Lighthouse Beach

by Shelley Noble

  “That’s what ‘consignment’ means.”

  “I know. I just wasn’t picturing it.”

  “Do you need riding clothes or not, because we’re not driving over an hour to the nearest mall.”

  Diana sighed. “All right, but if it’s gross, we’ll just thank Ms. Carroll and get the hell out.” After a look at the others, she grasped the knob. “All right, troops, we’re going in.”

  Chapter 10

  Ned kept a supportive arm around Francine Hallerin as he helped her into the back of the ambulance that was going to carry her husband to the nearest hospital.

  “We got to him in time,” he reassured her. “You were right to insist on bringing him here when you did.” He gave her a squeeze. “Agnes called your son at work and told him to meet you at the hospital.”

  She waved at him, unable to speak, her face twisted in fear beneath her summer hat as the ambulance doors closed behind her.

  They’d been on their way to the Presbyterian pancake breakfast when her husband suddenly felt short of breath. Instinct had her turn away from church and breakfast and into the clinic’s parking area. She’d saved his life … so far anyway.

  The siren squealed to life and Ned turned to go back into the clinic. He was met by a crowd of patients.

  “He gonna be all right, Doc?”

  “Sure hope so.” Ned didn’t know. But at least the ambulance had equipment he didn’t. He’d kept Zeke Hallerin alive until they’d arrived. The EMTs would have to do the rest until they reached the hospital.

  “We don’t know what we’d do without you, Doc.”

  “Hope you never get tired of us.”

  Several people patted him on the back as he walked past them before they followed him back inside to wait their own turns with the doctor.

  “You just take your time, Doc. Have a cup of coffee. We’ll wait.”

  “Thanks, Sam. I could use a cup.” Sometimes he wished he could just turn over the “Closed” sign and spend a Saturday watching whatever sport was on television and drinking beer all day. But he never did. When he wasn’t working at the hospital, he was helping out in a clinic or doing what he loved doing, riding his bike to the places that really needed him. God knew he wasn’t making any money at it. He wouldn’t retire with a pension, or amassed real estate holdings, or even a fat IRA.

  Agnes already had a cup ready for him when he passed through the waiting room and into the back.

  “Thanks. You’d better call Clancy at the hospital and tell him we’ve another patient coming in by ambulance. He’ll want to check on them.”

  “And stay with Francine until Zeke’s out of the woods. Don’t you worry about them, I’ll get on it. You just take a minute, then do what you been doing at the pace you can. That crowd isn’t going anywhere.”

  No, it would just keep growing. Some of his patients just waited until he and Clancy got to town to take care of their health problems, out of laziness or because they were too busy to consult another doctor. But there were others who couldn’t or wouldn’t go to a mainland doctor for anything.

  He knew he was reaching people who wouldn’t normally be reached by the standard medical community. Like Mr. Hallerin. He would never have lived long enough to get to the hospital.

  Being able to do this was pretty special and he loved what he did with the people he rode with. But with Clancy staying an hour away at the hospital, Ned wished for one more doctor and a couple less plumbers or mechanics.

  He took his coffee back to the kitchen, now mostly a storage room, and sat at the one clear space at the table. The coffee was nice and strong. Agnes, angel that she was, made good coffee, was an excellent office manager, and had a better bedside manner than most nurses.

  A nurse. Maybe he could find some biker nurse who would be interested in doing a couple of summer tours with them. A nurse practitioner would be even better.

  Ned laughed at himself. Might as well ask for a mobile surgery. Not on his salary, plus then he’d be stuck driving an RV and his bike would sit idle. He didn’t think of himself as a selfish man, but his bike was where he drew the line.

  That’s how a good symbiotic relationship worked. Mutual needs met. His expertise helped people and kept his bike tuned. And his bike kept him sane enough to help others.

  He laughed again. Stopped. His amusement cut off like an oxygen feed yanked away. He had nothing to complain about.

  Lillo was a little embarrassed about taking her friends into the consignment shop, especially when she’d spied the dress she’d been planning to wear to the wedding hanging in the window. Of course, the others had never seen it. So they didn’t have to know.

