The Beach Club (24 page)

“I’m here to help James shave,” he said. “I promised him.”

She looked him over. “I
am
going to miss you, you know.”

“Is James here?” Mack asked. He called into the room. “James, buddy, it’s Mack. I’m here to help you shave.”

“Hey,” Andrea said. “I
said
I was going to miss you.”

“You don’t have to miss me,” Mack said. “You’re choosing to. Is James here?”

“Of course he’s here. Where else would he be?” Andrea turned. “James, come here, please.”

A few seconds later James skulked into the room.

“I’m here to help you shave,” Mack said.

James spun on his heels and headed for the bathroom without a word. Mack followed him. James stood in front of the mirror, and Mack sat on the toilet.

“This is a graduation of sorts,” Mack said. “Because you’re leaving tomorrow.” He wondered if Andrea had gone over all this with James already. He wondered if it would matter, if James had any concept, really, of what was going on around him.

“Time for shaving,” James said.

“I’m going to watch you,” Mack said. “You go ahead. Tell me what’s first.”

“I don’t know,” James said.

“Lather your face with shaving cream,” Mack said. “Like Santa Claus, remember?”

James sprayed the foam onto his fingers and dabbed it onto his cheeks.

“And now what?” Mack said. “What comes next?”

James said nothing. How did How-Baby do it? How did he make people respond with exactly what he wanted to hear? “Pick up the razor,” Mack said. “We’ve done this three times already. Now I want you to shave yourself, James.”

“I don’t know,” James said.

“You don’t know what?”

James stared into the mirror. Mack’s heart deflated as he looked at the fifteen-year-old kid with a foamy white beard. He felt for Andrea, who would have to watch tomorrow, and next week, and maybe even next year, until James could get comfortable with the routine, until he could divide the task into steps. She was right, of course: nobody else would love James enough to have that kind of patience and that kind of stamina without losing their temper, without becoming frustrated enough to leave, as her husband had. Not even Mack.

Mack stood behind James and took the razor. He began to shave him gently.

“Do you like baseball, James?” Mack asked.

“Yes,” James said, automatically.

“Do you hate baseball?” Mack asked.

“Yes,” James said.

“You can’t like it
and
hate it,” Mack said. “You can’t do both. Do you understand that, James? You can’t like baseball and hate it.”

“I like it in person,” James said. “I hate it on TV.”

Mack smiled as he shaved under the curve of James’s chin. “Maybe I can get you some tickets to see the Orioles,” he said. “How would you like that?”

“Yes,” James said.

Mack shaved James’s upper lip. “When you do this on your own, you have to be careful of your lip. You don’t want to cut your lip or you’ll bleed for hours. There, you’re all done.” Mack stepped back. “I want you to rinse your face,” Mack said.

James turned on the water, splashed his face and dried it with a towel.

“What do we do after we rinse, James, can you remember?” James stared into the mirror.

Mack picked up the lotion and squirted some into James’s palm. “Rub this into your face. We don’t use aftershave, do we, James?”

“No,” James said.

“You’re going to have to remind your mom of that. No aftershave, just lotion. And stand up for yourself. I’d hate to think of you walking around smelling funny.”

James rubbed in the lotion. “All shaved,” he said.

“All shaved. You’re ready to go, then.” Mack reached for the latch on the bathroom door, but then stopped short. “Do you like me, James?” he asked.

“No,” James said. His green-gray eyes were a blank slate. “I love you.”

Before Mack left the room, he watched Andrea pack. “Your son’s smooth faced again,” he said. “But I don’t think I taught him a thing. I’m sorry.”

Andrea held a sweater under her chin and folded in the sleeves. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.

“Okay, then, I’m going,” Mack said.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the energy for a big emotional good-bye,” she said.

“Me either,” he said.

Andrea narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t beholden to me or anyone else, Mack. You’re your own person. A good person. But will you think about what I said, about Maribel?”

“I already have,” Mack said.

Andrea slid one of James’s flip-flops onto each of her hands. “I guess it’s ridiculous to think I’ll never see you again.”

