by Molly Tanzer
Part of Ellie wanted to dismiss the entire report as trash. Between its sensational style and the fact this “prying eye” had misreported Delphine Coulthead as being Jimmy’s sister “Diane,” there wasn’t much reason to believe anything it said.
And yet, it did disturb her. The crate of unidentified moonshine loomed large in her mind—usually, she wouldn’t sell booze like that. She always bought from SJ because she knew how careful SJ was about hygiene; how she did her best to produce a product of the same proof each time. Not all moonshiners did—in fact, not only did they run unsanitary operations, making mash out of who knew what, people added all sorts of things to their batches to give the finished drink more “kick,” including bleach, embalming fluid, and other unimaginably awful substances. The consequences of drinking that stuff were terrible, too—blindness, even death.
Ellie had tried the mystery booze, but it’s true she hadn’t sampled every bottle. She should have, but Amityville wasn’t exactly a hotbed of tainted moonshine.
And yet, it seemed she’d found some.
“Is this the big sale you made?” said her father, drawing her away from these jumbled thoughts. “Is this how you paid for Lester’s college? Selling tainted liquor to the unwary?”
“No!” Ellie shook her head. “I mean, yes, it is the family who hired me, but I didn’t . . . or I didn’t mean to sell them tainted liquor. I didn’t think I had. If that’s even what happened—this could all be a bunch of drunks scaring one another. Everybody knows ‘The Prying Eye’ is nothing but gossip, and—”
“It is in the paper just the same. You’ve exposed us.”
“Exposed . . . ?”
“You think that lowlife Oscar won’t tell everyone it was you?”
This was an unfortunately good point, and Ellie cringed as she considered just how far this story might spread. Her father saw, and an odd light came into his eyes. Ellie was well acquainted with her father’s various angry moods, but this was a cold, righteous mania the likes of which she had never seen before.
“All Amityville will know this family’s shame,” he said, his voice still soft, low, and terrifying. “I told you I wanted you to stop, Ellie. I told you it was time for you to give this up, to leave that life behind you. But you would not listen.”
He got a bit louder toward the end of his speech, so Ellie got louder too when she replied, “It’s honest enough work, or at least, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Nothing wrong with selling illegal spirits to thirsty drunks?” Her father snorted. “I’m not sure either the law or the”—he sniffed—“Italian operations in town would agree with you.”
Ellie wasn’t worried about the police for obvious reasons, but the mention of the Mafia gave her pause. She hadn’t spent too much time worrying about the big-time importers coming to shut her down or ask for a cut of her profits—that usually happened when people got greedy.
But she had gotten greedy. After a public incident like this, some opportunists might well take the opportunity to move in on her. That was more upsetting to Ellie than what people might say.
“What matters is that now Lester can go to school,” she said firmly. “The plan was for me to stop anyway, wasn’t it?” She had dismissed the idea before, but retirement was looking a lot more attractive after this, that was for sure. “People may talk about this, but so what if they do? People will talk about anything. Lester will still be making us proud long after they’ve forgotten all about it.”
Ellie’s father made a disgusted sound. “If he wanted to go to school, he ought to have earned his own way like a real man and left you to live like a proper woman!”
“He earned that scholarship like a man would—like anyone would—and I’m sure there’s nothing improper about a woman supporting her family. Or at least, helping to do so.”
That was the wrong thing to say—Ellie saw it instantly. The thunder in her father’s voice coalesced in his face as it went purple as a storm cloud and his brows crashed together like two angry swells. She’d only meant to defend herself against this bizarre accusation of not being a proper woman. After all, her father had taught her everything she knew about the bay, from boating to fishing to digging for bait clams with her pants hiked up above her knees . . . And when her mother was nervous about the idea of her learning to swim, fearing she would drown, it was her father who’d insisted she’d be less likely to if she knew how to save herself.
Ellie had been heartbroken when he went to war; she had always loved her mother, but her father had understood her. She’d been so grateful that he’d shared his bayman’s wisdom with her, even though she was a girl and could never get a job on a trawler. Because of him, she’d been able to pick up the slack when he left—that had made her proud, and she had thought her father would be proud of her, too. That he had quietly resented her for it had always stung, but even that did not prepare her for his open criticism.
“Supporting your family,” he said, chewing the words, with an expression as if they tasted bad to him. “Is that what you think you’re doing? You’re not supporting this family, Elizabeth West. You’re breaking it into pieces.”
“How is that?” It was an outrageous accusation, and Ellie did not bother to check her tone, nor did she repent when he glared at her.
“Your self-serving actions, which you consider ‘support,’ have done more to undermine the structure of this family than my injury. Everything you do, Ellie, you do for your sake, not ours. You take pride in it when you should feel shame. It’s time you accepted that you’re no man of the house, no matter how much you affect being one.”
“I’ve never affected anything! I’ve only ever done what needed to be done,” insisted Ellie. Though she wanted to, she did not add and who else would have done it?
