his jacket, same as it always did, and I was glad for the familiarity of it after a day spent in a stranger’s kitchen asking hard questions.We pulled into the drive with the sun still an hour from setting, that long golden stretch of July evening that made the island look like a postcard nobody had asked for, and I could already hear Chowder through the front door before we made it up the porch steps.Three short barks that had nothing to do with alarm and everything to do with grievance.He met us in the foyer, made his feelings known in no uncertain terms, and then pranced off toward the kitchen with his chin in the air.
The dining room was quiet for once, which meant they’d migrated.I followed the smell of something good and the sound of Dottie and Deidre arguing about whether garlic bread needed to go under the broiler or just in the oven, which was a debate with no right answer and no end.
They’d made themselves completely at home in my kitchen, which shouldn’t have surprised me and didn’t.Dottie was at the stove with my largest pot, stirring what appeared to be a marinara like she’d been making it in my kitchen her whole life and didn’t need anyone’s input about it.Deidre stood beside her with a wooden spoon she kept gesturing with to make her points about the bread.Hank had claimed a barstool at the island and was doing nothing at all, which he’d clearly decided was his contribution to the evening.Walt was at the kitchen table with his legal pad, pen in hand, glasses on, every inch of him still working even at dinnertime.
Bea sat across from Walt with a sidecar in front of her and absolutely no intention of touching a pot or a spoon, watching the proceedings with the serene conviction that supervising counted.
“You’re back,” Dottie said, glancing up.“Good.Wash your hands.Supper’s almost ready.”
“You cooked in my kitchen,” I said.
“You weren’t here.Sit down.”
“I found pasta and a jar of San Marzanos in your pantry,” Deidre said, “and I hope that’s all right because it was either that or breakfast for supper, and Dottie refused to make eggs for seven people.There’s a salad too.And garlic bread, which Dottie is determined to put under the broiler.”
“It needs color,” Dottie said.“Pale bread is sad bread.”
“Pale bread is bread that hasn’t caught fire,” Deidre said.
“They’ve been arguing since four o’clock,” Hank said.“I’ve aged considerably.”
“Wine?”Bea asked, already reaching for the bottle.
“Please,” I said.
Ten minutes later we were all at the dining room table, plates in front of us, the boxes still stacked along the walls where Walt had left them.Dash sat across from me.The bread had color.Deidre didn’t say another word about it.
“You’ll never guess what happened today,” Bea said.She didn’t give anyone a chance to ask what.“Walt asked James about his affair with Jackie Henshaw.Go ahead, tell them, Walt.”
Walt dabbed his mouth with his napkin and set it beside his plate.“We were going through the boxes this afternoon and Jackie’s name came up.James was still here.Seemed like the right time to ask him about it directly.”
“You pulled him aside?”I asked.
“I took him out to the back garden where it was more private.”
“What did he say?”Dash asked.
“He was embarrassed.Went on about Edie.Said it was the worst mistake of his life and he’d carried it ever since.”Walt reached for his water.“Said he had no idea anyone knew.Didn’t even remember Noreen walking in on them.”
Bea snorted.“They were probably too busy to notice.”
“I felt sorry for him, truth be told,” Walt said.“He’s carried that guilt a long time.Edie forgave him and they stayed married, but you could tell it still weighs on him.”He set his water glass down.“He did mention something else though.”
“What’s that?”I asked.
