Don't Let Go

by Sheryl Wright

  “You are standing…living room.” At Tyler’s confused look, she added, “I want to build…here.”

  Tyler made a slow 360 degree turn to take in the strip of land. “You own all this?”

  “All east side…peninsula. Lori…west. Funny shape plot.” Crouching down, the light dusting of snow just thick enough to carve out her illustration, she drew out the shape of the peninsula and divided it with a large T.

  Bending down beside her, Tyler joked, “That looks a little like a T-bone steak.” She was immediately rewarded with a smile that helped soothe her worry. Watching as Georgie added a billowing rib steak to the left side before depicting a skinny tenderloin on the right. “This side,” she tapped on the left side of the snow steak, “inherited by Lori. I took this side,” she explained by pointing to the boatyard. “This bit…the sirloin tip. Is mine too. Maybe one day…build here…live here.”

  “What about your work? The condo seems so convenient for you.”

  “I guess, but…you know better. You grew up…house, family business. Some days perfect…”

  “And some days you can’t get far enough away.”

  Georgie just nodded. “See one more? The millwork shed?” she asked, starting back toward the boatyard. When she realized Tyler wasn’t following, she casually offered her gloved hand.

  Without conscious thought, Tyler accepted it and fell in step. Only then considering how it would look if anyone spotted her and Georgie walking across the yard hand in hand. Fuck you, Lori Phipps! If Georgie wants to hold my hand and stroll around her property, so be it! Bitch! Maggie, who was off leash and obviously believing neither of them to be in immediate peril, spotted a rabbit making its way through the tall frozen reeds lining the riverbank and made a mad dash. “HALT!” Georgie ordered with crisp command.

  Tyler, who stood paralyzed by the impending horror, was shocked to see Maggie skid to a stop. While she growled and continued to make her displeasure known, she held her place. Georgie walked to where she sat and clipped on her leash without scolding the dog in any way. Together they watched the rabbit disappear from sight before turning to resume the hike to the millwork shed. Falling back in beside the pair, Tyler immediately missed the comfort of holding hands. Was it just the comfort of holding hands or was it holding hands with Georgie? Shrugging off her query, she accompanied Georgie as they traversed the entire length of the boatyard, even passing the paint shed before heading for the only building not finished in the vibrant blue of all the others.

  “We should take…pictures…notes…for the proposal.”

  “Will we need contractor bids or estimates?”

  Georgie watched as she snapped pics with her smartphone. “Depends. What you decide.”

  That caught her by surprise. Of course, everything about Georgie DiNamico was surprising. Tyler mentally pinched herself. She had put herself in Georgie’s corner and had to admit it was starting to shape up into something she had never expected.

  * * *

  It was only half past five when Marnie pulled her Navigator into the boatyard parking lot. Bypassing security, she was heading for the paint shed when Lori scooted out of the office waving for her to stop.

  Lori barely had her foot in the door of the passenger side when she announced, “Houston, we have a problem!”

  Groaning, Marnie continued down the gravel driveway. “Please, please, please don’t tell me they’re in more trouble. One more misstep by those two little bastards and it’s military school for them! I can’t believe those two ever shared a womb or that it was mine!”

  “Hey relax dude. Frick and Frack are in good hands. Another couple of weeks on their hands and knees and those two will be begging to kiss your ass.”

  “Really Lori? I swear you get more graphic every year. And people say I have a potty mouth!”

  “It’s not like I have to be the kiss-ass face of DME. I just have to make sure our boats are as pretty as you are.”

  “Oh no,” Marnie said seriously, parking her big SUV directly in front of the entrance to the paint shed. “What the hell’s gone so wrong that you’re sucking up to me? Jesus, you haven’t done that since…”

  “Marnie! Eye on the prize girl. I said we have a problem and it’s big!” At her cousin’s wide eyes and frightened stare, she explained. “I think Georgie’s got it bad for the new girl. And I don’t like it, and I don’t like her. Not one bit.”

  “You don’t like anybody. Why should this one be any different?”

  “What? Because it’s Georgie, you snot. We have to protect her now.”

  She carefully studied Lori’s worried face. “Okay, I think she’s got a thing for the girl too. What do we do?”

  “She’s got to go. There’s no other way; we can’t risk it.”

  Marnie was uncharacteristically silent. It took a long moment before she could formulate a reply or even decide if she and Lori had a right to intervene in Georgie’s work and life. As she considered the situation, the twins came ripping out of the paint shed. They looked tired and filthy, crawling into the back of the Navigator, heads down grumbling their greetings. Quietly she asked Lori, “Is Ethan still here?”

  “In the office.”

  Backing out of the parking spot, she drove them back the short distance to the little cottage that was utilized as both Lori’s office and security.

  When she pulled up out front, Lori trotted in, promising to send her young cousin back out to supervise the student drivers for their trip home.

  Marnie turned to the twins and announced, “Change of plans, guys.” Removing the key fob from the ignition, she tossed it into the backseat for the boys to fight over. “I want you guys to head home and start dinner for your father. Ethan will go with you. And no fighting! I want you taking turns driving. If Ethan tells me you two didn’t behave, it’ll be the last time you get to drive this truck. Is that understood?” In the rearview mirror she could see they were still jostling for the key.

