by Jeff Shelby
“I'm sure,” I said. “What was the other thing?”
“He's not entirely sure what he will build here,” she said, glancing around the property. “But he said that it will probably involve some condos.” She paused. “He said he couldn't just give us a couple of condos because of rules and regulations, but if we wanted, he would arrange for us to purchase a couple of units for close to nothing.” She smiled, the tears still in her eyes. “So that we would still be able to visit the place that meant the most to Mitchell.”
“Whoa,” Carter said. “Now that's cool.”
I'd misjudged Gentry. He'd been straightforward about everything, but I'd been trying to find something that wasn't there. I'd need to apologize to him at some point. And thank him.
“That's amazing,” I said. “What did Rose say?”
Anne laughed. “She cried harder than I did. She hugged him and I didn't think she was ever going to let go.”
I laughed. It was good to know that someone was able to break through Rose Henderson's icy exterior. For the right reasons.
“So that's why I want you to take the check,” she said. “I'm going to have more money than I know what to do with.”
I looked at the check for the first time. “Jesus. This is way too much.”
“No, it's really not,” she said, shaking her head. “Without you, we wouldn't have gotten the answers to what happened to Mitchell. Rose agreed. So thank you.”
I looked at Carter.
“She's the boss,” he said, shrugging.
I folded the check up and put it in my pocket. “Thank you. Still feels weird.”
“It shouldn't,” Anne said. “You helped me out when you didn't need to.” She smiled. “You did what Mitchell always did for everyone. He didn't ask questions. He just helped.” She grabbed my hand. “Thank you, Noah. Thank you.”
FORTY THREE
“So here's the estimate. It's a little pricey, but the window size is irregular. I might be able to do a little better, but it'll be in that neighborhood.”
It was the next morning and I was out at the house on Coronado. Andy had to leave town unexpectedly—one of the hazards of being an instructor in the Navy— and he'd left me a message that he'd arranged for the window guy to come do the estimate. He offered to cancel and reschedule, but I'd called him back and told him I'd meet with the window guy and we'd get it squared away before he was even back. As usual, he was extremely appreciative. He was making it far too easy to be a landlord.
The window guy's name was Jim and we were in the backyard. He'd spent half an hour checking things out and doing some measuring. He'd pointed out what was wrong with the window and what he would do to replace it. Given my level of handiness, I just assumed he was telling me the truth.
I glanced at the paper he'd just handed to me. “Windows really cost this much?”
He nodded, frowning. “They really do. And if you go through a window company?” He shook his head. “You won't believe what they'll hammer you for. What I just gave you is my labor, which is standard rate, plus me ordering it through a connection I have with a wholesaler. I know it seems like a lot, but I promise, if you have an actual window company come out to do the estimate, it'll cost you at minimum, twice that price.” He paused. “And I totally understand if you wanna do that, just to compare. My quote will be good for thirty days.”
I shook my head. “No, no. I don't need to do that. I appreciate the explanation. Just haven't done it before. What do you need from me to get started?”
“Half up front,” Jim said. “I'll order the window today, will take maybe a week to get it, then I'll need a day for the install. You can pay the other half after you tell me I did a good job.”
I nodded and we went inside. I wrote him a check for half, thanked him for coming out, and he said he'd call as soon as the window was in to arrange the install. I watched him walk to his truck and drive away from the front door.
I closed the door.
I wasn't sure if I'd been alone in the house since Liz's murder. When I'd been getting it ready to rent, Carter was with me to help get it cleaned up. I'd gone in with a Realtor at one point, and I'd walked through it with Andy, but I didn't think I'd ever been by myself.
It didn't feel like her home anymore. The furniture was different. The smells were different. I could feel her there, but it didn't feel like she was inhabiting it in the same way that I'd felt shortly after her death. Maybe that was time or maybe that was me. I wasn't sure. But there was a different feeling now and I didn't mind it.
I walked outside, locking the door behind me. I walked across the street to my car and turned around to look at the house again.
