Now That You Mention It: A Novel

by Kristan Higgins

  Twenty minutes later, the three coolest babes on Scupper Island were slurping mojitos made with my homegrown mint and sitting on the top deck, cheese, crackers and grapes on the table. I’d picked flowers and added a few sprigs of rosemary for fragrance. The sun was still shining, and the air was clean and clear.

  “Big news, ladies,” I said. “I have a date with Sullivan Fletcher at an undetermined time and place in the future.”

  “Which one is he again?” Xiaowen asked.

  “Not your lab partner. The other one.”

  “He’s so nice,” Gloria said. “I like his vampire teeth.”

  Xiaowen laughed. “My thoughts are so dirty right now. So, Nora, you gonna do him?”

  I felt my cheeks warm. “It’s just a date. He’s really sweet.”

  “But his brother is lava hot,” Xiaowen said.

  “Except for being a dick and all,” I added.

  “Yeah, I hate when they speak and ruin the fantasy,” she said. “My ex-fiancé was the same way.” Sadness flickered across her face. “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “Why did you guys break up?” Gloria asked.

  “He cheated on me. On me, can you believe it? On this.” She gestured to herself.

  “What an idiot,” I said. But I reached over and squeezed her hand, anyway. She shot me a grateful look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Shit, no. Gloria, how’s Slytherin?”

  “I think Slytherin and I are taking it to the next level,” Gloria said.

  “Does he want to Slytherin to your chamber of secrets?” I asked.

  “Was that a wand in his pocket, or was he just happy to see you?” Xiaowen added.

  “Come on over here, sweetheart, and I’ll show you my patronus.”

  “You two are funny,” Gloria said, “in a juvenile, idiotic way.” She sipped her drink. “Actually, we did play a little Quidditch, if you know what I mean. God. I can’t believe I’m sinking to your level.”

  “Did he capture your Golden Snitch?” Xiaowen and I said at the same time. We high-fived each other, giggling like the tweens we were channeling.

  “Not exactly. Still early days, you know? But I told him my last name, and I’m thinking of letting him know where I live.”

  “Is that first base these days?” Xiaowen asked.

  Gloria smiled. “Well, after my old boyfriend turned out to be a stalker, yeah. But Slytherin’s nice. I even told him we called him Slytherin, and he thought it was great.”

  “So he’s read Harry Potter,” I said. “Thank God we can check that box. What does he do for work?”

  “He’s a doctor at Boston City,” Gloria said.

  “That’s where I worked!” I said. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him!”

  “Robert Byrne.”

  I sucked in a breath—and a bit of mint leaf, which my airway most assuredly didn’t like. I choked and coughed and coughed and wheezed.

  “Heimlich her,” Xiaowen ordered.

  “If she can cough, she can breathe,” Gloria said, and rightly so, but it was hard to care, as tears were streaming down my face.

  Also, she was dating my ex-boyfriend.

  I managed to get the leaf up (so genteel, so classy) and wiped it on my jeans. “Robert Byrne,” I said, wheezing. I took a napkin and blotted my eyes. It could be Robert Burn. Or Burns, like the poet. “Is he an emergency room doctor? Blue eyes, tall, lives on Beacon Street?”

  “That’s the one! So you do know him!”

  I took a breath. “I dated him. Uh...he and I broke up just before I came out here.”

  There was silence. Xiaowen’s eyes darted back and forth between us as she sucked on her straw.

  “Well, shit,” Gloria said.

  “I mean, it’s okay, but...how did you not know? How did he not know that you and I work together?” Had I told Bobby I worked with a nurse named Gloria? I didn’t think I had.

  Gloria closed her eyes. “I’ve been really vague with him. I mean, seriously, I didn’t tell him my last name until Friday. He knows I’m a nurse and I live near Portland and my family’s from outside Boston.”

  “I take it he never mentioned me. Or Boomer.” Not so long ago, there’d been a picture of Boomer and me on the fridge.

