deal with it. We’ve talked since, over the years, you never mentioned any of this.”
“Geez, you talked about the weather and asked how my car was running. Every time we spoke, all you could think of to say was how’s my damn car. You probably don’t remember the color of my hair, but you know about my cars. Do I wear glasses?”
“What?”
“Do I wear glasses, yes or no?”
“Glasses? Yes, ah no, I don’t think so.”
“I rest my case. You’d walk right past me on the street. Somehow, I have it my mind that there are things you should just know about your sister. That’s a stretch for you isn’t it.”
“I’m sorry Sandy, but there are years between us. It’s not like we were joined at the hip.”
“But I thought we were at least friends. Don’t you get it? We were
“When I get this behind me, I’m going to make it up to you. Can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you? How about I just forget you?”
Ray said nothing.
“I know you’re in a deep hole down there, and I don’t mean to minimize it.” The irony of him now being the one in trouble didn’t escape her, but maybe she was being too harsh. Nevertheless, it was unfair of him to ask. “I can’t leave, Raymond. I’ve worked hard for this job and I’m not going to screw it up.”
“You’re right, don’t screw up your job. Somehow I thought….”
Then sounding upbeat, she said quickly, “Hey Raymond, hope things turn out all right for you down there. Bye now, I’m gone.”
“Wait! I know I’ve been a lousy brother and don’t deserve your help, but there’s no one else.”
“I’ll phone at Christmas,” she said. The line went dead.
Ray sat on his bunk and tossed the silent phone from hand to hand. He was tempted to smash it against the wall. What was wrong with him, he wondered, how dare he ask her for anything? So she’s out of it. Couldn’t blame her.
Was there someone else he could call, someone he hadn’t screwed up with his indifference? Certainly, no one down here, probably no one up in Philadelphia either. Sounded pathetic when he thought about it. He didn’t think of himself as friendless. He was well liked by his co-workers and wasn’t unsociable. It was just that he enjoyed his solitude, and didn’t spend much time thinking about friends. Friends just appeared in his life from time to time. They happened, he didn’t seek them out.
He stared at the other bunk in the cell. The bulk of an old man in rumpled clothes was lying there dead drunk on his back snoring, with his head hard against the wall. “Looks like we both could use a friend. I don’t know anyone else in your goddamn town,” Ray said aloud surprising himself. The man didn’t stir.
The jail cell felt airless and hot but Ray started shivering. He looked down again at the worthless phone. He was drowning. The phone in his hand was like a lifeline with no one holding the other end.
Chapter 2
Ray Reid had moved down to Florida from Philadelphia to start a new job in Park Beach, a small ocean side town, three weeks earlier. Moved to get away from the scene of his divorce, start new. His ex- wife had once told him she was attracted to him because he had a great job and a nice house. When they split, she accused him of being one of those nice guys who would never make a success of anything.
Nothing much to move down with him. She took everything, even kept his dog. He did manage to rescue some of his history books and string quartet CDs from the curbside trash in front of the house he had paid for.
His new employer, a Florida securities broker, E.J. Bradford & Co., needed a back-office manager and that was Ray’s specialty: running all the numbers and seeing that the firm handled the buys and sells properly.
The job had started well and his associates liked him. Nothing very threatening about Ray, an everyday forty year old, never quite made it to six feet, with short brown hair already thin at the temples. His face was “okay”—at least that’s how a girlfriend in college once described it. Another girl told him his black-rimmed glasses were unquestionably a date-loser. He’d always worn that kind, they fit fine and weren’t expensive.
Each day after the market closed an attractive young stockbroker at the firm, Meg Emerson, would stride to the back office, still charged with energy, and chat with him to calm down after her hectic day. Meg was a sales whiz, the number one producer in the office. All the sales reports crossed Ray’s desk, so he knew she grossed twice as much as her boss. She could afford to dress in a fabulous manner, but he noticed she favored a conservative look and wore her blond hair short and straight. She pushed the upper limit on the height-weight charts, although she didn’t seem concerned.
Ray was ten years older. He thought she had a wonderful mind. She wasn’t afraid to discuss serious subjects like art and antiques. There were several younger, better-looking guys around the office, yet for some reason Ray was the person she wanted to talk with. She never missed a day.
It was Meg who invited him to the party that started it all. She just gave the party—he couldn’t blame her for his meeting Loraine there.
When party day arrived, Ray was still settling into his new apartment. He needed to paint the place, and shop for a lamp, a screwdriver, and a can opener. He had little interest in going to a gathering of strangers and doing his wallflower routine while planning a polite escape. Not his idea of fun. Nevertheless, he did go. Meg had been so insistent.
Meg gave him a warm greeting at her door, including an unexpected kiss on the cheek. A look around the room convinced him he had made a dreadful mistake. This wasn’t his crowd at all. The room glittered with classy people laughing and clinking glasses. She had suggested jacket, no tie. Her guests, however, seemed dressy to him. Meg wore a black linen cocktail dress with a breathless plunging V-neck.
Ray came dressed in the same jacket he wore to work every day, and a lightweight turtleneck. He felt about as stylish as a dishtowel. If somehow he could ever get out of there, he’d never leave home again.
Her beachfront condo apartment on the barrier island was impressive. The building sat on the narrow island between the ocean and the Intracoastal Waterway. Consequently, she had an expensive view from each end of her condo.
“Realtors call it a front-to-front,” Meg explained. “Instead of a rear wall there’s a second balcony.”
The layout amazed him. Some of her guests were on the ocean side balcony, almost the size of Ray’s entire apartment, looking down at the beach and out to the Atlantic. A more normal-sized balcony was at the opposite end of the expansive living room. From there, guests had a view of the waterway, a cove dotted with undulating boats on moorings, and on across to the lights of the city on the western horizon.
She had decorated her home in subtle shades of high-level income. Although Ray was aware she had some money, he never suspected the engaging young woman who stopped at his desk every day enjoyed that manner of lifestyle.
Meg wanted everyone to meet him and after graciously zigging and zagging the crowd for his wine, she introduced him around to get him started. He saw no other co-workers present, not even her boss; all these prosperous people must be clients or friends. The cordial group welcomed him to Florida and made the polite newcomer-fuss. Not so bad, in fact the evening turned out well. Or so he thought at the time.
Two white wines later, after he had met a dozen mostly interesting people and forgotten their names, he noticed a woman with long red hair talking with a group out on that huge ocean-view balcony. Her back was toward him. The ocean breeze was seriously teasing the hem of her short green dress and that caught his attention. The somewhat tall woman in her somewhat short dress showing great legs was pleasing.
When she turned, he saw she was older than he’d anticipated. He wasn’t certain just what gave him that impression. Her features seemed a little sharp, but he liked her face. There was a bangle on one wrist, otherwise