  “That dress in the window was kind of cute,” Allie said as they all stood just inside the door.

  “This might be fun,” Jess said.

  Lillo made some noncommittal noise and prayed that Barbara wouldn’t let slip that Lillo had borrowed the dress for the wedding. Barbara did things like that, and you never knew if it was just her being enthusiastic or a subtle passive-aggressive dig she just couldn’t resist.

  “Well, come on,” Jess said. “We all need some clothes to wear while we’re here.”

  Jess and Allie went inside. Lillo followed Diana, who stopped just inside the doorway to look around.

  “Are you sure the clothes are safe?” Diana asked, looking around at the tables stacked with folded tees and the shelves of jeans, the racks of dresses, pants, jackets, blouses, and the occasional poncho.

  “What do you mean?” Lillo never bought clothes. And she rarely went into the consignment shop. She’d just feel weird walking through town wondering if someone she passed was thinking, That outfit looked so much better on me. Or Isn’t that [insert name’s] old coat? I thought she gave it to Goodwill. Or some other embarrassing comment.

  “You know …” Diana lowered her voice. “Fumigated?”

  “Oh, you mean are they clean? Of course. Barbara always has things washed or cleaned before she puts them out for sale. And she only takes clothes in good condition. And some of the clothes are pretty nice. Maybe not designer fashion, which we don’t have too much call for in Lighthouse Beach. But certainly respectable labels. Of course, there’s a lot of junk and just funky bad taste,” she added hastily, and waved to Barbara, who was hurrying toward them from the back of the store.

  Barb Carroll was in her late forties, fairly voluptuous, and wore her clothes, according to Mac, “like she was shrink-wrapped into them.” Today she was wearing a navy blue knit skirt with a magenta cowl-neck tee and heels high enough to augment her five-foot-two frame.

  “Lillo, you’ve brought your friends from the wedding,” she said, making it sound as if she were a hostess instead of a retailer.

  The other three smiled; Lillo realized they were all expecting her to say or do something. “Uh, yeah—Jess, Allie, and Diana. Diana needs something she can ride in.”

  “Ah.” Barbara’s head swiveled from one to the other, then settled on Diana.

  “I need jeans,” Diana said, eyeing first Barb and then the stacks of folded denim suspiciously. “Size twenty-eight to thirty.”

  “Over here. Would that be a four or six or eight?”

  Diana rolled her eyes at Lillo and followed Barbara over to the shelves of jeans.

  Allie had already discovered the children’s section and was rummaging through stacks of children’s Tshirts. Jess wandered off in the opposite direction. Lillo just stood there, amazed. Not one under-the-breath comment. Not one whispered “Let’s get out of here.” Diana might be determined to get jeans, but Allie and Jess were happily searching through the crammed display tables and racks.

  Lillo wasn’t a shopper at the best of times. She had a roomful of old clothes that she should probably donate. She knew a portion of the consignment-shop sales went to the community center. She turned to the nearest table. Women’s shorts and tops. A sign that read hot summer beachwear surrounded by hand-drawn pictures of beach balls and flip-flops.
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  Barbara, carrying several pairs of jeans over her arm, took Diana to the back of the store, where a row of three changing booths was curtained by colorful sailcloth panels.

  As soon as she got Diana and the jeans settled into one of the cubicles, she came directly up to Lillo. “Your friends are so … so …”

  “Not like me?” Lillo finished.

  “Oh, you.” Barbara gave her a playful jab in the ribs. At least Lillo thought it was playful. With Barb, you couldn’t always tell. “You would have rocked that dress at the wedding; though if I had known how rich they were, I would have loaned you something from my personal closet. The blonde—Jess, is it? That has to be a—” She named some designer Lillo had never heard of.

  Jess turned around at the sound of her name.

  “Find something you like?” Barbara asked, not even having the grace to be embarrassed. She hurried over.

