Nantucket Nights

Raoul

He’d always believed that everything one needed to know in life could be learned by building a house. Start with the basics: sturdy foundation, solid walls, a sound roof. Move on to esthetics: light, air, creativity. And finally, make sure the details are done correctly. Raoul’s workers cursed at him when he complained about cabinets set off an eighth of an inch over six feet, but Raoul wanted every surface in his houses to be plumb, square, level. That was what made him one of the best. Raoul built houses people could actually live in-breathe in, make love in, dream in. He built houses to last.

Following these same rules, he raised his family. He married the most nurturing woman he had ever met, and they produced four children, two boys, two girls. He and Kayla brought up their kids with love and discipline, with respect for each child’s individuality. That was the Montero family: sturdy, solid, plumb, level. Built to last.

Raoul tried to tell Kayla about Theo and Antoinette three times, and three times he failed. The first time was in early July, the very evening Theo confided in him at the Ting site. Raoul raced home from Ting, steaming and incredulous. His son sleeping with a forty-year-old woman. It was perverse, sickening, and he blamed it on Antoinette and her heightened sexual desire. Theo was easy prey for her, Raoul supposed, an easy lay. In some sense, it was a biological match-two people at their sexual peaks. But it was wrong, and even though Theo was eighteen, Raoul was going to put a stop to it. He was going to tell Kayla.

When he got home, he found Kayla in the kitchen hulling strawberries. A platter of hamburger patties rested on the counter next to her. Jennifer sat on a bar stool combing out her long, wet hair, talking to Kayla about how she was saving her baby-sitting money to buy a really expensive pair of shoes from Vanessa Noel. Purple suede sandals, she said, with a three-inch heel.

“They sound pretty exotic,” Kayla said. “Can I see them before you buy them?”

Jennifer shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “You’ll like them. They’re tasteful.”

Raoul surveyed the kitchen. “Jennifer, can I talk to your mom alone for a second?”

“Why?” Jennifer said.

“Why?” Kayla said. “Is something the matter?”

“Everything’s fine,” Raoul said, although his voice had a serrated edge. He focused on Kayla’s hands, which were stained with pink strawberry juice. “I just need to talk to you alone for a minute.”

“We don’t really have a minute,” Kayla said. “The kids want to go to the movies tonight at eight, and they need to eat first. I was hoping you could light the grill. Theo should be home any second.”

As if on cue, the Jeep pulled into the driveway, and Raoul closed his eyes, listening to the schluffing sound of Theo’s flip-flops as he entered the kitchen.

“Hi, people,” Theo said jauntily, as if the scene at the Ting house with Raoul had never happened.

“Theo, honey, can you start the grill?” Kayla asked.

“Sure, Mom,” he said. He nudged Raoul aside as he retrieved the long matches from the drawer. “Hi, Dad. How was your day?”

Raoul nearly slapped the kid for his boldness. Go ahead and tell her, Theo was saying. I dare you.

I’ll tell her later, Raoul thought. I’ll tell her when we’re really alone.

Later that night, Raoul tried again. The kids went to the movies and Theo offered to go as well so he could drive. Kayla stood at the sliding glass door as they pulled out. “Do you know how lucky you are to have such good kids? You are so lucky. They love you and they love each other.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “’Lucky, lucky man.”

“And they love you,” Raoul said.

“And they love me.”

“Kayla,” Raoul said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Let’s leave the dishes for later,” she said. “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve been alone in this house?” She ran her hands up the inside of his shirt. “You’re always working.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. But Kayla…”

“Make love to me,” she said.

He followed her upstairs and they made love sideways on their king-size bed. Raoul thought of Theo and Antoinette engaged in the same act, and he was ashamed at how it excited him. The idea of their lust made him lustful. He made love to Kayla as he hadn’t in a long time. It was the best sex he’d had all year, in several years-with their naked bodies sweating, sticking together, pulling apart, sticking together. Kayla cried out as loud as she could without alerting the neighbors through the open windows, and Raoul groaned his pleasure. Sex-that’s all this thing with Theo was about. The kid was eighteen, having fun.

When it was over, Raoul collapsed in a heap. His legs were shaking.

“Heavenly,” Kayla said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said.

Lucky, lucky man. his whole life, people had been telling Raoul that he was lucky. He was the only child of Ignacio and Sabrina Montero, who had money and good connections. They loved Raoul, and they loved each other. Lucky. Raoul graduated from Syracuse University, he spent a year in Breckenridge, Colorado, skiing bumps, and he moved to Nantucket at the start of the building boom. Lucky. He was lucky in small, funny ways, too. He once bought a scratch ticket at Hatch’s on his lunch break and hit for ten thousand dollars. He always seemed to have sunny weather when he needed to build outside and gray weather when he needed to sit in his office doing bills. He always found a parking spot; he never missed a flight or ferry. He won door prizes and raffles; he won the Super Bowl pool three years in a row. The one time he visited New York City, he sat next to Mick Jagger on the subway and they talked about Beggars Banquet and Mick took Raoul to a bar and bought him a beer.

He was lucky.

Raoul tried to tell Kayla about Theo and Antoinette a third time a few weeks later, after Theo started acting out. Raoul figured the love affair must be running out of steam, frustrating his son. Kayla was so upset by Theo’s foul words, by his staying out late, that she made an appointment with Dr. Donahue, who prescribed her sleeping pills. Round pink pills that looked like candy. Kayla took one each night before she climbed into bed. She fell asleep before Raoul turned off the light and slept without stirring until after Raoul left the house at quarter to six in the morning.

Dr. Donahue also prescribed dinner out, just the two of them-and so one night Kayla persuaded Raoul to leave the site early and they ate at Company of the Cauldron on India Street. This was Kayla’s favorite restaurant-candlelit, decorated with copper pots and dried flowers, and graced by a harp player. Raoul wore his navy blazer, which he hated; it made him feel like some dumb yachtsman. But the food was delicious, and Kayla looked happy again.

Over the appetizer-roasted corn chowder with smoked salmon, poured into their bowls table-side- Raoul said, “You should be careful with those pills.”

“They help me sleep.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I can’t deal with Theo like this,” Kayla said. She sipped her merlot and lolled her head back. “He’s so angry all of a sudden. He hates me. I keep wondering if I’ve done something, said something, you know, unintentionally. But he won’t talk to me.”

Raoul stirred his soup. “What’s happening with Theo has nothing to do with you, Kayla.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.” Raoul collected himself. Now was the time to tell her. They were alone, Kayla was relaxed. Maybe here among the lilting notes of the harp, the news wouldn’t seem so bad.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” Kayla asked. “Do you know something that I don’t?”

His path was clear.

Tell her, he thought.

But he was afraid. What if she made a scene?

Besides, Raoul told himself, Theo was an adult.

If Raoul ignored the situation, it would clear up on its own. He was doing Kayla a favor, really. Sparing her pain.

And he had always been lucky.

“No,” he said. “Of course not.”

…

Regret was too mild a word for what Raoul felt now. He should have told Kayla the truth, that was all there was to it. Never in a million years could Raoul have predicted the turn of events: Antoinette missing, Theo hiding in his room, whimpering with pain, and Kayla somehow caught up in die middle of the whole thing.

As soon as Kayla and Jacob left the house for Great Point, Raoul began to think about sleep. He’d drunk a six-pack of Corona, and then Jacob coaxed him into switching to vodka, and now he actually felt kind of drunk. But Raoul waited until Jennifer and Cass and Luke got home from the Clam Shack before he went to bed. He’d made them walk in the dark because the exercise would do them good, and they liked to do adult things like have dinner by themselves. When they got home, they were bickering and irritable. Cassidy B.’s face was shiny with perspiration and food grease. Luke scratched a mosquito bite on his ankle until it bled.

“You should have reminded us to wear Off!” Luke said. “I got seven more bites.”

“You counted?” Raoul said.

“Jennifer didn’t eat,” Luke said. “She’s keeping her share of the money to buy makeup.”

