The Rest of the Story(97)

“Well, yes.” By now, even getting behind the wheel sounded appealing compared to drinking. “I’m working on that. Or I was, before all this.”

There was a chime sound, distant. “Oh, crap. That’s Mimi, telling me to come do turnover. With you gone, I’m the last one standing. Or cleaning.”

“I’d love to be doing that,” I said wistfully. “I miss it.”

“Are you crazy? You’re at the Tides, for God’s sake!”

“Grounded at the Tides,” I reminded her.

“Which is still a million times better than wiping pubic hairs off a motel sink.”

I cringed. “That was quite the visual.”

“I know.” Another chime. “God, I’m coming. I’ll text you later. Reply this time, you hear? You know I hate talking on the phone.” Then she hung up, again without a goodbye.

It was now two thirty, which gave me three hours until dinner. I was contemplating a nap, just to help the time pass, when my phone lit up again. This time, it was a HiThere! from a number I didn’t recognize. Normally I would have ignored it, but what else was I doing? I hit ACCEPT.

There was that signature swooshing sound, and then a picture appeared. It was Trinity. Her belly, huge and rounded, took up all of the foreground.

“What is this I hear about you drinking?” she demanded. Did none of these Blackwood girls believe in greetings? “Are you crazy?”

“I made a mistake,” I said, sighing.

“Damn right you did,” she replied. “I expected more from you, honestly.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or ashamed by this scolding, considering not so long ago, she couldn’t stand me. “I’m paying the price, believe me. I’m grounded until further notice.”

“At the Tides,” she said. “Boo-hoo. I’m here on the porch, a million weeks pregnant with a fan on me and still sweating.”

“What’s the latest on the Sergeant?” I asked, wanting to get away from this tit-for-tat topic.

“Supposedly,” she said, shifting slightly so that her belly eclipsed the entire screen, momentarily, “he is getting home on the eighteenth. Which is a week before my due date.”

“That’s great, Trinity,” I told her.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She fanned her face with one hand. “At this point I honestly just want him here when the baby comes, even if he walks in the door when it’s coming out of me.”

I winced. “He’ll be there.”

“I hope you’re right.” She shifted again. “In the meantime, you need to come visit me. I need someone to paint my toenails.”

“I’m grounded,” I reminded her. “Maybe ask Gordon?”

She groaned. “Oh, God. No thanks. She’s terrible with polish. Gets it everywhere. Besides, all she’s doing is moping around since you left anyway. She’s so pathetic Roo had her holding a ladder for him the other day.”

I blinked. “A what?”

“I looked out there,” she said, “and he’s got her supporting the ladder while he climbs, like she’s going to keep it steady or something. As if! She’s ten. But you should have seen her face. You would have thought he’d trusted her with the world.”

Ladder buddy, I thought, smiling. And in the next beat, what Bailey had said: if you really want to know someone, look at what they do when they don’t know you’re watching. Oh, Gordon.

“She saw me,” I said, remembering all over again. “When I was drunk. I feel awful about that.”

“Yeah, well.” Weirdly, I appreciated that she didn’t tell me I shouldn’t, or that it was okay. It wasn’t. “It won’t happen again.”

“No,” I said. “It won’t.”

We were both quiet for a moment, the only sounds the distant puttering of a motorboat and some kid shrieking from the beach.

“Just get back over here,” Trinity said suddenly. “Okay? We need you. Or, my toenails do.”

“I will,” I promised. “And thanks.”

“For what?”

Even though I’d been the one to say it, now I wasn’t so sure how to answer this question. “Just being there.”

“I’m bedridden,” she reminded me. “Where else would I be?”

After hanging up, I walked back to the window. It was now three p.m., and the beach was crowded, almost every chair taken. Earlier, Tracy had invited me to go for a late afternoon swim with her at the pool, something I supposed she’d cleared with my dad. At the time, I’d said no. But Trinity and Bailey were right: this wasn’t a bad place to be stuck at all. I went to look for my swimsuit.

I’d just put it on, and tied my hair back, when my phone buzzed again. It was another number I didn’t recognize, so at first I just ignored it, assuming it was a spam call. As it kept ringing, though, I got curious and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon! My name is Chris and I’m calling from Defender Storm Shutter Solutions. How confident are you in your window protection?”

Nope, I thought, moving my finger to the END button. Just as I was about to push it, though, he spoke again, much more softly this time.