  While they both grumbled their agreement, one objected with a piercing whine, “Do we have to drive Ethan home?”

  “Of course you have to drive him home.”

  “Then how are we supposed to get home?” the other complained.

  Marnie groaned internally. This is just the sort of thing that made her want to smack their heads together.

  She thought with affection about Ethan and his mother Stella, who lived in the big house that Luigi had built fifty years ago to house his extended family. The one-hundred-and-twenty-acre plot had been purchased by him in the early fifties. The large gray stone Georgian Manor house had been his one big extravagance but like everything he did, there was always room for opportunity. Sure enough, a new home developer had gone broke in Syracuse, trying to upscale the newest craze for tract homes. Old Luigi had bought out all the unused materials from the failed subdivision, and instead of using them to build a dozen stone bungalows, he also bought architectural plans from a discount supplier he had found in the back of a magazine, and built the imposing grand house on the shores of Lake Erie. In a place with eleven bedrooms, two kitchens and enough common spaces to accommodate an entire regiment, Stella and her son were not the only ones in residence. As expected, Lou Phipps and his brood had assumed the post of primary residents. While Henry still spent his weekends in the big house by the lake, Marnie and Jack had their own home. Shortly after they were married, Danny and Henry had sat down with them and asked if they would prefer their own residence. They’d jumped at the chance to build their own home on the property, and with the blessing of the old boys, they designed a very modern glass and steel showcase to suit their lifestyle. While most of the family referred to it as the Glasshouse, Lou openly called it the hideous monstrosity impinging on his home.

  Marnie said to her sons, “You will drive Ethan to the big house. If, and this is a big if, he says he trusts you two, you may drive the truck back down the driveway to our house. Nowhere else,” she ordered, emphasizing the point with a shaking fist. “Ge
t your butts back to the house and get dinner started. Understood?”

  They grumbled their agreement but piled out happily waiting for their mother to vacate the driver’s seat. Once Ethan was buckled into the passenger seat and waved his farewell, Marnie turned for the office and headed inside.

  The little building really wasn’t much more than a shack. Actually it was a beautiful little replica of Lori’s own house. She’d built it as practice for the real thing, and Marnie had agreed to pay for the materials, knowing a little cottage would look better in front of the assembly building than another stupid shed. Other than the washroom, there were only two rooms in the security cottage, the main room and a tiny kitchen. Passing under the security counter, Marnie dumped her purse on one of the two desks, asking point blank, “What the hell happened when they were out here?”

  Lori just smiled at her. “Marnie, chill a minute, will you?”

  For a moment it looked like Marnie’s head would blow, then she began laughing. “Holy hell girl, what a friggin day!” she said, dragging a chair out and sitting down. “Please tell me the sun’s over the yardarm somewhere?”

  Lori pulled a bottle of Canadian Club from a desk drawer. She grabbed two clean glasses and some ice from the kitchen, calling out, “You want Seven or Coke?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “All right,” Lori conceded. She poured two fingers of CC in each glass, then topped them up with Coke. “So who pissed in your porridge today?”

  Marnie almost choked on her drink. “Shit!” she said, wiping her drink from her chin. “I swear you are the worst influence on me.”

  “Me? You’re the one who always comes up with great ideas. One of which may be just about to blow up in our faces.”

  After slugging a third of her drink down, Marnie smiled with her most mischievous grin.

  “Oh no,” Lori said, arms held up in surrender and practically backing into the wall. “I know that look and I smell trouble!”

  “Really? What does the smell of trouble look like?” Marnie huffed at her, taking another generous swallow. “When I saw you waving your arms like a madwoman, I assumed it was about my evil offspring, not this…this shit!” Finally relinquishing her hold on the half-gone beverage, she said amiably, “Tell me everything.”

  Lori filled her in on the boatyard visit and the sight of Georgie and Tyler strolling along the breakwater hand in hand.

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Hell, I’ve had to take her by the hand on more than a dozen occasions.”

  “Take her hand, not wander around in the afternoon sunshine, hand in hand!”

  “I take your point,” she huffed again. Examining Lori’s expression, she had to ask, “That’s not all, is it?”

  Lori shook her head, a little more than embarrassed to admit she had challenged Tyler. “We kinda had a disagreement.”

  “You and Georgie?”

  “No, no! She and Maggie went out for a walk on the spit. I was talking about Tyler. Well, I kind of cornered her and asked what she was up to.”

  “Jesus Christ Lori! Are you trying to get us sued?”

  “Sued! Really Marnie? That’s where you’re going with this? That bitch is playing our Georgie and I will not stand by and let another gold digger have a go at her!” Lori was back on her feet and pacing to control her anger. “That woman you’re so worried might sue us, has just invited our Georgie for Christmas dinner. Christmas! Can you believe that?”

  Marnie looked like someone had just slapped her face. Picking up her drink, she set it back down without comment. It was obvious she was stunned. “Georgie told you this?”

  “She sent me a text. She wants to know if I would take her shopping and tell her what to buy for Tyler’s family.” Sliding back into her chair, Lori looked broken. “What do we do?”

