Compass Rose Page 4

  She watched him go, heard him for a bit longer crackling through the undergrowth. Then only the stream and her own breathing. She rolled onto her side and tucked her hand between her legs. No—she wouldn’t be able to, she wouldn’t fit into any of her old fantasies.

  She had a moment of self-pity, an emotion she despised. Enough of that. If she wasn’t going to arrest anybody or fuck anybody, she could at least do something useful. Go back and test the water samples. And then tell Mary not to bring home any more of her damn desserts.

  chapter eight

  May was surprised when Phoebe Fitzgerald asked her to have lunch. She couldn’t think how to say no. “Oh, good,” Phoebe said. “I’ll swing by and we’ll go to Sawtooth. The food’s wonderful, and you’ll be doing me a favor. Part of being a member of the tennis club is I have to have so many lunches there each month, and Eddie won’t go. Wait—that’s not what I mean at all.”

  May hadn’t had a good look at Sawtooth Point since they put up the yew hedge. “Irish yew,” Phoebe said, as if she’d planted them herself. “And stands of Scotch pine between the cottages so you don’t have to see your neighbors, even in winter. The big one over there is Jack Aldrich’s. Do you know him? His wife and her sister grew up here. But you must know all about them.”

  No end to Elsie Buttrick.

  May was just as glad Phoebe went rattling on. “I only met Jack Aldrich at the interview. He interviews everyone before they can buy a cottage. He even interviews you just to join the tennis club. The great big white mansion with the porches is called the Wedding Cake.”

  “It always was,” May said, “even before it got added on to and gussied up.”

  May stuck close to Phoebe when they got out of the car and went up on the porch. A waiter or maybe the person in charge said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fitzgerald. You’ll be two? Lawn side or ocean side?”

  “Lawn, please.” She said to May, “I want to see who’s playing tennis.”

  More than half the people around them were dressed in white tennis clothes. What with the high-gloss paint on the posts and railings and the tablecloths and napkins, it made for an awful lot of white. May felt better once she sat down, not that anyone had looked at her oddly, but she’d felt odd in her navy blue dress and nylon stockings.

  Phoebe leaned forward and said, “You’ve known Eddie a long time, haven’t you?”

  Was that what this was about? “Yes.”

  “What was his wife like?”

  “We didn’t see much of her. Then she was gone.”

  “Was she pretty?”

  “Eddie is Dick’s best friend. Eddie took us in after the hurricane, carried us for a good while. I’m not one for talking about—”

  “Well, yes. Eddie’s a very good person. I was just wondering. I mean, I wonder how his son got to be so different.”

  “Walt’s been away for some time now. He just got back.”

  “Of course, I know how hard it is being a single parent with a problem child. I have a teenage daughter, and she was impossible. She blamed me when our dog died. But then she gives her stepmother a terrible time, too. My ex-husband remarried very quickly—and now she’s at boarding school. My daughter, I mean. And maybe that helps. After she called up the vet, she decided it wasn’t my fault that Sabu died, and she called me up and we had a good cry together. I’m going to have soup and salad; I’ve got a game this afternoon. But I recommend the quiche.”

  May nodded. She was relieved when Phoebe concentrated on penciling in the order and stopped tumbling at her.

  May looked at the creek coming out of the woods and into the salt pond. All these people in white with bare, tanned legs sitting on the porch or hopping around on the tennis courts—not a half mile from her house. She’d known there was building going on; she’d seen that over the past year or two. She’d noticed the gatehouse and then the sudden yew hedge transplanted all at once, six feet tall. But it was these people, all one tribe, who made the air different, as if what they breathed on Sawtooth Point was their own air, as new as the tennis courts and houses and brightened-up Wedding Cake. It didn’t seem altogether real, as if all these people were dreaming it and she’d somehow walked into their dream.

  Now that Phoebe had handed over the order slip, she was eyeing the tennis courts. “I have to play that woman this weekend, the one with the pink headband. We’re supposed to wear all white, but I guess … So there she is taking a lesson. She’s ahead of me on the ladder, but she’s not all that good. The pro told me I should be able to move up to the top ten. Jack Aldrich’s wife is in the top ten, she and her sister, Elsie Buttrick, but Elsie hasn’t been playing this last year. Do you play?”

