Night Swimming (30 page)

“Really?”

“Really. Remember, a long time ago we were talking and I said there was something I needed to figure out about myself as much as I needed to figure it out about my job?”

“Yeah, I remember. I remember your saying that you never thought a pool job would be this hard.”

“Well, I did figure out a thing or two. First, about my marriage. Jeannie thought she was getting a real catch: Yale grad, lawyer, money. But I thought I was getting a real catch, too. Growing up poor in South Boston was a big contrast to L.A. I had gotten myself a trophy wife with Jeannie. And our mutual superficial needs were confused with love.”

“I’m sure there was love, Skip,” Blossom consoled.

“Not the kind I want. Maybe at the time . . . maybe I did want a beautiful woman, a pretty face, and that’s what I got. But that’s all I got. I’ve changed.”

“You have. I’ve seen it,” Blossom admitted.

“Both Jeannie and I thought we were getting something good for all the wrong reasons. It couldn’t have lasted. We wouldn’t have wanted it to. So now I’ve thought long and hard about it, about what I want in my next relationship.”

“And what’s that?”

“At the end of the day, you have to love your partner, not for what you can get from them, but what you have by being together. Someone you can cry and laugh with, someone who accepts your foibles and loves you in spite of them, someone you can show your soft underbelly to, and they don’t perceive it as a weakness.”

“That’s exactly what I want.”

“I know.” He paused and then continued. “I’m glad I had what time I did with Jeannie. I learned a lot about myself.”

“It’s great to finally get it. At least that’s how I’ve experienced the last few months,” Blossom added.

“And you know what else, Blossom? You know what I’ve finally been able to see?”

“What?”

“I am going to tell you, but I don’t want you to say a word after I’m finished. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I have seen a spirit and a generosity that is unmatched. Someone who is beautiful, both inside and out. Someone who is genuine, and loving, and unequaled, in every way possible. It’s you, Blossom. I have seen you for who you are, and I am so, so...”

He leaned in to kiss her. Blossom’s whole body tingled in readiness, but suddenly, out of nowhere, the wind kicked up and the boat lurched, so that Skip had to turn and quickly change his tack. She was but an inch away—a quarter inch, really—from consummating a desire she’d had from the moment she’d first seen Skip, a dream she had long since let go. The boat was sailing steadily now, but an awkwardness had passed over them like a dark cloud eclipsing the sun. How Blossom wished the wind had held its breath for just a moment longer.

“I guess we should head back in,” Skip said, trying to navigate toward normal. “What do you think?”

“I think we should follow the currents all the way to the horizon.”

“Then what?” Skip asked.

“Then we fall off the edge of earth.”

“And then?”

“Well, then we become part of what happens to everyone who falls off the edge of the earth.”

“What do we become?”

“Free, Skip. We become free.”

“We are free.”

“Not quite.”

“No? What will make you free?”

“When I can tell you that, well, then I’ll be truly free.”

Skip tacked and headed out again toward the western horizon.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Like you said—let’s follow the currents to the horizon.”

Blossom smiled.
Sometimes we need to go to the ends of the earth to find our answers.

CHAPTER 50

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Blossom woke up with a terrible headache
Oh, God, here it comes.
Time had been on her side, but she’d known eventually it would catch up. This was the beginning. She took two aspirin and went back to bed. By noon her headache was gone.

She was becoming more and more impressed with her own personal power, her capacity to wish the disease away. If she beat it, she would spread the word like gospel. She imagined herself up at the pulpit, yelling to her followers to throw their crutches away, while all the time a 1-800 number blinked at the bottom of the screen. The image gave her the willies. Maybe she’d just work on healing herself.

Dolly came over with some soup—vichyssoise, with freshly chopped dill sprinkled on top. She coaxed Blossom out of bed and into the living room.

Blossom sipped it and an odd look crossed over her face.

“What is it?” Dolly asked.

Blossom, not wanting to be rude, simply said, “Nothing.”

“What?” Dolly asked again. She knew Blossom well enough to know a look when she saw one. And this was a look.

“The soup...it’s cold. That’s all.”

Dolly laughed. “It’s supposed to be cold. It’s vichyssoise, darling.”

“Oh,” Blossom blushed.

“So?” Dolly asked.

“So what?”