“You didn’t eat?” Raoul said.

Jennifer swatted Luke on the side of the head. “Brat.” She took a rubber band out of her dark hair, releasing her ponytail. Her hair rained down her back and into her face. Such pretty hair, Raoul thought. She would be his next worry, and in the none-too-distant future. “I’m upset about Mom,” Jennifer said. “Plus the food at the Clam Shack is so greasy.”

“I had a hot dog,” Cassidy B. said. “That wasn’t greasy.”

“Do you know what they put in hot dogs?” Jennifer said. “Ground up pigs’ ears. Anyway, you had fries.”

“Shut up,” Cassidy B. said. She looked at her father. “Where’s Mom? Is she home from the police station?”

“She got home from the police station a little while ago,” Raoul said. “She went to run an errand.” He checked the clock, thought of Kayla out at Great Point again tonight. She must be exhausted, delirious even, and he hoped she didn’t do anything stupid. “Okay, so… you guys get ready for bed. I’m about to turn in, myself.”

“What would you like us to do about washing?” Luke asked.

“Whatever you normally do.” Raoul was embarrassed to not sound more authoritative. He hadn’t been home to supervise bedtime in months.

“Jennifer showers in the morning,” Luke said. “Cassidy and I take baths at night. But not together. We take separate baths. Mom tells us who goes first.”

“Who went first last night?” Raoul said.

“Whoever’s dirtier goes first,” Luke said.

“You can go first tonight, Luke,” Cassidy B. said. “I might shower instead.”

“It’s only nine o’clock, Dad,” Jennifer said. “Okay if I watch TV?”

“Saturday night,” Luke said. “Mom says TV is okay on Saturday night until ten.”

“I know that,” Raoul said.

“What’s up with Theo?” Jennifer asked. “Is something going on?”

“Is he being punished finally?” Luke asked. “He disobeys Mom ail the time and never gets punished.”

“Theo isn’t being punished,” Raoul said, although of course Theo was being punished, in the worst kind of way. “He’s just tired and he doesn’t feel well.”

“Was he out drinking?” Jennifer asked.

“No, he wasn’t out drinking,” Raoul said. “Anyway, it’s none of your business.” He and Kayla needed to come up with something better than that, but for the time being-well, that was all the information they were going to get. “Jennifer can watch TV and you two work out your baths. As for me, I’m going to bed. Knock on the door if you need me.”

Raoul went into his bedroom, stripped to his underwear, and crawled in between the sheets, which smelled of Kayla. He heard the rush of water, the buzz of the TV, and fell asleep.

He woke again an hour later. No Kayla. He kept his eyes open long enough to consider driving up to Great Point after her. He listened to the house; the TV had been shut off. He should at least check on the kids to make sure they’d gone to bed. And Theo, he should check on Theo. But his head ached with the alcohol, and the house was dark and quiet, and Raoul fell back to sleep.

He woke when Kayla crawled into bed. His mouth was dry, his eyes caulked shut with sleep. Where had she gone again? It took a minute to remember. Great Point.

“Did you get the Jeep?” Raoul asked. The sentence was barely intelligible to his own ears.

Kayla was crying. God love her, she’d had a hell of a day. Raoul tried to sit up, but it was like his head had been nailed to the pillow. Were his eyes open? He could just barely make out the figure of Kayla sitting next to him cross-legged on the bed.

“They’ll find her,” Raoul said. “The police and Jack and all those guys, Kayla, they’re doing the best they can.”

“Things are so screwed up. Oh, God, my life is over.”

“Your life isn’t over, Kayla.”

Suddenly, Kayla flipped on the light. Raoul shielded his eyes. “Whoa,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for that. Hold on.” He gave himself a second for his eyes to adjust; meanwhile Kayla moved off the bed and paced the carpet between the bed and the door.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“You didn’t tell me!” she said. She burst into a fresh round of tears. “You knew about Theo and Antoinette, and you kept it from me. And we agreed long ago to operate as a team. Didn’t we?”

Raoul tried to focus. At first he fixated on the soft marks Kayla’s footprints left in the plush, light green carpet. Ghost footprints. Then he raised his eyes. She was wearing a dress, the same dress she’d had on all day, only now the dress was wrinkled and one strap hung loose. Her hair was tangled. Her nose and eyes were red.

“We did,” Raoul said. “Listen, you look tired. Will you please come to bed?”

“You lied to me, Raoul!” She was practically shouting, and Raoul wondered if she would wake the kids. This wasn’t like her. “You and Theo and Antoinette and Val”

“Kayla?” he said. “What happened at the police station?”

“Today was a living nightmare,” she said. “I can’t even begin to explain.”

“All right, let’s talk about it in the morning,” Raoul said. He began to visualize the light switched off, his head hitting the pillow. “Things will be better tomorrow.”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she said. But she disappeared into the bathroom and Raoul heard water, the toilet flush, Kayla’s noisy sobs. He thought he smelled marijuana. When she emerged, she shut off the light. Raoul succumbed to gravity and lay back down.

The phone woke Raoul in the morning. His cell phone, which chirped like a shrill, annoying bird. Raoul’s head was throbbing, but he managed to put two feet on the floor and stumble to the chair where he’d left his clothes in a pile. The cell phone was in the pocket of his jeans. Kayla was still fast asleep, so Raoul took the cell phone into the bathroom and shut the door. He lifted the toilet seat and peed.

“Yeah?”

“Raoul, man, it’s Carter.”

Carter, his tile guy. Who was lagging behind- with the Tings’ indoor pool and seven bathrooms, it had been only too easy to fall behind. Carter told Raoul he was going to make up time this weekend, finishing the master baths. God, Raoul hadn’t thought about the cathedral in twenty-four hours, some kind of record.

“What’s going on?” Raoul asked.

“Man, I just thought you should know… something happened here.”

“Spit it out, Carter.”

“The place has been wasted, man. I mean, mostly just the living area? But it’s ugly. Looks like someone took an axe to the walls. The walls are history.”

Raoul flushed and sat down on the toilet seat. His brain ached. “Vandals?”

“I guess,” Carter said. “I mean, yeah, vandals. Shit, yeah. You’d better get out here, Raoul. You’re going to want to see this for yourself.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can, which might not be for an hour or two. I have family obligations.” Raoul thought of Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo. Theo hacking away at Ting. “I have to go, Carter,” Raoul said. He punched off the phone and threw it at the side of the bathtub with all his strength so that it busted into several pieces. Damn that kid! Raoul pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and walked down the hall to Theo’s bedroom. As much as Raoul wanted to rip Theo apart limb by limb, he stopped, took a deep breath. It’s only a house. One hell of a house, but still only a house.

Raoul knocked. “Theo?”

There was no answer. He could be dead, Raoul thought. Or he could have slipped out in the night. Raoul knocked louder. “Open the door, Theo.” His voice was controlled fury. He couldn’t imagine any of his children defying this voice. Raoul listened. Just as he was about to try the knob, he heard a rustling, and a few seconds later, the door opened.

Theo’s was the face of heartbreak. His eyes were swollen, he had gray streaks on his face from tears. His hair was a mess, he wore an old bathing suit and a wrinkled NANTUCKET BASEBALL T-shirt. Theo’s shoulders started to shake.

Raoul took his son in his arms. His child, who had chosen Raoul to confide in, and what had Raoul done with that confidence? He’d ignored it. Raoul could have stopped this whole thing from happening. If he’d said the right thing, if he’d dealt with it head-on. But no-every morning, off to build the cathedral. No wonder Theo had hacked away at it. That house had stolen away his father, when his father had been his only hope.

“You vandalized the Tings’ house?” Raoul said. “You vandalized my project?”

Theo clung tighter to Raoul. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Yeah,” Raoul said. “Me, too, Theo. I’m sorry, too.”

…

For his family’s sake, Raoul gave the morning his best shot, although the situation at the Tings’ nagged at him like a crying baby. He was going to have to tend to it sooner rather than later. Raoul insisted that Theo shower, and then he checked on the other kids. Jennifer was still asleep, Cassidy B. and Luke were playing Connect Four in Luke’s room. Raoul stuck his head in. God, he’d had that game when he was a kid.

