“It’s not illegal to park here, Randall,” the chief said. “It’s the way you parked. Rear end of the car is over the pavement.”
Brad walked around the car. The edge of the pavement, indistinct in the dust, appeared to be no more than an inch or two under the side of the Volvo. Suddenly he knew what was going on. “I’m sorry,” he said easily. “Very careless of me. How much is this going to cost?”
“Ten dollars,” Whalen said. His face wore what appeared to be an insolent smile, as if he were waiting for Brad to protest the citation. Instead, Brad simply reached for his wallet, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to the chief together with the citation.
“I assume I can pay you?” he asked politely.
“No problem,” the chief said, pocketing both the citation and the money.
“I’ll need a receipt for that,” Brad said.
The police chief glared at him for a second, then moved to his patrol car. He sat behind the wheel and scribbled a receipt, then returned to the spot where Brad waited for him.
“Be more careful next time,” he said, handing the receipt to Brad. He turned and started back to the black- and-white.
“Chief Whalen?” Brad called. The policeman turned and stared at him. “If you think you can scare me off with a phony parking ticket, you’re wrong,” Brad said quietly. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to keep me out of Clark’s Harbor.”
Harney Whalen pulled at his lower lip and seemed to turn something over in his mind. When he finally spoke his voice was just as quiet as Brad Randall’s had been.
“Dr. Randall, I don’t give phony tickets. Your car is parked illegally, so I cited it. If I wanted to keep you out of Clark’s Harbor, believe me, I could. I tried to tell you what things are like here. Now, you want to come out here or you want to stay away, that’s your business. But don’t come to me looking for trouble — you’re likely to get it. Do I make myself clear?”
Brad suddenly felt foolish. Perhaps he’d been mistaken and the ticket hadn’t been the harassment he’d assumed it was. And yet it had to be — the violation, if indeed it was a violation, was so trivial. He decided to drop the matter, at least for the moment.
“Perfectly clear,” he said. “If I was out of order I apologize.”
The chief nodded curtly and wordlessly, got into his car, and drove away. Brad watched him go, then went back into the Palmers’ gallery.
“What was that all about?” Elaine asked. “Was he giving us a ticket?”
“He gave us one and I paid it,” Brad said pensively.
“What for?” It was Rebecca, a look of concern on her face.
“Apparently I parked illegally. It seems the right rear corner of the car is an inch or two over the pavement.”
“And he cited you for that?” Glen was outraged. “That’s ridiculous!”
“I thought so too, but I didn’t push it. No sense getting off on the wrong foot.”
“Sometimes I don’t think there’s a right foot,” Glen said bitterly. There was a silence, and Rebecca moved to him and took his hand.
Elaine looked down at her watch. “It’s time to get going,” she said softly. “It’ll take us at least three hours to get home.”
Rebecca suddenly put her arms around Elaine and hugged her. “Don’t change your mind,” she whispered.
“Not a chance,” Elaine assured her. “This town’s got my dander up now.” She pulled away from Rebecca. “Give us a week, more or less, and we’ll be back. Okay?”
Rebecca nodded. “I feel silly,” she said. “But all of a sudden things seem like they’re going to be fine. Hurry back.”
“We will,” Brad said. “And I expect to find this place finished by then. If it’s not I’ll have to pitch in and do it myself.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Glen promised him. He and Rebecca walked with the Randalls to their car, then watched them drive away.
“I hate to see them go,” Rebecca said. “What if they change their minds and don’t come back?”
“They’ll be back,” Glen told her. “Now come on in and forget about them for a while. There’s lots of work to be done and a puppy to be taken care of.”
Together, the Palmers went back into the gallery.
“What are you thinking about?” Brad asked as they drove away from the gallery.
“Nothing much,” Elaine said, not sure she wanted to share her thoughts with Brad. She was afraid she was being silly. She didn’t fool her husband.
“Worried again?” he guessed.
“I suppose so. Maybe we jumped in too fast. I mean, a house at the beach is one thing, but without electricity and in a town that doesn’t seem to want us?”
“It isn’t the whole town,” Brad pointed out “It’s only Harney Whalen and Merle Glind. There are also Glen and Rebecca, who want us very much.”
Elaine lapsed back into silence. Resolutely, she put her thoughts aside. But as they drove further and further away from Clark’s Harbor, the thoughts kept coming back:
* * *
Harney Whalen waited until the Randalls’ car was completely out of sight before he pulled out from behind the billboard and headed back into town. As he made the turn onto Harbor Road he glanced at the Palmers’ gallery with annoyance and wished once more that they had taken him up on his offer to buy them out. Then, with the offending gallery behind him, he looked out over the town.
He pulled up in front of the tiny town hall and ambled into his office. Chip Connor was already there, enjoying a steaming cup of coffee. When Harney came in Chip immediately poured a cup for his boss.
“Well, they’re gone,” Harney said.
“Gone? Who?”
“The Randalls. Left just now.”
“But they’ll be back,” Chip pointed out.
“Maybe,” Harney drawled. “Maybe not.” He sat down and put his feet up on his desk. “Beautiful day, isn’t it, Chip?”
“For now,” the deputy commented. “But a storm’s coming. A big one.”
“I know,” Whalen replied. “I can feel it in my bones.”
Harney Whalen smiled and savored his cup of coffee and waited for the storm.
BOOK TWO. Night Waves
12
The Reverend Lucas Pembroke peered over the tops of his half-glasses at the sparse crowd that had gathered in the tiny Methodist church and tried to blame the poor attendance on the weather. It had been raining almost steadily for the last five days — ever since Miriam and Pete Shelling had been buried — and the Reverend Pembroke wanted to believe that it was the weather that was keeping people away. Only a few, the bored and the