“Are you ready for that second opinion yet?” Dolly was a pitbull when it came to follow-through.

“No. I am doing perfectly well without any doctors intervening.”

“Yeah? Was that before you called me this morning to inform me that you had only twenty minutes left to live?”

“I panicked.”

“No,” Dolly said sarcastically.

“I think I can beat this thing on my own.”

“Number one, you don’t even know what thing this is that you’re talking about, and number two, western medicine has been known to do a few positive things, Blossom. It’s not such a crazy idea.”

“No, it’s not, but I want to wait.”

Dolly sighed.

“Except for that awful headache this morning, I’ve been feeling good, really good. I’ve even wondered about the possibility of beating this thing and living. What if I live? I’ve made all my short-term plans for death, but I’ve made no long-term plans for living.”

“Yeah, that would really screw things up.”

“I’m serious, Dolly.”

“You will do the exact same thing as you’ve been doing. Live your life ‘as if ’ because it’s rich and wonderful right now. I believe dying helps people live well. It helps you see what’s important. The truth is, we’re all going to die someday, so we should treat every day ‘as if.’ My husband’s death did that for me at first. Now my own mortality does it.”

“It’s so funny you should say that, Dolly. I’ve thought that myself. When I initially heard my diagnosis, it was the first time I was motivated to act. For fifteen years I was eating bonbons and watching
Magnum, PI
reruns. Suddenly, I saw my own end and decided to change everything. I decided to live for the moment because the moment was all I had.”

“And that’s how we should live. We won’t be here forever, so we must laugh and love as much as we can now. Especially love.” Dolly paused. “So how’s Skip?”

“Good. We went sailing a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Are you still mad for him?”

“Coming back from Las Vegas forced a shift in me. I got scared. I let go of things that weren’t helping me be okay. And one of those things was this crazy desire for Skip. Let’s just say I’m not as Adele

H. about him anymore.” Dolly laughed. “And that’s allowing us to develop this really nice friendship. The

other thing, call it obsession or crush or whatever, isn’t lurking in the corner waiting to pounce. Our relationship just
is
now.”

Dolly hadn’t heard Blossom sound so self-possessed since she’d returned from Nevada. She could see her friend growing more confident. She took her hand.

“That’s good. That’s so good.”

“Dolly, you know all those books you have in your library?”

“Yes. They were Mr. Feingold’s. Now they sit around and collect

dust mostly.”

“I was just wondering if I could borrow a few. I’d like to expand my reading list beyond
People.
I’ve never really read poetry or some of those other authors you have in there. I’ve heard of them but never read them.”

“Oh, sure, darling, take whatever you like. Better somebody read them than they just sit around for posterity. Mr. Feingold would have liked someone reading his books.”

“Thanks, Dolly. I’ll take a few today, if that’s okay.”

“Perfectly.”

“Oh, by the way, you know what Skip and I are doing on Saturday?”

“What?”

“Hot-air ballooning. Wanna come?”

“Uhhhh...”

“Oh, come on, Dolly. It’ll be fun. Please come.”

“You better check with Skip and make sure it’s okay with him first.”

“It’s fine. Just come. Please, Dolly?”

“What the heck,” she said, “it’s good to have your head in the clouds once in a while, I suppose.”

CHAPTER 51

M
AKLEY HAD BEEN BACK AND FORTH
from Gorham to L.A. so many times, he earned a free trip with his miles. He was now leaving California once again after coming up empty. No one had called him about the pictures he’d plastered on telephone poles and left on windshields. His calls to Realtors resulted in dead ends, and many did not even return his calls. Frustrated, he flew back to New Hampshire to talk to some of Charlotte’s friends and acquaintances.

His personal investment in apprehending Charlotte had become more than the two million dollars she had stolen. Hell, the money didn’t even belong to the bank. No, it was emotional with Makley now. How could a 250-pound woman, a simple, small-time bank manager with no worldly experience, have eluded his grasp? His father had always figured it out. His father would have figured this out already, no doubt. Makley would, too. After all, he was his father’s son, was he not? He reviewed the notes he had accumulated over the past several months, and studied them judiciously:

Sally Adams Baxter
—Enjoyed Charlotte quite a bit. Especially during the Christmas drive. Charlotte would make sure every needy child had a toy. Even if she had to take money from her own pocket, which she did on several occasions.

