“But what if they beat up on me again?”
“If you won’t fight back they won’t do much to you. It won’t be any fun for them and they’ll leave you alone.”
“But they’ll think I’m chicken and they won’t play with me.”
Rebecca suddenly found herself wondering if she was getting old, for she had no answer for Robby’s statement. What he had said was true, but in her adulthood she had forgotten the level on which children think. She decided to drop the entire subject and let Glen deal with it when he got home.
“I don’t suppose there’s any point in my suggesting you go back to school this afternoon, is there?” she said.
“I won’t go,” Robby said flatly. He decided not to mention that he’d been sent home.
She surveyed the bruises on his face critically, then relented. “Do you feel up to helping me out or would you rather play on the beach?”
“I’d rather play on the beach,” came Robby’s prompt reply.
“Somehow I thought you would.” Rebecca grinned. “But here’s the rules.”
“Aw, Mom!”
“No, ‘aw, Moms,’ thank you very much. Either listen to the rules and obey them, or stay here and help me.” Robby’s expression told her he’d listen to the rules. “Stay within a hundred feet of the house. And just so you can’t claim you don’t know what a hundred feet is, see that big tree?” She pointed to an immense cedar that dominated the strip of forest beyond the beach. Robby nodded solemnly. “That’s a hundred feet away. Don’t go past that tree. Also, stay out of the driftwood. You could slip and break your leg.”
“Aw, Mom …” But the protest faded at Rebecca’s upraised finger. “And stay out of the water. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And make sure you come if I call you.”
She stood in the doorway and watched her son scamper out onto the beach. Once more Rebecca marveled at the fact that she could let him play alone now without having to worry constantly about what he might be up to.
Happily, Rebecca returned to her chores.
* * *
Brad Randall parked in front of the inn, turned off the engine, then slapped his forehead as he remembered.
“Damn,” he said. “We forgot all about it!”
“All about what?” Elaine asked. They had spent the entire day poking around Clark’s Harbor and she couldn’t imagine what they might have missed.
“The Palmers. We said we’d drop in on them.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” Elaine replied, glancing at the sinking sun. “Besides, he was probably just being polite. I mean, it’s not as if they’re old friends. We hardly know them.”
“But I do want to see Robby again,” Brad said. “If there’s really been a miraculous cure, I want to see it for myself.”
“Maybe you can see him tomorrow,” Elaine suggested. “Right now I’m bushed.”
“I did sort of run you ragged, didn’t I?” Brad chuckled. “But what do you think? I mean, what do you really think?”
“I don’t know.” Elaine was pensive. “It’s beautiful, it really is, and if it hadn’t been for that poor man yesterday and that dog this morning, I’d be all for it. But I just don’t know.”
“It was coincidence, honey,” Brad argued. “The same thing could have happened anywhere.”
“But they happened here,” Elaine said stubbornly, “and I’m sorry, but I can’t get them out of my mind.” Then she relented a little. Clark’s Harbor
They got out of the car and walked to the hotel gate. Elaine paused, staring up at the building. “I still say it’s on the wrong coast,” she said. “And not just the hotel. The whole town. It’s so neat and so tidy and so settled looking. Not like most of the towns on the peninsula that sort of fade in, sprawl, then fade out again. This place seems to have cut a niche for itself in the forest and huddled there. As though it knows its bounds and isn’t about to step over them.”
Brad smiled. “Maybe that’s what appeals to me,” he said, “I guess it strikes a chord in me somewhere. I like it.”
They strolled across the lawn arm-in-arm and went into the hotel. Behind his counter, Merle Glind bobbed his head at them.
“Have a nice day?”
“Fine,” Brad answered. “Pretty town you have here. Beautiful.”
“We like it,” Glind responded. There was a pause, and Brad started toward the stairs.
“You folks on vacation?” Merle suddenly asked.
Brad turned. “In a way. Actually we’re looking for someplace to live for a while.”
“We already got a doctor,” Merle said hastily. “Doc Phelps. Been here for years.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be any threat to him. I’m not that kind of doctor and I wasn’t planning to practice anyway. Frankly, I doubt there’d be much call for my kind of doctoring out here.”
“Well, if you’re not going to work, what are you going to do?” Merle Glind didn’t try to disguise the suspicion in his voice. As far as he was concerned anyone under seventy-five who didn’t do an honest day’s work was a shirker.
“I thought I’d try to write a book,” Brad said easily.
Merle’s frown deepened. “A book? What kind of a book?”
Brad started to explain but before he could get a word in Elaine had cut him off. “A technical book,” she said. “The kind nobody reads, except maybe a few other psychiatrists.”
If he’d known his wife any less well Brad would have been hurt. Instead, he gave her an admiring wink. Elaine had just rescued him from a long explanation of the subject of his book and the inevitable, endless questions about bio-rhythms. “It seemed to me this might be the perfect place to write it,” he said now. “Lots of peace and quiet.”
“I don’t know,” Merle said pensively. “Seems to me you’d be better off up in Pacific Beach or Moclips or one of those places. That’s where the artists hang out.”
“Right” Brad grinned. “And party and drink and do all the things they shouldn’t do if they want to get any work done. But Clark’s Harbor doesn’t look like that kind of town.”
“It’s not,” Glind said emphatically. “We’re working folk here and we mind our business, most of us. It’s a quiet town and we like to keep it that way.”
Elaine sighed to herself. With every word the odd little man spoke Brad’s resolve to move to Clark’s Harbor would strengthen. His next words proved her right.
“I’ve been looking around today. Not too many houses on the market, are there?”
“Nope,” Merle said. “Not a one, and not likely to be. Most of the houses here get passed on from one generation to the next. The Harbor isn’t like so many little towns. Our children stay right here, most of them.”
“What about renting? Are there any houses for rent?”
Merle appeared to think for a minute, and Brad wasn’t sure whether he was running his mind over the town or trying to decide how to evade the question.
Merle, for his part, decided to duck the issue entirely. “Only one that I know of belongs to the police chief, Harney Whalen. Don’t know if it’s for rent, though. You’d have to talk to Harn about that.”
“Does anybody live in it now?” Brad pressed.
“Not so far as I know. If he’s got people out there Ham hasn’t told me. But then, it wouldn’t be any of my business, would it?”
Realizing he was unlikely to get any information out of the old man, Brad dropped the subject. “Got any recommendations for dinner?” he asked. Merle smiled eagerly.
“Right through the door. Best food and drink in town. Drinks sixty cents a shot and the freshest seafood you can get. Cook gets it right off the boats every day.” When he saw Elaine peering into the empty dining room and bar, he added: “Won’t be anyone in there yet, of course, but just wait till later. Place’ll be packed. Absolutely