“A woman your age shouldn’t be out on a boat, fishing. She ought to be keeping house for her husband, giving him children, and being quiet about it.”
“Who are you?” Ellie exclaimed, shocked. “Don’t you remember taking me out on the bay? I am who I am because of what you taught me!”
“I don’t remember teaching you to sass your own father.”
“Do you remember teaching me to stand up for what’s right? Because that’s what I’m doing for Lester. If this family is too fragile to withstand me doing right by him, then it wasn’t strong to begin with.”
“Stop it. Stop quarreling.”
Lester had come into the room, pale and spare and fragile-looking in the dark parlor full of solid wooden furniture. Ellie wanted to take him away by the hand, as she’d led him away from the edge of the dock or other dangerous situations when he’d been small. But she saw it, for the first time perhaps in that moment: Lester was becoming a man. She couldn’t protect him anymore—and he didn’t need her to.
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way,” said Ellie’s father, far louder now than he had been with her. Any restraint he showed toward his daughter was gone as he addressed his son. “There’s no cause for you to become a part of this conversation.”
“I am a part of this conversation, as I’m one of the causes of it,” countered Lester. “My name has been mentioned, and I have a right to be in the room when I’m being talked about.” Ellie blushed. She knew she’d been defending him, but it had probably been awful to listen to.
“You have no right to tell me how to behave in my own home,” her father said. “I have a right to be heard.”
“Oh, we’ve heard you,” said Lester, again impressing Ellie—she wouldn’t have dared to speak to their father like that, not in a million years. “We’ve heard you again, and again. All you do is sit around and complain about how dissatisfied you are. And ever since you’ve been spending time with Hunter you’ve been more unhappy, not less.” Ellie was surprised to hear this. She hadn’t really noticed a difference, but Lester was home more than she was. “If anyone ought to feel badly about speaking rudely, it ought to be you, the way you talk to Ellie.”
�
��It’s all right,” she said hastily. “I don’t mind, I—”
“I mind,” said Lester, over her. “It’s not right.”
“What’s not right is two children attacking their father, especially when one is an embarrassing cripple and the other a—”
Ellie never found out what she was, as their father’s insult to Lester was too much for her to endure. The look on Lester’s face was heartbreaking. Their father had said plenty that was awful over the years, expressing disappointment in his son, but this was the first time he’d ever just come out and said it.
“That’s it,” said Ellie, interrupting him. “I’ve had enough.” She spoke softly, rather than yelling more. “Lester, go pack. I will too. We’re leaving. Neither of us needs to put up with this anymore. We’re clearly not welcome in this house.”
“I agree,” said Lester quietly. It killed Ellie a little to see him so upset. “I’m sorry you find me embarrassing, Pop. There are moments I’ve felt the same way about you—but not because of your injury.”
“Let’s go tell Gabriel we’ll be coming with him,” said Ellie, as her father’s mouth moved without making sounds. Likely, her fiancé already knew they were, but it was a good excuse to have Lester leave the room.
“Gabriel!” Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to Mr. West where they’d go if they left. “You’d leave this house to go and live with that—that foreigner?”
“Foreigner!” Ellie actually laughed, though not from any particular humorousness to her father’s remarks. “He was born in a farmhouse in Center Moriches.”
“His parents weren’t.”
“So what? Mother’s great-grandparents were French!”
“That’s different.” Her father made a disgusted sound. “And the company he keeps!”
“What company would that be?” Ellie was no longer laughing. She was fairly certain her father meant Aaron, but she wanted him to say it, to own it. He did not.
“I’m talking about how Long Island really isn’t what it used to be,” said Robert, sidestepping the question.
Ellie couldn’t believe she was hearing this. Her father had always liked Gabriel—or at least, liked him as much as he liked anything. He hadn’t even had a problem with Gabriel being a few years younger than her, and inclined to talk about ghosts, and monsters, and colonies on Mars at the dinner table.
“Long Island used to be a safe place, free from the corruption of the city. Men here worked for a living; women kept their homes for them. Now, it’s a teeming cesspool of outsiders and vacationers. You should come Sunday morning, Ellie—even if you leave tonight, you should come to hear Hunter speak. We’re gathering in Paul Edwards’ field, and my friend will speak to right-thinking Long Islanders on how we can stop further social deterioration.”
“Social deterioration, huh?” Gabriel was in the room now, too, standing in the doorway, his big arms crossed over his solid chest. “You mean like farmers who prefer their potatoes in pancake form, rather than mashed or roasted? The horror of it all.”
Ellie went to him, took his hands in hers and squeezed. He looked down at her fondly, but there was a hardness to his eyes and to the set of his mouth.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said.
“If you leave you won’t be invited back,” said her father, without deigning to reply to Gabriel.
“What a shame,” said Ellie, and ushered Gabriel and Lester into the hall.