  “No.”

  “You must be doing something to have such a good figure. I don’t know what I’d do without tennis. Thank God they have an indoor court for the winter. And I can go skiing; I still have a share in a ski lodge in Vermont. But I’m afraid Eddie’s worried about that.”

  “I don’t see why. His business’ll slow down when the weather turns.”

  “Oh, it’s not that. He doesn’t make a fuss, but he gets this look when I go back to my old haunts. It’s not that I have a particular beau. You’ve probably guessed that Eddie’s in love with me.”

  Different air or not, it sounded wrong to say it flat out. May was afraid Phoebe was going to say more, but Phoebe veered off.

  “How long does a person have to live here to really live here? It’s been three years and people still say, ‘So you’re staying on past Labor Day again?’ Not these people.” Phoebe waved her hand. “Everyday people who live here. It’s as if being part of life here is harder than joining Sawtooth. It’s as if there are things you have to know but that nobody tells you. I thought I might get to be friends with Miss Perry. I rent my little stone house from her, I go to the same church. I ran into her when she was taking a walk and I said I’d heard she’d sold land to Elsie Buttrick and I said how much I love my little stone house and would she ever consider selling it. She said, ‘That really is out of the question. I thought it was well known that I am bequeathing everything to the Perryville School.’ I felt put in my place. Very much put in my place.”

  May said, “Miss Perry’s old. You likely took her by surprise.”

  “I thought it might be because I’m Eddie’s office manager. Maybe anyone who has anything to do with Eddie.”

  “No. She knows Eddie and Dick are friends and she’d do just about anything for Dick. Of course, she’s known Dick since he was a boy.”

  “Well, there it is again. I’ll be a newcomer until I’m old and gray.” Phoebe sat back and crossed her legs. She looked at her pretty knee as if she was making sure old and gray were a long ways off. “I’m usually good at fitting in. I like getting to know people and having people get to know me. But around here it’s as if everyone already knows what they need to know, and what’s the point of talking about it.”

  “There’s some truth in that,” May said, “but it doesn’t mean they’re thinking about you one way or the other.” Phoebe let out a breath and slumped a little. May felt as if she held a fluttering bird in her hands. This pretty woman with business sense, with big-city sense, with all kinds of sense, wanted a breath of comfort, a little puff of air to fluff up her feathers. Phoebe was stuck on herself, but at least she was nervous about it. And—what May had held off on account of her own nervousness—Phoebe was trying to make friends with her. Why on earth would someone like Phoebe want that? And yet now that Phoebe wasn’t trying to pry out things about Eddie, May didn’t mind Phoebe’s treating her as an authority on South County. She saw how she could get to like Phoebe’s coming toward her so eagerly. Now that Dick and the boys were going their own ways, and her family wasn’t scraping by and she wasn’t so busy making ends meet, she wouldn’t mind getting out more. She would have had a good time at the boys’ ball game except that Elsie Buttrick showed up. For a while she’d let herself get penned up in her own house for fear of seeing Elsie
Buttrick. Now she was angry at herself for shrinking away.

  Today was an accident; she’d let herself get towed along. Not even Phoebe’s first choice, but here she was. Not even sure she liked it here, but pleased to take a look at all this.

  She said to Phoebe, “If you’d like, next week we can have lunch at my house. I can’t tell you much about what’s going on around here lately, but I know how things used to be.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely, that would be absolutely lovely.”

  May thought it didn’t take much for Phoebe to brighten up.

  After Phoebe dropped her off, May stood still in the middle of the kitchen. She thought she might as well put on some long gloves and pull out the poison ivy from around the raspberry bushes. The boys both got poison ivy worse than most. Come to think of it, next week she and Phoebe could pick raspberries. She could show Phoebe a thing or two about the salt marsh, too, show her the bit of salt crystal that the spartina pushed out, how it could live in salt water that would kill any other plant. If it was a low tide, she and Phoebe would get into the creek down near the mouth, find a few quahogs. It’d be pleasant enough to have someone along for company, someone who didn’t know these things.

