Frick Island, it was often said, didn’t have a newspaper because by the time one came out, all the news would already be old on account of how quickly word spread by phone, reaching nearly every one of the ninety-four residents of the island in a matter of hours (or minutes, for really good gossip). Which was why Piper hadn’t yet made it to the front door of her carriage house that day before Mrs. Olecki had recovered enough to grab the handset to the rotary phone on her wall and turn the dial seven times in correlation with Lady Judy’s number. When Judy picked up, Mrs. Olecki skipped her usual pleasantries. “Was Tom Parrish revived from the dead and nobody thought to tell me?”
“If he was, nobody thought to tell his mother, God bless her soul. I just got back from checking on her—I don’t think the poor thing has moved from that recliner for forty-eight hours. Anyway, what are you on about?”
Pearl briefly told Lady Judy about her odd morning with Piper, and when she was done, Judy tutted. “Well, that is quite strange. I suppose we ought to call the doctor.”
“Yes, I thought so, too.”
Dr. Khari—who was more of a dentist than medical doctor, Pearl admitted—after listening on a three-way call where Mrs. Olecki related the encounter with Piper, took a deep breath. “I’d say it appears the girl is in denial, a quite common stage of the grieving process.”
“What should we do?” the women prodded.
Dr. Khari, possessing zero knowledge of psychoanalysis, didn’t rightly know, so he did what he always did when confronted with questions on the island that he wasn’t necessarily equipped to answer: He said whatever first came to his mind, and did so with great gusto and confidence. “If that’s what’s bringing her comfort right now, I don’t see any reason not to go along with it. She’ll come around when she’s ready.”
And the women, feeling a bit maternal, as they always did in their protection of Piper, ever since that poor girl’s mom left to go halfway across the world to study dirt of all things, took his advice to heart and made it their mission to inform every last resident of Frick Island that while Piper had finally left her house, she believed her husband was not only alive but still living in her house, and that not one person was to contradict that belief, under strict doctor’s orders, in the best interest of her grieving process.
At first, that was all it was. People loved Piper and didn’t want to cause her any more distress than necessary, so when they saw her at the Blue Point market or walking to the docks, they just avoided the topic of Tom’s death. When Piper started walking “Tom” out to the docks in the morning and back again in the afternoon at her usual time to meet Tom’s boat, most of the watermen just looked the other way, giving the grieving woman her space. It was unclear who the first person was who waved to him, calling out, “Good haul today, Tom?” across the marina. Some claimed it was Old Man Waverly, while others pointed the finger at Bobby, a child who always held Tom in great esteem when he was alive. Regardless, it broke something open in the town, and most people found that they enjoyed waving at Tom, talking to him. Maybe Piper was onto something, they thought. And before anyone really knew what was happening, even though they couldn’t see him, it was like Tom Parrish had never left.
A few weeks later, when Mrs. Olecki was out pulling cloth napkins from the clothesline in the backyard and she saw Piper coming up the drive, animatedly talking to the air at her side, eyes bright and smile wide, Pearl found herself smiling despite herself. “Evening, Piper. Tom,” she said, nodding twice, even though she could see only one person standing in front of her.
“Hi, Mrs. Olecki,” Piper said. “See you in the morning.” And then she giggled as if a phantom ghost had tickled her side. Maybe one had.
—
Anders stared at her. “That’s it?” he said, dumbfounded. “The entire town decided to pretend Tom was still alive on the advice of a dentist?”
“Well . . . yes,” Pearl agreed.
“But that’s insane!”
“Is it? It seems to me you’ve been going along with it just like the rest of us. Does that make you insane?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I? If I was the only one who said something, it would—”
“It would what?” she pressed him.
Anders paused, considering. He thought about what the therapist had said; how agitated Piper had gotten on the beach when he pressed her on Tom. “I don’t know . . . it would hurt her.”
Pearl raised her eyebrows knowingly and made a high “hm” sound with her throat. “It’s amazing what people will do for the ones they love.”
Love? Anders’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He opened his mouth to protest, but Pearl suddenly looked past his shoulder out the front window.
“Oh, goodnightinthemorning,” she said under her breath, and then took off for the front door. Unsure what was happening, Anders stood up and followed her, as Pearl opened the front door and stepped out into the night.
“Arlene,” she hissed. “Stop right there.”
Over Pearl’s shoulder, Anders spotted an old woman in a long nightgown, hair shining white in the moonlight. She stopped as directed, turned, and spotted Pearl, then shouted, “No!” and began shuffling her slippered feet faster away from them.
Pearl exhaled a great sigh and walked down the steps and out into the street. She easily caught up to