“Come down to the kitchen,” he said. “I’m making waffles.”

He stood outside the door to his own bedroom, listening. Then he walked in. Kayla was making the bed. Raoul watched her smooth the sheets, tuck them under the mattress. She plumped the pillows, set them in place, and then turned, saw him, and sat on the bed.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” he said. “Do you feel any better?”

Her eyes were droopy, and she had marks embedded on her face from the pillow. She didn’t answer.

“Can you tell me what happened at the police station?” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Okay,” Raoul said. He hated to admit it, but he was grateful. He wanted to get breakfast on the table and then leave for work as soon as he could. He didn’t have the heart to mention the vandalism to Kayla. “I’ll be downstairs making waffles,” he said. “Is there bacon?”

She stared at him blankly. “Yes,” she said. “There’s bacon.”

He leaned over to kiss her and again noticed the smell of marijuana. “Good.” Before he left their bedroom, he said, “Did you smoke last night?”

“No,” she said quickly, in a way that let him know she was lying. She fell back on the bed. “Yes. I did. With Jacob. We smoked a joint on the way to Great Point.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, you might want to shower. I smell it on you.”

Raoul went downstairs and set about making breakfast. Flour, milk, a couple of eggs in a bowl. Dust off the waffle iron, plug it in, and let it get nice and hot. Cass and Luke took out the dishes and silverware, and the butter, syrup, and orange juice from the fridge. They set the table as quietly as professional waiters. Raoul felt funny, bothered, and he realized he was angry that Kayla and Jacob had smoked a joint. Why the hell had Kayla done that? And why had Jacob offered it to her? He knew Raoul hated the stuff. Of course under the circumstances, he supposed a little adolescent behavior wasn’t unreasonable. Still, it bugged him.

“Are you excited about starting school on Tuesday?” Raoul asked Luke.

“No.”

“How about you, Cass? Are you excited about school?” He had to stop and remember what grades they were going into. Kayla chastised him every time he got it wrong. “Junior high? That’s going to be a big change.”

“Change is excruciating,” Cassidy B. said.

Raoul laughed. He mixed up the batter, turned a few strips of bacon. “Well, I guess you’re right. Change can be excruciating. And junior high in particular can be excruciating. But not for you. You’re a survivor. We’re all survivors, aren’t we?” Raoul heard the water shut off upstairs-Theo out of the shower. If Kayla were smart, she would shower next, before the kids smelled the smoke on her. Or in case she had to go back down to the police station. Raoul poured batter onto the hot waffle iron and lowered the lid. The iron hissed and batter leaked out the sides. Raoul turned down the heat on the bacon and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Breakfast in five minutes for anyone who wants it!” he said.

A noise came from his bedroom. His cell phone again. Kayla appeared holding the phone, which she must have put back together. She descended the stairs slowly, like a beautiful ghost, an unfamiliar expression on her face, and she handed the phone to Raoul.

“I don’t want to talk to anybody right now,” he said.

She shrugged and slipped the ringing phone into the pocket of her robe.

“Dad,” Luke called from the kitchen. “The waffles.”

“Coming,” Raoul said. He pulled out the first-batch of waffles, burning two fingers, and drained the bacon on paper towels. The phone kept ringing. Raoul turned to see Cassidy B. hugging Kayla as if her mother had returned from some faraway country after a long absence.

“Give me the phone,” Raoul said. “And here, these waffles are done. Luke, here you go.” Raoul took the phone from Kayla and walked into the living room, where he could have some quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Raoul? It’s Micky.”

Micky Glenn, his foreman. “Micky. Listen, I know what happened. I’ll be out there as soon as I can. I have a situation here with my family.”

“You’ve seen the paper?”

“What paper?”

“The Cape Cod Times. About the missing woman? Kayla’s name is in it, and yours. And Ting’s. It sounds pretty incriminating, Raoul.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

“No, we have delivery. I’ll read it myself.”

“Okay, whatever. You’ll be here soon?”

“Soon as I can.”

Raoul flew out the front door. It was hot already, and the air smelled of grass and dirt and the nearby ocean. Raoul walked barefoot through the front yard to the end of the driveway where the fat Sunday edition of the Cape Cod Times lay in a plastic bag. Raoul looked around at his neighbors’ houses- quiet. Raoul slid the newspaper out of its plastic and scanned the front page. At the bottom in the right-hand corner was the headline: WOMAN MISSING OFF NANTUCKET’S GREAT POINT. Raoul moved slowly up the driveway, reading.

NANTUCKET, MASS.

A woman disappeared off the coast of Nantucket Island early Saturday morning, Nantucket police officials said. Antoinette Riley, 44, longtime island resident, was swimming with two friends: island attorney Valerie Gluckstern and Kayla Montero, wife of construction baron Raoul Montero, builder of the Ting home in Monomoy. Mrs. Montero alerted police at 1:40 A.M. that Riley was missing. She told police that Riley danced into the water after consuming a significant amount of alcohol, and was apparently swept away by the riptide.

Detective Dean Simpson of the Nantucket Police Department said no body had been found, although the coast guard and Nantucket Fire Department had dispatched search parties based on information given to officials by Montero.

“We haven’t ruled out the existence of foul play,” Detective Simpson said. “These women call themselves the “Night Swimmers’ and they’ve been practicing dangerous and unorthodox rituals for years-skinny-dipping in tricky waters, drinking champagne. Suspicious circumstances surround Ms. Riley’s disappearance, although we haven’t brought formal charges against Mrs. Montero or anyone else yet.”

The detective went on to say that according to the coast guard’s mathematical formulas, had Riley swum with her full strength, her body would most likely have been recovered. Thus officials feared she was hurt or poisoned before entering the water.

“There is an extensive and complicated past between these three women,” Detective Simpson said. “And especially between Mrs. Montero and the missing woman. Some questionable factors have come to our attention, and we feel Ms. Riley’s disappearance requires further investigating.”

Citizens with information about the disappearance should contact the Nantucket Police Department.

Raoul threw the paper into the front seat of his truck. He had to keep the article out of Kayla’s hands for as long as he could. He wondered what exactly had happened at the police station. It sounded like they were trying to pin this on Kayla, and Val, too, though Raoul couldn’t imagine Val tolerating that. He would have to get the whole story later. As soon as he made his excuses inside, he was off to the Tings’.

Somehow Kayla had finished making both the waffles and the bacon, and three out of four kids were sitting at the table eating. Jennifer had joined Luke and Cass; she was chewing a dry waffle one square at a time. Kayla, who was always so concerned about Jennifer’s eating habits, didn’t even seem to notice. She sat at the breakfast bar, watching the kids eat, but it was obvious to Raoul that her mind was somewhere else.

“Where’s Theo?” Raoul said.

“Upstairs in his room,” Luke reported. “He said he’s not hungry.”

“What’s going on, Dad?” Jennifer said. “Did they find Aunt Antoinette?”

“No,” Raoul said.

The phone rang. Jennifer stood to answer it.

“Don’t you dare,” Raoul said. “This morning nobody answers the phone. Not even Mommy.”

“What if it’s Amy?” Jennifer said. “We’re supposed to go to the beach today.”

“If it’s Amy, she can leave a message and you can call her back,” Raoul said. He looked at Kayla. “Okay, Kayla? Don’t deal with anybody until I get back.”

“Get back from where?”

“I have to go to Monomoy.”

“For God’s sake, Raoul…”

“This isn’t optional. I have to go check on a problem that’s come up, and after I’ve dealt with it, I’ll come home. Okay? In an hour or two?”

Kayla said nothing, though Raoul could tell she was pissed. Her day was only going to get worse, but she didn’t have to know that yet.

“Home soon,” he said, grabbing his truck keys. “Don’t answer the phone.”

