A Sea Change (6 page)

As Maddy neared the main stairway she heard footsteps descending from high above. The noise surprised her, and she stopped to look up. Because the stairs formed switchbacks up the cliff she didn’t see anyone. But she could hear whistling. The closer it got, the more it sounded like the Seven Dwarfs’ song. “Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to work we go.” The warbler was definitely a morning person.

A man finally appeared. The large box he carried covered most of his torso, and from her vantage point, his face. All she could make out was a pair of legs encased in jeans and a set of heavy work boots. From the spring in his step, Maddy knew the beautiful morning had infected him, too. Then she heard another voice further up, this one female. The man stopped whistling in order to answer her, and they both laughed. He halted at the platform about three flights up, set the box down on the bench there, and waited for her to catch up with him.

He looked strong and solid; the woman, lithe and young. A wave of melancholy hit Maddy as she watched the couple meet, talk for a moment, and then begin their descent again. She suddenly ached for someone. It was a feeling she’d suppressed for quite some time because even when she and Ted had been together, they hadn’t seemed like a real couple for years.

Maddy began to feel like an intruder. Her stomach growled, reminding her it was time to get going. She passed the bottom of the stairs, his footsteps just a few feet above her now. She didn’t look back, embarrassed by her eavesdropping.

“Great morning, huh?” he commented.

The woman he was with didn’t answer him. Maddy kept walking.

“Hey, looks like you made a friend.”

His voice seemed to reach toward Maddy, and she turned. He stood on the brick landing at the bottom of the stairway smiling at her, the box still in his arms. The woman was just coming down the last thirty steps.

“Sorry?” Maddy forced a smile in return. She’d been hoping for a clean getaway. This was a very cute man – no, make that somewhere between cute and gorgeous – who was obviously taken. She didn’t want to linger on his face too long.

He gestured with his head. “A four-legged fan.”

Maddy looked down and noticed the cat for the first time. It sat on its haunches, intensely staring at her with green eyes that seemed to take up its entire head. The word “skinny” didn’t begin to cover it. It looked like a refugee from a kitty concentration camp. Its fur was a patchwork of black, brown, and – one would presume – white.

“Oh my god.” Maddy knelt to get a closer look. “You poor thing,” she whispered.

The cat answered with a pathetic “meow” and stood up. It looked worse on all fours. Maddy put her hand out and the next thing she knew it was in her arms, purring. She stood, and the cat snuggled into the crook of her neck. “Whose kitty are you?”

“I think the answer to that question is pretty obvious,” the man answered with a grin.

“Yeah, looks like the two of you’ll be very happy together,” the woman said.

“Let’s go, Rita. I think they want to be alone.” He hefted the box. “Besides, this tile isn’t going to lay itself.”

He began walking back the way Maddy had come, and she watched his retreat. Some women had all the luck.

“Don’t mind him,” the woman said, and Maddy guiltily began stroking the cat. “He was raised by wolves. I’m Rita. Number thirty-seven.”

“Maddy Perr…No, that’s wrong. It’s Phillips.”

“Right. Jaed’s friend. Glad to have you on the beach.”

“Thanks.” Maddy noticed the man had stopped and turned, a look of impatience on his face. “I’d better let you go. Your husband’s in a hurry.”

“Who? Oh!” Rita laughed. “Nick’s not my husband, although we do have a very special relationship.” She grinned slyly, winked, and then shouted, “Coming, dear!”

Maddy nuzzled the cat and watched as they walked away. So, this was the famous Nick. Her face suddenly grew hot.
That
was
Nick.
Who may, or may not, have been the only man to see her in her underwear in many, many months.

She reached back and tried to capture the moment he first spoke to her. Maddy didn’t sense anything snide. As a matter of fact, he’d barely noticed her. No, he was too busy with Rita and the tile and – well – Rita. Nick-of-Time, my ass, Maddy thought. It should be “The Stud of Salmon Beach.” She turned for home.

Maddy managed to convince herself that feline caretaking was much more important than stuffing envelopes with travel brochures. The rest of the morning consisted of eating her own breakfast while the cat inhaled an entire can of tuna. She showered while the cat slept next to the heater. And since Maddy knew she wouldn’t feel right until the cat had been checked by a veterinarian, she went up the 200 steps, purse over her shoulder and kitty in her arms.

