The Night Mark(42)

“Howdy, folks,” the man called out, giving them a wave.

“I should be scared of him, shouldn’t I?” Faye said to Carrick.

“Why do you say that?” Carrick asked.

Faye looked behind her and saw Dolly hurriedly taking her plate away from the table and hiding her dishes in the sink under a linen towel. Dolly grabbed the broom and started sweeping the floor immediately, shooting cautious glances at Faye and Carrick.

“Oh,” Faye said, “just a hunch.”





11


The man, Hartwell, mounted the porch steps, his right hand extended to Carrick, his left holding his hat, a straw boater, and a fistful of daffodils. His hair was black with a severe center part and combed back with some sort of gel. Each side had a perfectly symmetrical wave in it. He was the very picture of a tenor in a barbershop quartet. He had bright blue eyes, full lips, a well-trimmed beard and a toothy grin.

“Mr. Hartwell. Long time,” Carrick said, shaking his hand.

“Ah, well, you know how it is. Been away on business since the winter. Seems like I stayed away too long.”

“How’s that?” Carrick asked.

“Let’s see, when I left, you’d just came on here as Jack Landry’s assistant keeper. Imagine my surprise when I come home to find the Landrys have shipped out, the assistant keeper is now running the whole station and making all sorts of changes and a man I thought was a bachelor like myself has a grown daughter all of a sudden. I couldn’t stay away.”

“I know the Landrys were sad to leave without saying goodbye to their friends in town,” Carrick said. “But with a malaria outbreak in the Keys, they had to shuffle a whole lot of us around fast.”

“Well,” Hartwell said with a shrug, “that explains the Landrys. Now, what about this girl of yours?”

“This girl of mine is right here. Faith, meet Mr. Hartwell. Mr. Hartwell, my girl, Faith.”

“Hello, Miss Morgan. These, my dear, are for you. And I must say it is a pleasure and a half to meet you,” Hartwell said, bowing his head, his hand over his heart. Good Lord, this man was ridiculous.

He flashed her that same ingratiating politician’s grin he’d given Carrick. Faye found it unpleasant, although she smiled in return as she accepted the flowers.

“Thank you,” Faye said, and she wondered if she was supposed to curtsy or not. Did people still curtsy in the 1920s? She tried a little bob, and it didn’t seem to bother either Hartwell or Carrick. “Very nice to meet you, sir.”

“Chief, you have a lovely gal here. Although...it looks like she’s had a rough time of it. You all right there, Miss Morgan? You go a couple rounds with a grizzly bear?”

Faye raised her hand to her face. Since she had no memory of receiving the bruise, she had forgotten it was there. “I fell on the pier. It’s slippery out there.”

“You poor angel,” Hartwell said, shaking his head. “I always did think it was a shame you ladies had to wear such silly shoes. You be careful now. We don’t want anything bad happening to pretty ladies.”

“Just pretty ladies?” Faye asked before she could stop herself.

“All ladies are pretty ladies. Aren’t they, Chief?”

“Of course they are,” Carrick said.

“Good man. The chief knows what’s good for him.” Hartwell gave her a wink that she was sure he meant to be charming. She did not find it so.

“Faith, Mr. Hartwell’s father built this house we live in,” Carrick said.

“Don’t tell stories now,” Mr. Hartwell said, still sizing up Faye’s black eye. “My father was too busy to build anything but his reputation. But his was the company the government picked to build this house. Before Daddy came along, this place wasn’t fit to be called a house. But you know the government. When it comes to their own houses, they won’t spend a nickel when they can spend a dime, but when it’s a lighthouse keeper and his kin doing real work out here, they won’t spend a dime when they can spend a penny. They hired Daddy’s company to do the building, and Daddy himself made sure y’all got a real nice place out here, even if he had to kick in a little of his own money to do it. I sure hope y’all like the place. We townsfolk have nothing but affection for our keepers and their families stuck out here on the islands.”

“The house is very nice,” Faye said to his self-serving speech. “Thank you. And thank you for the flowers.”

“I’ll pass your thanks on to Daddy. He’ll be happy to hear y’all like the house. So is it just you two, then? We always hope for a big family to man the light. It gets lonely out here, I imagine.”

“We stay busy,” Carrick said. “The light, the house, no time to get lonely.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Mr. Hartwell said. “Now, I would love to see what y’all have done to the place while I was gone.”

“We were having breakfast,” Faye said.

“But it’s no trouble,” Carrick said, giving her a warning look. “If you don’t mind the dishes.”

“I don’t mind the dishes at all. Shall we?” At that, Hartwell opened the door and walked right into the house like he owned it.

Carrick gave a little sigh. Faye knew exactly how he felt. He held the door open for her, then followed her into the house. It was a play, she realized. All she had to do was pretend she was an actress in a play. She didn’t know her lines. She didn’t know the script. But she knew her part was to look obedient, be quiet and not piss off someone who clearly had some power in this part of the country.