Raoul was hungry, starving, and he wished he’d eaten one of those waffles. He pulled up in front of Island Bakery. He’d get a couple of doughnuts and a cup of good coffee.

Tanner Whitcomb, owner of the bakery, saw Raoul as soon as he walked in. Tanner was Raoul’s age, skinny, a former cocaine user who was still constantly nervous and antsy. He wore a Red Sox hat and a long white apron smeared with lipstick-pink icing. Raoul had remodeled the bakery for Tanner fifteen years earlier during the height of Tanner’s drug habit; it was one of Raoul’s first big jobs, and so he didn’t mind when Tanner was late paying him. Behind the counters were built-in baker’s racks. Raoul had sanded each shelf of those racks by hand while Tanner and his buddies hung out in the back, sniffing lines off of cookie sheets.

Raoul smiled. “Tanner.”

Tanner looked past Raoul out the door. “Is the murder suspect out there in your truck?”

Raoul paused. Tanner’s voice was good-natured, playful-so maybe that was how folks on the island would treat this, as a joke. A silly assumption made by the overzealous police, who had nothing to do in the summertime but write parking tickets and break up high school beer parties.

“No, she’s at home,” Raoul said. “Sharpening knives.” He gazed down into the glass cases. There was a whole section of doughnuts iced with the garish pink. “Three bear claws,” he told the flame-haired Irish girl behind the register. “Three of those cream horn things, and a chocolate éclair.” He turned back to Tanner, who gawked at him.

“I was kidding, Tanner,” Raoul said.

Tanner stuffed his hands in the large front pocket of his apron. “I don’t know, Raoul,” he said. “It sounds like Kayla got herself in a heap of trouble with the law.”

Raoul paid the girl, dropped his change and an extra dollar into the tip jar, and took his bag. Then he squeezed Tanner’s arm hard enough to show him that it would be easy to break.

“You, my friend, shouldn’t pass judgment on anyone,” Raoul whispered. He let go of Tanner’s arm and strode out to the truck. He pulled away as quickly as he could, and then he realized that he’d spaced the coffee.

At the Ting house, there were three trucks in the driveway: Micky’s Durango, Carter’s sorry-looking Toyota pickup, and Jacob’s Bronco. Technically, his crew had the day off. Holiday weekend. Carter had tiling to do, and Micky was there to check out the vandalism, but Jacob? Why was Jacob around? The person they needed was Colin Freed, the plaster guy. Not Jacob.

As Raoul walked into the house, he stuffed a cream horn into his mouth. “Hello!” he cried out with a mouthful of icing. “Micky?”

“In here.” Micky, Carter, and Jacob stood in the living room gaping at the damage. The walls of the living room were gouged open so that the joists were exposed. The drywall lay in ragged sheets and crumbling piles. It would all have to be torn out and redone.

“What I can’t figure out,” Micky said, “is why anyone would want to do this. Do you think it was somebody from another crew?”

Raoul looked at Jacob. The night before as they drank the vodka, Raoul had sworn Jacob to secrecy about Theo and Antoinette. He wondered if Jacob suspected this vandalism was Theo’s. Raoul felt guilt clog his throat. He needed something to drink. “Listen, guys. I know who did it.”

Carter sucked in his breath. He looked like such a goof, wearing his safety goggles over his glasses. Raoul tried to remember why he had ever hired Carter in the first place. His work was good, but he was very slow. ““Who?” Carter said.

‘Theo,” Raoul said. “My son.”

“Well, shit,” Micky said. “In that case, I wish I hadn’t called the police.”

“You called the police?” Suddenly it felt like Raoul had eaten a pastry filled with cement. “Does anybody have any water? Or coffee?”

Jacob held out a Coke. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Raoul said. He swilled some down. “I can’t believe you called the police. Why the fuck did you do that? You should have waited until I got here.”

“I think a better question is, Why did Theo knock the walls in?” Micky said.

Again, Raoul looked at Jacob. Jacob had his arms crossed in front of him and was staring at the floor. “Have you called Colin?” Raoul asked. “He’s going to have to come in and fix it.”

“Colin?” Micky said. His freckled face reddened. “You’ll excuse me for saying so, Raoul, but you should be the one to fix the walls. You or Theo, but I’d say you, since you’re the one who knows how.”

Raoul glared at Micky. The guy was Irish, and Catholic, and he went to Mass every Wednesday before work. He had a conscience, and that was why Raoul made him foreman so many years ago. Now Raoul wanted to punch him. Except that he was right.

“Fine,” Raoul said. “I’ll fix the walls myself. But it’s not going to happen today, and it’s not going to happen tomorrow. I have to get home to my family. So, Micky, you take a couple of days off, and Carter, you get your ass in gear and don’t leave until bathroom number three is finished. Do you hear me? Finished!” Raoul’s anger was mounting-the vandalism, the newspaper article, Micky-and his head hurt. Suddenly, Raoul was left alone in the room with Jacob. Jacob, who thought it was okay to get high with Kayla.

“Come out to the truck with me,” Raoul said. “I want to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to you, too,” Jacob said. “That’s why I showed up today.”

Raoul got a bad vibe from the sound of Jacob’s voice. “You go first, then. What’s going on?”

“I have something difficult to tell you, man. I don’t even know how to say it.”

They moved outside into the sun. Raoul’s head felt like it was splintering apart. “Can you just break it to me gently, please?” Raoul said. “I’ve had one hell of a weekend.”

“I know. I really don’t want to add to your worries, Raoul, but I’ve got to tell you this one thing.”

“Tell me.”

Jacob took a deep breath. “I quit.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m moving away, actually. I decided last night.”

Raoul grabbed his truck bed to steady himself. “How long have you worked for me?”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years, and you’re the best finish guy I have, and now you’re telling me you decided in one night that you’re quitting and moving away.”

“That’s right,” Jacob said. “Sorry, man.”

“Why?” Raoul said. “Are you going somewhere with Val?”

“No.” Jacob turned his baseball cap forward, then backwards again. He looked up into the sky. “Actually, we broke up.”

“You broke up?”

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “Last night.”

“So you’re moving away because you broke up with Val?”

“Not exactly,” Jacob said. “I’m not going to explain the whole thing to you, Raoul. And believe me, you don’t want to know. But basically, now that she’s left her husband she wants me to marry her, and I can’t. I don’t want to. It’s time for me to get out of Dodge. Trust me.”

“I was going to yell at you for smoking a joint with my wife, but I don’t think I’ll bother,” Raoul said. “It sounds like you had more on your plate last night than you needed.”

“Right.”

“So. So you’re moving away. Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe to live with my brother. He works on a good crew.”

“In Arizona?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’re sure about this? You’re really fucking sure?”

“Yep.”

Raoul glanced into his truck and saw a bottle of Advil on the floor of the passenger side. “Give me your Coke,” he said to Jacob. He downed three Advil and finished the rest of the soda, wondering how long it would be until he felt better. “Okay, come see me in the office on Tuesday, then. To get your check. We’ll have to figure out what you want to do with your retirement account.”

“Can you just send me that stuff in the mail?” Jacob asked. “I want to leave today.”

‘Today?” Raoul was overwhelmed. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to. But before he could figure out what was going on, really, with Jacob, a car screeched into the dirt driveway. It was a BMW. Val. Raoul moved for the driver’s side of his truck. The last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of some crazed, jilted-lover scene between Jacob and Val. He needed to get home.

Raoul waved to Val and then climbed into his truck. “Come see me Tuesday,” he said to Jacob. Raoul started the engine, but Val pulled right up to his front bumper, blocking his way. He cursed at her under his breath. Now he was stuck.

Val got out of the car and marched to Raoul’s window. When she lifted her sunglasses, Raoul saw that her eyes were puffy and red. She had the hic-cuppy breathing of someone who’d been crying for a long time.

“Did he tell you?” she said.

“Yeah,” Raoul said. “He did. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” she said. “You’re sorry?” She glared at Jacob, who just stood there, balanced on the balls of his feet like he was ready to dart away. “Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t beat him bloody.”