  Lillo wandered over to the plate-glass window and looked out at the street. She was standing there when an ambulance drove past, siren blasting. You didn’t see many ambulances in Lighthouse Beach. There was a police station and EMT about a half hour away. Must be something serious. They were probably coming from the clinic.

  And Clancy was still at the hospital with Mrs. Grotsky and her son. An emergency would certainly set Doc back in his schedule of patients. Was she being an ass for not offering to help out with nonmedical stuff? She didn’t want to have anything to do with medicine ever again. But did that mean she couldn’t be a conduit for supplies, a gofer? She did that as a teenager with no experience. But at the mere thought of walking into the clinic, she broke out in a sweat. Besides, Ned had said he could get someone else.

  They could make do without her.

  “Well,” Diana said from the back of the store. “What do you think?” She twirled around to show off faded jeans, with one distressed knee, which—Lillo couldn’t tell—was either a fashion statement or the result of long wear. She wore a plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and opened down the front to show the silk tee she’d worn into the store.

  Jess laughed. “All you need is a ten-gallon hat and a straw to stick between your teeth.”

  “And boots,” Allie added. “Pointy toes and tooled leather.”

  Diana made a face and turned to Lillo. “Will these pass as appropriate ‘riding clothes’?”

  “They’re fine, but you may need a belt.”

  Diana yanked the jeans up. “I know. The problem is to get them big enough so you don’t lose circulation in your legs while clutching a saddle but small enough to make an impression and not have them slide down your butt.”

  “Or when you bend over. Ugh,” Allie added.

  “Bend from the knees, my dear,” Diana said haughtily, “and they’ll never mistake you for a plumber.” Hoisting her jeans up, she began perusing the belt display.

  “I’ll just look for a smaller size,” Barbara said.

  They left the store a half hour later, much poorer than when they went in and Barb very happy. Jess and Allie had bought Lighthouse Beach shorts and tees, long pants, and sweatshirts. Diana was fully outfitted in several pairs of jeans, and tees and windbreakers, and directions to Seaside General Store.

  At the general store they loaded up on sneakers and socks for Diana, sunscreen, bug spray, sun hats, and beach flip-flops, which Lillo could have told them would be totally useless on her coarse sand beach, but they were having too much fun for her to bring them down to earth. Let them enjoy this time while they had it. Lillo had no doubt that the Parkers wouldn’t let Jess go without a fight.

  They were loaded down with parcels when they decided to call it a day.

  “Not a cab in sight,” Diana moaned, but only halfheartedly, Lillo thought. Lillo hadn’t bought a thing. Of course, she lived here, so she had access to all her possessions. Still, she wished for a few moments that, just for fun, she’d had ready cash to spend.

  Even when they had insisted on buying her a wide-brimmed straw hat, she put it back on the shelf. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t let her friends buy her a present? To show their appreciation of her generosity, which she didn’t feel. Generosity? She would have sent them on their way if Diana and Mac hadn’t joined forces against her.

  She was glad they decided to stay … now. She wished … well, it didn’t matter what she wished.

  “How good is the pizza?”

  “What?” Lillo asked, jolted back to the present.

  Diana pointed to the sign written across the window of sal’s best pizza in lighthouse beach.

  “It’s the best pizza place in town,” Lillo said seriously.

  “But? I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

  “It’s the only pizza place in town ever since Sam’s Pizza closed. For a while we had dueling Toscani brothers’ pizzerias, but then Sam moved to Portland and Sal became the undisputed champ. But to answer your question, it’s pretty good.”

  “Well, pretty good is good enough for me. I’m starving.”

  “Should we call Mac and invite her to join us?” Allie suggested as they wrestled their packages through the door.

  “She’s not a pizza lover,” Lillo said as she followed them inside, and bumped into Allie, who had stopped suddenly. “Keep moving up front.”

  “This looks just like an Italian pizza parlor,” Diana said.

  “Probably because it’s called Toscani’s?” Lillo nudged her forward.

  Diana made a face at her over her shoulder. “Doesn’t mean they know the difference between fusilli and fettuccini. His name could really be Sal Yankowicz.”