  Opening her Day-Timer, Marnie flipped to the page she sought. “Here,” she offered, writing an address down on a Post-it note. “Take her to this gift shop. They sell collector memorabilia crap, including car stuff. I’ve been meaning to take Georgie over there.” Handing over the list, she looked like a general ordering her men into battle. “Let’s divide and conquer! You take Georgie to lunch and then shopping. Tread lightly, Lori. I want you to find out what’s happening, not start a bar brawl in a gift store. Can you handle that?”

  “Yeah, no problem.” Lori got to her feet, grabbing the bomber jacket she had slung across the other chair. You gonna take on the gold digger?”

  “Don’t call her that, at least not until we know what she’s up to. Set a date with Georgie, soon, like tomorrow. While you’re out with her, I will have a conversation with little Miss Tyler.” Checking her watch, Marnie explained, “Family dinner night. I can’t be late. You mind running me out to the house?”

  Lori retrieved the keys to her Jeep from a hook on the back wall. “Only if I’m invited for dinner.”

  Marnie just laughed, pulling on her winter coat. “Don’t complain if Satan’s spawn tries to poison us with their culinary efforts.”

  Following Marnie out, Lori set the alarm and locked up the security cottage. “You really have to stop calling them that!” she said, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Good God, you should’ve seen them today. It was hilarious listening to them grumble on their knees. The best part was lunchtime. All the guys were talking about how they spent their time doing penance in the paint shed. I swear those boys really thought this was just for today, then Anthony goes and tells them how Henry had banished him to the paint shed for an entire summer. You should’ve seen their faces! God I love my job.”

  Marnie harrumphed, never forgetting her own experience with Lori at her side, learning to clean and prep the sixty foot mold for a classic DynaCraft fiberglass hull. She had learned her lesson and so had Lori.

  Chapter Seven

  At home, sprawled on the couch, Tyler watched her very pregnant sister waddle into the family room. While they weren’t identical twins they shared many features. Raven-haired and with unusually vivid blue eyes, they had turned heads in high school even after Tyler came out. Having a straight twin to watch her back had made all the difference in their world. Now in their thirties, both women stood tall and slender, perhaps even caffeine thin by some standards. With Kira’s pregnancy, her chiseled face had softened with what she was proud to call baby fat. Tyler was glad to see her put the baby’s health before any concerns for her own appearance. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she worried for their connected intuition. Something their dad call the spooky twin thing. Would having a baby change that? Certainly all the boyfriends that had come and gone had had no effect on their connection but a child was different. At least Kira was home with them all and letting her share in her concerns and excitement. “Sounds like Megan’s in trouble again,” Kira offered with a grin.

  Ensconced in her corner of the sofa, Tyler had been staring at the blank screen of her notebook for several minutes. Resigning herself to the interruption, she closed the lid and moved the computer to the side table, along with several reports.

  Kira, carefully maneuvering herself, sat down beside Tyler. “Want one?” she asked, holding out a jar of dill pickles and a fork.

  “Really?” Tyler asked. “I thought that was a cliché, eating pickles when you’re pregnant.”

  “Nope! After this I’m going to have some of that strawberry pie Dad brought home.”

  Before Tyler could remind her sister that the strawberry pie was meant to be served with Sunday night supper, an upstairs door slammed and their younger sister’s scream carried throughout the house, “YOU DEFEND THEM ALL THE TIME! WHY IS IT OKAY FOR THE SLUT AND THE DYKE, BUT NOT ME?”

  While their mother’s voice was not raised, it was definitive and crisply authoritarian. “Your sisters are grown women. I support the choices they’ve made. Both your father and I are proud to have them home with us. The difference between you and your sisters, Megan, is twelve years of adult life experience and a lot of common sense. Something you h
ave yet to demonstrate.”

  While the older sisters knew better than to interrupt the raging debate, both were sympathetic. Putting her legs up on the couch, Kira unceremoniously dumped her feet in Tyler’s lap.

  “Holy smokes, Turtle, have you seen the size of your ankles?”

  Crunching on a dill, Kira whined, “Rub my feet?”

  Tyler covered one foot with the blanket on her lap, and began her ministrations on the second. “How long have they been this bad?”

  “A few days now,” their mother answered for Kira, entering the room from the staircase. She bypassed her twin daughters, heading for the kitchen and the ever-brewing coffee. She returned a few minutes later with coffee for her and Tyler, and a tall glass of milk for Kira. “If I ever complained about you two, please forgive me. I knew not what I spoke of. Good God! You two were hell on wheels but to be fair, you were always respectful, even when you were breaking the rules.”

  “I don’t understand why Megan’s so mad about us moving home,” Kira remarked. “She was the first one to complain when we left. Now all she does is bitch that we’re back!”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’s just striking out. She’s at that age. She’s angry and upset and doesn’t know who to blame. So she’s blaming you two. When you’re not here, she blames your father, or me, or the milkman or God knows whoever pops into her head.” Debbie Marsh shook it off. “Let it go. Once she cools down a bit and has a chance to think about what she said, I’m sure she’ll apologize.”