  “He said...” She broke off. “He said his ex-girlfriend took their dog, and he was thinking about getting a new one. We went to the pound together on Saturday to look at puppies.”

  “We share Boomer,” I said. “That’s where he is right now. With Bobby.”

  “He goes by Robert now.”

  “Does he?” I was pissed, all right. Not because Gloria was dating him...but because he clearly hadn’t told her about me.

  What about asking me to stay over the other night when my ferry was canceled? I was pretty sure that wasn’t an I’ll-take-the-couch offer. What about how he still cared about me? The hints that he wanted to get back together?

  He hadn’t told Gloria a thing about me, that was clear. And not for nothing, but I was a pretty damn good story. Home invasion. Hit by Beantown Bug Killers.

  “I should go,” Gloria said.

  “No, no,” I said automatically, aware that I’d been silent. “It’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

  “I...I think I’ll go, anyway. This is a lot for us both to wrap our brains around, so...yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” I said. “I’ll see you at work.”

  “You bet.” Her face was troubled. “Okay. Thanks. Bye, Xiaowen.”

  “Bye.”

  Xiaowen waited till we heard Gloria’s car start, then poured me another drink from the pitcher. “Small world?”

  “He didn’t tell her about me,” I said.

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  What was I, invisible? First, high school. No, first, my father. Then high school, then when I was allowed to visit Lily in Seattle and more than one person said, “I didn’t know Lily had a sister!” Then I came here, and half the town thought I was my sister, since apparently she was the only daughter my mother talked about.

  Now Bobby had erased me. And said I took the dog, when I’d been bending over backward, taking Boomer back and forth since I’d been here.

  Xiaowen fumbled in her bag and pulled out an iPad. “What’s his middle name?” she asked.

  “Kennedy,” I said automatically.

  “Of course,” she murmured. “So original.” She tapped a few keys. “Whoomp, there it is. He posted a picture of him and Gloria.”

  She held out the iPad, and there they were, smiling, wearing sunglasses, right there on Instagram, which I still didn’t belong to.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “So who are you mad at? Him or her?”

  “Well, this sure would’ve been easier if she’d used his name like an actual grown-up,” I said, taking a sip of my drink.

  “I think we’re the ones who gave him the nickname.”

  “Shit. You’re right.” I took a deep breath and looked out over the cove. “Xiaowen, he was kind of hitting on me this past weekend. Asked me to stay over.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Nope.” I closed my eyes. “Do I tell her?”

  “Oh, I think he’ll have some explaining to do. Bet she’s on the phone with him right now and not real happy, either.” She stood up. “Come on. Let’s go swimming.”

  “Why?”

  “To wash off the stink of your ex-boyfriend polluting your mind.”

  “The water’s probably about fifty-three degrees.”

  “You grew up here. I’m a marine biologist. We can handle it.”

  “Do you have a bathing suit?”

  “No. Can I borrow one?”

  “One that will fit you? No. One that maybe won’t fall off if I tie it on
with string? Yes.”

  Xiaowen was right. Ten minutes later, we were laughing as we made our way down the rocky shore to the edge of the cove to a rock that jutted out. The tide was in, and the water looked black and deep. “On the count of three,” she said, taking my hand. “One...two...three!”

  We jumped, and the water bit us with icy teeth. I popped up immediately, my skin burning with cold. Xiaowen swam a ways out, then popped up, her dark head like a seal’s. “Holy Christmas, it’s cold without a wet suit!” she said, and I laughed. Our voices bounced against the rocks and the reddening sky. I ducked under the water again, the cold clamping my head, but it was a clean hurt, cooling off my angry heart. I was over Bobby. The fact that he was an eel...well, I knew that already. I’d just put it aside, hadn’t I?

  There was Poe, standing like Lily’s ghost on the rock Xiaowen and I had just jumped off. “Nora? Are you guys swimming? Are you crazy?”

  “Come on in, Poe!” I said.

  “Not gonna happen,” she called.

