29
IT WAS SCRABBLE NIGHT at the Salem Athenaeum, the historic membership library where Melville had worked for the last several years. Though he wasn’t playing tonight, he had volunteered to stay. After they finished, as Melville was locking the front door, he ran into Ann Chase. She was coming from the public library across the street.
“What are you doing on my side of town?” he called out.
“Slumming,” she replied, and since the McIntyre was probably the prettiest historic district in town, they both laughed at her joke.
“Where are you living?” Ann asked. She knew about the split, but she didn’t know the details.
Melville pointed toward Federal Street.
“I love that street,” Ann said. While most of the McIntyre district had Federal period housing, Federal Street ironically had some of the earlier period homes.
“It’s actually the street behind Federal,” Melville said. “You want to come up for coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee,” she said. “But I’d love to see your place.”
He explained that it wasn’t really his place, that he was house-sitting. As they climbed the stairs, Bowditch snarled and barked and threw himself against the door.
“What the hell have you got in there?” Ann asked, having second thoughts.
“Wait till you see.” Melville smiled.
The minute he opened the door, Bowditch jumped on him and wagged his tail. Then he waddled over to Ann and sniffed her.
“Good puppy,” she said, laughing. “You’re a big faker.”
Melville walked her to the kitchen.
Old photos were spread out on the table, several of Finch and Zee in better times. An empty wine bottle sat upended in the sink.
“Yesterday was not one of my better days,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” Ann said, meaning it. It sounded as if someone had died. It was almost as sad.
“Whose place is this?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Someone I know at the Peabody Essex. He’s gone to China for the better part of the year.
“And you inherited Cujo here?”
“Bowditch,” he said.
“As in Salem’s famous navigator?”
“Nathaniel Bowditch. The very same.”
Bowditch raised his head as if he were being summoned.
“Sorry,” Melville said to the dog, who had started to stand up. “Stay.”
Bowditch sighed and put his head back down.
“He’s a good fellow,” Ann said.
“That he is.”
Melville went through the cabinets. “Good thing you didn’t want coffee,” he said. “I don’t have any.”
She laughed.
“Would you like some wine?”
“No thanks,” she said. “Water would be great, though.”
He poured them two glasses of water and sat down.
Ann was looking through the photos. “These are great,” she said. There were several black-and-whites that Finch had taken of Melville and Zee with his eight-by-ten camera and another, much earlier one from the same camera of Maureen and Zee. “Where did you get this one?” she asked, turning it over and noting the inscription on the back: Christmas 1986. Ann thought it was a bit odd that he would have a photo of Maureen, even if Zee was in it, too.
“I stole it from Finch,” he said.
“You really are in a bad place, aren’t you?” she said, wondering why he would want such a reminder.
“Let me put it this way,” Melville said. “It’s probably a good thing I ran into you tonight.”
ANN STAYED UNTIL ALMOST MIDNIGHT. As he walked her to her car, she turned to him. “You know what I always do when I break up with someone?”
“I’m sorry to admit I have no idea.”
“I do all the things I couldn’t do when we were together,” she said. “It might not seem like much, but it helps you remember who you used to be.”
He hugged her, and she got into the car.
“Didn’t you once own a boat?” she asked.
“I still do,” he said. “It’s been sitting in Finch’s driveway for the last six years.”
“Maybe it’s time you put it back in the water,” she suggested, squeezing his arm good-bye.
IT WAS A GOOD IDEA, Melville thought as he walked back to the house. Tomorrow he would call the boatyard and have them pick it up. It would probably need a lot of work, but he could do most of it himself. He didn’t know how long it would take to get the boat in shape, but it was something to do. And she was right, it would remind him of who he used to be.
30
AFTER THEY MADE LOVE for the second time that night, Hawk asked Zee out on a date.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why?” He was clearly amused. “You’re kidding me, right? You know, in some cultures, it’s customary for people to actually go on a date or two before they have sex.”
“Not in ours,” Zee said. “Not these days.”
“So that’s a no?”
“It’s difficult for me to get out,” she said. “Because of Finch. Jessina can’t often stay late in the evenings.”
“So let’s make it on a night she can stay.”
Zee didn’t answer.
“Okay,” he said. “Now you’re starting to piss me off. Maybe I’ll just go climb into the window of someone who actually wants to be seen with me.”
She laughed. “It’s not that. It’s that I just broke up with Michael, and…”
“And you don’t want to be seen with me.” He grinned at her.
She had to laugh. “I don’t want to run into Mickey,” she said. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“What if I take you to dinner out of town?”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay when?”
“Okay, as soon as I can set it up with Jessina.”
Finch’s alarm bell went off. Zee got up and pulled on her robe. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said.
He put his hands behind his head, looking up through the skylight at a patch of starry sky. He sighed. “Where would I go?” he said under his breath. But he was smiling.
31
