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She rolled her eyes. “No. Don’tworry,Oliver. Have you always been such a worrier?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
They got back from the club near dawn, sticky with sweat and spilled drinks. Everyone floated up the staircase, but Oliver lingered in the foyer, watching them. Heather Two had on only one shoe. The back of Cooper’s T-shirt was covered in glitter. It was like they were all survivors of some glamorous natural disaster. He waited for them to disappear into their rooms; then he took the express envelope off the table in the foyer where it was glowing in a menacing green color from the porch light shining through the stained-glass windows. He wanted to go through the papers away from prying eyes, and this might be his only chance given Garland’s regimented schedule of I’m Going To Show Everyone How Wonderful I Am And We’re Going To Have Fun This Week No Matter What, Damn It.
He went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, then sat at the table to read by the dim night-light above the stove that the housekeeper always left on. She would be up soon. He felt awkward around her, always resisting the urge to ask her if she needed any help.
Several moments passed and he stared at the envelope, which was thin, as if it only contained a sheet or two. He thought there would be reams of paper to go through.
Just open it,he told himself. It wasn’t like it contained a portal that would suck him back home.
He tore open the envelope and brought out what looked like a life insurance policy.
Itwasa life insurance policy.
His mother rarely did anything nice for anyone, and when she did she demanded a phenomenal level of worship in return, as if it was a great sacrifice on her part to actually think about a need that wasn’t her own. So he knew this policy wasn’t about him. She was always signing up for things just so she could collect more paperwork to put in her boxes. And he was only the beneficiary this time and not Roscoe Avanger because sometimes she would decide that she hated Roscoe and this was probably one of those days.
He had no reason to feel grateful to her, not even now. If he didn’t need the money—and even this small five-thousand-dollar policy was a lot of money to him right now as he waited for that job at the Rondo—he would have torn it up.
He got out his phone to text Frasier that he’d received it. When his screen came to life, he noticed that he had a new text with a photo attachment from an unfamiliar number.
The text read:
Hi Oliver, My name is Zoey Hennessey and I just moved into the studio at the Dellawisp. I guess Frasier’s already told you that he gave me a summer job before I start college. I’m cleaning out your mother’s place to find a story for Roscoe Avanger. Frasier said you don’t want anything, but I couldn’t throw these things away. I can send them to you if you’ll give me an address. The birds are restless this evening. I took my sandals off on my balcony while I was writing this to you, andseveral of them just swooped down and tried to take one! What were they going to do with a single shoe? Frasier said they like to steal things. Crazy birds. Do you miss them? Do you miss your aunt Lucy? I can see her condo from here, and I think she’s in there, but I never see her come out.
Oliver’s first thought was for Lucy. Lucy was still there. He’d figured she would have left years ago. He’d always felt sorry for Lucy in a way he could never bring himself to feel sorry for his mother. Maybe because Lucy seemed to prefer self-punishment, while his mother loved to blame everyone but herself.
He read through the text again, this time lingering on Zoey Hennessey’s name. When he was a small boy, he remembered a pretty woman named Paloma Hennessey who had owned the studio at the Dellawisp. She’d had a foreign accent. His mother had hated her, had mumbled “Tramp” every time she’d been within earshot, but Paloma had only laughed at this, completely unflappable, as if it would take more than the likes of Lizbeth Lime to rattle her. Paloma had moved away, but still visited Mallow Island from time to time and brought her baby daughter with her. Zoey must be that daughter.
Without thinking, he tapped the photo, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Zoey had snapped a picture of a box containing some of his mother’s belongings. In it was her lost necklace bearing Oliver’s late father’s name, Duncan. His mother had been convinced that Lucy had come in and stolen it. She’d frequently told Oliver that Lucy had stolen Duncan from her because Lucy had hated seeing Lizbeth happy. She’d said that Lucy’s drug abuse had destroyed him and he’d later died of a drug overdose because of her. Oliver had no idea if this was true or not. His mother had always been strangeabout her sister, and that was saying a lot. She thought Lucy had been the source of everything that had gone wrong in her life. It must have started at an early age, because the photo Zoey sent included several of his mother’s old diaries from her youth, and when he zoomed in he saw written on one of the diaries,This is the property of Lizbeth Azalea Lime. Do not look inside. This means you, Lucy Camellia Lime, you stupid cow!
The sight of her manic handwriting made his stomach twist with nausea, not helped by the vats of alcohol he’d consumed that night.
He used to think he could stem the tide of his mother’s compulsion to collect paper when he was a boy. He would sneak things out to the dumpster on his way to school, only to find it all back inside when he got home. The condos at the Dellawisp were stylish, because Roscoe Avanger was a stylish man of details, but they were also small. His mother had taken the single bedroom because she’d said she needed privacy to get her work done, so Oliver had carved out a place in the living room near the window. He’d made walls with her boxes and refused to let her stack things in his space, but it was a losing battle. Her stuff had eventually pushed him out the door.
Frasier should have known better than to think his mother had anything as organized as a story in there. Now, because of him, some girl was rifling through Oliver’s past, thinking she knew him based on what she found. He’d always kept his life with his mother private from everyone he knew, particularly his peers.
He immediately deleted the photo. Then he texted Frasier.
Please inform Zoey Hennessey I don’t want anything from my mother’s place, and I especially don’t want to see photos. Received the policy. Thanks for sending it.
He pressed Send and put his phone back in his pocket. He downed the glass of water, then took the envelope and walked up the staircase as dawn broke over the ocean in the distance. He stopped at the second-story landing and stared out the window.
He turned his head when a squeaking from down the hallway caught his attention. Curious, he walked toward the sound, which was coming from Cooper’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and he peered in to see Cooper and Garland having sex. He couldn’t see their faces, just Garland’s narrow back and prominent ribs as she straddled him. Her hands were in her long hair as she moved.
He took a quick step back. It wasn’t the act itself that worried him. He’d almost seen it coming. What worried him was that if Garland was through with him, what did that do to his chances of getting the job at the Rondo?
He tried to find some way this would turn out okay. Maybe she would feel guilty?
This was a new low. He was going to get the job out of pity?
He didn’t care. He couldn’t lose the Rondo. Everything would be fine once he started working there. Everything would finally fall into place. He’d known it as soon as he’d seen it. It had reminded him of something good, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was meant to be there.
“She always gets what she wants,” Heather Two whispered behind him.
Oliver turned quickly to find her in a short pink robe, barefooted on the Aubusson rug.
“Garland never gave Cooper the time of day in high school, even though he panted after her.”