Gabriel had walked, so Ellie decided it would be easier to come back for what she couldn’t carry. As she packed up a few days’ worth of clothes she heard the front door slam and her father’s distinctive tread on the front walkway. Her mother, however, remained in the kitchen, alone with the forgotten ice cream melting in the icebox and the smell of raspberry sauce hanging in the air, just sitting, looking at nothing, her hands folded in her lap.
Lester wouldn’t say goodbye to her, shocking Ellie. Their mother’s failure to stand up for him had hurt him badly, it seemed. Ellie, on the other hand, couldn’t leave without saying farewell.
“Ma,” said Ellie, “you could come too . . .”
“My place is here.”
“Ma.” Ellie sat down at the table. “Even with everything he said, you—”
“They’re just words. There are things that are more important.”
“Like your children being driven out of their own home?”
“You’re choosing to leave.” Her mother looked back down at her hands. “He’s always been a man of strong opinions. And some of the points he made are fair.”
“The points about your son being an embarrassing cripple, or . . . ?”
“No, about Long Island, and our way of life changing—being lost.”
“If it is being lost, I don’t see how what he’s doing is helping get it back.”
Ellie stood and grabbed the wallet of Lester’s college money out of her mother’s desk.
“I’m taking this,” she said. She chose not to elaborate on why. Ellie’s mother just nodded her head, serene if sorrowful.
Ellie joined her fiancé and her brother on the lawn, where they stood in the gloaming for a long moment, silent, all turning over what had happened in their own way. Then Ellie shrugged once and started off down the road, toward her new home. Gabriel and Lester followed without a word.
2
Ellie made pancakes and bacon and coffee for everyone the next morning. She burned all of it, including the coffee. Neither her fiancé nor her brother complained about the unfortunate meal; they just put more butter and syrup all over everything that had a bit of char on it and thanked her with compliments she knew she didn’t deserve.
She was grateful for their forbearance. It wasn’t that either of them was the sort of man to get upset over a badly prepared meal; it was just that she was frustrated to have ruined an attempted nice gesture. She didn’t want them all walking on eggshells around one another—she’d had enough of that for a lifetime.
Honestly, it wasn’t such a big deal, moving out, moving on. She’d been planning to do so anyway after Lester went to school. That there was a rift between her and her parents just meant she’d be saved the trouble of heading into Amityville as often as she usually did.
She had to go in to town that night, however. Her remaining clients were expecting her, and she wanted to talk to Officer Jones.
When she got to the police station he was just packing up for the day, which he had clearly spent in this awful hot office. His tie was loose around his neck, his shirtsleeves damp around his forearms. Even though she came bearing gifts he did not seem pleased to see her; neither did Cleo, for that matter. The dog barely raised her head when Ellie entered.
“Come on outside with me, Miss West,” he said grimly, grabbing his bag.
“And a good evening to you, too,” she said, trotting to keep up with him as he headed for the door.
“Is it? You’re here, which means yet another problem for me. But, lucky for you I’m too hot to handcuff you and throw you in jail like you deserve.”
“Jail!”
“Yes, jail. It’s not like I don’t know who sold that liquor to the Coultheads.” He waved away her protest. “I don’t want to hear it. That column . . .” He shook his head as Ellie winced. “Everybody’s talking about it. That reporter’s a damn nuisance, if you ask me. This entire incident, weird as it is, could have easily been hushed up if it hadn’t gotten into the paper, but since it did it’ll rile up everyone, including the preachers, the Klan, other temperance kooks . . . We’ll have no end of troubles.” Jones glanced at Ellie, and seeing her dismay, changed his tone. “Hopefully none of it will touch you. As always, I’ll do what I can to keep people off your back if I hear of anyone sniffing around with an eye toward, ah, shutting down local operations.”
“As always?”
He cocked that eyebrow of his at her. “Yes, as always. With the exception of Klansmen, I’m pretty friendly with most everyone who might make trouble for you, and have made it clear
I would prefer they leave you be.”
Ellie was startled to hear this, but it made sense. She’d operated for years without a problem, whereas many others in her trade had come and gone over the years—or paid hefty bribes for the privilege of remaining in business.
“Thank you,” she said awkwardly. His sardonic smile told her he had intuited exactly the mix of mortification and gratitude she was feeling about this new information. Not for the first time, Ellie wondered if he might be interested in a form of payment other than a bottle or two of liquor for his services rendered—something some other cop, in some other county, would have demanded of her a long time ago, regardless of her interest.
“Look—you know bad booze is just about the only booze I won’t allow in Amityville. So if your distributor is selling you junk—”
“That’s not what happened,” interrupted Ellie. Jones raised that one bushy eyebrow at her, but Ellie didn’t back down. “I sold those people a case of stuff that I . . .” She paused. “Let’s say I acquired it somewhere along the line.”
“You acquired it, huh?”
“Yeah. I should have known better, but . . .”
“But?”
“I was desperate.”
