Coming here was a mistake, Marin said to herself, pulling open the drawers and throwing clothes back into her suitcase. Really, what had she been thinking? Her father always advised clients not to make big decisions when they were dealing with death or divorce, and what had her past weeks been if not a sort of death and a sort of divorce? She was in mourning—mourning the loss of her job, her relationship, and, yes, her father.
She wanted so much to talk to her dad and tell him what was going on. But her mother was right in saying that it would only hurt him.
She turned her focus to the logistics. If she drove back to New York now, she would be leaving her mother and Rachel stranded. But they could rent a car. Or take the ferry to Boston and fly back. They would figure it out. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Suitcase packed, she rolled it into the hallway, hoping for a clean getaway.
No such luck. Down the hall, Kelly’s red hair waved like a flag as she hoisted a huge rectangular mosaic and inched her way toward the stairs. Her T-shirt read NO ONE LIKES A SHADY BEACH.
Marin backed into her room.
“Marin?”
Too late.
“Um, yeah?”
Kelly slowly set down the obviously heavy object, balancing it against her knees. Her green-eyed gaze settled on Marin’s suitcase.
“If you have a sec, can you help me get this out to the truck? I overestimated my stamina here. Or maybe I underestimated the weight of this beast.”
Cornered.
“Um, sure.” What else could she say?
She looked at the piece, a giant mermaid of tiles and shells and all sorts of things that should have created a hot mess but instead came together in a glorious riot of color and texture.
“Where’s it going?” Marin asked.
“A client commissioned it so I’m driving it to her house on the other end of town.” She eyed the suitcase again. “I can drop you off somewhere if you need a lift.”
“Oh, I…no, that’s fine. Thanks.” She kicked her suitcase back into her room.
Marin grabbed one end of the mosaic while Kelly handled the other, and they hobbled down the stairs in awkward, synchronized steps.
“Whew. Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
They continued their step-and-stop movements out to the front of the house, where they lifted it into the back of Kelly’s Dodge pickup.
“So you work here full-time even though the inn isn’t open this summer?” Marin said.
Kelly smiled. “I don’t work here, darlin’. Amelia’s my wife.”
Oh! Marin felt herself blush for her na?veté. Should she somehow have guessed that? Some New Yorker she was; how could she have made such an unsophisticated assumption?
“I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot.”
Kelly laughed. “Don’t. It’s the age difference, right? It throws everyone.” She opened the driver’s side, climbed in, and then stepped out and peered back over the truck at Marin. “Why don’t you come for a ride?”
“What? Now?”
“I could use the company. Amelia would usually come with me, but frankly she’s so excited to have you all here, I doubt I can tear her away from the kitchen.”
Marin thought of the packed suitcase in her room. If she left now, she could be back in the city by late afternoon. And yet, she found herself saying, “Sure.”
Chapter Sixteen
Toward the east, the town became markedly more residential. The houses had a stately beauty. They were homey and grand at the same time.
“This would be a great walk if we weren’t lugging the mosaic,” Kelly said.
“How far is the drive?”
“Not long. A few minutes.”
“Oh. I thought you said these people were all the way on the other end of town.”
“They are. The whole town is only three miles long.”
Marin couldn’t imagine living on a small peninsula. As far as she could tell, the place was two blocks wide. “How many people live here?”
“Year-round? Maybe three thousand. But in the summer—I’d say another twenty thousand.”
What? “That sounds kind of crazy.”
“Of course it is. Provincetown is most definitely crazy. And so are the people who love it.” She looked over at Marin with a smile.
Marin turned to her window. She wished they could just keep driving and driving. She wouldn’t have to think beyond the sand dunes in the distance, Kelly, her amiable guide. There was something steadying about Kelly. She couldn’t imagine her ever fucking up. Something about her suggested she never had a moment’s self-doubt.
“So who commissioned the mosaic?”
“A woman named Sandra Crowe. She came here from Boston last summer for an art auction and ended up buying a house. Now she fancies herself a painter. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a hobbyist—in the summers, this town is filled with people who want to indulge their artistic sides. But Sandra drove our friends crazy pushing for shows in their galleries. Finally, our friend Bart let her show in his gallery for a few weeks. In the end he lost money, but at least he shut her up.”
“Took one for the team,” Marin said.
“Exactly. The East End is technically the fancy part of town,” Kelly said, steering the truck around a bend. “Back in the day, you would not be hanging out on this side of the wharf.”
“I wouldn’t?”
Kelly shook her head. “Nope. You’re from the working class, doll. Portuguese fishing family.”
Great. Not only was she a disgraced attorney, she was from a lineage deemed undesirable by her grandmother’s own native town.
To the left, in the shade behind hills and dunes, a Colonial Revival mansion. The sprawling front lawn was a patchwork of purple and red flowers. The house, all white, had a starkness to it that reminded her of Greg Harper’s summerhouse in East Hampton. She shook the thought away.
Kelly pulled the truck into the circular driveway and parked.
“Mind helping me get the piece to the front door? Then your service is fulfilled—promise.” Her smile was heartbreakingly lovely.
“Sure.”
They resumed their positions around the canvas and stepped in tandem up the stone walkway until they reached the front portico.
“I used to have a dolly to transport these things, but I have no idea where it went. I think some guests used it to get stuff into their car and took off with it in the trunk.”
A young woman with a blond ponytail wearing khaki pants and a white polo shirt answered the doorbell.
Kelly, clearly surprised, said, “Tanya—what are you doing here?”
“I’m working for Mrs. Crowe this summer.”
“Really?” Kelly’s inflection conveyed the unspoken words That’s the best you could do?
“Well, I would rather have worked at the inn again, but…”