Мэри Эндрюс - The Newcomer

“I think we need to put Minnie back in the water, Maya,” Joe said, his tone gentle.

“Noooo,” Maya wailed. “It’s mine minnow. I catched her.”

Letty reached out and touched her niece’s hand. “Joe’s right, sweetie. Let’s put her back in the water. It’ll be fun to see her swim away with all her friends!”

Maya’s lower lip began to quiver. “I don’t want to.” She pressed the bucket tightly to her chest.

Joe stood up. “Maya,” he said impatiently. “If we don’t put the minnow back in the water, it can’t breathe. It’ll die. You don’t want Minnie to die, do you?”

Letty winced at the harshness of his response. He couldn’t know about Tanya. Couldn’t know what Letty herself didn’t know—whether or not Maya had witnessed her mother’s murder.

The child’s reaction was instant. Her face crumpled as she dissolved into tears. “My mommy died,” she whispered. “She’s in heaven and she can’t come back anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Joe said, looking over at Letty. He knelt down beside the sobbing child. “Come on, Maya. I’ll help you put the minnow back in the water. And then we’ll build a fort. Okay? Like, a cowboys and Indians fort.”

“I’ll help too,” Letty said, scrambling to her feet. She used a towel to dab the snot and sand from the little girl’s face.

“Okay,” Maya said reluctantly. She put her face to the edge of the bucket. “Bye, Minnie.”

“You coming to the cookout tonight?” Joe asked hours later, as they walked up toward the motel from the beach. He had the cooler and beach blanket tucked under one arm, with Maya asleep on his shoulder.

“There’s a cookout?” Letty asked, struggling to keep up with his pace.

“Oh yeah. It’s a Murmuring Surf tradition. The Doughertys always did a Sunday-night cookout for their guests during the season, so Mom just kept it going. We provide the main course. Tonight we’re doing barbecued chicken. All the guests bring a side dish. And their own beverage. Afterward, everybody meets in the rec room for bingo. I’m telling you, it’s a big night.”

“Wish I could,” Letty said. “But I need to get Maya hosed off and into bed. You saw how she wore herself out this afternoon.”

“Pretty sure you could get Isabelle to stay with her. These days she thinks she’s too cool to hang out with all the oldsters for an entire night,” Joe said.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so. I’m not really a guest, am I?”

“You’d be my guest,” Joe said. “But okay, I won’t press it.”

They’d reached a rusty iron gate that separated the public beach from the Murmuring Surf property. Joe turned on a spigot and they rinsed the sand from their feet; then he walked Letty to her unit.

“Here,” she said, reaching out her arms for the drowsy little girl. “I can take her now. Thanks for helping out today.”

“Not a problem,” he said, lowering his voice. “And I’m sorry again about the dead-minnow thing. I mean, I know you told me about her mom, but it didn’t occur to me…”

“It’s okay,” Letty reassured him, retrieving the room key from her beach bag. “She’s four. You saw how she was, five minutes later, splashing in the waves. She was completely over it.”

“And what about you? Her mother was your sister, right?”

“Half sister,” she said. “I mean, we called ourselves sisters, and we were. But no, I’m not over her.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I ever will be.”

She got Maya showered and into pajamas, and fixed her a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. By six o’clock, she willingly allowed herself to be tucked into bed with Ellie clutched in her arms.

Once the child was asleep, Letty poured herself a glass of wine and took a seat on the metal lawn chair in the breezeway outside her room, leaving the door open in case her niece awoke.

A soft breeze rustled a pale pink hibiscus in a nearby flower bed and carried the scent of burning charcoal and the sound of laughter, coming from the rec room beside the pool. Letty turned her chair sideways, so she could see the sky turning a vivid orange.

Sunsets had quickly become her favorite time of day here, a time to pause and be still, but tonight there would be no stillness. She looked down again at the torn magazine page, the one she’d found in Tanya’s go-bag the night her sister was murdered. She ran her fingers over the colorful photo of the Murmuring Surf, and pondered its significance.

Rooney. Tanya’s “boyfriend,” who she claimed had abandoned her, left her high and dry five years ago in Atlanta, with nothing but her car and the clothes on her back. Rooney was the name of the con man who’d bilked old ladies. Right here at the Murmuring Surf. And he’d had an accomplice, a charming redhead, whom he’d abandoned when the law closed in. Joe said he couldn’t remember her name, but it had been five years ago, and her name “might” have started with a T.

This could not be a coincidence. There were no coincidences where Tanya was concerned. Her beautiful, lovable, charming half sister lied with effortless ease. She was a chameleon who could go from redhead to blonde, victim to criminal, in the blink of an eye. And now those lies had drawn Letty right back here, to the scene of the crime.

The question was why.

“Hey.” His voice startled her. She turned around. Joe DeCurtis was holding an overflowing paper plate, covered with foil.

“Hey yourself,” she said. She quickly tucked the magazine page into the pocket of her shorts.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No. Just enjoying what I can see of the sunset.”

He held out the paper plate. “Ava insisted. You gotta eat, right?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Letty said. “There’s a tantalizing bag of microwave popcorn inside with my name on it.”

“Popcorn for dinner?”

“And wine,” she said, holding up her glass.

“I’ve got a much better idea.”

He pulled up a nearby metal side table and placed the plate on top, removing the foil with a dramatic flourish.

“Chicken DeCurtis,” he said, pointing to a slightly charred chicken breast glistening under a coat of reddish-orange sauce. “Arlene’s baked beans. Alice Sheehan’s macaroni and cheese. Trudi Maples’s coleslaw. And the pièce de résistance, day-old store-bought rolls from Oscar Jensen.”

Her stomach growled, loudly and unmistakably.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“Hear what?” He cupped a hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear nothing.”

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. She sensed he was waiting for something. Like an invitation to join her. Part of her desperately wanted to let down her guard, invite him to stay and share a glass of wine. But to what end? Better not to encourage him.

“Thanks for this,” she said, gesturing at the plate. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m just going to put it inside for now, because it’s still a little early for dinner for me.”

The last thing she saw as she closed the door to her room was the baffled, hurt look on his face.

16

LETTY PICKED AT THE FOOD on the paper plate. The barbecued chicken had a tangy-sweet sauce, and the lukewarm macaroni and cheese reminded her of Mimi’s, cheesy and buttery with a thick oven-browned crumb topping, and the vinegar-brined coleslaw made a nice contrast to the chicken. She tapped at the dinner roll with her fingernail. Rock-hard.

She glanced over at Maya, who was asleep in the middle of the double bed, on her tummy, with both arms and legs spread out, pajama-clad rump in the air. Her gaze traveled to the window, where she was hoping to catch one last glimpse of the sunset. But the sky had turned plum-colored. The moment was gone. She pushed away the plate of half-eaten food and picked up her phone.