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Chapter Eight
Elise headed to thelittle grocery store, where she purchased a bottle of chardonnay, spinach, carrots, red peppers, red onions, feta cheese, and beans. It had been a long time since she’d eaten something that had actually given her a bit of energy—a nutritional salad—and she spent a meditative half-hour slicing the vegetables back at Wayne’s, listening to a podcast, and sipping a glass of wine to calm her nerves.
The moment she sat down with the salad, Wayne entered, slapped a stack of bills on the counter, said, “What’s up, Doc?” then took a red pepper from the counter and attempted to eat it like an apple.
“I know fruits and vegetables are a little foreign to you, but you actually don’t eat a pepper like that,” Elise said, trying to suppress her laughter.
“What? You’re joking. It’s delicious,” Wayne teased her. “In my mind, it’s the only way to eat a—what did you call it again? A pep...”
“You’ll get it one of these days,” Elise said.
Wayne explained that he had plans with a friend that afternoon, helping him fix up his back fence. “I would blow him off, but his dog keeps running away, so it’s a bit pressing,” Wayne said.
“Not a problem,” Elise said.
“You got plans today?” Wayne asked. “You’re welcome to come watch us big, strapping men go rebuild a fence.”
Elise chuckled. “As interesting as that sounds, I think I’ll make my own fun somewhere.”
“Suit yourself.”
Elise wasn’t sure why she’d decided not to tell Wayne about her approaching dinner with Dean Swartz.
She didn’t trust herself not to burst into tears about it, she guessed.
She didn’t want to put too much of her personal baggage on Wayne’s shoulders.
From what he’d said on the boat, he’d already gone through enough.
She was just a passing fancy, a fling (without the fling part).Something kind of pretty to look at.
Nothing else.
**
AGAINST ALL THE ODDS, Elise did find something to do: alone, there out back at Wayne’s place, while the horses chewed grass and gazed blankly in the distance.
She dragged out her computer (which she’d thankfully brought to Wayne’s before the fire incident), placed her fingers on the keys, and set to work.
MACKINAC ISLAND – NIGHT – OUTSIDE A BED AND BREAKFAST
ELISE DARBY, forty-two years old, with a flair for modern style and a sad glint in her eyes, stands before a burning bed and breakfast. ALEX SWARZ, forty-five, ominous and gangly, approaches.
ALEX: I should have known. Everywhere there’s trouble, I find you lurking around.
ELISE: Oh, so first you accuse me of stealing from you, and now you’re accusing me of arson?
ALEX: I know you’re up to something. You’re just like all the others. You come to this island and want to take advantage of my family. Not this time.
Elise continued to type throughout the afternoon and into the early evening. She captured as many scenes of this strange adventure as she could—knowing that sometimes, the only thing you had to do to “write” was actually get the words out on the page.
She even included a whole scene with Alex and that woman who’d tried to take advantage of him, as a way to try to “see” Alex beyond his alienating and mean ways.
MACKINAC ISLAND – AFTERNOON – THE DOCKS
ALEX: If it was going to come to this, I don’t know why you said all the things you did.
WOMAN: Alex, we did all we could. We tried to be in love. We went through the motions of it. But I just woke up one morning and realized I could never love you. Not the way you want to be loved.
