like many people who have no excess on their bodies, Vaughan showed the loss in his face. His eyes had receded in their sockets, and their color seemed to Ellen lighter than normal — a pasty gray. His skin looked gray, too, and appeared to droop at the cheekbones. His lips were moist, and he licked them every few seconds.
Embarrassed when she found herself staring, Ellen lowered her eyes and said, “Larry. Hello.”
“Hello, Ellen. I stopped by to…” Vaughan backed up a few steps and peered into the living room. “First of all, do you suppose I could have a drink?”
“Of course. You know where everything is. Help yourself. I’d get it for you, but my hands are covered with chicken.”
“Don’t be silly. I can find everything.” Vaughan opened the cupboard where the liquor was kept, took out a bottle, and poured a glass full of gin. “As I started to say, I stopped by to say farewell.”
Ellen stopped shuffling pieces of chicken in the frying pan and said, “You’re going away? For how long?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps for good. There’s nothing here for me any more.”
“What about your business?”
“That’s gone. Or it soon will be.”
“What do you mean, gone? A business doesn’t just go away.”
“No, but I won’t own it any more. What few assets there are will belong to my… partners.” He spat the word and then, as if to cleanse his mouth of its unpleasant residue, took a long swallow of gin. “Has Martin told you about our conversation?”
“Yes.” Ellen looked down at the frying pan and stirred the chicken.
“I imagine you don’t think very highly of me any more.”
“It’s not up to me to judge you, Larry.”
“I never wanted to hurt anybody. I hope you believe that.”
“I believe it. How much does Eleanor know?”
“Nothing, poor dear. I want to spare her, if I can. That’s one reason I want to move away. She loves me, you know, and I’d hate to take that love away… from either of us.” Vaughan leaned against the sink. “You know something? Sometimes I think — and I’ve thought this from time to time over the years — that you and I would have made a wonderful couple.”
Ellen reddened. “What do you mean?”
“You’re from a good family. You know all the people I had to fight to get to know. We would have fit together and fit in Amity. You’re lovely and good and strong. You would have been a real asset to me. And I think I could have given you a life you would have loved.”
Ellen smiled. “I’m not as strong as you think, Larry. I don’t know what kind of… asset I would have been.”
“Don’t belittle yourself. I only hope Martin appreciates the treasure he has.” Vaughan finished his drink and put the glass in the sink. “Anyway, no point in dreaming.” He walked across the kitchen, touched Ellen’s shoulder, and kissed the top of her head. “Good-by, dear,” he said. “Think of me once in a while.”
Ellen looked at him. “I will.” She kissed his cheek. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Vermont, maybe, or New Hampshire. I might sell land to the skiing crowd. Who knows? I might even take up the sport myself.”
“Have you told Eleanor?”
“I told her we might be moving. She just smiled and said, ‘Whatever you wish.’”
“Are you leaving soon?”
“As soon as I chat with my lawyers about my… liabilities.”
“Send us a card so we’ll know where you are.”
“I will. Good-by.” Vaughan left the room, and Ellen heard the screen door close behind him.
When she had served the children their supper, Ellen went upstairs and sat on her bed. “A life you would have loved,” Vaughan had said. What would a life with Larry Vaughan have been like? There would have been money, and acceptance. She would never have missed the life she led as a girl, for it would never have ended. There would have been no craving for renewal and self-confidence and confirmation of her femininity, no need for a fling with someone like Hooper.
But no. She might have been driven to it by boredom, like so many of the women who spent their weeks in Amity while their husbands were in New York. Life with Larry Vaughan would have been life without challenge, a life of cheap satisfactions.
As she pondered what Vaughan had said, she began to recognize the richness of her life: a relationship with Brody more rewarding than any Larry Vaughan would ever experience; an amalgam of minor trials and tiny triumphs that, together, added up to something akin to joy. And as her recognition grew, so did a regret that it had taken her so long to see the waste of time and emotion in trying to cling to her past. Suddenly she felt fear — fear that she was growing up too late, that something might happen to Brody before she could savor her awareness. She looked at her watch: 6.20. He should have been home by now. Something has happened to him, she thought. Oh please, God, not him.
She heard the door open downstairs. She jumped off the bed, ran into the hall and down the stairs. She wrapped her arms around Brody’s neck and kissed him hard on the mouth.
“My God,” he said when she let him go. “That’s quite a welcome.”
THIRTEEN
“You’re not putting that thing on my boat,” said Quint.
They stood on the dock in the brightening light. The sun had cleared the horizon, but it lay behind a low bank of clouds that touched the eastern sea. A gentle wind blew from the south. The boat was ready to go. Barrels lined the bow; rods stood straight in their holders, leaders snapped into eyelets on the reels. The engine chugged quietly, sputtering bubbles as tiny waves washed against the exhaust pipe, coughing diesel fumes that rose and were carried away by the breeze.
At the end of the dock a man got into a pickup truck and started the engine, and the truck began to move slowly off down the dirt road. The words stenciled on the door of the truck read: Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute.
Quint stood with his back to the boat, facing Brody and Hooper, who stood on each side of an aluminum cage. The cage was slightly over six feet tall and six feet wide and four feet deep. Inside, there was a control panel: atop were two cylindrical tanks. On the floor of the cage were a scuba tank, a regulator, a face mask, and a wet suit.
“Why not?” said Hooper. “It doesn’t weigh much, and I can lash it down out of the way.”
“Take up too much room.”
“That’s what I said,” said Brody. “But he wouldn’t listen.”
“What the hell is it anyway?” said Quint.
“It’s a shark cage,” said Hooper. “Divers use them to protect themselves when they’re swimming in the open ocean. I had it sent down from Woods Hole — in that truck that just left.”
“And what do you plan to do with it?”
“When we find the fish, or when the fish finds us, I want to go down in the cage and take some pictures. No one’s ever been able to photograph a fish this big before.”
“Not a chance,” said Quint. “Not on my boat.”
“Why not?”
“It’s foolishness, that’s why. A sensible man knows his limits. That’s beyond your limits.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s beyond any man’s limits. A fish that big could eat that cage for breakfast.”
“But
“He would if he saw something as juicy as you inside.”
“I doubt it.”
