Barefoot: A Novel

money?”

“Babysit,” Josh had said. He watched his father for a show of surprise or disbelief, but this was a man who had found his wife of fifteen years dangling from the attic rafters. His face registered nothing. “For these two boys out in ’Sconset,” Josh continued. “It pays more than the airport. I’l get to spend time outside. There are these three women . . .” He shook his head; it was too complicated to explain. “The mother has cancer.”

Tom Flynn cut through a wedge of iceberg. “You’l finish out the week?” he said.

Josh had finished out the week and that made today, Friday, his last day. Carlo treated him to a beer at the airport restaurant, then another, and then another, at which point Josh entertained thoughts of going to Zach’s party despite Didi’s inevitable and annoying presence. Then his cel phone rang with a New York number. It was Brenda. She sounded as desperate as she had when she cal ed about her missing book. Could he be at their house to babysit in an hour?

Josh, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with his new employer, felt compel ed to tel the truth. “It’s my last day of work. I just drank three beers.”

This was met with silence. Then Brenda said, “Have a cup of coffee. And come at seven. We’l get the kids al ready for bed. This wil be the easiest money you’ve ever made.”

When Josh knocked on the door, it swung open, taking him by surprise. He had never set foot inside of one of these little ’Sconset cottages, and he thought it might smel like a library book or a museum—ancient, dusty, preserved. But instead the air was redolent of clean hair and perfumed shoulders, toenail polish and swinging skirts. This was the house of the three . . . the three what? The Three Bears? The three beers? Three women step off of a plane. Wasn’t there some ancient tale about three sirens who led sailors astray? Josh knew what Chas Gorda would say: Listen.

Observe. Absorb. Because Josh had final y found his story. The story of his summer. Vicki, the mother, was the happiest-looking of the Three. She was wearing a sleeveless black sundress and a scarf in her hair. He tried to think cancer, chemotherapy, but the words didn’t stick. She padded around in bare feet, a pair of black high heels in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

“Normal y I leave a list for the babysitter,” she said. “But not this summer. There wil be no lists this summer. Brenda assures me you’re competent, you have lots of experience with kids, you can change a diaper.”

Josh had had two cups of coffee, a Coke, and a bracing shower, but stil his mind was hangover-fuzzy, either from the beers or from the oddness of this situation. He felt something grab the back of his ankle—it was the baby, who had crawled up behind him. Josh felt like a total charlatan as he bent down to pick up the baby. If any one of the hundred people at Zach’s party could see him now . . .

“Yes,” he said.

“Great. Stories are on the nightstand. Eight-o’clock bed. Porter’s bottle is warming up on the counter. Give it to him before you lay him down.”

She paused. “Did that sound like a list?”

“No,” he said. Yes?

“Good,” she said. “My sister’s cel phone number is on the table. We’l be at the Club Car.”

“Okay,” Josh said. The baby was chewing on his shirt, and a tiny moist hand grabbed his ear.

“Make sure Blaine pees twice before bed and brushes his teeth. Don’t let him eat the toothpaste, which is what he likes to do. And put Porter in a clean diaper. It’s too hot for pajamas tonight. The mattress on the floor is theirs, but normal y I let them fal asleep in the big bed and then move them later. Feel free to do the same.” She smiled at Josh. She was pretty, he thought. A real y pretty mom. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I just made a list.

A verbal list with no less than ten items. I’m sorry. I’m getting out of here.” She walked out the front door, then turned around. “You look darling holding the baby like that, by the way.”

“Oh,” Josh said. Thanks?

“Darling,” a voice said in his ear. He turned to see Brenda, who had changed into a green strapless dress. Green again. She was a mermaid.

She went swishing out the door after her sister. The taxi pul ed up.

“Hi, Josh.” Melanie stood before him in white pants and a blue flowered halter top that left an inch of her midsection bare. Her hair was curly around her face, and she peered at him both shyly and hopeful y.

“Stil no word from my husband,” she said.

“Huh?” he said. He wondered if they’d had a conversation that he’d forgotten about.

“He’s such a jerk,” she said. Her eyes shone. What was going on here? “Blaine’s in the bedroom watching Scooby-Doo, by the way.”

“Oh-kay,” Josh said. Melanie walked out the door, and Josh watched her climb into the taxi. He tried to make the baby wave good-bye, but the baby started to whimper and Josh thought it best to close the door.

Time to get to work, he thought.

Josh poked his head into the bedroom. Blaine was splayed across the bed watching Scooby-Doo on a portable DVD player with a four-inch screen.

“Hey,” Josh said.

Blaine glanced up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Babysitting.”

“No!” Blaine said, and he started to cry. The baby, who had been content to slobber al over Josh’s Varitek jersey, began to fuss.

“Hey, man, calm down. Your mom just went to dinner. She’l be back.”