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Donna Frederickson flushes and I pray her husband doesn’t notice. I have that effect on women sometimes when I’ve got the posturing politeness going on. The uniform, the good looks, the authority. Does something to some people. I’ve gotten used to it. Numb to it. It’s not real. I’m playing a character. And when the uniform comes off, so does the mask. I get to breathe. That’s why I don’t take her blushing too seriously. It’s just business.
“Well, it’s an old house,” she tries again. “An old Victorian. And as beautiful as it is?—”
“What Donna is trying to say—” Fred interjects and wraps his hand around the back of her neck. Donna seems nonplussed by it, but I squirm in my seat thinking about someone touching me like that. Gives me the heebie jeebies. Clearly, for all his apparent dopiness, there’s an undercurrent of control I’ve yet to face. “We bought the house for the land. It’s primely located and we thought it would be a perfect location for our compound.”
“Your compound?”
Donna slaps Fred’s chest, her wedding ring nearly blinding me. I wouldn’t be able to guess how many carats it is. “Don’t say it like that, it makes it sound like a cult.”
Fred chuckles. “Fine, fine. What I mean is, we want to build it out as our home base. A couple acres in the wilderness, I mean what could be better?”
“Kennebunkport could be better,” Donna whispers.
He ignores her, visibly annoyed. “We wanted to get a jumpstart on it, you know, a place we can be away from the city with all our creature comforts and…” Fred grabs Donna’s knee with a heartened smile. “Better for our children out here. Away from the city. Everything was getting too intense up there.”
I hear that.
“We wanted somewhere we all could feel safer being,” Donna explains.
“How many children do you have?”
Fred puffs his chest slightly. Perhaps in intimidation, perhaps pride. “Three. Liliana is sixteen and the boys are ten and?—”
“Elevenand eight,” Donna interjects, then glares at her husband.
He laughs off his mistake. “You know, they’re always growing.”
“Yeah, kids tend to do that…” I say.
Clearing his throat, Fred resituates in his seat and attempts to get the conversation back on track. “It’s a beautiful house. There’s no denying it.”
“Mr. Frederickson?—”
“Please. Fred.”
I force a smile. “Fred. I’m getting the impression that the house isn’t of use to you all? Is that what I’m hearing?”
Donna’s mouth forms into a thin line before she says, “We just have different desires to use to the land.”
The land, the land, the land. How the other half lives.
“We’ve been filing permits to build and—ha! Take down the house,” Fred says with a toss of his hand and a smug smile.
I lift my chin. “You were—are going to demolish this place?”
Donna and Fred exchange a look. A moment of impasse; then Fred flashes a smile. “You know, it’s beautiful.”
“Just beautiful,” Donna hurriedly adds.
“But the Wilhelms didn’t leave it in thebeststate. I mean, the outside needs to be completely restored.”
“Restored. Completely.”
I see the echo doesn’t work just one way.
“And we’ll obviously find collectors and museums that have a use for some of the pieces that came with the house. But it’s just not us,” Fred says without looking at me, preoccupied with adjusting his monogrammed cufflinks.
Donna smiles at me again. “Not us at all.”