Jean Anderson
—Charlotte is kind, warm, and giving. Helped find my kids summer jobs. Even let Sam work at the bank between semesters at college.

Lynn Robinson
—Charlotte helped stuff envelopes to reelect Josh Connelly.

Mary Alice Babson
—Charlotte helped run the food drive for the coalition for the homeless. Walked from door to door collecting canned goods.

Connie Pardee
—There isn’t a nicer person in Gorham, or New Hampshire for that matter. Just stop looking for her already. If she’s alive, let her be, for God’s sakes. (This interview was stopped because Mrs. Pardee was getting more and more agitated with Officer Hobbs.)

Stan and Happy Turner
—She shoveled us out from two blizzards. And brought over food and firewood for our stove.

Evie Schwarz
—Charlotte brought my dog to the vet when I couldn’t bear to put him down. It had to be done. There was no one more gentle I would have entrusted him with. I couldn’t go in—I had to sit in the car. She stayed with me till eleven that night.

Grace Poole
—Very nice.

Jane Clay Marchhill
—She loaned my cousin money after he got out of jail when no one else would. I just want to say Cal didn’t try to kill his wife. The gun misfired in the kitchen.

*Makley, just a note about this interview. Cal Vincent Clay runs a gun shop in Claremont. Something to watch.

Dottie Spencer
—Charlotte brought food over when I broke my leg on the icy steps. And stayed to make me dinner on many occasions.

Lisa Bilfuco
(known among her friends as Lisa Bifocals as she was vision impaired)—Charlotte always took me to the eye doctor when I needed drops, and waited to drive me home. She’s the only person who didn’t call me Bifocals, which I appreciated. I know who my friends are. I’m not blind!

Ellie Leger
—Doesn’t know Charlotte well, but said she seemed very nice. She knows people that know her, and they like her.

Cassie Winthrop
—Charlotte has the bank sponsor the 10-mile walk to raise money for Cystic Fibrosis. She walked herself every year even though it’s hard on her being a very large woman.

Ellie Leger
—A lovely woman that Charlotte was. Always to be counted on and brought the best manicotti to every Auxiliary meeting. We miss her. We also miss her manicotti.

Honey Withrop
—Charlotte had such a great sense of humor. She always said if I had married Sophia Bea’s husband my name would be Honey Bea. She said it would have been worth it just for the name alone.

MaryAnn Barzini
—See separate notebook.

Makley put the notes away.

Hobbs’s regard for Charlotte had deepened. He wished he had known her before she was placed on the FBI’s most-wanted list. Makley warned Hobbs not to go soft on him. “She’s still a felon.”

“Allegedly,” Hobbs reminded Makley.

“Let’s call MaryAnn Barzini one more time.”

“Again?” Hobbs asked.

“Yeah, she’s our best shot. Maybe there’s some question we haven’t asked. Maybe there’s some detail she forgot to share.”

“I don’t know, Chief. She’s practically given us her blood type.”

“Yeah, well, then get her blood type, but call her in.”

“And ask her what?”

“I don’t know.” Makley was agitated. “Ask her if Charlotte had any hobbies, if she was superstitious, if she ever had a secret lover.”

“I’ve asked those questions, Chief.”

“Well, ask them again.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Anymore news on Kelly?”

“Jeez, I almost forgot to tell you, being all wrapped up with Charlotte. I got a call this morning. It seems the FBI has tracked Kelly’s brother-in-law to a ring of gamblers that have been laundering money. The suspicion is that Kelly has let him keep his stash in the bank every now and then until he could move it.”

“Unbelievable. I knew something was rotten in Denmark when we had two million in this bank. Where do we get off with that kind of cash? Certainly not from the 7-Eleven, not from the Ladies’ Auxiliary bake sales, not from the food mart over at the Cash & Carry. I can just see it now,” Makley laughed, and his voice went up into a high pitch, “Oh, Ms. Turner, could you deposit eight hundred thousand for me today? You can’t believe how many chickens we sold this week. Heck, we have back orders on rotisserie chickens till 2008. Women are fighting to get the last chicken. It’s gotten ugly down here at the Cash & Carry. We may have to get backup, bring in the heavy artillery, particularly for the poultry section.” He laughed again, even harder.