“It’s really none of my business,” Raoul said. “I’d rather not get involved.”

“None of your business?” Val said. “He slept with your wife, and it’s none of your business?”

At that moment, Jacob dashed for his Bronco. He drove into the brush to get around the BMW. In a matter of seconds, before Raoul could process the words he’d just heard, Jacob was gone.

“Coward,” Val said. “So I guess he didn’t tell you.”

Raoul opened his mouth, but the sounds he made weren’t words.

“They slept together, Raoul,” Val said. “Last night, at Great Point. When Jacob came home, I smelled her on him. And he admitted it. He flat out said he’d had sex with Kayla.”

“He was lying to you,” Raoul said. “He was lying to get out of the relationship. Because you scared him, Val. You fucking scared him.”

“I smelled her on him, Raoul,” Val said. “She’s my best friend. She wears Coco Chanel, and that was what Jacob reeked of when he got home last night.”

“Get out of here,” Raoul said. “Get your car out of my way.”

Val started to cry again. “We were just trying to protect her. I can’t believe she’d do this when we were only trying to protect her from the truth.”

“Val!” Raoul shouted. “Aw, fuck it.” Raoul started the truck and he, too, drove into the brush to get around the BMW. Once he was on the road, he felt better. But God, what to do with this news, where to go? Jacob having sex with Kayla, his wife? The mother of his children? Of course it was a lie, a hysterical, dramatic accusation dreamed up by that lunatic woman. As Raoul drove toward home, he tried to remember what Kayla had been like the night before. Crying, insisting that her life was over, the strap of her dress torn, the distinctive scent of marijuana. And Jacob, quitting, leaving the island today without even his last paycheck, running like a fugitive from the law.

Raoul screeched into the driveway. When he stormed into the kitchen he found Kayla, showered and dressed and smelling of perfume, cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

“Where are the kids?” he said.

“Theo’s still in his room. Jennifer’s getting ready to go to the beach. Cass and Luke are outside. The phone has been ringing like crazy.”

Raoul watched Kayla rinse the last sticky plate and put it in the dishwasher. She pulled off her rubber gloves. Raoul was trembling.

“We’re going for a ride,” he said.

She turned and looked at him. Saw his face and knew. Knew that he knew, after nineteen years of marriage, and without a word. It was true.

Raoul took the keys to the Trooper and the Jeep- he didn’t want Theo going anywhere-and he led Kayla out to the truck, tears blurring his eyes. Jacob inside his wife. It disgusted him. Kayla had let Jacob touch her. Raoul couldn’t believe it. Not Kayla. They had been married nineteen years, some years better than others, but never once had Raoul questioned Kayla’s fidelity. It had always been the other way around. Kayla was sensitive about Raoul and other women; she had some loony idea that Raoul was one of these contractors who seduced his female clients. But Raoul had played it straight his entire marriage. There was one woman in “Sconset, Pamela Ely, who pursued him, maybe. She used to lie on her deck in a bikini, straps untied, while Raoul and his crew worked around her. When Raoul was nearby, she would lift her head and her shoulders so that he would see her bare breasts; she did this all the time, and Raoul’s crew couldn’t stop talking about it. She wants you, man, that woman wants you. One night, Pamela kept Raoul hanging around after his crew went home, saying she needed an estimate on one more project-in her bedroom. She gave Raoul a cold Beck’s and preceded him up the stairs with her bikini bottoms riding up her cheeks. He’d had every opportunity to screw her. It was just the two of them in the bedroom looking at a hole in the plaster (her ex-husband had punched the wall, she said). But what did Raoul do? He gave her a fair estimate for the plasterwork; then he guzzled the rest of his beer and left the house immediately. Because as appealing as Pam Ely might have been, what was more appealing was what waited for him at home: a strong marriage, good kids. The real thing.

Kayla was silent as they drove. Raoul took dirt roads until they popped out onto a deserted section of beach between Nobadeer and Madequecham. Raoul didn’t know if Kayla would remember, but this was where they used to make love the summer they started dating. Raoul had met Kayla at the Chicken Box. She was very thin back then, and she wore pedal pushers without any underwear. She had Farrah Fawcett hair, she listened to Earth, Wind & Fire. Their first date was a picnic of American cheese sandwiches and Fritos that she brought to him on the job site. She liked it when Raoul tossed tiny pieces of bread to the seagulls. During those first few weeks Raoul didn’t call her often and occasionally, when he told her he would meet her out at a bar, he stayed home instead. But then the unexplainable happened. She cut the legs out from under him, and he fell. In love with Kayla. He brought her to this very beach and peeled off her pedal pushers and made love to her on a skimpy towel that was no match for the two of them. They jumped into the waves afterward and washed sand out of the uncomfortable places.

It sounded idyllic, too good to be true, and that was how Raoul remembered it. The summer ended, Kayla decided to stay, and they moved in together for the winter. They lived in an old, rickety cottage out in “Sconset where the only source of heat was the fire place. Kayla chopped wood every afternoon, and they ate, slept, made love, and watched TV in front of the fireplace. Occasionally they ventured into town, once to the Gaslight Theatre to seeStripes, and it was so cold in the theater that they could see their breath every time they laughed. Kayla bought three rounds of hot toddies, and by the time the film was over they were silly drunk. To this day, it was the funniest movie Raoul had ever seen. Living with Kayla that winter had been living with love day in and day out; it was that simple, that clear cut. When the first daffodils bloomed in the “Sconset Rotary on the second of April, Raoul asked her to marry him.

Then things moved quickly-a June wedding and Theo born ten months later. Reality, yes, they’d had nothing but reality since then: diapers, mortgage, incorporation, school conferences, chicken pox, big jobs falling through, big jobs not falling through. And then this weekend.

Raoul shut off the engine. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need the truth. I need to hear the truth from your mouth. Did you-?” Raoul wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak the words. “Did you have sex with Jacob last night?”

“I need to explain-”

“No,” Raoul said. “No. I don’t want you to explain. I want an answer. Yes or no. Did you sleep with Jacob?”

Silence.

Raoul was angry enough to hit her, but instead he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, inadvertently hitting the horn, which sent a flurry of seagulls into the air around them. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Raoul extracted his keys from the ignition and tucked them into his jeans pocket. He climbed out of the car, removed his shoes, and sprinted down the beach in his bare feet. He ran as fast as he could, keeping just above the shoreline. He ran over stones and shards of clam shell, he pumped his arms and forced himself to go even faster. When he started to tire, he slowed to a jog, but he kept going. He wanted to go as far as he could; he wanted to be miles away. And then, when he was completely exhausted, he stopped. He was alone on a stretch of beach on his island; the truck was just a red dot in the distance. It was hot, and Raoul was thirsty. His headache was back. He wanted to have a life like Jacob’s that he could run away from, that he could leave with only a day’s notice. But for Raoul, there was too much at stake: his kids, his house, his company, his work. Raoul trudged through the sand toward his truck. And his wife.

To his surprise, she wasn’t crying. She was sitting in the truck bed with her head propped up against the cab, eyes closed. She looked peaceful, although Raoul doubted she was actually asleep. He fought off the urge to slap her. He grabbed her arm.

She started, banged her head. When she saw him, her eyes filled. “How did you find out?”

Raoul watched the waves pummel the shore. He was parched. “Val told me.”

“Val?”

“Jacob told her last night, I guess, and she came to the job site this morning and informed me.”

“So Val knows.”

“Yes. Are you going to explain what happened?”

And so, Kayla told him the story. About John Gluckstern and Antoinette’s daughter, Lindsey. About Val turning the tables to get herself out of trouble, giving the police Kayla’s pills. About how Kayla confronted Val at her house and yes, Val admitted to steering the police in Kayla’s direction because Kayla was a housewife and therefore it didn’t matter if Kayla took the blame.

