Page 17 of The Fadeaway

She’d felt pensive throughout the journey, uncertain what she’d find here. What ties could her mother have had to an island off the coast of Georgia? What might have driven her to buy a home here? Ruby leans forward onto the railing of her third floor room and scans the horizon. Autumn is in the air, and even an hour north of Jacksonville, she feels like she’s starting to leave the tropical humidity of Florida behind.

The phone rings in Ruby’s hotel room and she turns around to see the light blinking on the bedside table.

“Ruby?” Banks says when she answers. “You hungry?”

Ruby smiles as she cradles the receiver between her ear and shoulder. Banks, her Secret Service agent, has melted into daily life on Shipwreck Key, establishing his own routines and falling in love with Sunday, and since they’ve gotten the lay of the land down there, he’s essentially become more of a neighbor than a bodyguard, and Ruby prefers it like that. But there was no wayBanks was going to sit out a trip where Ruby travels all around the country to meet up with unknown people and, potentially, unforeseen dangers.

“I could eat,” Ruby says, rubbing the soles of her bare feet across the vacuumed rug that covers most of the hardwood floors. She’s in a suite with a sitting room, two giant queen-sized beds covered in crisp white duvets, and white crown molding around the ceiling. The balcony faces a lush, beautiful reserve, and to be perfectly honest, she’d be just as happy ordering room service and staying in her cozy suite for the evening. But she and Banks have begun to forge a friendship of sorts—even more so now that he’s dating her best friend—and so she won’t turn down an invitation to dine together from a man who had, until fairly recently, kept their interactions to about ten words a day.

“Great,” Banks says. Ruby can hear the relief in his voice. No doubt he’d offered and then second-guessed the wisdom of them sitting in the hotel restaurant together as if they were on a date.

“Meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

The grand dining room has white pillars running the length of it, and servers dressed in white aprons and black bowties. There are giant fans hanging from the ceiling, turning slowly to keep the air moving as well-dressed middle aged couples sip sidecars and martinis and look out at the green lawn. The women all look like ads for Chico’s and the men are tanned and dressed like they’ve just stumbled in off the golf course.

“So,” Banks says as they take the menus that their waiter offers. “What’s the game plan?”

Ruby orders a glass of champagne and Banks sticks with water, given the fact that he’s “on duty,” as he reminds her. Ruby sits back in the upholstered chair and surveys the room.

“I need to see this house. I have the address, and I know my mother owned it outright. Now I need to find out why. And decide what to do with it.”

“Maybe she just liked it here,” Banks offers.

“It’s pretty,” Ruby says with a shrug, her eyes trailing an elegant older woman in a chiffon dress as she swishes through the dining room like she’s on a Paris runway. “But I don’t understand why she wouldn’t have told me about it. In my entire life, I don’t remember her saying a word about Jekyll Island. Nothing.”

Banks takes a long drink of his water, which has a thin slice of lemon floating in it. The waiter sets Ruby’s champagne on the table and disappears without taking their order yet.

“Do you think she kept this place to meet with someone?” Banks suggests.

“Like a lover?” Ruby splutters. “No. A secret love nest? Definitely no.” She shakes her head. “The thing about Patty was that while she loved widely and prolifically, she did it all out in the open. I pretty much always knew who she was dating, as did everyone else.”

“I heard she dated Harrison Ford,” Banks says. It’s uncharacteristic of him to be talking this much and to be the one dishing the gossip.

“She did,” Ruby confirms. “And my friends and I were wildly impressed, because it was at the height of hisIndiana Jonesfame.”

“But no top secret Hollywood love affairs? Anyone she would have needed to keep under wraps?”

Ruby shakes her head slowly as she chews on the inside of one cheek. “No, that would shock me. Truly. She was clear about the fact that she never wanted to get married again after my dad died, but she never once pretended that she was livingsome solitary life or that she needed to be ashamed of her many suitors.”

“Okay, then maybe we can rule that one out,” Banks says.

“I’ll entertain anything in the brainstorming phase, but what I really want are the answers.”

“Then let’s eat and maybe take a trip over to the house and look at it this evening.”

Ruby’s eyes brighten. “Yeah? You’d be up for that?”

“I’m up for anything that you’re up for, boss.”

Ruby chuckles. “It’s been a while since we were in this formal position with one another. I almost forgot how to do it.”

Banks motions for their waiter. “You’ll get used to it again,” he says, his eyes skimming the room like the Secret Service agent that he is. “It’s like riding a bike.”

The house—a small, avocado green bungalow near the water—looks deserted. The grass is about six inches taller than it should be, and the windows are dark and blank. It’s clear that someone has neglected the little house, and also that no one has been there in a while.

Ruby picks her way across the cement pavers that are nearly covered by the tangle of grass. There are multiple flyers of various sizes and colors shoved in between the screen door and the front door, and when she pulls the handle, an avalanche of paper falls at her feet. Ruby bends forward and picks it all up. There are pamphlets offering pizza delivery, lawn care services, assistance with finding Jesus, and handwritten reminders that Kayla lives on this street and is available for babysitting jobs.

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