“Or they’re soul mates,” said Gwen.
Libby climbed the stairs as Gwen walked from Danny’s room with a pillow under each arm. Libby followed Gwen into her room. There was no better view in the house than the one from this bed. When she was alone in the house, Libby liked to read here when it was raining and watch the storm move through the thoroughfare. They called Gwen’s room the Pilot House because of all the windows. But it felt like the room at the top of a lighthouse, and Gwen was the light, a beacon shining out to sea, out at the thoroughfare, toward town. That light was a signal to all the local boys who had wanted to conquer a summer girl.
“What’s wrong with your pillows?”
“We’re swapping. I need something with more heft.” Gwen tossed the pillows at the head of the bed and then unzipped her duffel. Libby sat down on the bed and edged the door shut with her foot. Gwen glanced at the door, then sat on the floor facing Libby.
“He freaking wiped down the dashboard when we stopped for lunch. Who does that?” said Gwen.
“He’s in rare form. I thought he was going to make Dan cry on the boat.” Libby imitated Tom’s hook-and-line pantomime.
“This is why I won’t go sailing with him anymore,” said Gwen. She unzipped her duffel and pulled out her kit.
“Were there rooms left at The Navigator?” said Libby.
Gwen nodded. “We stayed up way too late heckling Lifetime movies.”
“With Tom?”
“Yeah right. Tom wanted us to all stay in one room. He said something about a slumber party. But I was not about to put up with him for the night. Dan slept on a cot in my room. How’s it been here?”
Libby looked out toward town for a minute, as if her eyes could travel into the post office through their little brass box and back in time to see a man carefully writing the note on the counter. She wasn’t able to keep secrets from Gwen. Libby took the note from her breast pocket. She stretched her arm out over the bed and passed it to Gwen. Gwen put down the pile of underwear she was shoving into a drawer and read the note:
To the Willoughby Family,
If you ever consider selling, please contact me. Your property is truly unique, and I would, contingent on inspection and confirmation of acreage, be prepared to offer approximately 3.1 million. This offer stands as long as I do.
Sincerely,
Rafe Phillips
Attached was a business card bearing his name and beneath it, “Vice President, Kallman Enterprises.”
To Libby hearing the words aloud was like being hit on in the worst way: “I’d like to give you a real pearl necklace.” As if just by virtue of having a beautiful house, she was some kind of property slut. She wouldn’t have wanted to sell even when her parents were alive, but now that they were gone, now that it was hers, well, all of theirs, certainly not.
“Holy—When did you get this?” Gwen fanned herself with the note.
“This morning.”
“So you haven’t shown it to Tom?” Gwen examined the note again as if she were a graphology expert trying to suss out some hidden message.
“As far as I’m concerned, this isn’t worth a second thought. He’d want to analyze it. He’d be all over it. He’d be a shark,” said Libby.
“And this is one big bucket of chum.” Gwen dangled the note, pinched at one corner like it was a dead fish.
“It’s probably not even for real. I mean, why would anyone offer that much sight unseen?” said Libby. She lay down on her side, her head propped up on her hand.
“Maybe ’cause our pal Rafe”—Gwen waved the note—“doesn’t give a shit what it looks like.”
“But it needs so much work, to get this place back to what it was . . . I can’t even imagine.”
“Oh, Bibs, Money Bags isn’t looking to restore. He’s looking to demolish. That price is for the land. He’d just build some giant McMansion or condos. He’s probably a developer.”
Libby sat up and took the note back from Gwen, stared at it as if she had missed some key sentence. Up here, there was no computer to look up this viper, to see how many Levittowns he had probably perpetrated over wetlands and burial grounds.
“Throw that shit away,” said Gwen. She took a stack of moth-eaten sweaters from her duffel. “Or actually just give it to me. I could use three million.”
Libby stood up, crunched the note into a ball, and shoved it into her pocket.
“Over my freaking dead body.”
“Language! There are ladies present!” Gwen put a hand to her chest and widened her eyes. Libby threw a pillow at her.
“I have to save it up all year; now that I’m on summer vacation I’m going to let loose on you guys for the next week. I’m going to work blue blue blue.” Libby swung open the door. “Now I have to put the freaking laundry in the freaking dryer.”
“It’s cool. Start slow. You have to build up your tolerance. We can work on ‘crap’ tomorrow,” said Gwen.
Libby gave her the finger as she walked out the door.
“Progress already!” said Gwen.
Back downstairs in the dining room, Libby could see Danny in the rug room, a book in hand, settling into one chair before moving to another, and then another. She found her wallet resting on the sideboard. Libby took the note from her pocket, smoothed it out, and slipped it into the worn leather. It was like a foreign bill, some piece of currency valuable here only for its novelty.
TWO
GWEN
July 2
Gwen made Danny pick blueberries with her. She had to keep busy or she would be tempted to talk. They stepped into tall rubber boots by the back door and headed outside. Libby was bringing in a batch of sun tea as the last bit of morning sun swung around the house.
“Leaving the house already?” said Libby. “It’s only your second day. Tom, yes. He made coffee for everyone and is already out on the boat. But you guys? This is really more fourth-day behavior.”
“I’m on dessert tonight,” said Danny.
Gwen looked at Libby and mouthed, I’m on dessert.
“I saw that, smart-ass,” said Danny. “I’m happy with Hydrox and ice cream. I’m not the fancy one here.”
“Forage away,” said Libby. “Just watch out for the poison ivy; it’s looking a little aggressive up there.”
The ground tipped slightly under Gwen’s feet, and she did a small cha-cha step, hoping to cover up her stumble. Lately, nothing felt solid. She actually preferred to be on the boat; dry land had been making her nauseous; the dip and swell of the water seemed to equalize things. She had even started to wear wristbands that activated pressure points, which so far had only succeeded in making her wrists hurt.