“Think she’s got a fella?” Rachel said.
“Why would you jump to that conclusion?”
“Might explain why she’s acting so weird.”
Rachel was hand-washing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. A few strands of hair kept falling over one of her eyes. She straightened up, stuck her bottom lip out and tried to blow them off her face, but that didn’t work. She tossed her head, but that didn’t work either. She sighed, wiped her hands on her apron, and tucked the errant strands behind her ear. Then she said, “Are you still happy doing this?”
She extended an arm when she said it, indicating the kitchen, but I knew what she meant. It was a lot of work, and not the type I’d done before, at least not exclusively. For more years than I care to remember, my days consisted of hunting people or trying to keep from being hunted. I had acquired—okay, stolen—billions of dollars from the world’s wealthiest and most dangerous criminals. Rachel didn’t know I was a paid assassin, but she knew I was pretty comfortable financially. She, herself, had become a multi-millionaire through her association with me.
“We could be anywhere in the world right now,” she said, “doing anything we’ve ever wanted to do.”
“True.”
“And?”
“It’s been a nice break for me,” I said.
“Just to be clear: if you could be anywhere in the world, doing anything you’ve ever wanted to do, this is what you’d choose?”
I glanced around the kitchen and back at her. “At this exact moment in time? Yes.”
“Uh huh. And why’s that?”
“For starters, I’ve always wanted to vacation with a beautiful girl.”
“Not a gorgeous one, like me?”
“I meant to say gorgeous.”
“A gorgeous girl like me that you love with all your heart.”
“Exactly.”
“But?”
“But I’ve also learned that I need to stay busy.”
“You love to cook,” she said.
“I do love to cook. But I wouldn’t want to cook for a large restaurant, or have to prepare more than one meal a day. I also enjoy working with my hands, but I wouldn’t want to be a full-time maintenance guy. This place,” I gestured the way she had, “doesn’t require too much cooking or maintenance. I get to hang out with you, and we’ve got the beach, the sun, the sand…”
“But there’s something else.”
I paused. “There is something else.”
We looked at each other a minute and she said, “Are you going to tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?”
“I feel ridiculous saying it out loud, but…”
“But?”
“There’s something going on in this town,” I said, “some type of mysterious presence. A power that comes and goes.”
“A power.”
“Surely you’ve felt it.”
“Jesus, Kevin.
I shrugged, thought about saying “you’re still plenty crazy,” but didn’t.
She looked at me curiously. “It’s almost like paradise to you, now that you’ve got these projects going.”
“For now it is.”
Rachel nodded, and went back to loading the dishwasher. “You’re expecting a lot from me, after inviting me to go on a vacation with you,” she said.
I let that comment hang in the air, and worked her entire conversation around in my mind as I scrubbed down the kitchen surfaces. The first two weeks of our coastal vacation had been right out of the millionaire’s handbook, and Rachel had loved the five-star resorts in Virginia and Georgia, the limos, fancy restaurants, luxurious pools and spas.
Now that I thought about it, she hadn’t been remotely enthused when I brought up the idea of hitting St. Alban’s and checking out a quaint little B&B called The Seaside. But she agreed to come, and she did it for me. Then, a day into our stay, I’d thrown her into a waitressing job she wouldn’t have tolerated under any other circumstances.
I thought about Rachel’s comment, and what she’d asked me, and realized there were probably a hundred places she’d rather be right now. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but notice her mental condition had improved dramatically since we’d come here. It seemed to change the moment we found that kid on the ant hill. Or maybe the moment just before, when we were exposed to the power for the first time.
“I never thought to check on that kid,” I said.