  But there it was again—Phoebe was more likely to want to know other things. That easy way she’d talked about Eddie being in love with her, about her divorce and her bad daughter—she’d be one to want to trade girlish secrets. May didn’t have girlish secrets. She didn’t have but one secret. It wasn’t her own, but it kept her locked up. Alone in her kitchen she said out loud, “Damn him.” It floated softly in the air. She said it louder so it echoed.

  She changed into her gardening clothes, put on her elbow-high dish-washing gloves, and went to tear out the poison ivy.

  chapter nine

  Elsie and Mary were working things out pretty well. On work days Elsie got up early, nursed Rose, made her own breakfast, and then opened the door to the stairs to Mary’s new bedroom so that Mary could hear Rose. Mary usually didn’t have to get up till nine or so. Mary took Rose with her when she drove to Sawtooth Point. She picked up one of the sous chefs or a waitress, and all three of them went to do the shopping, Mary cradling Rose with one arm, pointing, poking, or feeling with her free hand. Rose spent most of the day in a corner of the big kitchen, either in the car seat or in the portable crib. At four or so, Elsie picked Rose up. Sometimes she nursed her in the kitchen, happy to watch Mary and the two sous chefs chopping, stirring, peeking in the ovens. Elsie was a little sad to leave this heat and bustle. When she got home she turned on all the lights, a new bad habit for which she reproached and then forgave herself. It wasn’t until after Rose went to sleep that she felt trapped. She dealt with this feeling (sometimes just restlessness, once in a while bleakness) by buying an Exercycle and pedaling hard for forty minutes, hoping for some endorphins to kick in. Another remedy came to her one evening when she remembered Jack saying to a table full of guests that the birth of a child was a five-year jail sentence. Sally had winced and then laughed at him. “I seem to remember you slipping away every morning without a lot of sirens going off.”

  Laughing at Jack made her feel better. Bigger and better. She put on her gym suit and started pedaling.

  She was just beginning to sweat when the phone rang. She got to it on the third ring, said hello while listening to hear if Rose was waking up. She couldn’t hear a voice on the line, said hello again. And again, with an edge in case it was a crank call. Only a breath, but now she knew who it was, had feared this sound and put it out of her mind. At last a word. “Elsie?”

  “Yes, it’s Elsie. Are you all right?”

  A silence. “Elsie. I can’t …” Silence again.

  “Miss Perry? You’re at home, right?”

  “Yes. It’s odd. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m coming. Did you fall down? Where are you?”

  “Elsie. It’s very odd.”

  “I’m coming.”

  Elsie thought of calling Sally. Jack. Mary. Dick. Captain Teixeira. Nine-one-one.

  Miss Perry had called her. She scooped up Rose, put her in the car seat. Down the hill, up to the door. Locked. The key was in the fake rock. She’d told Miss Perry that any robber … Never mind, there it was.

  Miss Perry was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, leaning against the newel post. She was still holding the phone. Elsie hung it up. Miss Perry was breathing weakly. Elsie felt her pulse at her throat. It seemed fast but strong. Her face looked pale. It didn’t look as if she’d fallen—just slumped against the post. What else? What else? Elsie saw the yellow highlighting she’d used in her EMT textbook but nothing else. No, nine-one-one. They’d put her through. She should know the pulse—she touched the side of Miss Perry’s throat again. Twenty, twenty-one. In ten seconds. Times six. Rose began to cry in her car seat. Miss Perry opened her eyes, one of them wider than the other. Elsie said, “It’s Elsie. It’s all right. I’m just going to call …”

  A woman’s voice answered the phone. Elsie said, “We need an ambulance. We’re just down the road from South County Hospital.” She gave more directions. A man’s voice came on and asked all over again. He said, “Okay, the driveway with the stone columns.”

  Elsie said, “Right. My car’s out front. I’ll turn the blinker on.”

  Rose was crying louder. Elsie went out, pushed the turn signal down, and went back in carrying Rose. She held Rose in one arm and sat down beside Miss Perry. She put an arm behind Miss Perry’s neck and cradled her head with her hand. Rose stopped crying but was still fussing. Miss Perry said, “Non sum qualis …” For an instant Elsie thought she had to either translate or identify. Horace or Virgil? She realized that her mind was gnawing at either/or—either a heart attack or a stroke. Pallor, rapid pulse, breathing—could be either. She looked at Miss Perry’s eyes. The left eye was only half open. She leaned forward to look closely at Miss Perry’s eyes. Rose fussed louder. Miss Perry said, “What?”