“I’m beginning to believe nothing is ridiculous,” Mack said. “Let’s just say so long for a while. You might see me again, but it won’t be where you think.”

“You’re leaving here?”

“I promise I won’t show up on your doorstep,” he said.

“You’re really leaving here?” Andrea said.

Mack gave her a squeeze. “Safe travels tomorrow.” He inhaled the smell of her hair, but again, he wasn’t as sad as he expected. He made a point of not saying “I love you,” but Andrea seemed to hear it anyway.

“I know,” she said.

Mack drove to the basement apartment. He knocked tentatively on the door, but heard nothing. Then, he knocked a little louder. After a second, Maribel swung the door open.

“Oh, God,” she said. Her tan face went pale, as though she were going to be sick.

“Mari, I’m sorry, I have to talk to you.”

“Talk?” she said.

“Can I come in?” Mack asked.

The skin above her eye twitched. “I guess,” she said.

She pushed the screen door open for him and he stepped into the apartment. Jem Crandall was sitting at the dining table eating pizza from a box. He, too, looked sick when he saw Mack. He stood up.

“Jem,” Mack said. “Hi.”

“I’m going,” Jem said. “I’m out of here.”

Mack tried to hide his surprise. It was hard enough to see Maribel, but then to have one of his bellmen sitting at the dining table eating pizza?

“I don’t get it,” Mack said. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re friends,” Maribel said. “Get over your surprise. You don’t know what my life is like anymore.”

“No,” Mack said. “Obviously I don’t.”

Jem moved toward the door, taking the piece of pizza he was eating with him. “I’ll let you two hash this out,” he said. Then he turned around. “But if you hurt her, Petersen, if you lay a hand on her or you make her cry with something you say, I’ll kill you.”

“Great,” Mack said. Now both his bellmen wanted to kill him.

“I mean it,” Jem said. “And I’m saying this despite the fact that you’ve been pretty cool to me. But you did a bad thing to Maribel, and if you do anything else, you’re in trouble.”

“Okay,” Mack said. He repressed the urge to smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jem bit into his pizza. “Yeah,” he said, his mouth full. “Do that.”

After Jem left, Maribel sat at the dining table. “So, you’ve reclaimed your turf,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you want. You want closure? I figured as much, but I’d hoped you’d call first.”

Mack looked around the apartment. He missed it. Even the shag carpet and the moldy, old-sponge smell. “I love you,” he said.

“You don’t cheat on someone you love. You don’t perpetuate a lie for six years with someone you love. Okay, Mack? Do you see how your credibility has worn thin?”

“Yes,” Mack said, “but I do love you.”

“Ha.”

“I asked Bill to profit-share,” he said.

Maribel raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“He turned me down,” Mack said. “He and Therese both. They said…well, do you know what’s going on with Cecily?”

“That she’s deferring a year from school you mean? To be with the boyfriend?”

“It has them really upset. And they won’t profit-share with me because they think if they do Cecily will be more likely to leave. They think she’ll be glad I’m taking care of the hotel for them, and she’ll feel free to go.”

“They’re absolutely right,” Maribel said. “Cecily’s said as much. So it sounds like you’re out of luck.”

Mack looked at his hands. “I did ask, though.”

Maribel fidgeted with the corner of the pizza box. “You’re too late, Mack.”

“We only broke up two weeks ago. How can I be too late? And another thing I’d like to know is what Crandall was doing here.”

“He likes me,” Maribel said. “I could go out on a limb and say he’s in love with me.”

“Great,” Mack said. “He’s too young for you, you know.”

Maribel snorted. “That isn’t for you to decide.”

“So you’re an item, then? You’ve fallen for Mr.
November
?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Mack,” Maribel said. Her voice was sad now, not angry, not sarcastic. “I’m thinking of leaving the island.”

“Why?” he said.

“Because I’m finished here. I gave it a shot and it didn’t work. Six years ago, you and I had a summer romance and I decided to stay. But it was always a summer romance, wasn’t it? The kind of romance that’s so thrilling because you know it’s going to end.” She flashed her blue eyes at him. “And guess what? Our summer is finally over.”

“I agree. Our summer is over.”