I hoped she liked Andy. I hoped she was okay with the window I was putting in. I hoped she was okay that I wasn't living there. Maybe I would someday, but I knew it wasn't the right time for me to be there. I hoped she understood that.
I got in the car and turned it on, let it idle for a moment.
I looked at the house again.
And I hoped she was okay with me moving on.
FORTY FOUR
Shannon McCarthy smiled at me. “I was worried you might be standing me up.”
I smiled back. “Not a chance.”
It was later in the afternoon. I'd called her before I'd gone to Coronado and asked if she'd seen the surf report. She had and was excited by what were predicted to be some pretty consistent sets in the late afternoon. I asked her if she wanted to come down and I'd teach her how to improve her technique. She laughed and told me she'd love to and she wouldn't even charge me for the lesson she was going to provide.
“I got hung up coming back from Coronado,” I said, standing the board upright in the sand. “Then my phone was dead and I figured it was better to just run down here rather than wait for it to charge to tell you I was running late.”
“I'm kidding,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I think you're actually a minute early.”
“Still. I wouldn't stand you up.”
“Good,” she said. She shaded her eyes and turned to the water. “Looks pretty good.”
“And crowded,” I said. “Was hoping no one else checked.”
She pulled off her T-shirt. She had on a cherry red, short-sleeved rashguard and black shorts. She tossed the shirt on the sand next to her bag and turned back to me. “I did Google you.”
My gut knotted. “Oh, yeah. That almost never goes well for me.”
“Is it all true?” she asked. “I mean, I know you gave me the basics the other night, but there were some other details I rooted out. Not because I didn't believe you, but because I was curious.”
I took off my shirt, the sun warm on my chest, then nodded. “Most of what I've read, they're pretty accurate.”
She studied me for a few seconds and it made me uncomfortable, like she was trying to make up her mind about something. For a moment, I wondered if maybe I should've stood her up.
“I don't know if I said this the other night,” she finally said. “But I'm sorry. That it all happened to you. And that you had to do the things you did.”
“Me, too,” I said, squinting into the sunshine. “And if you're now ready to run screaming, I won't hold it against you. Really.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. I don't think I will. But I have questions. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Be weird if you didn't.”
“Maybe I can ask them if we go get something to eat after we get off the water,” she said. “Or a month from now.”
“A month from now. Are you asking me to go steady?”
Her smile grew. “I don't have a ring for you.”
“Jewelry looks weird on me anyway.”
She studied me again, those green eyes locking onto me. “Are you okay?”
I knew what she meant. She'd read all of these things and wondered how I was coming out on the other end. It was a completely normal question.
“I wasn't,” I told her, watching the wa
ter for a moment, then looking back at her. “For a long time, I really wasn't. But I think I'm okay now.”
She nodded. “That's good.”
I nodded, too. “It is.”
She picked up her board and tucked it under her arm. “Okay. You can tell me how you got to okay after I embarrass you out here.”
I laughed and shook my head.
She stuck her tongue out at me and headed for the water.
I plucked my board from the sand, brushed the sand off the tail, and wrapped my arm around it, pulling it to my side.
Shannon was at the water's edge now, her feet disappearing into the sparkling Pacific. She dropped the board onto the surface of the ocean and splashed some water over the top of it. She laid down on it, started to paddle, then looked back at me.
She smiled, then looked back to the west, and started paddling out to the lineup.
I took a breath and didn't feel the invisible weight that had seemingly taken up permanent residence on my shoulders for so long. I wasn't sure if it was coming to terms with Liz's death or helping Anne or meeting Shannon or figuring out what really happened to Mitchell, but the weight wasn't there. It was replaced with something I couldn't figure out, but I didn't hate it.
I walked to the edge of the water.
Shannon had asked if I was okay.
So many people had asked me that since Liz's death and so many times I'd lied and said I was.
It felt good to finally say it and mean it.
I stuck my feet into the cold Pacific, letting it wash over my feet.
I watched Shannon reach the lineup, spin around, sit up on her board, and wave me out.
I was okay.
THE END
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