The Stroll #2
Brick Three felt a kind of sunrise in his heart.
That girl’s family was insured with him, and when she first started driving, she’d driven her car on the beach and got stuck and buried the tires deep and her boyfriend came in his ancient truck and tried to pull her out and instead went into reverse and slammed into the front of her car, pretty much totaling the engine.
How Roseanne had cried. It seemed to be the very end of the world to her.
But Brick got Allen Dean’s tow truck to get both cars out and Roseanne got her car fixed and Parsons Insurance paid for it except for the five-hundred-dollar deduction, which Roseanne worked in the visitors’ center to pay off herself.
So Brick Three felt a small glow of pride when he looked at her.
Brick Three knew many of the people in the crowd and insured many of them.
He even knew Santa Claus, who was a retired mason who spent his time building replicas of the library, post office, and churches.
He was quite a craftsman, a perfectionist who fired his creations in his own kiln and painted them himself, perfect to the finest detail.
Now with Santa’s garb on and glasses that he didn’t really need on his nose, and a belly rounder than a beach ball and all his own, Billy Hale did make a perfect Santa.
It meant something, Brick Three thought.
It meant a lot, to be here on this beautiful day welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Claus as they stepped off the boat onto the wharf.
Brick Three stood back as the throng parted to let Santa pass.
So many people, young and old, of every color and heritage, smiling and waving, and Brick Three wondered if living this way, in a small town where you knew many if not all of your neighbors, caused life expectancy to increase.
He thought that the ions or protons, or whatever the chemicals that elevated your mood, could be awakened by just this sort of event. He certainly felt happy.
Mr. and Mrs. Claus boarded a handsome and extremely shiny fire truck that drove slowly through the crowd toward the Jared Coffin House, where children could tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas.
Excited children and their parents ran behind, laughing and calling.
Brick Three took Jane’s arm and strolled up the sidewalk, pausing to enjoy the fabulously decorated windows and listen to the Victorian carolers singing.
When they passed the Four Winds Gift Shop, Jane glanced at the gold and diamond earrings and necklaces displayed in the window of Jewel in the Sea.
A thought occurred to Brick Three. When had he bought Jane a present, a spectacular, over-the-top, unexpected luxury item?
All their married life they’d been stretched to the limit—but never ever over the limit—as they paid the mortgage on a house and bought SUVs and paid college tuitions.
But Lydia would have her master’s degree in May and would be working for a five-star luxury resort.
Florie would graduate this spring and move to Milwaukee where her husband would support her, God willing.
Only Lucas needed more years of college, and he could damn well help pay the tuition if he was so set on becoming a nurse.
Brick vowed to himself that sometime between now and Christmas he would come to the jewelry shop and buy something extravagant for Jane.
—
Florie and Daniel walked hand in hand up to Lower Main and the Stop & Shop parking lot, which had been turned into a colorful bazaar where weavers, jewelers, bakers, and crafters displayed their wares on brightly colored tables.
“I want to buy a gift for your mother,” Florie told Daniel. “What would she like? A Nantucket sweatshirt? Some beach plum jam?”
“We already bought her some Aunt Leah’s fudge.” Daniel gazed around the market. “Over there. Those wreaths made of seashells. She loves that kind of stuff.”
They walked to the table of delicate handmade decorations. Picture frames, mirrors, small jewelry boxes, wreaths, table clocks, and paperweights, each encrusted with shells, bits of sea glass, satin ribbon, and starfish, lay across the wide table, their prices on a tag beneath them.
Florie picked up a picture frame ornamented with tiny scallop shells, dried red flowers, and white satin ribbon.
“I think this would be perfect for your mother,” Florie said, turning to show it to Daniel.
“Daniel! Darling!”
Florie almost dropped the fragile gift.
Allegra and Peaches, with the men following behind, surged up to Daniel in a powerful tide of perfume and hormones.
They didn’t seem to notice Florie.
Florie turned back to the table. Very carefully, she put the picture frame back in its spot. She continued to lean over the table as if she were deeply engrossed. She needed a moment to compose herself.
She picked up a paperweight with bits of sea glass inside and studied it very carefully, as if her life depended on it.
And her life did depend on this moment, she knew.
Allegra and Peaches were squashing themselves against Daniel.
Lydia was right. They were like mean girls, grown up.
The men weren’t mean. They were just clueless.