The Winters(37)

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Max unpacked and made some calls and I took a long bath to soak the varnish off my hands and the smell out of my hair and skin. Halfway through dinner, Dani joined us. I could barely look at her.

We ate quickly, silently, Max telling us about Albany and how the big issue is zoning for condos since more young people want to live in Suffolk County but can’t afford a mansion. He knew older residents would resist. Dani said they’ll change their mind when they can’t sell their big, fat homes and that letting young people get into the housing market more affordably would only help them build a future here. Of course I was impressed with her acuity, only fifteen and holding court on local issues while all I could do was nod and listen, the gulf between them and me wider and deeper. They carried on, the two of them, as though there had been no mortification in the boathouse. Dani, in fact, was chattier than usual. So I was surprised that she folded me into the conversation towards the end of dinner with a compliment on the job I had done on the boat.

“Now I didn’t get a great look at it, but I could tell the boat looked very shiny and new,” she said. “Was it hard to strip off all those layers?”

“Not if you’re using the proper chemicals,” I said, noting the time. The kitten needed a feeding soon.

“So you just rub a chemical on the wood in little circles and it eats it out while you just lay back and wait?”

“Yes, sort of.”

“Maybe you could show me how sometime,” she said. “You seem to really enjoy it.”

“Yes, I’d love to,” I said, only then picking up on her innuendos. I threw my napkin onto the table.

“Dani,” Max said, a hint of a warning in his voice. “I would like to talk to you about something important, if you don’t mind.” He shot me a look, one that said, Go. I’ve got this.

Dani collapsed back into her chair with a huff.

I snatched up empty plates and found Katya in the kitchen putting on her coat. She usually left right after serving dinner on nights I insisted on doing cleanup.

“I just fed Maggie,” she whispered, hoisting her purse onto a shoulder. “She should be okay for a few hours. But she’s a restless little thing. Running all over in there. Three days and she’s got her strength back.”

“Thank you, Katya, so much.” I dropped the plates onto the island and turned on the water full strength to rinse the dishes. She gave me a look. “I’m going to tell him. Things are a little tense right now.” I motioned to the dining room.

“Okay. Well, good luck,” she said.

I finished filling the dishwasher and soaking the pans. While their muffled conversation in the dining room continued, I reached into the sugar bowl for the greenhouse key and tiptoed down the hall for a quick visit. It was dark inside and silent, but the air was sweet and warm. Her water dish was full, the litter clean. I felt inside the back of the crate. No Maggie. I spotted the shadow of her tail draped over the side of the shelf above. She must have climbed the bags of dirt. Restless, indeed. And spry. She was feeling better.

As I headed back to the kitchen to wait out the storm, she leapt. Hard to believe such a tiny thing could instigate such a commotion, but by the time I turned around again, the shelves were raining down after her, their weight collapsing the table, sending stacks of clay pots and bags of dry dirt smashing on the floor and a terrified Maggie scampering into her crate. Then it was over except for the dust.

Max and Dani came running down the hall, their confused voices in unison: What is going on? What are you doing in here? What is that thing that just ran under the table? The calamity lasted only three seconds, but it felt like an hour.

“What the fuck?” Max’s eyes darted around the greenhouse. Dani seemed to be in a daze.

“I can smell her,” she whispered, closing her eyes and tilting her head back to breathe deeply.

I knelt down and pulled the kitten out from the back of the crate. I thought she was purring, but her tiny heart was beating so fast she was vibrating with terror.

“Everybody, meet Maggie. Maggie, meet everybody,” I said with a nervous laugh. Still on my knees, I held the kitten tight, to protect her and myself from their reaction. “Gus found her in the barn almost dead. I’ve been feeding her for a couple of days.”

Max glared at me, his hands opening and closing. Dani fell to her knees next to me, reaching for the kitten. Reluctantly, I poured the scared thing into her arms.

“She’s about a month old,” I said to Dani. “I’ve been giving her kitten formula. She can start on watery wet food next week. In another month or so I can get her spayed. Then we can find a home for her.”

“Who let you in here?” Max asked, in a voice I barely recognized.

“I couldn’t keep her in the boathouse while I was using chemicals. And I didn’t want her in the barn. It’s too far for feedings,” I said, leaving out the fact that I found Gus creepy. “I didn’t know where else I could keep her. She requires constant care right now.”

“Who gave you the key?”

“I found it.”

Dani was lost to us, having formed her own language with the kitten, girly coos and high-pitched sounds.

“Katya knows better than to let anyone in here.”

“Can I take care of her, too?” Dani asked. “Please, please, please?”