Page 42 of The Newcomer
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SHE WAS WATCHING MAYA PLAYINGat the water’s edge with another little girl when a shadow fell over her. Letty looked up. It was Joe. But not no-nonsense spit-and-polish Detective Joe DeCurtis. This was Joe Sixpack, bare-chested, barefoot, dressed in gaudy floral board shorts, holding a small Yeti cooler.
“Hey,” he said, looking down at her. “Ava told me you guys were down here. Mind if I join you?”
She shrugged. “It’s a public beach.”
“Wow. Okay. Never mind.” He turned and began to trudge back toward the motel.
Letty regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. She glanced toward the beach, where Maya and the other little girl were busily drizzling wet sand on each other’s legs, and shrieking with delight.
“Joe!” she called.
He kept walking.
She jumped to her feet and ran after him. “Hey. Slow down!”
But he didn’t stop or slow down, so she sped up, caught him by the arm.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a bitchy thing to say. Come on back, please?”
“I’m good,” he said, his expression flat. “Wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s not an imposition.” She bit her lip. “Look, I’m kinda rusty at making new friends. Give me another chance, okay?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She pointed toward the beach blanket, actually one of the motel’s old floral bedspreads, where she’d set up camp. “Plenty of room.”
Joe followed her back to her spot and looked around. “Where’s Maya?”
“Down there by the water. She’s having a ball. Living her best life.”
He sat down and opened the cooler. “Beer or hard cider?”
“Don’t judge me, but I do enjoy a hard cider,” she said, and he handed her a can flecked with bits of crushed ice. She examined the label. “Three Daughters. Never heard of it.”
“It’s a local craft brewery. One of my high school buddies started a brewery. They’ve got a tasting room in downtown St. Pete. I work security there sometimes if they’re having a big event. It’s pretty good stuff.”
Letty popped the top and took a sip. “Nice and light. Very refreshing. Thanks.”
He leaned back on his elbows and looked out at the horizon. The beach was packed with sun worshippers, polka-dotted with bright-colored umbrellas and beach chairs. Music drifted from radios, and seagulls pecked at something in the sand. A cluster of older women, dressed in modest swimsuits, had set up nearby beneath a pop-up tent, and were playing cards.
“Not bad for March, huh?” he said, glancing over at her. “Looks like you’re turning into a real Floridian. Am I allowed to tell you that I like that bathing suit, or does that make me sound like a perv?”
She’d splurged and bought herself an inexpensive bikini from a surf shop a few blocks away. It was black with hot-pink piping, and showed off her deepening tan. But she felt suddenly self-conscious under the warmth of his gaze.
“Not too pervy,” she said finally. “Thanks.”
Joe nodded at Maya, who was dumping buckets of water into the moat of the castle Letty helped her build earlier in the afternoon. “Who’s Maya’s new friend?”
“Just a little girl who’s here with her parents, visiting her grandma,” Letty said, pointing at the women gathered under the tent. “I think her name’s Esme. I’m so glad that they’re playing together outside in the fresh air. It’s hard, you know? Maya’s either at work with me or Isabelle all week, or cooped up in our room. I feel guilty that I let her spend so much time watching television, or playing the little games I have on my phone.”
“Doesn’t seem to have hurt her,” Joe said. “You, on the other hand, look like someone who could use a night off. I’ve seen you running around the Surf. You’re like the Energizer Bunny. You never stop.”
“I’m grateful to have a job, grateful to your mom for letting me bring Maya to work with me,” Letty said. “Most nights, after dinner, I put Maya to bed and I’m so tired I fall asleep after maybe thirty minutes of trying to watch television.”
