“Thanking you? Isn’t part of your plan to backfill and pave over and destroy King Harbor to make way for parking?”
“We need parking.”
Nancy shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve had a boat there for over thirty years. You’ve been a part of that yacht club; those people were invited to your daughter’s wedding. Do you have no conscience?”
“To be honest, no. But don’t give me that sentimental bullshit, Nancy. My company needed this big hit. You need it too. The Redondo Beach pier needs some sort of renovation. Christ, it’s a shithole.”
“You’re not making any friends, Roger.”
“I have all the friends I need.” He pointed over to Glenda Hibbert, who was chatting up a small group of well-dressed men.
“You do not have Glenda’s vote,” Nancy said sharply, more of a hopeful statement rather than a declaration of truth.
“Glenda was a tough one. Claire took a different tack on her, but it didn’t pan out. It took a little more digging and some creativity, but I finally brought Glenda over to my point of view.”
“You mean the dark side?” Nancy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Not her.”
“Oh yes, her.” Roger took a sip of his martini. “I thought I’d need you to get her on my side, Nancy, but it turns out,” he said as he relished his victory, “I don’t need you at all.”
Nancy’s head was starting to spin. “So, why the bet?”
“Oh, I don’t give a shit about the bet anymore, mostly because you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning. But I do love victory, and this one shall be my sweetest. You can count on a long, drawn-out, expensive divorce battle. I’ll be damned if you get half of everything I earned. I told you I would win. I always win.”
Now that Roger had Glenda’s vote, the combination of the smug look on Roger’s face, the knowledge that Glenda had somehow betrayed her, and the fate of her future with Roger caused a fissure in Nancy’s being that churned like unreleased lava.
“Of course, if you’re still in, I’m still in,” Roger said on a parting note.
Nancy took the boccie ball that she was holding and launched it at Roger’s head. He ducked, and it missed him, but it hit the octopus ice sculpture right behind him. It took the head clean off. The poor octopus now posed headless, its body melting and dripping onto the fruit plates below.
“Go fuck yourself, Roger.”
Roger chuckled at her loss of control and let out a long, low whistle. The people who were milling about on the lawn stood shocked at what they had just witnessed. Nancy marched back toward the yacht club.
On her way up the stairs, Nancy looked over and saw Glenda Hibbert chatting up some asshole who was wearing epaulets on his shoulders. Glenda glanced her way, and Nancy glared at her. Glenda took a swig of her drink and came toward her.
Nancy had gotten to the top of the stairs when Glenda approached, coming up to her gingerly, guiltily. “I know what you must think, Nancy.”
“Don’t presume to know what I think.”
“You think I’m a double-crossing, environment-betraying opportunist.”
“I stand corrected. You know what I think.”
Glenda hung her head for a moment before looking up at Nancy with an expression that conveyed both shame and inevitability. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“How could I?”
“I know, but just hear me out.” Glenda shrugged. “Roger came at me with this deal about the waterfront, told me that he knew the Monterey Bay sanctuary’s status would be threatened next year with the new administration, that he had three other votes in his pocket that would help me keep the sanctuary if I helped pass his vote on the waterfront. He offered a deal that would keep the sanctuary safe for the next fifty years. This is how politics works.”
Nancy sniffed but remained stern. She knew the otters were important to Glenda. The Monterey Bay sanctuary was her legacy.
“Nancy, someone is going to redevelop that waterfront. I didn’t think it was so bad that Roger, and then by default you, would get to enjoy the benefits of that deal. Surely you can see my point on this. We’re not kids anymore. We don’t have the luxury of idealism.”
Nancy looked at Glenda and saw the remorse on her face. “It feels personal.”
“It’s not, though.”
“But it feels that way.” Nancy shook her head.
“I hope you can forgive me one day, Nancy.” Glenda walked away.
Nancy watched her wander off just as Judy and Lois ran up to her, frantic. “There you are!”
“Nancy, come, it’s Ruthie,” Lois said.
All three of them ran to the buffet table, where a small crowd had gathered in a circle. Nancy made her way through to see Ruthie collapsed on the marble floor. A small trickle of blood was coming from her nose and mouth. She wasn’t conscious. A man was taking her pulse and checking her vital signs.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Nancy mumbled, her heart racing as she knelt down and took her best friend’s head in her hands. “Ruthie, can you hear me?”
Nancy looked up at the man attempting to help her. “She’s alive,” he said, “but her pulse is weak. We need to get her to the hospital. Are you aware of any drugs she’s taking? Anything that would compromise her heart?”
“No, nothing I know of.” Nancy looked at Lois and Judy.
Lois quickly said, “Nothing we know of. Ambulance is on its way.”
A few seconds later, sirens could be heard arriving at the front door. Nancy had Ruthie’s head in her lap, but she was still unconscious.
She watched as the paramedics gently placed her on a gurney and took her out to the waiting ambulance.
Nancy hopped in, and when the paramedics asked who she was, she answered, “I’m her family.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
RED SKIES AT DAWN
Nancy sat in a hard plastic chair with her elbows resting on her knees and stared at the gleaming floors of the Newport Harbor Hospital. She had been waiting nearly ninety minutes before an exhausted-looking doctor came out to greet her.
