Other than that exchange, we were lost in our own thoughts. Even Mary Alice was quiet. We walked along, our feet in the warm water, and felt totally relaxed and safe. When we got to the condo we rinsed the sand from our feet at the stile that allows easy access over the seawall. At the top of the stile is an uncovered deck with benches on each side where residents gather to enjoy the sunset or just visit. As we started up the steps, we realized Fairchild Weatherby was sitting there alone.

“Evening, ladies,” he said. “You been to the Redneck?”

“Had great boiled shrimp,” Haley said.

“I’m full as a tick,” Sister added. “What are you doing, Fairchild?”

“Just enjoying the evening.”

“It’s a lovely one,” I agreed.

Sister sat down on the bench across from Fairchild and leaned forward. “Fairchild, let me ask you something. Do your earlobes ever get numb when you get tired?”

He seemed slightly startled by the question. He reached up and rubbed both his earlobes. “No, I can’t say that they do.”

“Mine do. Do you think I should see a doctor about it?”

“I don’t know. I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“What we need,” Haley said, “is to call it a day. I’m exhausted.”

We left Fairchild sitting on the stile and trudged to the elevator. I realized I was exhausted, too. I also realized that none of us had mentioned seeing Millicent at the Redneck.

“Are your earlobes really numb?” I asked Sister.

“Of course not. But I remember they were one time. Both of them.”

When we got to the apartment, there was a message on the answering machine for Haley to call Philip. She took the phone into the bedroom and shut the door. Sister went to get a shower, and I wandered out to the balcony. Fairchild had been joined by a man who was so bald the stile lights seemed to bounce from his head.

I was glad he had someone to talk to. Later on, after everything had happened, I was glad I had the memory of him sitting peacefully that warm night, his white hair gleaming like a halo.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Haley and I were sharing the bedroom with twin beds. It’s still known as the “children’s room” or the “elevator room.” It has been years since it truly was the “children’s room,” packed with sleeping bags and giggling kids. But it’s still the “elevator room,” the one closest to the noise of the opening and closing elevator doors out in the hall. Since there are only four apartments on each floor, that’s usually not a problem.

“Everything okay?” I asked Haley as she came to bed. She had talked to Philip for at least a half hour.

“Nothing’s changed.” She held out a bottle of body lotion. “You want some? It’s freesia.”