Wyatt, still sitting by the radio, was starting to look bored.
“What’s the matter?” Gladys said with a grin, tipping her head unsteadily in his direction. She’d had a little too much wine, but she’d said earlier that everyone needed to let loose every now and again so they didn’t explode. “Life is in these moments,” she’d said. “The moments we don’t think about or plan.”
“How can anyone dance to this song?” Wyatt asked, pursing his lips in confusion.
Gladys set her wine on the table and walked over to him, pulling him up by his hands. “Like this.” She put his little hand on her side and held his other, swaying back and forth. He looked uninterested until she whipped him out and spun him around, making him laugh. He broke free and asked if he could go inside and play with his Legos. She let him go and sat down by Olivia and Callie.
“I’m delighted y’all live so close now,” she said. “I’ve been so lonesome here by myself. Alice was a lovely neighbor, but nothing compared to this.”
Gladys’s comment reminded Callie of Alice McFarlin and the journal. “I wonder if Alice McFarlin was lonely here?”
“She had a brother—Frederick. He used to live in the little cottage next to mine but moved decades ago. His house has sat vacant since—no renters. I assume he still owns it, but I’m not sure.”
Olivia set her wine down on the table. “Do you know where he is now?”
Gladys shook her head and placed her hands on her knees, her legs crossed at the ankle. “I haven’t seen him in ages. He used to be around all the time and then one day, he just up and left. Alice avoided the question when I tried to ask, so I left it alone. It was odd, since he and Alice always seemed close.”
“I found a journal of Alice’s,” Callie said. “I wonder if her brother would like to have it.”
“Oh?”
“We haven’t read it—well, just one entry,” Olivia said, pouring more wine into her glass.
Callie pulled out her phone. “I’m going to search for his name right now. Maybe we can find him to give it to him.” The wine having relaxed her a little too much, she squinted to see the tiny keys on the screen as she typed and hit search. With a huff, she looked up. “There are two hundred forty-three Frederick McFarlins.”
Olivia rubbed her face, the gesture making her skin red. “Wonder if there’s any information in that journal that might tell us where he is.”
Her buzz making her sentimental, Callie was willing to take the chance. “I’ll go get it,” she said, getting up slowly and going inside.
Wyatt was nearly asleep on the sofa, a gigantic tower of Legos beside him on the floor. She smiled and asked if he wanted to come back out with them but he yawned and shook his head, telling her Olivia had said he could sleep on the sofa until they came in for the night.
Callie grabbed the journal off her dresser and headed back downstairs, opening it to the next entry. When she joined the others, they looked on with interest as she sat down in the rocking chair, more oldies playing on the radio. The reception wasn’t perfect, static breaking up the song, so she twisted the antenna just a little. Then she skimmed the diary entries for any indication of Frederick’s whereabouts, stopping when she saw his name. “Okay, this might be something.” She read: “Frederick should’ve never spoken to that woman.” She looked up and they all shared a dramatic moment before Gladys urged her to keep reading. “She’s caused him nothing but heartbreak since the moment they met. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. He has stars in his eyes. But that’s Frederick, isn’t it? He told me he loved her. I can’t believe it. He’s never told me that about any woman before, and yet the one woman he shouldn’t love, he does. Isn’t that the way of it?”
“Do you know the woman he’s talking about, Gram?” Olivia asked, her eyes wide.
Gladys shook her head, baffled.
Callie didn’t feel right reading any more aloud to Olivia and Gladys, the heaviness of the situation sobering her, but they were pressing her to tell them what it said. “We’ll keep her secrets,” Olivia promised, immediately recognizing Callie’s fears. “You know we will.”
Callie saw the understanding in Olivia’s eyes. Olivia knew how Callie was about sharing personal things; she knew it made her very uncomfortable. But Callie could tell by both Olivia’s and Gladys’s faces that they were sincere. Slowly, she started to read the rest of the entry.
‘‘Frederick has been down lately and I just can’t stand to see it. I had him over for dinner tonight to cheer him up. We watched old movies like we did as kids, and we played cards. He beat me two to one. I didn’t tell him I let him win that last game. He seemed so happy in the moment; I dared not bring him down. I love him so much. I just want to see him happy.’’
They all sat quietly around the table for a moment. The moonlight was so bright in the inky black of night it cast shadows on the sand.
“Alice was a lovely woman,” Gladys said, breaking the silence.
Callie nodded, closing the journal and holding it against her, no closer to finding Frederick, but feeling like she knew Alice just a little better. She was happy that Alice’s home had become hers.
Eight
A tapping noise interrupted the cries of seagulls and the sound of the crashing waves from Callie’s open window. She rolled over on the portable air mattress she’d been using until the furniture was delivered, her mouth dry and her head slightly pulsing.
Tap, tap, tap.
She put the pillow over her head and tried to focus on the sound of the waves but from under her pillow, the tapping became more of a loud knocking, and she worried that whatever it was would wake Olivia and Wyatt, so she sat up. She spent a second getting oriented and peered at her watch that was on the floor—six oh-two.
Knock, knock, knock.
Callie sprung out of bed and padded quickly down the stairs to the front door, her energy depleting from just that little burst of activity. She opened it and only then did she remember she was in nothing but a long T-shirt, the weather too hot for anything else. She hid behind the door and peeked around it.
“You said you started early. I figured we’d want a little breakfast first.”
She blinked over and over to make sure she was seeing correctly. Luke was in the doorway, holding a cardboard tray with three coffees in one hand and a large paper sack in the other. He held it up. “Breakfast,” he said with smirk. “May I come in?”
“I’m not presentable,” Callie said, as heat crept into her face and slid down her neck. She wanted to look nice, to feel good about herself, but she also wanted to see that smile of his again.