  “Don’t be a pussy!” Xiaowen yelled, though her teeth were starting to chatter.

  I swam to the edge and climbed out carefully, not wanting to slip and end up in the hospital for the third time in a year.

  Poe reached down and helped me up. “You’re freezing!” she said.

  “Give Auntie Nora a hug,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. She shrieked and pulled away.

  She was wearing shorts and a tank top and little flip-flops. “Come on in, chickadee,” I said. “The water’s beautiful. I’m a doctor. I won’t let you die.”

  “Super reassuring.”

  “Come on. Live a little.”

  She looked at me for a second. “That’s what my mom says.”

  It was the first time she’d mentioned my sister without my prodding. She took her phone out of her pocket and set it down.

  “Count of three,” I said, echoing Xiaowen, and we jumped, holding hands. My niece clutched me tight when we surfaced. “Holy crap, that’s cold!” she said, then pushed my head underwater. I tickled her and popped up, completely numb now. Poe’s smeared eyeliner made her look like a ghoul, but she was laughing.

  The sound hugged my heart, and I seized the moment and smooched her on the cheek, then dunked her. Xiaowen swam over, and the three of us laughed and splashed and shivered and laughed some more.

  It was almost completely dark when we got out, shaking with cold.

  “Hot showers and food at my place,” I said. “And you can both sleep over. In fact, I insist.”

  “Like I was going back to Cape Elizabeth soaking wet,” Xiaowen said, linking her arm through mine.

  “I’ll call Gran,” Poe said. “She probably could use the alone time after giving out all those hugs.”

  Just as we got onto the dock, something made me glance into the woods.

  There among the dark of the pines, a tiny dot of orange glowed as Luke Fletcher took a drag on his cigarette.

  If he thought he was scaring me, he was wrong.

  “Go home, Luke!” I yelled. “And get a life, how about that?”

  But the orange glow stayed put.

  22

  Dear Lily,

  You’d be surprised how cute Scupper has become. I can’t wait to see you in August. Mom and Poe are doing great. Poe really likes my dog, too. I bet you will, too. He’s a sweetheart.

  Love,

  Nora

  * * *

  I went to work the next day with a happy heart, thanks to Xiaowen and Poe and the frigid, cleansing Maine water. Yes, I was still furious with Bobby—or Robert. He’d be getting a phone call from me once I cooled down a little. And I would also be taking Boomer back forevermore. Fuck that joint custody shit, yo.

  Ironically, I was more angry that he hadn’t mentioned Boomer. Forget the my-ex-was-crazy-but-I-loved-her-so lie. Boomer was pure love. Boomer was perfect. If Bobby wanted to date Gloria, well, he had great taste in women. She was smart, gorgeous, funny. And let’s not forget—he did love a good chase, so her unwillingness to tell all would definitely have grabbed his interest. Same as how I wouldn’t sleep with him the first few months we dated.

  But Boomer... What kind of a dick doesn’t mention his faithful dog by name?

  I said hello to Mrs. Behring, who’d gotten over her shock that I’d turned out okay and even liked me a little bit now, especially since I brought in homemade, delicious yet nutritious oatmeal cookies every Wednesday. Amelia poked her head out of her office. “Hello, my dear!” she said. I had to give it to her—she was always so happy. And that matte lipstick...something I could never pull off.

  “How are you, Amelia?”

  “Wonderful! Darling, come in a minute, won’t you?” I went into her office, which was beautifully furnished with sleek, comfortable furniture and a cool oil painting that was just splashes and swirls of color.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked, taking a seat.

  “Darling, you’re planning to stay how long on our fair island? September?”

  “Mid-August. I’m staying on the island until my sister gets back.”

  “She’s in prison, yes?”

  I flinched. I hadn’t realized Amelia knew. “Yes.”

  “Is there any way I could convince you to stay till Christmas? The doctor who was supposed to come in this fall has abandoned us, leaving our little ship uncaptained through what is sure to be a stormy season.”

