Little Girls(65)

“That’s terrible,” said Laurie. “It’s better that the steel mills and factories have shut down.”

Derrick nodded eagerly, but there was disagreement in his eyes. “But, see, that’s the problem—most of those companies who polluted the watershed have shriveled up and died, so who’s responsible for it now?”

“The factories might be shut down but the companies must still be around,” Ted said. “In some form or another. Companies that big never go away completely.”

“The property is all tied up with your basic multinational conglomerate corporations,” Derrick continued, “but they wave their hands and say, hey, we just bought these big buildings, broke them apart, and reconstructed the pieces. They own the lots, but they don’t own the claim to the pollution and to what those factories did before they came on the scene and bought them up.”

“No accountability,” Ted confirmed.

“They fling some money at charitable organizations, Save the Bay, those types of things, and it’s like they’re buying their own absolution. Meanwhile, honest men can’t make a living anymore out on the bay.”

“Both of Derrick’s grandfathers were watermen,” Liz explained. “He’s very emotionally invested in the issue.”

Derrick frowned. “It’s important.” It was the voice of a petulant child.

“I know, hon.”

The deck door slid open and Susan and Abigail came out. Susan bounced over to Ted and climbed up into his lap. She wore a wreath of flowers like a crown on her head—a daisy chain made from black-eyed Susans.

“Cool headgear, babe,” Ted said, grinning at Susan.

“Abigail made it for me.” Susan beamed as she reached up and gently touched one of the flowers.

Abigail surveyed the people on the deck, and Laurie thought the girl’s eyes lingered longest on her. Then she went over to Liz and showed her the bracelet she wore on her wrist. “Look what Susan made.”

“That’s very pretty. Did you thank her?”

“I did. Upstairs.”

“Good work, kiddo.”

“Okay, everybody wash up!” Derrick bellowed. “Food’s on!”

Susan bolted for the door. Abigail walked more serenely, glancing again at Laurie as she went into the house.





The food was good but Laurie didn’t have much of an appetite. She ate only half her steak, and was silently grateful when Ted finished it for her. The girls sat together at a plastic table and chair set Derrick had brought up from the basement, whispering and tittering behind cupped hands. (Though the girls had presumably washed their hands prior to eating, Laurie noted with mounting disquiet that Abigail’s hands remained filthy; she ate with her fingers, too, and the sight of those grubby meat-slickened digits sliding in and out of the girl’s mouth was slowly making Laurie ill.)

After dinner, Laurie waited for some coffee to be served, but Liz Rosewood only brought out another clutch of beers onto the deck. Ted finished off the wine he’d brought with him and Laurie stuck to ice water. She didn’t think she could stomach alcohol at the moment. When the girls went into the house to play, Laurie was glad to have Abigail’s eyes off her for a while, although she was fearful of having Susan out of her line of sight for too long.

“Lizzie says you folks are planning to sell the house,” Derrick said, cranking the cap off a bottle of Flying Dog. “Market’s a bear right now. You might want to hang on to it, rent it out or something, until things get better.”

“If they ever do,” Ted added.

Derrick tipped his beer in Ted’s direction. “You know it, my friend.”

“Derrick’s brother Pete used to have a nice little place in Elkridge,” Liz said, “but then he lost his job and then he lost his house sometime after that.”

“The place wound up being worth less than he owed on it. It was like pouring water into a bucket with a hole in it,” Derrick said.

“Listen,” Liz said. “Before you folks leave tonight, I’ll give you my friend Harmony’s card. She’s a realtor and she’ll help you guys out. It’ll be good to have someone help take some of the burden off your shoulders.”

Ted smiled and thanked her.

The patio door swooshed open again and Susan wandered out onto the deck. She looked flushed and tired, and went directly to her father where she climbed up onto his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. Ted stroked her hair. “Getting sleepy, Snoozin?”

“Not really.”

“Where’s Abigail?” Liz asked.

“Watching TV. I got bored.”

“Maybe we should leave,” Laurie suggested.

Ted examined his wristwatch while Derrick said, “It’s still early yet.”

Laurie stood and collected some of the plates off the table. Liz told her not to worry about them, but Laurie said it was no problem. She carried them into the kitchen and stacked them in the sink, then ran water over the coagulated patches of grease.

The living room was off the kitchen. It was small and drably furnished, with walls the color of burnt umber and a sofa and loveseat combination that looked like it had been salvaged from a yard sale. Ugly prints of hunting dogs and mallards collected dust on the walls. Laurie lingered in the doorway and stared at the back of Abigail’s head. The girl was planted cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV. With the remote, she flipped through the channels at random and did not settle on a particular program.