Chapter 44

Julie and Joe parked the VW in Old Town next to a cheery yellow and white house with gingerbread trim. A sign read, “Billie’s Bed ‘n Breakfast”. David had told them to park there, saying that Billie was a friend of theirs, that she would recognize the car and wouldn’t mind.

They set off down Eaton Street, crossed Simonton and turned left on Duval Street, heading for the Sandpiper Gallery.

Old Town was bustling. It was a veritable mélange of people, enjoying the warm, windy day…all colors, all ages, gay and straight. Julie was reminded of Marc’s paintings, which were colorful and diverse like the city itself.

Shop doors were flung wide, offering everything from brightly designed resort-wear to Conch Republic items, like sponges and giant shells. Rainbow flags whipped in the wind. Sidewalk cafes and bars hummed with happy chatter, as some sipped coffee while others clinked together their margaritas, toasting the day.

They passed Sloppy Joe’s bar, still trading successfully on Hemingway’s patronage since the 30’s. Julie heard Jimmy Buffett music drifting from somewhere; she considered that it was Sunday, a weekend, and wondered if it was live.

When they reached the Sandpiper, the doors were open there, too, and Julie recognized several of Marc’s paintings. Susan Dwyer was sitting at a small desk at the rear of the store and looked up as they entered.

She rose, smiling, and walked toward them, dressed in a billowy lilac and green caftan. She was a tall woman in her late forties, Julie guessed. She had broad shoulders and a square jaw softened by silver hoop earrings and shoulder-length, highlighted hair.

“Julie! It’s good to see you!” she said, as they air-kissed. “Nice to see you, too!” she said, looking from Julie to Joe.

“This is my friend, Joe Garrett,” said Julie. “Joe, this is Susan Dwyer.”

“Nice to meet you, Susan,” said Joe, shaking her hand.

“Did David call you back?” said Julie.

“Yes. I just got off the phone with him. I’m going over there later this afternoon. I have so much work to do! Marc’s New York show is still scheduled for October 5th, you know.”

“Yes,” said Julie, “David told me.”

“He would have wanted that,” added Susan. “Can I show you around, Joe?”

“Please do.”

Susan took her time, telling them a little about each of the artists whose work was on display.

Joe noticed some paintings signed Roland Archer. “Is that Rolly, Marc and David’s friend?”

“Yes,” said Susan. “He’s an excellent artist. Not in the same league with Marc, though. Marc had a very rare talent. I’m expecting some of the pieces in the New York show to sell for several thousand dollars each.”

A customer came in and Susan excused herself to tend to him. Seeing that she was going to be tied up for awhile, they waved goodbye to her and headed back toward Mallory Square.

When they reached Front Street, Joe said that he’d been to the seaport a few times and knew a good place for lunch. He was clearly headed for the pier, talking on about the food. Julie stopped, feeling light-headed and nauseous. Joe turned, and saw her rooted to the spot, ashen.

“Merlin? Are you all right?”

“Yes…but I’d rather not go out on the pier. Let’s go back to the house.”

“Okay, but can we sit for a minute?”

He took her hand and led her to a shaded bench. After she was seated, Joe remained standing, his foot on the bench.

“Julie…I know how your husband died,” he began, “and I can understand your fear of the sea. I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been.

“But one thing I know: fear feeds on itself and it grows like an invasive weed. It lies to you and closes in around you until you can’t move.

“Right here in the Keys, there are delicate coral ridges more beautiful than you can imagine, Julie. They’re protected and nourished by the very sea you fear so much…and they’re teeming with life, not death.

“Someday, I hope you’ll let me take you to see the other side of the coin…”

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