"Well, then, I practically know you. You're Mary Scanlon's friend." He looked a little less dazed. "What's the favor?"

"To start with, you could get in the car."

As he slid onto the pa.s.senger seat, he eyed her bare hunting knife. She said, "I was sharpening a pencil," and sheathed it.

He laughed. He eyed the mess in the back, poked at her pruning shears. "And these are for cutting your nails?"

She didn't have time for a joke. "I garden. Can you give this note to Rose? You're sure you'll see her?"

"Yes. The music teacher's giving a supper party for the cast before." Now he looked at his suit. "You don't happen to have an iron tucked away back there? I've got another shirt but just the one suit. I was going to go back to Boston after the show, but now I'm staying through Sunday. Or Monday."

"Here's one of Heloise's Helpful Household Hints-hang your suit in the bathroom while you take a shower. The steam takes the wrinkles out."

"Is that right? Are all you Rhode Island women so good around the house?"

Elsie looked at him. She said, "Did you know Mary Scanlon before?"

He blushed. "We just met, but she was kind enough to give me a tour of the countryside. She just dropped me off on her way to work."

Elsie thought, And up on the road out of sight. She said, "I'm glad. We had a fight last night, so I'm glad she had someone to take her mind off it. She used to live with Rose and me."

"So she said."

"It was sort of a three-way fight. I was wrong. The note is for Rose."

"Okay."

"Did Mary think Rose was good?"

"My G.o.d, yes. And she's right. You and I might have a talk about Rose. There's a gift there."

"I'm not all that musical. Mary's the one who taught her."

"Yes. Mary has a fine voice. But Rose ... The music teacher here is good, but Rose might want a voice coach as she comes along. Someone serious but not pushy. I could ask around; you're not that far from Providence."

"Is that how you learned? Your own voice coach?"

"G.o.d, no. I'm an amateur like Mary. I'm just doing this because I know the part-I wrote the lyrics. The music teacher's a friend, and he's a friend of the composer. That's why we're doing it here, while we're waiting for-"

"I'll tell you what," Elsie said. "I'll take you to my house and you can iron your shirt."

"That's very nice of you."

"If you're staying through Monday, we should iron your suit, too."

He laughed. He had a nice laugh, something Mary had noticed about Johnny Bienvenue. He said, "I've never been so well looked after."

Was he flirting? Was she? It had been a while since she had the full attention of a man. Well, Jack.

Elsie said, "You've never been so well looked after? I guess Mary cooked you breakfast."

He blushed easily with his fair skin, up to the roots of his hair. She said, "Hey-it's okay, I'm her best friend."

As she started the engine, May's car went by and pulled up next to Main. May got out with Rose's maid's uniform over one arm and a bag in the other. Two white ribbons hung out, fluttering as May walked briskly toward the auditorium. Everyone was taking care of someone else's wrinkles.

He said, "You know how Mary gets her omelets so light? She beats the egg whites separately. It's something to see, the way she twirls the whisk and her hair hanging down her back, bobbing in its own rhythm. And she knows all the old songs." He hummed a tune. "You must have heard that one. 'The Rose of Tralee.' " He sang, " 'The pale moon was rising ... ' " and broke off with a faraway look.

Good for Mary, then. The man was smitten.

chapter fifty-eight.

The first thing Tom said when he came in was "Walt's put his foot in it this time."

May said, "I thought he was finally settling down."

"He was," Tom said. "But he picked another fight with Phoebe. She told him for the umpteenth time that it made a bad impression-his driving over to the job at Sawtooth on his motorcycle. He leans back in his chair and asks her what she's doing all those times she's going up to see Mr. Salviatti. He says it right there in front of Eddie and me. Then n.o.body said anything, and Walt must have figured he'd hit a nerve. He said, 'I don't mind what anybody gets up to, it's just that you're the one talking about bad impressions.' Phoebe did that thing she does-she goes all soft and puzzled. She says, 'Why, Walt, I'm not sure exactly what you mean.' And then Eddie says-and you know Eddie, he never gets riled but this time he says, 'I know what you mean, and you got about one minute to apologize. Phoebe is the model for an angel.' It did sound like he just meant something soppy, and Walt laughs. That made Eddie go another shade of red. Phoebe says, 'It's the statue, the one that's going to go down by the town docks.' Walt is squinting like he's ready to hear more and maybe mumble his way out of it, but it's too late. Eddie starts barking, 'Stand up! Take your hands out of your pockets!' and he pulls Walt out of the chair by his shirtfront. Walt whacks Eddie's hands down. They're chest to chest, real close to it; I mean, that close. Phoebe gives a little shriek and starts batting me on the arm, like I'm supposed to do something. So I get my shoulder in there and I'm face-to-face with Walt. Not exactly face-to-face, since he's bigger than me. I feel his breath on my forehead."

Tom paused. May said, "Go on. I was afraid of this; I've been afraid of this for a long time."

