The Gallagher general store sat on the corner of Front Street and Main, overlooking the Wharf, just a stone’s throw from the Marina. When Marianne’s grandparents first purchased the store the clientele was mostly farmers and servicemen stationed at the Naval Base nearby. Over time the sleepy town became a popular tourist destination and the item selection changed from bags of seed and chewing tobacco to saltwater taffy and novelty license plates. Marianne’s grandfather had been a central figure in town. His charisma and quick wit made him popular with tourists and locals alike. His wife however, was the shrewd business woman. She embraced opportunities to purchase more space, eventually owning the entire block, renting out shop space to local merchants and the adjoining upstairs apartments to tourists.
Once her husband passed, so did her interest in the business. The floors began to creak, the once-white exterior was now a dingy grey, and a light green mold now thinly veiled the blue and white striped awning.
“We have to schedule a pressure washing before the festival” Mildred sighed, gazing down at the awning from the upstairs window.
“The tourists are here for the scenery, they don’t care about a little mold” her mother replied, begrudgingly.
“The medical bills are getting expensive” Mildred turned to face her mother. “We have to start planning for the summer season or you won’t possibly make budget for the year. It’s time we re-opened the gallery as well.” The closed sign had been hanging on the shop adjoining the general store ever since the accident.
“How on earth can you talk about money at a time like this?!” her mother replied, stunned.
“We have to talk about it at some point. The bills are piling up, the building needs repairs. We at least need to up the rent for the apartments this summer.”
“Mrs. Hearne has already booked the East Unit for the summer.”
“That old witch is just going to have to pay more…” her daughter responded sternly.
“Mildred!” her mother scolded. “You watch your mouth.”
“It’s true. She is a witch, that’s what she calls herself! She does tarot readings and everything.”
“I meant old” her mother replied, rolling her eyes. “The woman’s at least a decade younger than me.”
“And you would be?” Mildred and her family had been trying to guess her mother’s age for years. It was her most closely guarded secret, and with her smooth Irish skin her mother was often mistaken for her sister, a fact Mildred was not fond of.
“Legal age” was her mother’s classic reply. “You’re here to support your family Mildred, not run my business.”
“Mother, I know this is hard. I’m sorry, I really am. I’m only trying to help.”
“If you really want to help” replied her mother as she walked over to the mahogany console table in the entry hall. She paused as she placed her hand on the ornate silver box which bore her family’s crest, sighed as she lifted the lid and pulled out a long strand of deep read glass beads connected to an intricate silver crucifix. She gently rolled the beads between her fingers as she rejoined her daughter at the window. She stood next to her and gently nudged her shoulder so her daughter would face her. Although Mildred was in her late 40’s and several inches taller than her mother, she cowered like a child as her mother forced the necklace into her hands.
“Take your rosary, and pray for a miracle.” She gave her daughter a firm look as she walked back into the room containing her comatose granddaughter. Mildred sighed and slipped the rosary into the pocket of her apron. Her mother knew she hasn’t been to a mass in years, but neither of them spoke of it.
Mildred returned to the window to look out at the wharf. “We need to at least get Annie back to school. It’s been three weeks and all she does is sit out there. It’s not healthy and it’s certainly not helping her studies.” she called out to the empty room, and was met with silence. As she gazed out the window she saw her niece running down the pier. “Now what on earth is she doing now and who is that with her?”
Marianne meanwhile was struggling to keep up as she raced down the pier towards town. Lee was on the high school swim team and an active jogger. Marianne wasn’t very active at anything. By the time she figured out his intended destination, her father’s gallery, she could barely catch her breath.
Lee paused at the closed sign and tried to jiggle the door handle to no avail. He turned to his companion. “How do you get in? It’s your father’s shop, don’t you have a key or something.?” Marianne shook her head, unable to speak as she tried to recover her breath.
“Is there a back way?” he asked, desperately.
Marianne’s eyes lit up as she nodded. She motioned Lee to follow her next door, to the general store. She walked in and waved a quick hello to Jane, the woman behind the counter who worked in shop most evenings. She escorted Lee to the backroom, maneuvering around the piles of unopened shipments. She motioned him to help her move a couple boxes out of the way, revealing a trap door built into the floorboards.
“My grandmother says this was built to smuggle whiskey during prohibition.” she informed him as she opened the trap door. She made her was down the ladder and pulled a chain that illuminated the single light-bulb. Lee was overpowered with the musty smell of mildew and sawdust as he followed her down the ladder. He looked around to see piles and piles of fixtures from old displays. Faded cardboard advertisements for bubblegum that had since gone out of business rested upon a giant metal sleigh from a former Christmas promotion.
“Nelly and I used to play here all the time” Marianne smiled. “We called it ‘the dungeon.'”
