Now That You Mention It
Page 52

The dock was edged with a thick wooden beam, so little kids and people on bikes wouldn’t fall into the drink. We sat on the lip now, as did half the town, our legs dangling over the edge, sugar on our fingertips, the donuts still steaming hot and soft.
“This is so bad for your digestive track,” I said, taking another bite.
“Shut up,” she said, taking her second out of the bag. “Who cares what you think? You some kind of expert?”
“Oh, there’s my friend,” I said. “Xiaowen! Over here! We have donuts for you!”
“I thought those were all for me,” Roseline muttered, but she smiled and said hi and scootched over to make room as I made the introductions.
“You’re so beautiful, Roseline,” Xiaowen said. “Nora, you have the most gorgeous friends, don’t you?”
“I do,” I acknowledged. “People often compliment me on my taste in women.”
“Hi,” said a voice behind us, and I jumped up.
“Poe! Hi, honey! Hi, Mom! You guys remember Roseline, right?”
“Hello,” my mom said stiffly, never comfortable with people she hadn’t known her entire life.
Roseline stood up. “Wow, Poe, you probably don’t remember me, but I came to visit you with Nora one time.”
“I remember,” she said shyly. “You bought me a scarf and wrapped my hair up in it.”
“That’s right! You looked so cute.” Rosie smiled and sat back down. “Sit next to me. I love your hair! How long does the color last before it starts to fade?”
Mrs. Krazinski walked over, a donut in her hand, a bag from Lala’s in the other. She handed the bag to my mom. “For you, Shar,” she said. “One for you, too, Poe, honey.” Such a nice lady.
“Hi, Mrs. K,” I said.
“Dahlin,’ don’t you think it’s time you started using my first name?”
I laughed. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Try. It’s Donna.” Or Donner, if you pronounced it her way. “Mind if I join you ladies?”
“Of course not! Have a seat.”
My mom and Mrs. K sat down next to Xiaowen, leaving me square in the middle, Boomer drooling in between the bites of donut I gave him.
This was nice. This was kind of perfect, really—me and my girls. The foghorn sounded, a long, mournful blast, and the parade began. Mr. Brogan, who was a Navy veteran from World War II, was the parade master, and tradition had him in the Miss Magalloway, the old tugboat used during the First and Second World Wars.
A cheer went up, and a lump formed in my throat at the sight of the old man in uniform. We all stood and waved the little American flags the Exchange Club has passed out earlier, and Mr. Brogan saluted.
And there on the deck was Audrey. That’s right—the tugboat was owned by the Fletcher family.
“Looking good, Audrey!” I called, and her head turned. A smile lit up her face at the sight of me.
“Hey, Audrey,” Poe yelled. “Nice work if you can get it!”
“That’s my little pal,” I told Roseline. “The one who comes by to visit.”
Sullivan was behind the wheel. He looked over at us and pulled the horn three short times, eliciting a cheer.
And, if I wasn’t mistaken, smiled at me.
I waved, a chunk of donut still in my hand, and he gave me the Yankee nod—a chin jerk of recognition.
It was enough that I blushed.
The tugboat slipped around the curve of the cove, followed by the lobster boats, which got more calls of recognition from the crowd. Then came the summer nuisance boats, the kind that were for fun only. Being hospitable Yankees, we waved and cheered as they went by, too, but our enthusiasm was a little pale compared to the reception Mr. Brogan got. Obviously.
When the boat parade wound down, we got to our feet. “You guys want to come over tonight?” I asked Mom and Poe. “We’re having a nice dinner. Gloria will be there, too. From the clinic? You, too, Mrs. K. Donna, I mean.” At my mother’s glare, I added, “Women only.”
“Sure!” Poe said. Enthusiasm! So thrilling. I’d have to text Audrey, too. And her dad, to make sure it was okay. Maybe he and I would get to talk a little. The idea caused a little tingle in my stomach.
“What we got here?” came a thin, nasty voice. “The United Nations or some such?”
It was Teeny Fletcher, commenting on the shocking fact that there were two nonwhite people in town. She scowled down at Xiaowen. “Aren’t you that Oriental who went to school with my sons?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” Xiaowen said.
“You all look alike.”
“My God,” Roseline said. “She did not just say that.”
Teeny sneered. “And who are you?”
“This is my best friend in Boston,” I said. “Teeny, meet Dr. Roseline Baptiste. Roseline, our postmistress, Teeny Fletcher.”
“I always thought you had the prettiest name, Roseline,” my mother said. Unusual for her to compliment someone. Maybe she was mellowing, after all.
“Thanks, Mrs. Stuart,” Rosie said. “I’ll tell my mom you said so.”
“Gettin’ pretty snooty over here,” Teeny observed. “All these doctors.”
“Lucky for you, in case you get sick,” I said.
“Like I’d go see you,” she said. “I’d go to Portland, thank you very much.”
She turned hard, and her elbow hit me in the stomach. I stumbled back, and something was behind my heels—shit, it was the lip of the dock! Then I was in the air, falling, and I could see Roseline’s horrified face. The hard water smacked my back, and then I was under and freezing. My scalp ached instantly. The cold would be good for inflammation and bruises, I thought, still sinking. My eyes stung, my arms floated at the side of my head.
Then I touched bottom, pushed off and rose through the greenish, frigid water to the air and noise.
“Are you okay? Nora! Are you all right?” people were shouting.
“I’m fine!” I called, spitting out salt water, gagging a little. Gah. I could taste diesel fuel from the boats, too. Lovely.
Well. Best get out of the water. I started a feeble breaststroke to the shore. My brain did a quick assessment. Head, eyes, ears, nose and throat: normal. Neck: supple (if cold). Heart and lungs: so far, so good. Abdomen: full of donut. Extremities: in working order, though pretty damn cold right about now. Neurologic: I seemed normal to me. I’d have Rosie check me out when I got on shore. My back stung from the slap of the water, but otherwise, I was pretty sure I was okay.
Teeny Fletcher was a bitch. Lucky it was high tide, or the fall would’ve been ten or twelve feet farther.
Poe ran down to meet me, and my heart squeezed at the sight of her perfect face etched with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I think so. That water is freezing, though.” I smiled to reassure her.
She took off her jacket and gave it to me. “Come on. Lean on me.”
I did, if only because...well, because she wanted me to.
My mom and friends swarmed me in a concerned little knot. Xiaowen pulled a bit of seaweed from my hair, and Roseline began asking the typical doctor questions—what day it was and so on. I rolled my eyes and answered as she palpated my head, neck and spine.
“No pain anywhere?” she asked.
“Nah,” I said, my teeth starting to chatter. “I’m fine.”