"Eddie was still shoving, and I couldn't help leaning into Walt, so he got pushed into sitting down again. And then it just popped into my head to do something funny. So I sat in Walt's lap and I said, 'Walt, honey, maybe we should tell them our secret.' None of them has much of a sense of humor. Walt just stood up, and I landed on the floor. Walt left. Eddie stood there. Phoebe sat down. She didn't cry, but she kind of mewed. I said, 'Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall end up on their a.s.s.' "

May said "Tom" reflexively, though "a.s.s" wasn't all that bad. She was mainly thinking of how they all felt. Phoebe and Eddie, of course, but she imagined Walt wishing he'd kept his mouth shut, but once he'd said what he said and with Eddie coming at him, it had to boil over.

Then she replayed Tom's mimicking the three voices; she heard Phoebe saying, "Why, Walt, I'm not sure exactly what you mean," and she saw Phoebe going all wide-eyed and tilting her head. But it was Walt's saying "I don't mind what anybody gets up to" that was the bigger spark. The truth was that it was Eddie who didn't mind. He hadn't minded Phoebe's going off for her ski weekends, or her going off to Sawtooth in her short tennis dress or going up through Mr. Salviatti's electric gate-all that dancing around in places Eddie didn't go, to get the kind of attention Eddie figured was brighter than his. As long as it was between Phoebe and Eddie, Eddie could maybe go glum or mopey when Phoebe left, keep extra-busy while she was away, and be happy when she came back.

But there was Walt, who by all reports had been getting along fine with Eddie while they were working on Miss Perry's house-there was Walt, Eddie's own flesh and blood, putting words to Eddie's unthought thoughts. There was Walt Wormsley looking like Eddie and sounding like Eddie but bigger and louder.

And by all accounts Walt had been around a lot of women. That would give his remark about Phoebe a sly knowingness. May could see how Eddie wanted to knock Walt down.

Tom said, "Okay. Let's pretend I said 'b.u.t.t.' Or maybe 'rear end.' I'm just glad Walt didn't knee me in the ... below the belt."

"Oh, stop joking around. This is ..." May saw Tom shake his head at her. "I'm sorry. You did the right thing there. I mean, getting in between them. I'm not so sure about your trying to get a laugh out of it. Though I suppose that's what got Walt out the door. Lord, I don't know what they can do now. Two men. And father and son is even worse."

"I don't know why you say that. There's mother and daughter. Rose is staying over at the school on account of something Elsie said. It's kind of an inconvenience for me. Rose used to run my work clothes through the washing machine. She said I could throw in some of Dad's, too."

"You shouldn't ask her to do that. Rose has her schoolwork and her play on top of that."

"I give her rides, and while the wash is getting done, I help her with her homework. Don't look so surprised, Ma. I'm good at math. I'm the one who figured out where to put the new moorings in Sawtooth Pond. Got to set them so the boats don't b.u.mp into each other. Had to use the Pythagorean theorem. See, the hypotenuse is from the mushroom anchor to the buoy-"

"Not now, Tom. I'm worried about Eddie, and you're all over the place with washing machines and moorings."

"Well, Jack was impressed. He's got room for more sailboats, and that's cash in his pocket."

"Since when do you call Mr. Aldrich 'Jack'?"

"Since he told me to."

"I'm not so sure I want you mixed up with Mr. Aldrich."

"Eddie does a lot of work for him."

"And you work for Eddie. Has Mr. Aldrich been after you to work for him?"

"Jack's not crazy about Phoebe. He likes Eddie, good old steady Eddie-but he thinks I'm good with boat owners. Jack doesn't see me spending my life banging nails alongside Walt. Come on, Ma. Don't be a stick-in-the-mud."

That was one way of saying it, May thought. Another was that she didn't like things getting beyond what they were supposed to be. Or people. She could put up with a few bits of disorder-d.i.c.k on land was one. She supposed she could get used to one disorder or another if the disorder stayed in the place it started. But here was Mr. Aldrich getting after her, getting after Tom, and Eddie and Walt and Phoebe ... and she was worried about Charlie with Deirdre. It was like storms joining up, and then everything was chaos. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She let her breath out, opened her eyes. She said, "I suppose it doesn't hurt to talk. Just don't count on something that's just talk. And remember, Eddie's our friend." She needed to settle down some more. She added, "You had your lunch yet? You go pick some peas and I'll heat up the meatloaf."

"You're going to think I just came by for a free meal."

"I got more peas than I can eat, what with your father staying out so long. Meatloaf, too."

Tom took the basket but stopped at the doorway. "You know, it's not necessarily all a bad thing, Eddie losing his temper. I suspect Phoebe might like the change. She's been trying to gussy Eddie up; she thinks that's how she'd like him better. But she'll get a tingle off of his growling at Walt. Maybe another tingle when she thinks, Oh, what if he growls at me?"

"I wish you wouldn't talk like that. You shouldn't think things like that about other people. Go pick some peas. See if you can keep your mind on that."

Tom sighed. "Oh, Ma. That wasn't ... You know, it's not just peas you got too much of. It's disapproval. I hope it's just me stirs it up."

May didn't have time to answer. Quick as that, Tom thought of something else. He twirled the basket. "When I get back, I'll tell you some other news. Nope-I can't wait. Mary Scanlon's got a boyfriend." Then he was out the back door.