The first space on the form at the vet’s read: Name. Without even thinking about it, Maddy wrote “Chloe,” as if someone had whispered it in her ear.

Chloe had ear mites, worms, and was two pounds underweight, but the doctor pronounced her “pretty healthy, considering.” Maddy made the trek back down the stairs with a new carrier, litter box, cat food, and a variety of toys, none of which she could really afford. Her arms ached from the load. She didn’t care. She was already in love.

That afternoon, as Maddy sat at the dining room table sealing envelopes, her new companion sat
on
the dining room table and washed her freshly shampooed coat. The doorbell caught them both mid-lick.

“Hey, Chloe,” Maddy said, walking to the door. “Our first visitor.”

“Isn’t it a lovely day?”

Maddy stepped back as Emily DeMille breezed past her and into the house.

“It certainly is,” she replied.

 “I understand you have a new addition to your little family and I brought…?” She waited for Maddy to fill in the cat’s name. “Chloe! How interesting.” Her cheeks grew rounder as her smile got bigger. “I brought little Chloe some of my homemade kitty treats.” She handed Maddy a biscuit tin and looked around. “Where is the dear thing?”

Maddy led Emily into the dining room where Chloe now sat perched on top of the pile of envelopes that needed stamps. Emily clasped her hands together in front of her mouth and let out a delighted squeak.

“Mrs. DeMille, how did you know about the cat?”

“Why, Nick told me, of course.” She put her hand out and began scratching Chloe’s head. “Do you know that I’ve been trying to make friends with this one for several months? Wouldn’t have anything to do with me. She must have been in search of her soul mate.”

 
 
 Maddy stifled a chuckle, then said, “It was very sweet of you to bring her these.” She opened the tin and was astonished to see tiny crackers in the shape of mice and fish. The mouse placed in front of Chloe disappeared. What resembled a trout met a similar fate.

“Well, I best be going. I have a small crisis at home. Bird flew in through my kitchen window and refuses to leave.” She bustled to the front door. “It’s perched on my chandelier and I think C.B. has absolutely paralyzed it with fear. I want to keep an eye on it until Nick can come to its rescue. He’s doing some tile work for Rita, you know, and can’t pop ‘round till he’s done.”

Before she could stop herself, Maddy heard herself saying, “Why don’t you let me do it for you, Mrs. DeMille?”

“
Would
you?” She took Maddy’s hand and patted it. “And when you’re done, it’ll be tea time. And remember, dearie, it’s Emily.”

Chapt
er Six

Nick sat across from the blank television set and thought about buying season tickets to the Seattle Mariners. That, or a satellite dish. A dish would be cheaper, and more comfortable.

Actually, as a former team member, he could go to any game he wanted, but that would mean asking for tickets. Which would mean talking to former teammates. Which would be too humiliating, even after all this time. And besides, did he really want to watch Jim Kingston up close and personal? No. He wanted to be able to make snide comments about his ex-wife’s husband in the privacy of his own home.

The sun had just hidden itself behind the Olympic Mountains, but the sky still held onto a final shade of peach. It would be even nicer tomorrow. A clear weekend was such a rarity in the Northwest that the local joke – ‘What do you call the first sunny day after two days of rain?...The punchline being ‘Monday.’ – was almost too true to be funny. And to have a dry weekend coincide with Becky’s visit was doubly amazing.

A hunger pang hit him, forcing Nick out of the chair and into the kitchen. The only food in the refrigerator was a pan of spaghetti sauce. Two days of that was enough. The microwave had gone belly-up about a month ago, and everything in the freezer would take at least an hour to cook. He was seriously considering a tuna sandwich when Mary Delfino called with a much better offer.

“More, please.” Nick held out the bowl in an unintentional imitation of Oliver Twist. As Mary ladled another helping of lamb stew, he asked, “How do you always know when I’m at the end of my mealtime rope?”

She smiled. “I know when you do your shopping. You’re much more predictable than you like to think.”

By the time Mary had taken her seat again, he’d nearly finished the second bowl. Nick sat back and sighed deeply. “Excellent stuff.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. But Nick, dear, you need to go to the store tomorrow. You can’t feed your daughter stale doughnuts and beer.”

“Man, I
am
predictable.”

“If you’re finished, come see my latest pieces.”

