Anne Korkeakivi - Shining Sea

“Glenn told me, while you were inside, that he and Patty Ann have a chance at buying their house,” Ronnie says.

“That old wreck?”

“The owner’s going into foreclosure. They could get it for a song. One hundred and forty thousand dollars, Glenn says.”

“You’d have to pay me more than that to live there. I think there are drug dealers on that street. Anyhow, where would Glenn and Patty Ann come up with one hundred and forty thousand dollars? Who would give them a loan?”

“Well,” Ronnie says.

She takes in his profile. Ronnie is lying on his back, staring at the hotel bedroom’s ceiling.

“Ronnie. You are so good to Patty Ann. But you don’t have to do this. She’s got a husband again now. She turned forty in July.”

“The owner said they can keep the furniture he left behind. Maybe Patty Ann is right. Maybe that Stickley stuff is worth something. And it is only a block from the beach. Four bedrooms.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It wouldn’t really require that much money. We can afford it.”

“That’s not the point, either.”

“Look, I know Patty Ann has never taken to me like the other kids did. We’ve never had such an easy time together. But she’s a good person, deep inside. She means well. And she’s smart, she’s strong. She’s like her mother.” Suddenly, he sits up on the bed and takes her hand. He looks her in the eyes. “I love you, Barbara.”

What in the world has gotten into Ronnie? He’s affectionate, but he never says stuff like this. She squeezes his hand. “I love you too, dear. But that doesn’t mean you have to buy my oldest daughter a house.”

He keeps hold of her hand, keeps looking straight at her, so serious. “I’d insist the title goes under her name. I won’t be here forever, and I want to be sure she has something solid for her future.”

“Good grief. You are talking like you’re one hundred years old! And if we did help her to buy a home, why not a cute little two-bedroom condo in Marina del Rey, at least? Or, if that’s too much, in Culver City? Someplace clean and new and safe.”

“Barbara. This house in Venice is what Patty Ann wants. It’s who she is.”

The homemade wind chimes fluttering on the porch. The mysterious muddle of books and shells on the shelves. The scrappy neighborhood.

She sighs. He is right. This is Patty Ann.

“You’ll tell her she has to pay it back? To be fair to the others?”

“I’ll guarantee the loan and give her the down payment as a gift. We paid for everyone else’s college tuition but Mike’s. I know I’ve helped her out more than the others over the years, but I think it still works out fair. Mike worries about her. He’d give her the money himself if he could. If she’d even take it from him.”

“You have this all figured out.”

Ronnie lets go of her hand and lies back down. He closes his eyes. “Yes. I do.”

He folds his hands over his chest. She rolls onto her side and lays her head by his shoulder. Not on it but touching.

“Well, who knows?” she says. “Maybe Patty Ann’s right. Maybe it’ll turn out to be worth a mint.”

Ronnie laughs softly.

She closes her eyes also.

After their nap, they use the hotel phone to call Patty Ann, whose home phone is working again, and let her know lunch has been moved to dinner, in case Francis hasn’t gotten through to her. Neither of them is feeling very hungry, so they share a club sandwich in the hotel’s restaurant. Then they venture out and walk north through Palisades Park, stopping to rest under the shade of the palm, pine, and fig trees. Even here by the beach, the day weighs heavily, hot and soupy. A few Rollerbladers have come out, and bike riders. When another aftershock occurs, everyone freezes, reliving the morning. Then they pick themselves back up and keep at whatever they were doing.

The same sudden quiet occurs again that evening when they are in the restaurant, waiting with Patty Ann, Glenn, and Sean for Francis and his girlfriend to arrive. But this time it’s not from another aftershock. It’s Francis . When he walks through the front door, the other diners clearly think because of his looks that he must be a famous actor.

Has life always been like this for poor, shy Francis? The other diners all swiftly return to their grilled chicken with sun-dried tomatoes and their blackened ahi. This is Los Angeles.

“Hello, Mom,” he says carefully. He kisses her on the cheek and greets everyone else slowly, individually, politely shaking hands with Glenn, whom he’s never met before. Then he introduces his girlfriend, standing a few steps away and looking around the nautical-themed whitewashed walls of the restaurant with an amused expression.

“This is Georgina,” he says. “I should tell you. We were married three weeks ago.”

Francis has gotten married? Without telling any of them? Will she never be part of her youngest son’s life again? Was she ever?

Francis’s new bride seems to notice them for the first time. There’s something curiously disconnected about the girl — and girl is really the word for her. Younger than Sissy, willowy, with straight blond hair and a fragile face. Very pretty, of course. “I told Francis we had to if I was going to move to the United States with him,” Georgina says with a laugh that sounds like running water.

“Well, that’s quite the news!” she says. “Welcome, Georgina! Welcome to America!” She doesn’t know whether to embrace her new daughter-in-law; something tells her no. She shakes her hand instead, then sits down at the table, watching everyone else do the same. And then, because she doesn’t even know where to start, she turns to what sparks hope in her heart. “So you are moving home?”

Francis frowns. “It depends on what you mean by ‘home.’ We’re going to try out living in America, yes. But not California. Not the West.”

Patty Ann shoots her a warning look — has she already been too intrusive? — before exclaiming, “All these years, all these brothers and all these sons, I always had only one sister. Now I have two . This is a reason to celebrate!”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” Georgina’s smooth English accent makes it hard to tell whether the words are meant to be sincere or sarcastic.

“What about Mike’s wife?” she says. All she did was ask whether he was moving back. He brought it up first. Or, really, his surprise bride did.

“Ha!” Patty Ann says. “Right. Holly .”

“Holly is Mike’s wife,” she says to Francis and Georgina. It’s hard to know what Francis is up to date on. He may have resurfaced, but it’s not like he’s suddenly become anyone’s pen pal, and this is — at least as far as she knows — his first visit back to the United States. Although maybe he has been back without telling her. He stopped in New York City on the way here, but even that much she only knows from Jeanne, who heard it from Molly. Molly apparently neglected to mention he brought along a wife. They always were thick as thieves, Francis and Molly.

Patty Ann drinks from her wineglass. “Holly is very enthusiastic.”

“I’ve met Holly,” Francis says, looking uncomfortable, as though it’s cost him to say it. And then she remembers. Holly was with Mike in Paris when Mike caught and then lost Francis. Mike blamed himself so terribly for that, afterward. I should have known better than to let him out of my sight. I mean, this was Francis.

She waves her hand. “Well, congratulations.”

“We didn’t want to make a fuss,” Francis says. “It was very last-minute. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

Apologizing seems to be part of the new Francis. Please, God, don’t let him be in a twelve-step program. One in the family is more than enough.