Flying Solo(41)

“Is that a…daisy?” she asked, nodding toward it. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah. Daisy Sun, get it? People think it’s basic.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“It is basic,” Melody said. “But it’s also cute, so who cares?”

“I ignore people with opinions, generally,” Daisy said. “Particularly opinions about the way I should look.”

“Me too,” Laurie agreed. “Believe me, if you walk into a sporting goods store and tell them you want a piece of gear in a women’s eighteen, they look at you like you just asked for a scuba suit for a horse.”

June looked at Laurie. “How do we look at that iPad without him freaking out?”

“I don’t know.” She took out her phone. “But I’m going to make an effort.”

Hi Matt! It’s Laurie Sassalyn. Would you have any time in the next few days to help me with something else over here at Dot’s?

“Well, now I guess I’m committed,” she said, putting it back down.

“Committed to being a spy!” June nearly chirped. “It’s exciting!” She paused. “I have small children,” she said. “I get very amped up about things that aren’t related to Bluey.”

“Hey, Bluey is boss,” Daisy said. “We watch Bluey all the time. And I’m amped up about anything that’s going to cost this stink-rat a lot of money.”

Laurie’s phone gave a ding. Oh, hello, Matt. Of course! Monday okay? Around 3PM?

Perfect, she texted back. She turned to her team. “We’re on.”

The gathering lasted until almost midnight. Daisy nudged Melody until she sang a bit of a song she had written that sounded a little Joni-Mitchell-y, while Daisy mouthed all the words. Nick rattled off stories of his favorite moments spent interrupting library patrons who were having sex (alone or together) or surreptitiously researching what they considered taboo subjects. (“Kids google sex stuff so much,” he said. “Just so much. And they always, always think I’m going to be surprised.”) June and Laurie shared the cat-skeleton story with their new allies. And eventually, when someone looked at their phone and said it was 11:40, there were quick hugs and promises to talk soon. And when they were all gone, Laurie sat on the chaise alone, looking at the stars and finishing the last half-glass of wine. “Okay,” she said into the blue-black night. “Okay.”





Chapter Twelve


Ginger Buckley, Nick’s grandmother, was eighty-six. She’d grown up in western Massachusetts, but she married a man from Lexington, Kentucky, who made a success of a very special product called Smokewater Whiskey. After he died, Ginger followed one of her daughters to Maine, where she’d settled with her husband to raise their kids—including future librarian Nick Cooper. Ginger moved into a decommissioned lighthouse, started adopting greyhounds, and bought a minor league baseball team. Her nineteen grandkids, now ranging in age from high school to Nick, came and went from Calcasset and from her house, kissing her cheeks and bringing her gifts and taking her out to eat, and she helped with college and down payments for houses, and sometimes even travel when she could. She’d sent Nick and Becca on their honeymoon to Melbourne, according to June.

Ginger didn’t have a favorite grandchild, but Nick had been her first one, and he’d brought Laurie over to her house for dinner a handful of times when they were dating as teenagers. So when she invited Laurie and Nick for brunch, there was no question they’d go.

The house was at the end of a jetty, and it made for a windy walk on Sunday morning. Windy enough to ruffle a jacket, but not so windy you had to lean forward to walk. “She’s going to be so excited to see you,” Nick said, bumping Laurie’s shoulder gently with his.

“I haven’t been here in such a long time. I’m impressed she’s still so independent, especially since she basically lives in a cartoon house that goes straight up.”

He laughed. “I have to warn you, even though she’s owned it for like twenty-five years, she still might tell you how cheap it was and how much work she put into it.”

“Do you think she ever thinks about moving? Since the entire thing is a giant circular staircase?”

He gestured toward the smaller part of the house attached to the lighthouse tower. “She can live on that main level if she has to. She did it when she broke her foot. Her bedroom is down there, and her kitchen. I kept trying to get her to come stay with me or with somebody, but as you can imagine, I didn’t get anywhere, especially since I didn’t have a way to contain the dogs.” He pointed at a tall wooden fence that surrounded the base of the house and opened at a wide gate.

“I know you—it must have driven you nuts, not helping.”

“She let me drive her to Claws games. She had an aide who came for a few weeks. Most important, she had somebody make a boot for her that was covered with pink rhinestones, and that’s what she’d wear when she was at the ballpark. She also had bright pink crutches.”

“There’s something very comforting about the fact that Ginger is still very, very Ginger,” Laurie said. The water was slapping the rocks on the jetty, and two fishing boats going in opposite directions motored by in the middle distance. “I still like it here,” Laurie said as she tasted salt on her lip. “I like it a lot.”