Page 74 of The House Beyond the Dunes

I hold up the bottle. “My mother said never show up empty-handed.” That’s not true. My mother couldn’t afford to give anything away.

“Thanks.” He looks at the bottle as if he’s not sure what to do with it. “I might have a wine opener here somewhere.”

I pull mine from my coat pocket. “Girl Scouts are always prepared.” That’s not even a correct analogy, and the closest I’ve ever come to the Girl Scouts is a box of cookies in the break room at the coffee shop.

He smiles.

“And if wine is not your thing, there’s beer in the fridge back at the house.” I have a pleasing personality, which Kyle pointed out when I agreed with him.

“I have beer. Not the fancy craft kind,” he says.

“How about we start with that?”

“This wine looks like it’s expensive.”

“If Kyle bought it, it likely is. But I don’t know much about wine. For the record, I like regular beer.”

He closes the door behind me. “Then it’s settled.”

I look toward the open great room to a vaulted ceiling and the skylights that reveal bright stars in the sky. The furniture is herded into the room’s center and covered with a clear plastic tarp. The rugs are rolled up, and only silhouettes of art remain on the white walls.

A huge swatch of drywall on the west side of the room has been cut out, creating a hole that’s ten feet high and twenty feet wide. Through the studs and wiring I can see the newly installed metal hoses waiting to be hooked to the washer.

“Wow. Looks like a river flooded this place.”

“It did.”

“I had no idea water could do this.”

“Water is as destructive as fire.”

I move toward the open wall that smells faintly of mold. “This was done on purpose?”

“It was.” He moves toward the kitchen island and sets the wine bottle down before reaching in the refrigerator for two bottles of beer. He twists the tops off and hands me a bottle.

“Will insurance cover this?” I sip the beer and savor the malty flavor.

“Kyle said he’d file a claim on January 2. I took plenty of pictures for him.”

“All this because someone acted out.” I understand how fury can foster the urge to break or destroy, but I’ve never acted on it. It stays locked tight inside me. “What a waste.”

He’s studying me, contemplating. “I’ve seen you limping a little. That from the fall?”

“It is. I pulled a few muscles in my hip when I hit the floor. Also have several big bruises. It’ll all heal over time if I take it easy. And for the record, I’m not good at taking it easy. Sitting still is more painful than the hip.”

“I never would’ve put you with Kyle,” he says.

Devon had said the same thing. I picture them huddling close, discussing Lane, the odd chick who saw their friend die. “How so?”

He shrugs, frowns. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s no big deal. Devon said the same. I’m just as curious as you are. What do you think Kyle saw in me?”

“In the last few years, Devon tells me Kyle went for the rich, untouchable type of woman. The kind who gets spray tans and manicures. You’re more down-to-earth.”

I sip my beer. “I don’t come with social points or money.”

“Maybe he saw a bright young woman who came from nothing and is making her way like he did.”

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