What a view, he thought again.
He walked across the deck to the far corner outside Palmer’s bedroom. It was protected from street view by a screen. Linnea was lying on a chaise catching some rays and reading a book. The music switched to another Marley song, and he was about to call out his sister’s name when she lifted her head and lowered the book. The name stuck in his mouth and he stopped short. Beneath the wide-brimmed straw hat was a lean, pale-skinned woman with the most beautiful breasts he had seen in a very long time. What a view, he thought again.
“Hello?” she asked in an imperious tone as she reached out for her towel and draped it across her exposed chest.
Cooper was by no means shy with women. But this beautiful topless woman left him feeling like the six-year-old boy again.
“Uh, hello. I’m looking for Linnea.”
The woman didn’t seem embarrassed in the least at having been caught sunbathing. She lifted her chin, pushed up her sunglasses, and said, “She’s over at her aunt’s house. Who are you?”
Now that she was decently covered, he felt he could walk closer. “I’m Cooper,” he replied, trying to sound cool. “Her brother.”
“Oh, the guy who came home from Oxford? She told me about you. Sit down.”
“Nice things, I hope.”
She didn’t bother to answer the inane statement. “Do you want something to drink? You look…” She cast a look at his sweaty chest and smirked. “Hot.”
He swallowed his smile and said, “I could use some water. I know where it is. Want one?”
She held up her own glass and shook her head.
“Be right back.”
He ran his hand through his hair again as he headed indoors, feeling like he’d either acted like a fool, or this was the luckiest break he’d had in a long time. Who was this girl? She was nothing like his sister. Thank God that wasn’t his sister. He shuddered at the thought of seeing Linnea topless. He went to a cabinet, pulled out a thermal mug, added ice from the freezer, and found filtered water in the fridge, same as always. When he returned to the deck, he was sorry to see the girl had slipped on her T-shirt. She’d also moved one of the wicker chairs from the table closer to the chaise.
“I’m Anna,” she said as he sat down. “Linnea’s roommate.”
“I didn’t know she had a roommate.”
“Well, she does.”
Cooper mulled this over. This could jam up his plans to move in. “So, which room are you sleeping in?”
“This one,” she said, pointing to Palmer’s room. “Are you living with your parents?”
It sounded so lame. Cooper nodded and shrugged. “Yeah. For the time being. Plans were changed.”
“Tell me about it.”
“When did you move in here?”
“Two weeks ago. I’m just finished my quarantine.” She twirled a finger in the air. “Woo-hoo.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said.
“So, how should we celebrate?” she asked.
Cooper tilted his head. He wasn’t sure if that was a come-on, or if he was just wishing it was.
* * *
CARA WAS DELIGHTED to see Emmi at the door. “Come in,” she said cheerily, stepping aside to welcome her best friend into the house.
Emmi hesitated, then said, “How about a walk on the beach?”
Cara understood immediately. People were afraid of Covid-19, and having the virus was akin to having the plague. Even knowing David had recovered, people were afraid they might catch it.
“As it happens, David’s out with Hope. They went to Dewees for a playdate with Rory.”
“Is that safe?” Emmi asked.
Cara gave Emmi a hard look. She looked thinner, her face drawn. Her hair, usually a vibrant, if slightly unnatural shade of red, had streaks of gray at the roots.
“Yes. We made the decision that the two children could play together. They’re family and we are all being very careful. The children need to play.”
“But David—”
“If anything, he’s the safest one among us now.”
“Good,” Emmi said with relief. “I’m really glad.”
“Thank you for the lasagna, by the way. David devoured it.”
“Let’s go for that walk.”
Cara always felt the years peel away when she walked the beach with Emmi. They’d been friends since the third grade. Childhood friends were tighter than blood. They chose to stay together. Since her marriage to David, she hadn’t spent as much time with Emmi, then Covid had begun. She felt the distance now.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said, wishing she could link arms. “I’ve missed you.”
“What a year,” Emmi said with a shake of her head.
“And it’s only May. But hey, the turtle season is starting. That’s something.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Emmi said. “Among other things.”
“Tell me.”
“Cara, I have to ask if you’ll take over as project leader of the turtle team this season.”
“Me? Why? Are you sick?”
“No, not me. It’s Flo.”
Cara stopped walking. Emmi stopped too and Cara scanned her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Emmi said in a calming tone. “Nothing new, anyway. It’s more of the same. Only getting worse.”
Cara sighed with relief, and they began walking again.
Emmi said, “Flo’s begun wandering again. She’s forever trying to go outside, rattling the doors, fiddling with the lock. Rattle, rattle, rattle. I take her out every day to the garden, and she seems content there. Pulling weeds. Watering. She’ll speak lucidly from time to time. You know Flo, she likes to be useful. But John had to jury-rig some newfangled lock on the gate so she couldn’t escape. But she’s clever. Turn your back, and she’s gone. Thank God for John. He’s installed discreet bars across the window frames of her room, basically childproofed the cabinets and drawers, got a new seat for the toilet. She’s getting quite unsteady on her feet.” She sighed. “I don’t want her to hurt herself.”
“You look… tired.”
“I am tired.”
Cara winced, feeling guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Cara, I am too. For Flo. The disease is accelerating. She’s having trouble eating solid food. Thank heavens for the Vitamix and avocados. She’s increasingly disoriented. Unaware of what’s going on around her. She stands and stares into space, or watches the television, only I know she’s not really following what’s going on. She just sits with this blank face. But if I turn off the television, she startles. So the darn TV drones on and on all day.” Her voice hitched. “There are days she doesn’t recognize me.”
Cara brought her hand to her throat. She hadn’t realized how bad things were getting. And she should have known. Guilt washed through her as she took in the obvious signs of exhaustion in Emmi’s sagging jaw, her unwashed hair.
“I’ll start coming over to help. We’ll set up a schedule.”
“Thank you,” Emmi said fervently. “I think, soon, we’ll have to help with her hygiene.”