She wasn't going to bring it up to defend herself against Tom, but she'd made her own kind of peace with Elsie. Maybe Tom meant Deirdre. May had pounced on her for taking Rose's skiff. True enough that Deirdre didn't know how d.i.c.k made Rose cry, how Rose's crying was in the grain of that boat like her first coat of paint. All right, then-there was Deirdre flying in out of nowhere, not linked to anything or anybody around here, and then there she was padding down the upstairs hall at night. Yes, she dove in to save Charlie. May tried to keep that in mind. It didn't hold. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe she should be weeding out some disapproval. She might let Tom take d.i.c.k's dirty clothes up to Elsie's washing machine, but she was no closer to allowing Deirdre a quiet place in her thoughts when Tom came back in with the peas.

chapter fifty-nine.

Deirdre said, "I don't think Charlie's going to marry me."

"Why do you think that?"

"May's been nicer to me. She'd only do that if she was relieved. Charlie must have said something to her."

That struck Elsie as shrewd. She was surprised until she thought that it was the sort of shrewdness the self-absorbed could be good at. Elsie said, "Could be. Or it could be that May's got other things on her mind." Elsie stopped wheeling her bicycle up her driveway to let Deirdre get ahead, out of talking range. She'd been happy enough to have Deirdre as an exercise partner, to get pushed harder than she could push herself. She'd also considered Deirdre as offering a retrospective of her own vanities and vices, a harsher scouring than her unaided memory. But Deirdre offered this unconsciously, and Elsie missed Mary Scanlon and Miss Perry, and now that Rose was busy, she missed Rose. All of them had set her straight, or at least straighter.

By the time Elsie got inside, Deirdre had poured herself cranberry juice and recited her litany of carbohydrates, glycogen, electrolytes, even though they'd cut the ride short when it began to rain. Deirdre drank and then lay down on the floor to stretch. She said, "It could be that Tom told Charlie some stuff Tom heard from Walt."

"I thought Charlie knew about you and Walt."

"I was off and on with Walt, so there was stuff in between. Walt didn't mind hearing about it. In fact, it turned him on. A lot of guys are that way. With Charlie I've got to be careful. What is it with Charlie? He probably gets it from May-her way of seeing everything in black-and-white."

Elsie sighed. Lying on her back, Deirdre pulled her legs over her face. She kept on talking. Elsie caught m.u.f.fled bits and pieces, enough to recognize that this was another litany, this time of Deirdre's s.e.xual adventures, some of which Elsie had heard but not in a single recitation. Something about being jounced in the bed of a pickup. How Deirdre had come on a couple skinny-dipping in a stream and waded in-first time she let a girl kiss her, first time she gave a guy a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b underwater. How Deirdre had been on a canoe trip-a bunch of guys, two women. She'd borrowed the other woman's blue wet suit, hung it to dry on the guy-rope of her pup tent. After dark one of the men crawled into her tent.

Deirdre sat up, raised one knee, and twisted herself around it. "He wasn't, like, her boyfriend, just a thing he thought of. He whispered, 'Linda. Okay?' I went, 'Uh-huh.' Weird rush."

Elsie said, "I can imagine your telling these things to a guy in a bar. I can't imagine telling them to someone you want to like you."

Deirdre twisted herself around her other knee. "I don't really go to bars. I'm more an outdoor person." It took Deirdre a few seconds to frown. She said, "Hey. It's just us here. When did you get to be all judgmental?"

"I'm not judging what you get up to. It's just the way you're-"

"What? Adventurous?"

"Endlessly fascinated with your adventures."

"It's not like you haven't done stuff."

"It's just not something I go on about."

"I don't mean recently. When I said you and I are alike, I didn't mean now you're older. But then, maybe I am more adventurous."

" 'Adventurous' is one way of putting it."

Deirdre stood up. She said, "Where do you get off with that tone? Like you get to look down on what I've done and judge."

"I'm not judging what you've done. You said 'tone.' Okay. Tone. Your tone."

"Well, screw you. I'm going."

"It's raining. I'll give you a ride."

"Don't bother." Deirdre put her bicycle helmet on. With her hand on the door she said, "You are on May's side. Everything black-and-white."

"May is more complicated than that."

"I guess s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her husband makes you an expert? s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her husband makes you part of the family."

Elsie said, "It's going to rain harder." She pointed out the window. "The wind's picking up." Deirdre went out the door.

Elsie sat by the window and watched the rain dot the pond. She'd let Deirdre think they were friends. Better not to lead her on. She'd been harsh. It was about time. There was a lull. She thought, Deirdre's not good enough for our Charlie.

chapter sixty.

Mary took JB to see her old restaurant. They ate breakfast on the terrace overlooking the salt marsh. The breakfast wasn't as good as the ones she used to make here, but the view was better than she remembered, a maze of hummocks and creeks all the way to the back of the dunes. The sun was still low, the light soft as it came through the trees on the higher ground between Sawtooth Creek and Pierce Creek. At the time-fifteen, sixteen years ago-she'd been relieved to sell to Jack. Now she wondered.