“Plus, I think people who live on islands…well, I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with them. It’s like they’re
hiding
from something. It’s like they’re afraid of the rest of the world and so they
isolate
themselves, surrounded by all this water.”

“What are we hiding from?” Mack asked. “What are we afraid of?”

Maribel tore the pizza box into tiny pieces. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m afraid that you don’t love me enough. You’re afraid that I love you too much. Or maybe we’re each just afraid of ourselves.” She started to cry.

Mack reached across the table and took her hand. “I got a job offer today,” he said. “And if you agree to come with me, I’m going to take it.”

“What kind of offer?” she said.

“Working for How-Baby,” Mack said. “For the Texas Rangers. Setting up hotel rooms, restaurants, flights. It would mean traveling around the States. It would mean the winters off. It would mean more money.”

Maribel went to the sink, ripped a paper towel off the roll and blew her nose. “How-Baby,” she said. “I always liked that man.”

“He and Tonya want to see you,” Mack said. “They can hardly wait. And How-Baby said he would triple my salary, Maribel. Triple it.”

“What are you going to do about the farm?” Maribel asked.

Mack thought about that for a minute. He still didn’t know what to do about the farm. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Maybe I’ll wait a year to see how I like this job. I’ll have Pringle hire someone for one harvest, and if the job works out, maybe I’ll sell the farm. The thing is, we’ll be able to do it, you and me, I know we will.”

“You’ll have to do it alone,” Maribel said, bunching the paper towel in her hand. “I’m not going with you.”

“You have to come with me.”

Maribel paced the kitchen floor so that the soles of her running shoes squeaked against the linoleum. “You just don’t
get it
, do you?”

Mack took a deep breath. He felt as though he were falling, in a dream. “You don’t get it,” he said. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

For the first time in their relationship, he’d surprised her. Well, maybe the second time, because he knew finding out about Andrea had surprised her too. Just watching her gave Mack a rush. She was wearing a pale pink T-shirt, jean shorts, her running shoes. Her hair was in a bun held together by a pencil. At that moment, Mack wanted to
be
Maribel—she was getting something she’d wanted for so long.

“You’re asking me to marry you?” Maribel said.

I should sink to one knee
, he thought. It seemed silly, there in the dampness of their rented apartment, but Mack made himself do it. He knelt.

“Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?” The words came right out; it was easy. He would say them over and again; he would scream them out. “Will you please marry me?”

Maribel stared over the top of his head as though his thoughts were suspended in a balloon.
Answer me!
the balloon would say. And then for a second it occurred to him she might say no, and that was like peeking into a dark hole with no bottom.

“Maribel, will you marry me?” Mack asked a little louder.

She looked at his face as though she were surprised to find him there, on one knee, his eyes level with her tan legs.

“Of course,” she said. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Lacey Gardner couldn’t believe it. For twelve years she’d watched Mack grow up: She watched him run the hotel, graduate from the community college on the Cape, grieve for his parents; she watched him take girls on dates. And she watched him, especially carefully, with Maribel. But never in a million years would she have predicted this—and Lacey was old enough now to have very few things shock her. But this, yes. Mack brought her usual cup of coffee and the
Boston Globe
from the lobby, and before she even scanned the headlines, there was this news.

“I’ve asked Maribel to marry me and she said yes.”

His tone of voice was barely repressed joy, pride, awe, and Lacey supposed that was as it should be. Lacey experienced first surprise and next, sadness. Mack, then, lost to her forever, in a way.

“And all this time, I thought you were saving yourself for me.”

Mack hugged her across the shoulders so that she nearly spilled coffee in her lap. His energy astounded her—maybe he was in love with the girl after all. “You’re the best, Gardner. The absolute best. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“You’ll be moving out, then?” Lacey said. She eyed the leather sofa where Mack had slept the last two weeks. Usually, he came in after she fell asleep and was up before she awoke, but for two weeks there was another human being under her roof, and that felt good. She sometimes heard Mack’s footsteps or the toilet flush in the middle of the night, and once, when she couldn’t sleep, she tiptoed out to the living room and saw his figure under the blankets and she wished he would never leave, that he would simply stay with her until she died.