Secrets At the Cove. Honey Perkel
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Elizabeth didn’t trust anyone enough to say a word about her health, and she knew she was deliberately keeping them at a distance.
The women ordered a round of the daily salad specials, Molly’s without salad dressing, as she was starting yet another diet, and Iris’ with double the dressing, and flutes of white wine all around.
Tilly sat quietly. She felt deceitful. As though she were lying. She wished she could open her heart to these women. Tell them the truth about her life. She hadn’t been able to tell the marriage counselor the truth, nor could she tell her friends. The very thought terrified her.
Molly took an envelope from her straw purse and proudly showed the women the latest snapshots of Hope Amelia. The three ladies ooed and ahhed as they passed the pictures of the infant between them. She was certainly a beautiful baby.
“Have you heard anything at all from your husband?” Iris asked as she reached for her glass of wine.
Molly shook her head, concentrating on her salad. If she could open up to anyone, it would be to these women. She felt a connection to them. She believed they cared, but she couldn’t share the truth of what Augie had done.
“Do you think he’d want to know about his daughter?” Iris asked. “I just wonder how a man can walk out on his wife with no explanation. Just disappear. It’s just not right.”
Molly remained silent.
“Well, you’re doing so well without him. You’re strong, my dear. Maybe you don’t need him in your life.”
What would they think if they knew Augie was in prison? Molly wanted to believe these women cared about her, and if she could, she’d pour her heart out to them, but she wasn’t ready.
It wasn’t easy for her to trust another person — she was afraid she’d be judged. She just couldn’t. The embarrassment.
What brought her back here each Tuesday, if she wasn’t going to confide in Elizabeth, Iris, or Tilly? The answer was simple. Molly liked the women. There was something about each one that she admired. Iris’ gentleness. Elizabeth’s talent. Tilly’s solid marriage. She needed these women.
“Are your parents planning to come and see the baby anytime soon?” Elizabeth asked, spearing a piece of poached salmon and taking a bite.
“I’m not sure. They’re going to Denver next week. Dad has a business meeting, and mother is meeting with her agent.”
“It must be exciting having a famous author for a mother,” Iris stated.
Molly smiled. She guessed so. Her mother had written romance novels ever since she could remember. It was all Molly had ever known.
For a few minutes the women ate in silence.
“When is your next art show, Elizabeth?” Iris asked.
“I just received a phone call this morning from Valerie Meyers. She’s the owner of the Seaside Gallery. She’s hoping I will have enough paintings completed for the show on Labor Day weekend.”
Elizabeth popped another bite of salmon into her mouth. “I started on another piece this morning,” she added. The mention of this morning brought a renewed flush to Elizabeth’s pale cheeks.
“How’s Sammy doing?” Molly asked.
“Who’s Sammy?” Tilly put her fork down.
“Sammy is Elizabeth’s dog.”
“I didn’t know Elizabeth had a dog.” She sighed. Tilly preferred not to talk about Molly’s husband or Elizabeth’s dog or Iris’ whatever. She didn’t have the patience. Her life was too distressed for such trivial banter. “Does anyone know of a handyman in the area? Our windows in the bedroom seem to be stuck,” Tilly asked the group.
“Have you heard about Brad Bailey?” Iris Grayson was asking. “There isn’t anything he can’t do. Electrical. Plumbing. Sheet rock. My neighbor, Sophie Craft, had him replace her front porch railing and move some furniture. He also put new siding on Alice Peters’ house.”
“He sounds wonderful,” Tilly agreed, taking a sip from her glass of white wine.
“Is he married?” Molly inquired.
The women laughed.
“Remind me to give you his number before we leave, Tilly.” Iris said eagerly. “I think you’ll find him quite satisfactory.”
Caroline stopped by to make sure everything was all right with the ladies’ lunches. She stayed for a bit of chitchat and then asked if they wished to see the dessert tray. The women all ordered, except Elizabeth. She didn’t feel well enough.
“I’ll have the key lime pie with the raspberry sauce,” Tilly replied, nearly drooling over the delectable choices on the tray. Hilly Brewster was a master when it came to desserts, and they always tasted as good as they looked.
Molly stared at the sweet confections and decided on a slice of apple pie with drizzled raspberry chipolte sauce. Oh well, she’d start her diet again tomorrow. Or maybe next Monday.
Iris ordered the chocolate cake.
“I’m going to stop at Beach Books and pick up a birthday gift for my niece, Chris, on my way back to work,” Tilly announced to the others. “Does anyone want to join me?” Lunch with these women was nearly over, and perhaps another hour or so with them wouldn’t be so bad.
Iris shook her head vigorously. She thought about her garden. She needed to get back to her blooms — deadhead her geraniums, and add a bit more mulch to the soil before calling it quits for the day. Maybe run the vacuum. Maybe not. And feed her cats.
Molly also refused Tilly’s offer. It was important she make her way back to The Gull Cottage Motel and relieve Kathy, an employee who watched the office and Hope Amelia each Tuesday.
Elizabeth hadn’t even heard Tilly’s invitation. Her thoughts had returned to the young surfer she had spied outside her front window. Perhaps if she hurried back to the Loft House, she could catch another glimpse of the handsome man.
The Cove
Surfer’s Cove was one of the most beautiful spots on the northern Oregon Coast. The waves were awesome as the kids nowadays would confirm; perfect for water surfing. And they came from all over the Pacific Northwest, the United States, and beyond — their cars parked along Sunset Boulevard, the curved road just feet from the chilly, turbulent sea. Passersby gazed out at the black steely figures dressed in rubber suits, steady on their brightly colored boards as they rode the waves. Local residents and tourists alike came to the cove to watch, to escape their lives, to breathe the salty air. For minutes. For hours. It is what the pounding surf did for people. It transported them to another place and, all too often, to another time. Professionals and restaurant and shop owners took a break from their busy workday schedules to come and watch the powerful ocean rip against the strand. Tourists packed lunches and picnicked on the weathered wooden benches along the grassy bank. The cove was the heart of Paradise.
Afternoon
With a raised arm to guard against the glare of sunlight, Elizabeth scanned the stretch of beach. Her heart raced in anticipation of seeing him, recalling the rush she’d felt as she watched the stranger earlier.
The wind had steadily increased throughout the day, and now white caps covered the ocean’s surface. Elizabeth searched the crashing waves as they rolled forward and again out to sea. She saw no sign of the mysterious surfer.
* * *
I stood on the front steps of Elizabeth’s Loft House watching her look for me. She was a beautiful woman, tall and sleek. She appeared strong and agile, though I knew she wasn’t. My heart swelled as I gazed at her. Then, I felt only sadness.
* * *
Tilly walked home from town, her packages