‘I was so furious with her last night, Raoul, I could have killed her. And you. Because you knew about Theo and Antoinette. You knew and you kept it from me. I was so mad, and Jacob was just there. He was revenge on two fronts. But I regretted it as soon as it happened.” Kayla’s eyes without makeup looked very small and sad. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t something you can apologize for. You let Jacob fuck you.” The words were so offensive, Raoul had to lower his head and suck in some air. He needed water. “You broke your marriage vows.”

“Huh!” she said. “As if you haven’t broken them yourself.”

“I haven’t,” he said. “And believe me, there is nothing I would like better than to tell you right now that I did screw Pam Ely, but I didn’t. Because I am a married man. I believe in marriage, Kayla. At least I did until right now.”

She sat with that awhile. He could see every nuance that crossed her face. You didn’t sleep with Pamela Ely? Suspicion, then relief, even happiness. Then guilt, her defenses resurfacing. “You lied to me, Raoul. You lied about Theo.”

He remembered sitting across from her at Company of the Cauldron, sweating with the secret. It was an instance when he understood his two choices and he chose the easy solution over the right one. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Well, look where we are now. Theo had an affair with Antoinette and got her pregnant. He ransacked her house. Antoinette might be dead and somehow I am a murder suspect. Do you think that upsets me?”

“No one will believe it, Kayla.”

“Everyone will believe it!” she said. “I heard the messages people were leaving on the machine at home. I know there was an article in the paper.”

“The police have no evidence.”

“They have all they need: the pills, the champagne glasses, the belated phone calls. I should have called 911 right away.”

“I told you that,” Raoul said. “And there’s something else you should know. Theo destroyed the living room of the Tings’ house with an axe.”

“There was an axe in the Jeep,” Kayla said.

They were both quiet for a while, watching the violent waves.

“Where is Antoinette?” Raoul said.

“I wish I knew,” Kayla said. Her voice softened. “She was carrying our grandchild, Raoul.”

Raoul stared at the beach. He could picture the freckles across Kayla’s nose that first summer, the white straps of her bikini crossing her back in an X. Suddenly, his stomach didn’t feel so good.

“I can’t deal with this thing about Jacob,” Raoul said. “Maybe I’m being macho, maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but I can’t have Jacob hanging around in our marriage. The idea of Jacob, I mean. I’m thinking… about separation.” Raoul couldn’t bring himself to say the word divorce. Divorce, as far as Raoul understood it, was something that happened to other people-people who thought it was okay to give up, walk out, try their luck elsewhere. It didn’t happen to Raoul and Kayla.

“How can I blame you?” Kayla said. She buried her face in her hands. “I ruined everything.” She sniffled. “These last two days have been awful. And now I’ve contributed to the mess. I wanted to contribute! I wanted to be as bad, as lawless, as everybody else.”

“You succeeded,” he said.“I’m going to need some time and space to think about this, Kayla. Time alone.”

“So you want me to move out?” Kayla said.

“No,” Raoul said. “Yes. Maybe. A vacation, maybe. You could go on vacation.”

“I don’t deserve a vacation,” Kayla said. “You should go on vacation.”

“I have work,” Raoul said.

“I don’t want to go on vacation,” Kayla said.

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Raoul said. “Let’s just go home.” He had to believe that dealing with this would be easier under his roof, within the walls that he himself had constructed. “Let’s go home and help our son.”

At home, Kayla went upstairs to check on Theo. Raoul poured himself a tall glass of water and found Luke and Cassidy in the living room, parked in front of the TV. A show about hot-air ballooning.

“Where’s Jennifer?” Raoul asked.

“Beach,” Luke said.

“Did anyone call?” Raoul asked.

“The phone rang,” Cassidy B. said. “But we didn’t answer.”

“Thank you. You two can go outside and play.”

“Do we have to?” Luke said.

“Yes.”

Reluctantly, they picked themselves up off the floor. Raoul shut off the TV.

Kayla yelled down from upstairs. “Kids, where’s Theo?”

Luke and Cassidy B. were quiet. Luke scratched a mosquito bite. Raoul checked the driveway-all the cars were there.

“Tell us where he went,” Raoul said.

Luke stared at his father, cold and calm. “He went to the police station.”

“The police station?”

“He called them,” Cassidy B. said. “They came and picked him up.”

“He called them?“ Raoul said. “You’re sure about that?”

Cassidy B. put her index finger to the corner of her mouth as though she had to scan the far reaches of her memory. “He called to see if they’d found Aunt Antoinette. And when they said no, he asked if they could come get him. He said he had things to tell.”

“They came in a squad car,” Luke said. “We saw. But no lights.”

Kayla descended the stairs, looking pale. “You two go outside,” she said. “I’ll be out in a minute to throw the Frisbee.”

“I’m sick of Frisbee,” Luke said. But he and Cassidy obediently tied their sneakers and left the house through the sliding glass door.

“I’ll get Theo,” Raoul said. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

“Thank you,” Kayla said. “I can’t deal with that detective again.”

Raoul’s cell phone rang. The phone was there on the coffee table where he’d left it. He and Kayla stared at it.

“Leave it be,” Raoul said. “I’m going.”

At first, the police officer who sat behind the glass at the front desk wouldn’t tell Raoul whether Theo was there.

“Listen, I’m his father. I don’t know how much more plainly I can put it to you. Do you want me to bribe you?” Raoul slid some money underneath the glass. “Here, take this. It’s all yours if I can see my son.”

The officer eyed the money disdainfully. He stopped filling out his piddly, unimportant form, smoothed the front of his blue uniform shirt, and disappeared into the back.

Raoul took a deep breath, looked around. The place was a dungeon. They should remodel. Put in some windows.

A door clanked open, and Paul Henry stuck his head into the waiting room. “Raoul?” he said. “Follow me.”

Raoul trailed Paul Henry down the hall. It smelled medicinal, like Ben Gay. Or maybe that smell was coming from Paul Henry. Raoul wished he hadn’t drunk so much the night before. He wished he’d never hired Jacob Anderson. The thought of Jacob made Raoul’s stomach swoop. Jacob inside his wife. Theo, he thought, what have you done?

Behind a door marked PRIVATE, Theo sat at a long table, wiping his eyes with balled-up tissues. When he saw Raoul, he cried harder. It embarrassed Raoul to watch Theo cry in front of the other men. Buck up, Raoul wanted to say. Be strong. Except that wasn’t how he and Kayla had raised Theo at all; they’d raised him to express his emotions honestly. Raoul put his hands on Theo’s shoulders.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“This is all my fault,” Theo said.

The detective sat across from Theo, writing on a yellow legal pad. He raised his head, pushed his glasses up his nose. The guy who had yelled at Raoul for kicking dirt around in Antoinette’s driveway. The guy who had bullied Kayla. There wasn’t an ounce of emotion in the guy’s face. But that wasn’t exactly true-the detective looked interested. This was just one hell of an interesting day at work for him. Raoul narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

The detective leaned back in his chair, scratched his head with a pencil. “Theo, here, was explaining a few things.”

“Such as?”

“He admitted to ransacking Ms. Riley’s cottage. He admitted to vandalizing a work site out in Monomoy with a hatchet.” The detective paused. “You know about that? It’s your work site.”

Raoul nodded.

“Yes,” the detective said. “One of your crew called to report it. Theo also told us that Ms. Riley was in fact pregnant and that she had an appointment to get an abortion on… Tuesday, right, Theo? This coming Tuesday?”

Theo put his hands over his face. He broke into high-pitched, breathless sobs and for a minute, the men listened to the sound of Theo’s crying. Raoul closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Theo’s shoulders.

The detective cleared his throat. “Theo told us that he was against Ms. Riley getting an abortion, and he thinks she may have disappeared on purpose-to carry out her plans without any interference from him.”

“She wanted to get away from me,” Theo said. “Because she knew I would do anything to keep her from killing our baby.” Theo looked at Raoul, and Raoul remembered him vividly as a little boy. Tough, funny, afraid of nothing. When he was only a year old, he used to sit inside his toy box and row it like a dinghy. When he was learning to talk, he repeated words again and again, and one week he said nothing but “backhoe loader.” As the oldest, Theo had taught Raoul everything he knew about being a parent. He broke all the new ground. Even now.