  Elsie said, “It’s just the baby.” Miss Perry rolled her head. Elsie said, “We should stay still.”

  Miss Perry said, “What baby?”

  Elsie said, “It’s all right. I’ll take care of the baby.” But every time Rose made a noise, Miss Perry either rolled her head or raised her right hand. Elsie turned Miss Perry so that Miss Perry lay along the wide bottom step, the back of her head on Elsie’s thigh. Elsie pulled up her sweatshirt, opened her nursing bra, and lifted Rose to her nipple. She said, “It’s all right. It’s going to be quiet now. A doctor’s coming.”

  “Odd,” Miss Perry said, but she lay still.

  Elsie wasn’t sure if she should keep Miss Perry from falling asleep. In her mind’s eye she could now read some of the highlighted lines: comfort and reassure. That implied keeping her awake, didn’t it? Loosen constricting clothing. Remove all dentures and dental bridges or false teeth. Why? Maybe she was mixing in advice from the epilepsy chapter. Or was there a possibility of a convulsion? Didn’t look like it—Miss Perry was breathing fast but evenly.

  Elsie was pretty sure Miss Perry didn’t have dentures—wouldn’t she have noticed?

  Rose was sucking steadily, her plump legs light and loose. Elsie moved her so that the bottom of Rose’s blanket wouldn’t brush the top of Miss Perry’s head.

  “What happened?” Miss Perry said. “When it turns.”

  “Turns?”

  “Yes.”

  Elsie thought at first Miss Perry meant dialing, but when she looked at the phone she saw that it was new and had buttons. Dumb—she’d just pushed nine-one-one. Then she thought Miss Perry might be worrying about the key. “You called me, and I came. I found the key. I’ll put it back.” Miss Perry rolled her head to the right. Elsie noticed her left eye again. Another highlighted fragment: “unilateral weakness … mouth drawn to one side.” It was hard to tell, since she was looking at Miss Perry’s face upside down. Elsie got it then. She said, “Dizzy. You had a dizzy spell.”

  “Yes.”

 
; “It’ll be all right. The doctor’s coming. It’s all right.”

  Elsie looked out the open door. She couldn’t see the blinker itself, but she saw the light flash on the lower leaves of the copper beech. She said, “The leaves are turning. I mean, changing color. The ash, the sycamore by my pond.”

  “Yes,” Miss Perry said. “Trees.”

  Elsie went on. “Your red oak. All the maples.” Rose pulled away, made a face, but then nursed again. Miss Perry lay still but appeared to be listening. Elsie settled into a state of mind that could go on and on, as if she were a pond fed by a slow spring. Rose fell asleep.

  When the ambulance pulled up behind her car, she thought of getting up, looked around for a pillow, something to put under Miss Perry’s head. No need. The two men moved Miss Perry onto a gurney. One sat beside Elsie and took notes as she recited what she knew. Miss Perry’s head was toward the door, only a little higher than Elsie’s. Miss Perry turned her face to the right. Elsie added, “Maybe paresis. The left eye and cheek.”

  Miss Perry said, “Elsie, will you … Don’t go.”

  “Yes.” Take Rose along? Call Mary? Sally? She’d figure out something. “Yes. I’ll stay with you. I’ll have to see to the baby.”

  “Yes. Baby.”

  chapter ten

  Jack asked Elsie to have supper at the Sawtooth Point cottage. Since it was usually Sally who invited her, Elsie guessed that it wasn’t to be a purely social occasion. Jack held off until they finished eating. Elsie nursed Rose and put her to bed in the portable car seat. Sally cleared the table. Jack stood up when Sally and Elsie sat down. He held the back of his chair and said, “I’m wearing lots of hats in all this. Too many hats. I have been Miss Perry’s lawyer. My firm drew up her will. I’ve since become the chairman of the board of directors of the Perryville School, which is the chief beneficiary of that will. I was also to be the executor, and I’ve had her power of attorney. In case Miss Perry takes a turn for the worse, I don’t want to get caught flat-footed in what might appear to be a conflict of interest.”