“Are you Nancy? Ruth Davenport’s family?” he said as he checked his chart.
“It’s Ruthie,” Nancy corrected him.
He looked up from his chart to meet her eyes. His lips grew into a thin line. “Right. Ruthie.” He took the seat next to her and sighed heavily. “Well, she’s fine at the moment. Her blood sugar was low, and she was dehydrated. But it’s no wonder she’s exhausted. I gave her a mild sedative so she can get some rest.”
“Exhaustion? I don’t understand.”
“According to her attending physician in Redondo Beach, Ruthie is suffering from stage three lung cancer.”
Nancy heard his words, and then she heard a white pop go off in her head, momentarily deafening everything else. It couldn’t be. Not Ruthie. For a few moments, she gripped the tissue she had been holding, sat back in her chair, and stared up at the ceiling, not saying a word. She was reeling.
“I thought you knew …” the young doctor said.
Nancy finally came back to and said, “No. I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “There are certain immunotherapies that have proved very promising in some clinical trials, but I’m not sure if she’s a candidate for them.”
“Wait, are you telling me this can be treated?” Nancy became instantly alert.
The young doctor seemed to backtrack on the hope he had just offered and said, “In some cases it can be helpful, but …” He looked at his chart again. “You have to prepare yourself.”
Those words … Nancy was instantly back in the hospital corridor with her mom’s nurse Lorraine from so many years ago, her younger, naïve self filled with false hope for her mom’s recovery. Lorraine had said those exact words. Then, in what had seemed like an instant, her mother was gone. A tremor started in Nancy as she sat frozen in her seat.
“Get in touch with her physician in Redondo Beach. They have an excellent onco
logy department at Torrance Memorial.” He touched Nancy’s shoulder as he excused himself.
Nancy sat there in that until she realized her legs had gone a little numb. Then she got up and headed into Ruthie’s room.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
AN UNEXPECTED TACK
The hospital room was dim when Ruthie woke up. Nancy was sitting in the chair in the corner texting when she heard Ruthie make a noise. She immediately moved her chair next to the bed.
“Hey, Ruthie, I’m right here.” Nancy smiled and smoothed her friend’s hair behind her ear. She felt cool to the touch.
“You should be on the boat.”
“I’m here instead, you stubborn old hen.”
Ruthie sat up, and the color slowly began to return to her cheeks. She looked down at the tray in front of her that was presumably food. She uncovered the plate. Underneath it lay a sad turkey loaf with a gravy-like substance and a heap of mashed potatoes that looked a little green. The staple of hospital cuisine. Ruthie grimaced.
“I came armed with bread and cheese,” Nancy said as she brought over the plate of snacks.
“Ever a master of provisioning.” Ruthie nibbled on cheese and then looked at Nancy.
Nancy stared at her best friend in the world, her chosen family. Her stomach flipped at the thought of losing her, and tears sprung to her eyes. She held Ruthie’s hand urgently, as if to make sure of its warmth and her life force. Nancy felt shock, sudden desperation, and more than a little bit of anger.
As if she knew Nancy was angry with her, Ruthie trod lightly at first. “The docs tell you what’s going on?”
“They had no choice; you named me as next of kin. How long have you known?”
Ruthie nodded. “Remember that back pain I had? Well, Advil didn’t do the trick. I’ve only known for about a month. It’s sounds like not much can be done.”
“That’s not true! There are some experimental drug trials that are on the verge of getting approved that have proven very promising with your type of lung cancer.” There was an edge to Nancy’s voice. Even if Ruthie was giving up on herself, Nancy sure as hell wasn’t.
Ruthie ran her fingers through her hair and gave Nancy a straight face. “So I’ve heard.”
“We will get you in at Cedars when we get home. Best in the city. Don’t argue.”
“Sounds good,” Ruthie said dismissively. “What’s going on with the race? Are the girls getting the boat ready?”
Nancy sat back. A line appeared between her brows as she grimaced. “What are you talking about?”
“The race, the race, what’s going on with the race? Are you guys ready?”
“Ruth, we’re not thinking about the race.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because you’re in here. With stage three lung cancer.”
Ruthie shrugged, frustrated. “So, you’re not going to race?”
“Those are some strong drugs you’re on. No, we are not.”
Ruthie slammed down her crusty French bread and looked at Nancy, angry. “Did you already tell them that?” she asked.
“No. But I will as soon as I leave here. It’s not easy for me to bow out, but …”
“I think it’s what you want,” Ruthie interrupted.
“You think I want to quit?”
“To be honest, yes.”
“My best friend has stage three cancer, a small fact I wasn’t even aware of until you starting bleeding all over the Italian marble at the skippers’ reception, and you’re lecturing me on being honest? The damn race is the last thing on my mind!”
Ruthie was quiet for a long moment as she gave Nancy a measured stare, as if considering her next words carefully.
“You have to race.” Ruthie said flatly.
“No. The race is not important.”
“What about the bet? You’re just going to give in to Roger, that putz of all fucking putzes?”
“The bet is off, Ruthie. The whole thing is over.”