  Since the off-season months were morgue quiet, I was pretty sure she might be exaggerating just a touch. “I’m sorry, Amelia. My leave of absence is only until August 30.”

  “Very well. Of course, you have a fabulous career back in Boston! And wonderful for you. All right, then, carry on!”

  “Thank you for asking, though,” I said.

  “Let me know if you change your mind. You’re a lovely addition to Team Ames!”

  “Amelia,” I began, then paused.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “Well, if you’ll let me get a little personal...”

  “Go right ahead, darling!”

  “Have you thought about getting treatment?”

  “For what, dear?”

  “For your drinking.”

  Her smile froze, and a flicker of sadness crossed her face. She looked down at her desk, then back up at me. “I’ve been in treatment many times. This is about the best I’ve been able to manage.” She paused. “I’m so sorry about my behavior at your dinner party. I was mortified to throw up on that young man.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I think I may have goofed with the, uh, butter. But I worry about you, Amelia.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. You’re so kind.”

  “If I can ever help...”

  “Thank you,” she said again, her voice quiet, and I felt both sorry for her and full of respect. It wasn’t easy, God knew, being an alcoholic. Especially if you were once brilliant and smart enough to realize what you’d lost. It took guts for her to show up here every day, full of good cheer, knowing she couldn’t practice anymore.

  “I’d better get to work,” I said.

  “Wonderful!” she said, smiling firmly again. “Just call if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Let’s have lunch one day this week.”

  “I would love that,” she said.

  I went into the main part of the clinic to see what was up.

  “Explosive diarrhea in Room One,” Gloria said, handing me a folder.

  “And good morning to you,” I said with a smile.

  “Morning.” She didn’t smile back.

  My smile slid away. “Gloria, we should probably talk, don’t you think? About Bobby?”

  “Robert and I talked last night,” she said. “I think I’m all set.”

  Wow. I closed my mouth. “Okay,
then. Actually, not okay. I think I should tell you a few things.”

  “Not necessary. Thanks, anyway.” She turned and walked away.

  Message received. Just not expected.

  I went into Room One and got to work. It was explosive, all right. The poor woman had eaten undercooked lobster, and that lobster had wanted out and fast.

  Because Gloria had been here longer and because I was essentially a temp, she’d always triaged the cases. If she could do the job—say, a throat swab for strep—she’d do it and let me know. If the day was quiet, I’d pop in and have a chat. If the patient’s presentation was more complicated, she’d assign the case to me, or we’d do it together.

  Today, however, I got them all. And it was a very busy day.

  Sun poisoning on a teenager who didn’t like sunscreen, a sprained ankle on a seven-year-old, a vitamin B shot for an elderly woman, a mono diagnosis and a birth control prescription for a young waitress, accompanied by a firm lecture on the necessity of condoms, too. Two stitches in the chin for a boy who’d fallen off his bike.

  “Trouble walking,” Gloria snapped. “Room Four.”

  “Got it.” I went into the exam room, where a rather shabby old man sat in a chair. Ernest Banks, his chart said. The name wasn’t familiar. He had the unmistakable odor of a person who didn’t wash regularly, and his hair and beard were gray with grease.

  “Hi, Mr. Banks, I’m Nora Stuart.” I offered my hand, and he took it. His blue eyes were a little confused. “What seems to be the problem today?”

  “It hurts when I walk.”

  I washed my hands and asked him a few questions about his home situation—did he live alone (yes), did he eat regularly (yes, he said, but his skinniness told the truth), was he healthy otherwise (yes...but again, a lie)?

  His shoes were shabby, his socks were gray and damp. I took them off slowly and carefully, noticing his wince.

  It wasn’t uncommon for elderly people to neglect their feet. It could be hard to reach their toes, and taking a shower or bath might be a risk they didn’t want to take.

  But my God. Mr. Banks’s feet were the worst I’d seen. His toenails were so long they’d curled over his toes and dug into the soles of his swollen feet.