“Did she… What did she tell you? I mean, did she explain to you that it was just…”

“Relax.” He felt sorry for Paul. “She told me it was platonic, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Paul was quiet for a minute. “You were lucky to be married to her,” he said. “I’m jealous of you for that.”

“You have nothing to be jealous about. Olivia’s a wonderful person. She’s pulled my family back together.” He remembered Paul asking Olivia if she had slept with him. He hoped the question did not come up now.

“I don’t understand what got into her, with the stained glass and all,” Paul said. “That’s so unlike her. She really went off the deep end.”

“If you think she’s behaved strangely, maybe you need to take a look at yourself. You left her because you had a crush on a dead woman, for Christ’s sake.” He looked at the picture of Annie on the wall above his desk. She was sitting on a split rail fence, winking at him, grinning. “Have a little compassion, okay?” he continued. “Olivia was so upset when you walked out that she would have tried anything to get you back.”

Paul sighed. “I haven’t been able to get Annie out of my mind.”

“Annie’s dead, Paul, and I’m the widower. You have a wife who’s alive and beautiful and who still cares about you. You’re throwing away something that’s real for something that doesn’t exist.”

“I know that,” he said quietly.

He’d come to the S’s in his address book, and he let his fingers pause there, on Olivia’s name. “There’s something Olivia needs to tell you,” he said.

“What?”

“Just talk to her. Tomorrow.” He yawned, suddenly tired. “And by the way, don’t forget that Mary Poor’s giving you and Nola and me a tour of the keeper’s house Tuesday morning.”

“You still want me on the committee?”

“Of course.”

Paul hesitated. “Someone else could write up the part about the keeper’s house.”

“No one on the committee writes the way you do. I’ll see you about nine then?”

“All right.”

Alec was exhausted when he got off the phone. He fell into bed, but could not sleep. Olivia’s scent was still on him, and for some reason every time he closed his eyes he saw her in the emergency room, telling the man with the lacerated arm that the ER was not a McDonald’s. The memory made him laugh out loud.

He should never have gone to her house tonight. He knew what would happen—he’d intended it to happen. He hoped Olivia could have her soul-baring talk with Paul without throwing in that minor detail. It was one thing to covet a man’s wife; it was quite another to sleep with her.

He woke up tired in the morning, his sleep interrupted by nightmares about the lighthouse and fantasies of Olivia. He got out of bed and frowned into the bathroom mirror. It had been a while since he’d seen those dark circles around his eyes. He looked like someone out of a horror movie, someone haunted.

Downstairs, he took Annie’s tool case from the closet in the den and carried it into the kitchen, setting it by the back door. Then he poured himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee.

He had to see the lighthouse today. He needed more pictures of it before they moved it, because once it was moved it wouldn’t be the same. The view would be different. The air around the gallery wouldn’t smell the same. It wouldn’t feel the same.

He opened the drawer next to the refrigerator and took out the stack of lighthouse pictures. It had been many weeks since he’d looked through them. He propped them up against his juice glass and sat down to eat.

“Dad?”

He looked up to see Lacey in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Hi, Lace,” he said.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

“You look…I don’t know.” She sat down at the table and hugged her arms across her chest. Her eyes fell to the photographs on the table. “Why do you have them out?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, lifting the top picture, one he had taken from inside the lens itself. The landscape was upside down in the curved glass. “I was looking through them to see if I’ve missed anything. I want to make sure I’ve got every angle of it before they move it.”

Lacey scrunched up her face. “You have every possible angle anybody could ever have, Dad.”

Alec smiled. “Maybe.”

Lacey took an orange from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and began rolling it back and forth between her hands. “Do you want to do something today?” she asked.

He looked across the table at her, surprised. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Anything. You can choose.”

“Do you want to go to the lighthouse with me?”

“Dad.” She looked bruised, and he thought she was going to cry. “Please don’t start going there all the time again. Please.”

“I haven’t been in a long time, Lacey.”