  “O ye of little faith.” Lillo slipped through the group and led the way to one of the red upholstered booths.

  “Yo, Lee-loh,” Howie King hollered from the round booth in the corner where he was sitting with four other members of the biker and Mr. Fixit gang.

  “How-wee,” she intoned back, and went over to say hi. Howie was a good six foot three, with a wisp of hair in the center of a bald pate, big ears, and huge hands that could solve the most delicate wiring problem.

  “How ya been?”

  “Good. You?”

  “Good.”

  She said hi to the other guys: Roy, the carpenter of the group; Assam, the painter-spackler, small-repairs guy.

  “And this is Nando. CPA, financial adviser, and car mechanic extraordinaire. His first trip with us.”

  They smiled and nodded to each other.

  “And Jerry, your plumbing specialist.”

  Over some mild joking they said hello.

  “I see you brought some friends,” Howie said, looking over Lillo’s shoulder at Diana, Jess, and Allie.

  “They’re visiting from out of town.”

  Howie lowered his voice. “Didn’t think they were from around here.” He winked.

  Lillo called the women over. Introductions and small talk ensued, and with the promise to meet again at Mac’s barbecue, the four women retreated to their own table.

  “Does everyone know everyone in town?” Diana asked once they were seated.

  “Pretty much. And everyone’s business, in case you’re wondering.”

  “So-o-o-o, they know about …” Diana gestured around the table.

  “My guess is yes. Not that Mac or Doc would gossip … much, but people are pretty good at piecing things together. On occasion, speculation does get out of hand.”

  Jess groaned, but Lillo noticed it didn’t sound nearly as heartfelt as the ones the day before.

  “They may gossip among themselves, but they are extremely loyal to each other, and that includes friends of friends—if you’re worried about gossip.”

  “Huh,” Diana said. “Does that mean no one is on the phone in order to win big with the Parkers for giving out the location of their daughter?”

  Lillo shook her head. “Very unlikely.” The townspeople fought and bickered and held grudges for a while, but they never let each other down. Lillo had grown up thinking this was the way all towns
were. She’d been wrong. Really wrong.

  They ordered salads and Sal’s Special Pizza without the anchovies by unanimous consent. Lillo hadn’t been to Sal’s in ages, and when the salads came, she noticed Sal had upgraded from iceberg to iceberg with some field greens mixed in. Keeping up with the times, she guessed. She’d always liked iceberg herself.

  But the pizza was as good as she remembered it, and after a “Told you so,” she settled into enjoying her slice.

  The bikers left with waves and promised to see them at the barbecue. The girls just waved and made affirmative noises through mouthfuls of Sal’s special pie.

  “Okay, that was good,” Diana said when they were back on the street. “Would have been even better—”

  “With a good Chianti,” Allie said. “We may have to go back before I—oh, rats. I have to go back on Monday.”

  “Really?” Diana said as they began walking back toward the cottage. “Can’t you stay a couple of more days at least? If it’s the money—”

  “It isn’t the money, and Maria, my mother-in-law, said it would be fine. Actually, she told me to stay as long as I like. I should have some fun. Gino is doing fine.”

  “Well, there you go,” Diana said.

  Lillo thought she was being gratuitously obtuse, because even she could see that Allie was worried about something.

  Or was Lillo the one being obtuse, expecting ulterior motives from everyone?

  The women grew silent, replete with food and concentrating on holding their packages as the wind grew stronger and they walked downhill to the cottage.

  “Getting a bit nippy,” Diana said.

  “Definitely sweater weather,” Jess agreed. “And it was so warm earlier. I remember that it would do this; we’d be swimming in the sun in the afternoon, and back to long pants and sweatshirts at night.”

  “Yep,” Lillo said. “And there’s a wind tonight. At least the cottage is sheltered by the two jetties. Keeps the wind down to a bluster … most of the time. It can get intense out on the water and up on the bluffs.”

  Everyone dumped their packages, changed into warmer clothes, and met back in the kitchen.