“What do you mean?”
Nancy stalled, taking a sip of Ruthie’s water. “Roger doesn’t want me back.”
“No shit. It was about something else.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I know Roger. What was it?”
“It was about the BURP project. He needed Glenda’s vote. Didn’t think he could get it without me.”
“Snake.”
“Plus, it seems like he and Claire are still going strong.”
“That won’t last.” Ruthie waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll leave him for the next mortally vulnerable geezer. Nancy, more than ever, you have to race.”
“I do not have to race. There’s nothing on the line anymore.”
“The hell there isn’t. Your whole life comes down to this race.” Ruthie shook her head. “Not in the way you think I mean.”
“It’s a sailboat race, for Christ’s sake. You think I want revenge on Roger that badly? I’m not that selfish. No. I am going to be here for you!”
“I refuse to be the reason you bow out of this, Nancy. I’m not giving you the easy way out. You know why? Because you always take it.”
Nancy sat back. “What the hell does that mean?”
“This whole thing is about you. Not me. Or the girls. Or Roger. Or a stupid bet. Or even revenge. That’s all bullshit. It’s about you. And it’s about time. Your life was interrupted a long time ago by trauma you couldn’t control, and something cracked in you. That tough little girl that I grew up with was hobbled by loss and sadness and choices made by other people. It weakened you. But she’s there. I can see her in you. And that’s the thing about life. It tries to break you, and it can—if you let it. Or you can choose to come back even stronger. And right now, my beautiful friend, you have that power. To choose. To be strong. To heal yourself. The only thing standing in your way now is you.”
Nancy began to reel. Ruthie saw through her like no one else, but something she had said struck a chord. Excuses. She’d had some doozies. And somehow those excuses—her dad leaving, her mother dying, her faltering marriage to philandering Roger—had let her hide and fade into the background, as if she were part of the wallpaper on the set instead of being part of the play. That brave little girl inside of her had been silenced long ago in favor of a safe, stable life wherein nothing much happened. A life in which she was never the central character of her own story. Tears began to well up from a deep, long-forgotten place.
Ruthie took her hand when she saw the tears fall. “Forgive yourself, Nancy, for all that potential you think you wasted, for all of the times you felt small or insignificant, or for thinking you could have done better. Because it all adds up to right now. The past and the future are all twisted up together, don’t you see? This moment, you are the skipper of your own life. And the wind is at your back. You are strong—you just need to believe it.” Ruthie let the words hang there in the air, heavy like rain clouds plump with love and truth.
Nancy got up and went to look out the window. She wiped away her tears, but they stubbornly kept coming. “I can’t do it alone.”
“You’re not alone.”
“But you’re sick.”
“I’ll get better.” Ruthie hesitated. “Or maybe I won’t. But Nance, I’m here right now. And now is all we’ve got. You can waste it sitting here watching me eat the world’s worst mashed potatoes, or you can make it unforgettable.”
“Why are you such a hard-ass?”
“It’s my special gift.” Ruthie smiled but didn’t let up. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to use my stupid cancer as your excuse to bow out? Because I will kill you if you do. Or are you going to use your God-given strength and find that tough girl who never took shit from anyone and win this goddamn race?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AND THEN, MUTINY
“She doesn’t want us to quit.” Nancy stood there in front of Judy and Lois, frustrated and tired, her eyes puffy from crying.
“We know.”
“So, all of you are in on this together?”
“Kinda,” they said in unison.
“Did you know about the cancer?”
They both hesitated. Lois finally answered, “We didn’t know it was stage three. We only knew she was having some tests run.”
“Why the hell did you not tell me?”
“Because we knew you wouldn’t go through with the race if you knew. Plus, Ruthie threatened us.”
Judy added, “Aggressively.”
“And,” Lois said, “she thought she’d be fine until after the race was over. So really, it’s just a timing thing.”
Nancy was flustered, and she took a moment to contemplate this turn of events. “So, I have a mutiny of love on my hands.”
Lois and Judy both nodded.
Nancy sighed. “But the rules say we still need a fourth, and we don’t have one. Who’s going to be our fourth Mermaid?”
Just then, someone whistled.
Judy, Lois, and Nancy turned to see Charlotte bounding down the dock, backpack slung over her shoulder, an expression of glee and determination on her face.
“I think that’s our fourth Mermaid, right on time,” Lois said.
Nancy looked and saw Stella, fingers on her lips from the whistle she had just delivered, standing by the car in the distance. She walked toward the boat.
Nancy met her halfway. Charlotte raced toward her.
“Hi, Gran!”
Nancy held up her palm, and Charlotte high-fived her as she trotted toward the boat.
When Nancy reached her daughter, Stella, she brought her in for a hug.
Still in the embrace, Stella said, “I’m so sorry to hear about Ruthie, Mom.”
She held on to her daughter in that life-affirming way that made her realize how precious it all was. Time, place, family. That her legacy was in fact in her arms right now. She whispered into her daughter’s shoulder, “It’s good to see you.”
Stella let go. “Mom, I didn’t know about Dad. You should have told me.”
“I didn’t want to damage your relationship with him.”
Beware the Mermaids Page 25