“Fitting name” replied Lee, looking around at the broken pieces of former advertisements. He followed Marianne under pipes and around at least a dozen rat-droppings before he saw another ladder leading to what appeared to be a second trap door in the ceiling. Marianne pressed her finger to her lips as she slowly pushed the door open. She tiptoed up the ladder and motioned for Lee to follow. As Lee made his way up the ladder he held his breath, partially to stay quiet but primarily to keep out the smell. As he lifted his head out he was once again face to face with Marianne, her finger still to her lips as she motioned to her right, to the studio behind the gallery where her father was pouring over photographs, his back turned to them.
Lee stealthily made his was to the bins of prints against the wall and quickly began thumbing through them. Marianne kept her eyes towards the studio, watching her father deeply focus on a photograph in front of him. Suddenly he stood up and Marianne emitted a small gasp. He lifted his right hand, his eyes transfixed on the photo in his left as he pawed around the various instruments on the shelf next to him. Eventually they landed on the object he sought, a magnifying glass, which he picked up and held to the photo in his left hand.
Suddenly Lee emerged beside her, shoving a postcard of the wharf into his pocket. He too was watching her father’s peculiar behavior when a voice called out from upstairs “Sam? are you down here?” Suddenly footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs as her father quickly scrambled to hide the photograph. Lee grabbed Marianne by the arm and pulled her back down into the dungeon, the trapdoor closing just as Mildred reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the gallery.
“Sam your daughter appears to be to be cavorting with some teenage boy.”
“Huh?” replied Sam, confused. “That’s probably just James. They hang out all the time.”
“It wasn’t James. I know James. This boy was older” she protested to her brother as he continued to shuffle photographs around, covering the one that had transfixed him earlier. Mildred sighed, seeing she wasn’t getting through to him.
“ANYWAY” she emphasized, exacerbated, “I’ve contacted Annie’s teachers and she will be returning to school tomorrow. Summer’s not far off and we don’t need her failing the 8th grade on top of everything else. ”
“No no, of course not,” replied Sam, distracted.
Mildred paused and lowered her voice. Marianne, hidden under the floorboards cupped her ear to listen.
“Midsummer is almost upon us” her tone was ominous. “Perhaps it’s time we told her.”
“Told her what?” questioned Sam.
“Everything” replied his sister
“Don’t be stupid” replied Sam through gritted teeth. “There are things she’s better off never knowing.”
Marianne’s face was stunned. “Tell me what?” she mouthed to Lee.
“Do you have any idea where she is?” questioned Mildred, changing the subject. “I saw her running this way with some boy.”
“I haven’t seen her. Try next door.” Sam replied as he sat back down next to his work.
“And please keep that door locked!” he yelled back at his sister as she exited.
Lee once again grabbed Marianne’s arm as they made their way across the dungeon.
He was climbing up the stairs as he heard two female voices murmuring on the sales floor. He could see two sets of feet in front of the swinging door. One of them turned towards the door, and it began to open towards them. Marianne was still scrambling to reach the ladder when her aunt appeared in the stock room.
“Well who on earth are you?” Mildred questioned a stunned Lee.
“I… uhm..” he stuttered.
“That’s Lee” replied Jane, appearing behind them. A knowing look appeared over Mildred’s face.
“Ah, so you’re the famous Lee…” she looked him up and down. “Are you here with Annie?” Mildred looked around.
“Yes.. uhm. she’s uhm..”
“She needed to use the restroom” Jane again replied.
“Ah.” said Mildred. “Well, when she gets out do send her up for dinner.” Mildred took a few paces towards the back door as Lee sighed with relief.
“Lee… would you care to join us?” Mildred turned back suddenly. “We’re having lasagna.”
“I should be getting home.” he replied quickly.
“Tomorrow then.” Mildred looked at him firmly. “I do so want to get to know you.”
“Uhm, ok…” Lee stammered. Mildred turned sharply and exited back to the store with a flourish, Jane following quickly behind.
Marianne then emerged from the trap door, her face stricken. “What is happening?” she whispered. Lee suddenly remembered the postcard. He pulled it out of his pocket.
“When did your father take this picture?” he pressed the postcard into her hands. Marianne studied it. “Last summer I think.”
“You think? or you know?” Lee urged her. Marianne studied the card until she had a moment of recognition.
“Yes he took it last year, a week before the festival” she recalled. “Why?”
“Do you notice anything different?”
Marianne studded the postcard. “No, I don’t think so”
Lee pointed to a spot in the water, close to where the accident occurred. “What do you see here?”
“Water?” said Marianne, confused.
“Exactly” replied Lee as he headed out toward the shop. Marianne again following, confused.
He waved a thank you to Jane as he made his way outside, Marianne following closely. He walked up the street, past the gallery and towards the marina, looking out onto the cove.
“Look!” he motioned towards the water. “That island wasn’t there before.”
Marianne’s jaw dropped as she looked out at the massive moss-covered rock jutting out of the sea and again back down at the photo she was holding of the same spot, sans the island.