“Theo wants us to place him under arrest,” Paul Henry said quietly. “He feels he needs to be punished.”

“I wish I were dead,” Theo said.

Raoul squeezed Theo’s shoulders. Nausea overcame him, an urgent sense of personal shame. He was going to vomit. “Is he arrested?”

“No,” Paul Henry said. “In fact, I think you should take him home right now. We’ll deal with the vandalism charges later.”

Theo started crying again. “They’re not even going to look for her, Dad. They’re not even going to try.”

“We’re looking for her, son,” Paul Henry said.

“The divers are going back out this afternoon,” the detective said.

Theo shot up. “She’s not in the water!” he said. “I know she’s not. She’s not dead and my baby is not dead!”

Raoul backed away; the other two men were quiet. Raoul studied the detective’s face. It was strained, and Raoul realized that the guy was trying to suppress a smile.

“You think this is funny?” Raoul said. “You’re looking at an eighteen-year-old kid crying over a woman who’s pregnant with his child and that amuses you?”

The detective let out a giggle, and the giggle turned into a laugh.

Paul Henry tried, but he could not contain Raoul. No, not Raoul who had woken up that morning to find that his wife had cheated on him, his son had vandalized his workplace, and the whole island thought his wife was a murderer. Raoul jumped over the table, and before he could think better of it he had the detective jacked up against the wall, his glasses half-cocked, his face blanching. Raoul held him there a minute-this was the time to say something meaningful-but Raoul had nothing to say. Raoul hit the detective as hard as he could. It was an odd, sick feeling, connecting with another human being in that way. The detective’s face gave like a piece of overripe fruit. It caved in, smashed, smooshed, soft and wet. There was blood everywhere, but before Raoul could truly appreciate the damage, and before he could pull his arm back to hit the motherfucker again, there were other officers in the room, and Raoul was facedown on the table, hands pinned behind him. There was a lot of shouting, and the cold steel of handcuffs pinching his wrists.

Raoul raised his head. Theo was standing against the wall watching the men shackle Raoul. But he wasn’t crying. He was shaking his head in disbelief, admiration even, and Raoul smiled at him. A real smile. Raoul was crazy-this wasn’t a good example for his son at all, this wasn’t the way he’d brought his children up to act. But hitting the detective had felt honest, and Raoul smiled.

Theo smiled back. Thank you, he mouthed. Thank you.

…

They put Raoul in the holding cell and let him sit there for hours, or so it seemed. Raoul vomited- finally, gratefully-into the toilet. The blasted cream horn. He lay down on the cot and drifted in and out of consciousness. In his mind he hit the detective over and over again. He wondered what would happen to him. Would he have to go to court? Probably. The prick detective would press charges; Raoul’s name would be smeared across the police blotter of the Inquirer and Mirror on Thursday. This was a downward spiral, worse following bad. How would it end?

The sound of Kayla’s voice roused Raoul from his dream-sleep.

“Raoul?”

Raoul lifted his head from the dirty mattress, which had probably absorbed the bodily fluids of dozens of drunks. Kayla stood on the other side of the bars, her blond hair glowing in the faint light of the hallway. “Come on,” she said. “We’re going.”

Raoul signed papers at the reception desk, papers diligently typed by the officer behind the glass barrier. Kayla had paid $105 to spring Raoul from the cell; he had a court date in six weeks. He needed a lawyer.

Before they left the police station, the detective appeared on the other side of the glass. His nose was mottled and misshapen; he had half a black eye. He pointed at Raoul, and when he spoke, it sounded like he had a bad cold.

“You, sir, are going to pay for this.”

“Feel safer behind glass, Detective?” Raoul asked.

The detective sneered at him and Kayla. He touched his nose gingerly and shook his head. “You two are quite a pair,” he said. “You two deserve each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Raoul said when they got in the Trooper. “I was out of line. None of us needed that.”

“I’m glad you hit him,” Kayla said. “I hate that man.”

Well, it won’t look very good. I’m going to need a lawyer.”

“You’ll get a lawyer.”

Raoul noticed she said you instead of we.

“Should we stop for pizza or something?” he said. “For the kids?”

“Sure,” Kayla said. “Theo won’t eat. He’s locked himself in his room again. Jennifer was still at the beach when I left. But Cass and Luke will like pizza. I’d like pizza.”

“Me, too,” Raoul said. His stomach was sour and empty. The thought of bubbling cheese and a thick, doughy crust appealed to him. Plus, the normalcy of it: he and Kayla walking in together with a hot pizza. They might be able to distract the kids with food until this whole thing blew over.

Kayla drove to the Muse. She went in to order the pizza while Raoul waited in the car. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Tomorrow, Monday, was a holiday, but he’d make an appearance at work. Fix the damaged walls himself. The lawyer thing would need to wait until Tuesday. Val had handled all Raoul and Kayla’s legal matters until now; that would have to change. She didn’t handle criminal cases, anyway. Criminal cases-Raoul’s heart steeled itself against the new names that would be coming his way. His son was a vandal, his wife a murder suspect, and he, Raoul, was a criminal case.

Suddenly, Kayla flung open the door. She was sniffling.

“I saw Marty Robbins in there,” she said. “Theo’s boss? He said he read about me in the paper. “What did you do to that woman?’ he asked me. “Rumor has it you poisoned her.’ ” She handed Raoul the piping hot pizza box; the car filled with the smell of the pizza, and Raoul’s stomach tensed with expectation. Kayla slammed her door shut. “Rumor has it? Everyone knows, Raoul.”

“Well, yeah,” Raoul said. “They know what they read, but no one knows what actually happened.”

“What actually happened doesn’t matter!” Kayla said. “Word is out.” She sped down Surfside Road toward home. “Everyone’s talking about it, Raoul. You know how when something bad happens to someone and everyone you meet whispers to you about it? And you end up knowing the gory details of someone else’s private life, someone you barely even know? That someone is me. People are gossiping about me.”

“That’s why you need to go on vacation,” Raoul said.

“So people can say I’m running away? So people can say you kicked me out of the house?”

“No one will say that, Kayla. Two weeks from now the only people who will remember this happened is us.”

“My life is ruined, Raoul.”

“Yeah, well, mine’s not looking too rosy, either.”

This made her cry. She cried until they pulled into the driveway. Raoul held his open palms against the burning bottom of the pizza box. He was ashamed to say he was glad Kayla was being punished, even if it was for the wrong crime.

Inside, Luke and Cass were sitting at the breakfast bar playing Crazy Eights. Raoul heard music coming from Theo’s room upstairs.

“I have pizza,” Raoul said. “Cassidy, will you get plates and napkins, please?”

Neither kid moved. They were watching Kayla cry. She ripped a paper towel from the roll, blew her nose, and then dropped the towel in the trash can.

Cassidy B. stared at Raoul. “What’s wrong with Mommy?”

Before Raoul could formulate a believable answer, Luke spoke up.

“Mom killed Aunt Antoinette,” he said.

“Luke!” Raoul said. He wheeled Luke into the living room, where they were alone. “What in God’s name made you say that? Did you overhear something?”

Luke eyed his father. He was a judgmental little bugger-it was his legacy as the youngest. He’d watched the other kids screw up and he learned how to keep himself in a safe, cool place where he could do things like accuse his mother of murder and get away with it. “You told us not to answer the phone, and we didn’t,” Luke said. “But we heard the messages.”

Raoul looked at the red light on the answering machine blinking like crazy. Seventeen messages. “What have people been saying?”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “That they heard Mom was in trouble for killing Aunt Antoinette. And someone called Mom a lesbian.”

“Go eat your pizza,” Raoul said. “Right now.”

