And though she didn’t buy it for a minute, a chill ran down Zee’s spine.
As they descended the stairs and through the midway to the car, Zee could see that Maureen was in shock. They got into the car and sat in silence.
“You know that she was playing you, don’t you?” Zee said.
“What are you talking about?”
“She didn’t like us from the moment we walked in.”
Instead of having the desired effect, it had the opposite.
“You didn’t have to be so rude!” Maureen said. “You didn’t have to laugh!”
“I’m sorry,” Zee said.
Maureen’s hands were shaking as she turned the key in the ignition. She flooded the engine several times before the car finally started. Zee fought the urge to tell her mother that she wasn’t doing it right. She’d already said far too much.
ON HIS WAY BETWEEN SHOPS, Mickey had spotted Zee talking to Ann in front of her store. He walked over to join them. “What?” he said. “You’re stopping to see her before you say hello to me?”
When Zee looked at Uncle Mickey’s eyes, it was like looking into Maureen’s. It had always been disconcerting. Uncle Mickey had the same deep blue Irish eyes that his sister had had, though the look in his had always been much more playful.
He lifted her up and spun her around. “How’s the little bride-to-be?” he said.
“Good. Fine,” she said. “A little dizzy, actually.”
He laughed and put her down, winking at Ann. “How’s Finch?”
“I think you know,” she said.
“I’ve been meaning to get over to see him,” Mickey lied.
He’d been saying the same thing for years. Zee didn’t challenge him.
“I need a carpenter,” she said. “One who can put in some railings. I thought you might know someone.”
“Sure,” he said. “I know a couple of people who could probably do that for you.”
He thought about it for a moment, then they said good-bye to Ann, and he walked her over to the next wharf, where the Friendship was moored.
At 171 feet, the tall ship was impressive. It had always seemed an odd coincidence to Zee, with so many ships having sailed out of Salem in the age of sail, that the Friendship of Maureen’s book was the same historic vessel the city had later chosen to re-create. There had been no real connection between the Friendship and Maureen’s book, no record that she had ever been used for the young lovers’ escape. As it turned out, the very voyage that Maureen had chosen, the only one that would have accurately fit with history, had been the Friendship’s final one. On that final voyage, the East Indiaman had been captured by the British, and its entire crew had been taken prisoner. Maureen’s choice of vessels had rendered her desired happy ending impossible.
When they got to the rigging shed, Mickey put two fingers to his mouth and gave a loud whistle.
Zee spotted the man Mickey was whistling at, perched high in the rigging of the Friendship’s forward mast.
When the man didn’t turn, he whistled again. Then yelled, “Hey, Hawk, come down here a minute, will you?”
The man started down the web of rope. At first glance Zee thought he had fallen, his descent was so rapid. It was only when he got closer that she saw the way his arms and legs moved in rhythmic coordination. Like a dancer. Or a spider.
He walked over to where they stood. He looked very familiar. She had seen him before.
“What’s up?” He glanced from Mickey to Zee and back again.
“This is my niece, Zee. She needs someone to do some carpentry work.”
“I’m not a carpenter,” he said. “I’m a rigger.”
“Rigger, carpenter, navigator-this guy can guide a ship home just by looking at the stars.”
“That’s a slight exaggeration,” Hawk said.
“Seriously, he’s a jack-of-all-trades,” Mickey said to Zee.
“And master of none,” Hawk said, laughing.
“And he’s modest, too,” Mickey said, slapping him hard on the back.
“Thanks a lot,” Hawk said, and Mickey laughed. Hawk turned to Zee. “What do you need done?”
“Just railings,” Zee said. “And some more grab bars in the bathroom.
“It’s for my dad,” she added.
“I guess I can do railings.” He looked at Zee for a long moment. “I know you,” he said. His eyes did a body scan, and he clearly liked what he saw. He squinted at her face, analyzing. “Where do I know you from?”
“She’s engaged,” Mickey said, lifting her hand to show him the ring, not realizing he’d already seen it. “And she’s a shrink. Meaning she’s far too smart to fall for a tired old line like that one.”
“A shrink, huh?” Hawk said. He grinned and shrugged. But he kept looking at her, as if he were still trying to figure out where he’d seen her before.
She knew immediately where she’d seen him, though she didn’t want to say so. It had been just a few days ago, at Lilly Braedon’s funeral. And before that on the bridge as she watched the television the night Lilly jumped. He was one of the eyewitnesses, the one in the blue van who hadn’t wanted to talk to the reporter.
“When can you do the railing?” Zee asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe tonight or tomorrow night. Are you in a hurry?”
“It’s not urgent, but it is important.” She wrote down the address and handed it to him.
“I’ll get there my first free night,” he said.
“Hey, Hawk, we need you up here!” one of the guys yelled from the rigging.
“I’ve gotta get back.”
“Thanks,” she said.
He nodded and smiled.
Zee and Mickey watched him walk back to the ship.
“His name is really Hawk?” she said to Mickey.
“It’s a nickname. Short for Mohawk, someone told me. That’s his boat,” Mickey said, pointing to an old lobster boat tied up at one of the slips. Instead of displaying a name on the stern the way most of the boats did, this one featured a painted image of a hawk in flight. “I hear he’s the best worker on the ship. Don’t know if he has any Native American blood, but he sure can climb.”
Zee felt her dizzy spell return as she watched him climb back up the rigging. She put out her hand, grabbing Mickey’s arm for support.
“I know,” Mickey said. “I can’t even watch him.” He turned to her. “How much time do you have?”
She looked at her watch. “About an hour.”
“Come on. I’ll buy you a drink,” he said, steering her toward Capt.’s, a waterfront restaurant and bar on the wharf directly across from the Friendship.
17
MELVILLE STOPPED AT THE post office to pick up his mail. Then he walked over to Steve’s Quality Market to get some of the prime beef he knew Finch liked. Finch could no longer chew very well, and he had trouble swallowing. But the butcher at Steve’s would grind the beef for him, and then Zee could scramble it with mushrooms and some garlic and oregano. It wasn’t much, but at least it wouldn’t be sandwiches. He hoped that Zee was giving Finch his vitamins. He’d have to remind her.
For the first time in weeks, Melville felt hopeful. Maybe it was a side effect of the new drug that had made Finch behave so erratically, he thought. That would explain everything. Why else would something that had almost killed their relationship once before have come back so suddenly, as if the whole thing had happened not more than thirty years ago but just in the last few weeks? Melville hoped it could be explained away by the new drug that Finch was taking, the one that was said to cause hallucinations in some people. It would be great if Finch’s