“I know. So why do you have to go today?” She did start crying now. She raised her feet to the chair and hugged her legs to her chest. The orange rolled off the table and she didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t get it,” she said. “I get up this morning and all of a sudden everything’s, like, gone back the way it was.”

“What do you mean, back the way it was?”

Her eyes had found Annie’s tool case by the door. “Why is that there?” she asked, pointing.

“I’m going to drop it by the emergency room for Olivia.”

“She can come here to use it.”

He shook his head. “She can’t come over here anymore, Lace. She needs to spend her time with her own family, not with us.”

“She doesn’t have a family.”

“She has Paul.”

Lacey made a disdainful noise. “He’s an asshole.”

Alec shrugged. “Regardless of what you think of him, he’s still her husband.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I do like her, Lacey, but she’s a married woman. Besides, Mom hasn’t been gone all that long.”

“Mom’s dead.” Lacey glared at him. “She’s burned up into fifty million little ashes that the sharks probably ate for dinner the night after her funeral. She’s nothing but shark shit, now, Dad.”

If he’d been sitting closer to her, he would have slapped her. So it was just as well the table was between them. Her cheeks reddened quickly. She had frightened herself.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was small and she kept her eyes glued to the table. “I’m really sorry I said that, Daddy.”

“She was a very special person, Lace,” he said, gently. “She can’t be replaced.”

Lacey was quiet for a moment. She drew invisible lines on the table with her fingertips. “Can I still call Olivia?”

“Sweetheart.” He set down the picture. “You have a reasonable curfew now, so I really don’t see much point to you disturbing her every night, do you?”

“But…when would I get to talk to her?”

She looked waiflike, with her funny hair and red nose, and her big, sad blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Lace,” he said. “I let things get out of hand and you got caught in the middle. Why don’t you call her…not today, though, she has some things to work out today…but in a few days, and then you and she can arrange how and when you can talk. You’re welcome to talk with her if she’s willing, but I’m not going to be seeing her anymore.”

Olivia was taking a quick lunch break in her office when Kathy brought in the tool case and set it on her desk.

“Alec O’Neill left this for you,” she said.

Olivia nodded. “Thanks, Kathy.”

“And there’s a compound fracture on its way in.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

She set down her peach as Kathy left the room, and opened the case, spreading it flat. The tools were neatly arranged, as she had left them the last time she was at Alec’s. Tucked into one of the pockets was a white envelope with her name on it, and inside she found a note in Alec’s handwriting.Tools are for you, for as long as you want them. Put them to good use. I spoke to Paul last night—he knows you need to talk to him. Lacey’s upset to learn you aren’t coming over anymore. I told her she could call you in a few days. Hope that’s okay with you. I wish you the best, Olivia.Love, Alec

She was not going to cry again. Absolutely not. Still, she needed a minute to herself. She hit the lock on her office door and turned to lean her back against it, eyes closed, arms folded across her chest, and she stood that way until the distant sound of the ambulance siren brought her back to life.



CHAPTER FORTY-NINE


A young girl was standing on the sidewalk in front of the retirement home. Mary had just finished the crossword puzzle when she looked up from the rocker to see the girl shading her eyes and looking, Mary thought, directly at her. The girl started up the walk, and Mary dropped the folded newspaper to the floor.

“Are you Mrs. Poor?” the girl asked when she reached the porch. She had very odd hair. Bizarre. Red on top and black at the ends. Mary knew who she was. She recognized the vibrant red the girl had tried to cover up. She knew that fair, freckled skin, and those wide blue eyes and deep dimples.

“Yes, young lady,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

The girl pointed to the rocker next to Mary. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

“Well, now, I wish you would.”

“My name is Lacey,” she said, sitting down. “I’m Annie O’Neill’s daughter… Do you remember her?”

Mary chuckled. “As well as I remember my name,” she said. “You look like your mama, don’t you?”

Lacey nodded, then touched her hair. “Except for this,” she said. She glanced out at the waterfront and then returned her eyes to Mary, leaning sideways in the chair. “This is going to sound pretty weird, I guess, but I know my mother used to talk to you when she had a problem, so I was wondering… Well, I just thought I could, like, try it, too.”