Page 12 of Summertime Rapture

“Do you remember all the contents of the armoire?” the cop asked, still scribbling.

Elsa shook her head, trying to visualize each and every china plate, each piece of silverware. They’d ate with them for Christmas, for Easter, for fancy birthdays. Mother had always asked her to help her shine them, a task she loved because it meant they could spend the entire afternoon together. Carmella had hated it, always choosing to scamper off with Colton instead. Colton! Colton had known these things. They had so many family members who weren’t there. They were all connected to these items. They were all a part of their story.

Elsa recited them: the forks, the knives, the spoons. She felt foolish, talking about plates as though they mattered more than trees or water.

“The dining room table, too. I guess that goes without saying.” Elsa tried to laugh, gesturing toward the empty center of the room. “It was antique, made in the 1800s. It had table sleaves stored inside of it, so it could ultimately seat ten. Mom loved that about it, bringing more family members and friends around the table to…”

Elsa trailed off, realizing that she spoke gibberish. The cops didn’t care about her memories. They just needed the value of it all.

They continued. Elsa counted out more items, including her father’s old desk and a wide selection of her mother’s jewelry. How stupid had they been, not putting it all in a safe?

“The island can do that to you,” one of the cops affirmed, clicking his pen. “Everyone feels like good neighbors and friends here. I guess someone used that against you. Took advantage of you.”

Elsa’s heart shattered at the idea that this could be blamed on someone she knew. People’s faces flashed through her mind: the postal worker? The woman behind the counter at the cinema? The guy who helped her with her computer when it broke down?

“Are you okay?” Bruce stepped up, lifting Zach from her tired arms. “It’s okay. We’re all still here.”

Elsa was glad he didn’t say,It’s just stuff.

Because in so many ways, it wasn’t just stuff.

Memories! They were her memories!

And someone had just taken them away, as though the value of them was purely monetary.

The cops left by noon. Elsa, Nancy, Bruce, Alyssa, Lucy, and Zachery sat out on the back porch, around the glass table the robbers hadn’t thought was good enough, on chairs that were a bit rusted from the salty air. They’d actually taken only a few bottles of fancier wine, which left them with several whites and two rosés. Nancy poured drinks into plastic cups as Elsa peered out across the water.

There wasn’t much to say.

“We still have beds to sleep in,” Nancy said, sitting across from Elsa and sipping her plastic cup of wine.

“We still have food to eat,” Alyssa added.

Elsa’s eyes widened. She burst from the back table and headed for the fridge, where she flung it open to find that the cake she’d made for Zachery’s second birthday remained intact. It was obvious the robbers hadn’t bothered to check the fridge at all.

“We can still have a birthday!” Elsa called out, surprising herself.

The others gave her curious looks.

Elsa removed the top of the cake, discovering the near-perfect image of the Remington House beneath.

“They took so much from us,” Elsa muttered. “But they can’t take what we stand for.”

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