Luke stomped into the kitchen. A wave of exhaustion crashed over Raoul. And he was hungry. But he turned the volume down on the answering machine and listened-there were five or six hangups, but the rest of the messages lit a fiery panic in the pit of Raoul’s stomach. Ed Ogilvy from the Inquirer and Mirror asked Kayla for an official statement. Joyce Shanahan, Fran Dunleavy, Denise Grover-all friends of Kayla’s-called to see what was going on. Was what the paper said true? Kent van Bonner, the guidance counselor at the high school, called to say he’d heard Theo had been charged with B and E-news to Raoul. A few unidentifiable voices called saying Kayla should be sent to jail. The minister of their church, Albert Fro-man, called to see if there was anything he could do to help. And John Gluckstern called three times-in increasing states of intoxication-labeling Kayla a fraud, a lesbian, an accomplice to murder. Raoul erased every message, and when he was through, he held his head in his hands and listened to the sound of his own breathing.

“Everyone knows.” The room was dark, but Raoul made out Kayla, perched on the back of the sofa. How long had she been there? “They think the worst because they want to think the worst, Raoul. Everyone on this island has been looking for a reason to hate us for years.”

“No,” Raoul said, shaking his head. “I don’t accept that. We’re good people.”

“That’s why they hate us,” Kayla said. “Because we’re good. Because we’re lucky.”

“Our luck has run out,” Raoul said.

“Yes.”

Cassidy and Luke went up to their rooms without baths or TV. They were bewildered. Raoul and Kayla finished the pizza in silence. When Jennifer came home, she slammed the sliding glass door so hard that the walls of the kitchen shook; the dishes rattled in the cabinets. Raoul stood up.

“What’s the big idea, young lady?”

Jennifer’s skin was dark brown from her day at the beach. Her ponytail was stiff with salt, and she had sand halfway up her calves. Raoul checked the clock; it was almost nine.

“I heard what happened,” Jennifer said. She threw Raoul and Kayla a killer look, the kind of look that could only cross the face of a fourteen-year-old girl who was angry at her parents. “It’s disgusting.”

They waited. She said nothing else. Raoul cleared his throat. “What did you hear?”

“About Theo and Aunt Antoinette sleeping together? And Mom poisoning Aunt Antoinette so that she fucking drowned?” Her voice hit the work fucking like a hammer. “What’s going on in this family?”

Kayla cleared the pizza box from the table. “Have you eaten?”

Jennifer stared at her mother. “Excuse me?”

“If you want something, there’s stuff for sandwiches. We ate all the pizza. Sorry.” She opened a cabinet. “Oh, and there’s soup. New England clam chowder.” She picked up the can. “Twenty-three grams of fat. I guess not, huh?”

“Mom? Is it true?”

“Yes, yes, true. All of it true.”

“Kayla,” Raoul said. They should have thought of something to tell the kids. But now-well, they’d believe everything they heard from everyone. “Maybe we should explain.”

“Explain?” Kayla said. She turned to face them, a look in her eyes like an empty room. “What could we possibly say that would explain what has happened this weekend?”

“Wait a minute.” Jennifer dropped her straw beach bag to her feet and sand sprayed across the tile floor. Raoul watched Kayla reach instinctively for the broom. “So Theo was having sex with Aunt Antoinette? That is so gross. She’s, like, twice his age.”

“Then add ten years,” Kayla said.

“It’s your brother’s business,” Raoul said. “Who told you all this?”

“Some kids,” Jennifer said. “Everyone’s talking about it.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead in a gesture of mock distress, only Raoul could see that for Jennifer, it was real. “What am I going to do? I’m going to have to run away from home.”

“That’s a good idea,” Kayla said sincerely. “I wouldn’t want to live here with the rest of us.”

“Are you going to jail?” Jennifer asked.

“No one’s going anywhere,” Raoul said. “Except to bed.”

“Can I sleep at Amy’s house?” Jennifer asked.

“No,” Raoul said.

“Yes,” Kayla said.

“No,” Raoul said. He wanted all his children at home, under his roof, where nothing else could happen to them.

“Let her go, Raoul,” Kayla said. “If she doesn’t want to sleep in this house, she shouldn’t have to.”

Jennifer softened. “Thank you, Mommy.” She hugged and kissed her mother. “I don’t think you killed Aunt Antoinette. You didn’t, did you?”

Kayla shook her head. She was crying again.

Jennifer glanced at Raoul uneasily, like she might cry herself, but instead she picked up her beach bag and disappeared into the night.

“There you have it,” Kayla said. “Our own daughter.”

Raoul thought that Kayla might offer to sleep downstairs on the sofa, but she climbed into their bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Raoul considered sleeping on the couch himself, pretending for the kids’ sake that he fell asleep in front of the TV, but in the end, he didn’t want to sleep in the house at all, and so he went out to his truck. The moon was full again, shining like a polished pearl. Raoul wanted to drive away, but he was too tired, so he put his seat back, gathered up all the bad news of the day, and sank with the lead weight of it to the bottom of his dreams.

Raoul woke the next morning to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Groggily, Raoul reached for it, and when his arm hit the gear shift he remembered where he was. In his truck. His legs were cramped and his back hurt and his mind was heavy with the question of what to do about Kayla. She had to go away, for a while at least. It would give him a chance to breathe, to think, without having her around when he got home. Please forgive me, everyone hates me, I ruined everything. Raoul had to admit, though, he had a hard time imagining her on vacation by herself, without the kids. He couldn’t picture her existing anywhere except for in this house.

Raoul snatched up the phone. The sun wasn’t even completely up yet, and no one in the neighborhood had started to stir, which was a good thing. He hated to imagine the rumors if someone saw him sleeping in his truck.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Montero?”

Raoul wished he’d checked the clock. The only person who addressed him as Mr. Montero on his cell phone was Pierre Ting.

“Hello, Pierre.”

“Mr. Montero, we have a problem.” Pierre Ting’s voice sounded distant and manufactured. Ting was in the construction business himself; he brokered scaffolding. He’d provided scaffolding for the Statue of Liberty, the Bank of Hong Kong, the Arc de Triomphe. He could be calling from anywhere.

“What kind of problem?” Raoul said.

“My name in the newspaper connected with some woman’s disappearance? And today I’m looking at ruined walls in the living room. They tell me your son did this damage. What’s going on, Mr. Montero?”

“You’re here?” Raoul said. The beauty of working for the Tings was that they had never shown up to check on his work. Not once all summer. Raoul had Micky snap photos with a digital camera and they sent pictures of their progress to Ting’s e-mail address.

“I flew in last night,” Ting said. He sounded a thousand miles away. “And I’ve been bombarded with dismaying news since I arrived.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there. Give me five-”

“Don’t bother,” Ting said. “I’m replacing you. You’re fired.”

“Wait a second,” Raoul said. “Pierre, please.” There was silence on the other end. What should Raoul say? He was a grown man who had spent the night in his truck. Raoul fidgeted with the spare change he kept in the console, then the keys to the Doyle house that they’d finished in May, then the bottle of Advil, the contents of which Raoul would empty into his mouth as soon as he got off the phone. “Pierre, you can’t fire me. We have a contract.”

“I’m breaking the contract. I’ll pay what I owe you for the work you’ve done so far, but no more. I’m hiring someone else.” Raoul could hear Ting’s footsteps against the wooden floors of the empty house. He wondered if anyone from his crew was there listening. He wondered who had called Ting to alert him in die first place. Micky, presumably.

“You won’t be able to find anyone else,” Raoul said, hoping this was true. “Besides, Pierre, that house is my design. Those are my plans. No one else will know how to execute them.”

Ting laughed. “Ha! We’ll see.”

Raoul nearly wept at the thought of his cathedral being built by a crew of hackers, dope smokers, these guys who flew over from Hyanms each morning with no regard for the architectural integrity of Nantucket. “Please don’t do this, Pierre.”

“Are you going to fight me?” Ting asked.

“No,” Raoul said. He didn’t want to fight anyone else. He shut off the phone and stared at the front of the house, which caught an orange glow from the rising sun. What waited for him inside? Nothing anymore. A wife who cheated on him, the job of a lifetime ruined. He began then to understand how Theo must feel-the most important things in his life gone, washed away, irretrievable.