Nick followed her out to the work shed on the deck. It held a small kiln and table, which displayed four identical lidded urns, their glaze an ethereal shade of sea-foam.

“Very nice. That’s a new color.”

“Yes, I’ve been experimenting and finally got it right.” She handed one to Nick. “Look closely.”

He saw a small, red maple leaf embedded in the clay. “You did it!”

“Isn’t it wonderful? A clear glaze kept it from burning. I’ve made the four seasons.”

Nick picked up the other three pots in succession. A tiny fir branch for winter, a sea shell for summer, and a triad of miniature white daffodils she had dried with silica to preserve the color, to signify spring.

“I’m impressed,” he said. “You gonna sell these?”

“No. Not these. I’ve got plans for them.” She closed the shed door. “Can I offer you some coffee?”

“Only if it’s decaf.”

“Not sleeping well?”

Nick planted himself on a stool. “It’s no big deal.”

Mary placed the old-fashioned percolator on the stove, then turned to face him. “Tell me, Nick. Have you met Madeleine yet?”

“Who?”

“Jaed’s friend.”

“Oh. No, not really.” He chuckled. “But I’ve seen her.”

“Why the laugh?”

Nick shook his head. “Never mind. I take it you’ve met her, though?”

“Yes. Quite lovely. She strikes me as very capable.”

“I won’t argue with that. She actually took care of one of Emily’s daily disasters today. Saved me the trouble.”

“That was good of her.” Mary flicked off the stove and poured two cups of coffee.

“I guess it was at that.” He wrapped his hands around the mug and studied its contents. “So, what’s her story?”

Mary smiled to herself. “I really don’t know.”

“Oh, come on. Jaed didn’t give you a blow-by-blow account of her entire life?”

“No. Jaed was remarkably close-mouthed regarding Madeleine. And you seem remarkably interested.”

He shrugged and took a sip of coffee. Perfect, as always. “Y’know, she adopted that mangy black and orange cat that’s been hanging around.”

“The one that’s been torturing Emily?”

He nodded. “And get this. She named it Chloe.”

“How interesting.”

“That’s what I thought,” Nick said.

“Does she know?”

“I doubt it. It followed her from the north end of the beach.”

Mary gently set her mug on the counter. “Madeleine has a very kind heart, but I believe her soul has somehow become disconnected from it.”

A corner of his mouth went up. “Get one of your feelings, did you?”

“Don’t mock me, Nick. I just fed you dinner, after all.”

He leaned over and put his around around her. “And I’m very grateful.” He kissed her cheek. “But I’d better get home. I need to clear all the junk off Becky’s bed.”

“All right, dear. Bring her over if she gets bored. She’s really quite talented on the wheel.”

A three-quarter moon lit the path. Nick slowed as he came up on Jaed’s place. He thought of stopping, then thought again, and walked on.

Mary had been right. He
was
interested. This morning, seeing her in faded jeans and an old M’s sweatshirt – recalling what was under those jeans – had made him glad he’d been carrying that box. She looked to be about five feet, five inches of very curvy female who’d just gotten out of bed, and his unpredictable libido had responded big time. A feeling of envy had come over him when the cat nuzzled her neck. As he’d walked away, leaving Rita to cover for him, he’d softly said, “God, do you need to get laid, McKay.”

Nick stood on his porch lost in thought. He remembered Mary’s words – “that was good of her” – and looked back across the beach.

When was the last time he’d had to ring Jaed’s doorbell? Probably never.

He’d already knocked, with no response. But the lights were on in the living room and Nick waited. He finally heard footsteps that came to a halt on the other side of the door.

“Who is it?”

“Nick. From next door.”

The porch light came on. There was a long pause, followed by the deadbolt being turned. She stood in the dark entry, not quite looking at him.

“Hi.” Her smile never fully reached her eyes.

He didn’t see any evidence, but Nick instinctively knew she’d been crying.

“Is this a bad time?”

“I’m a little busy. What can I do for you?”

“It’s what you already did.”

She looked at him blankly.

“I’ll make this quick,” he went on. “I wanted to thank you for dealing with the Emily DeMille crisis-of-the-day.”

Then she actually threw her head back and laughed and everything about her changed. “No problem. There was a bonus. High tea.”

Nick grinned. “You haven’t really experienced life until you’ve seen it through Emily’s eyes. I take it C.B. joined you?”