Maggie
She drives into Bradley Falls in the Mustang, turns off the radio after listening to Tammy Wynette and Johnny Nash and Rod Stewart. She sees Jaws is still playing at the movie theater on Main Street, and she wonders if someone will go see it with her. Maybe Bridget or Mary Jo.
She looks at the tin of oatmeal raisin cookies her mother got up early this morning to bake.
She opens it and takes one; they are still warm.
She feels giddy about something, but she doesn’t know what.
Her dad took the car this morning and filled it with gas.
Her parents seemed so much more solid, standing on the porch and waving to her, Birdy Girl beside them, as she drove away.
She watched them in the rearview mirror and felt terrible for leaving again but also wondered if she’d ripped a bandage off a wound that needed air.
When she gets to the entrance of Red Maple, she thinks of the day those weeks ago when she first walked this lane, when Elliot pulled up beside her.
She feels like something has shifted already, late July.
It won’t be long, she remembers Chip saying when they were young.
After the summer carnival in early August, it was all downhill from there, he used to say, back to school and leaves falling and shorter nights.
As if on cue, a few leaves drift as she nears the main building.
Everything looks pristine, in full bloom, and the golf greens and pool beam at her.
What a place. She holds the wheel and sighs.
“Want to go for a spin?”
Bridget shrugs. “I’m on the clock now, but later, okay?”
Maggie nods. “Do you know if I’m okay to just park in the crew lot?”
“Hmm, good question.”
“What’s a good question?” Paige says, looking out, a cup of coffee in her hands. She steps out of the open door. “Holy moly, Maggie.” She shields her eyes. “That’s a beaut.” The three of them gather around it.
“It was Chip’s.”
Bridget looks at her in a kind way, and Paige touches the car door delicately. “Oh, Maggie.” Paige shakes her head. “I can just see him in it.” She clicks her tongue. “Why didn’t he take it with him when he came here?”
Maggie shrugs. “He was so careful with it. I think he probably wanted it to stay safe in our garage.”
His harmonica immediately comes to mind. His most prized possession, probably. Where could it be?