Els hung back, looking for signs of the monkeys and wondering how much of Lauretta’s help she really wanted. “We’ll never shift that pile,” she said. “Tony, give me that tire iron.” She climbed to the gallery and started to pry the plywood off the front door. A few minutes in, Tony grabbed the tool from her and finished the job. When they opened the door, light spilled into the lounge, making the room appear larger.
Lauretta examined the leather chair. “You’ll be replacing this old thing.”
“It stays,” Els said. “We’ll slipcover much of the rest.”
Lauretta looked at her and made a note on the pad. The breeze from the open door sent the fire ashes swirling. “What the hell?” Lauretta said. “Was he fixin’ to burn the place down?”
Els scooped the stack of photographs off the refectory table and tucked them into her tote.
“What stinks in here?” Lauretta said. “Promise me we won’t discover a body.”
“Maybe a dead primate or two,” Els said. “No Jack, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She headed up the stairs with Lauretta close behind.
She opened the study shutters and looked out at the sea. “Just exactly how do you propose to help?”
“I’m a wizard with lists,” Lauretta said. “I get a real sense of accomplishment from checking things off.” She pronounced it “accomplesh-mint.”
Els leaned out the window. Hidden from view by the gallery roof, Tony grunted and cursed below.
“You’re gonna need every trade to make this place fit to live in,” Lauretta said. “Even if you was here all the time, you wouldn’t want to go chasing them. Hell, I’ve dragged workmen out of bed or a bar, if that’s the only way to make deadline.”
“How do you charge?”
“By the hour,” Lauretta said. She looked at Els. “Fifty bucks.”
A piece of plywood sailed over the railing and crashed into the court.
“Of course, there’s the customary markup on decorating services,” Lauretta said. “Like if you was to have new curtains made or that window seat recovered. I got me the finest seamstress on the island.”
For once, Els was disinclined to bargain, especially as she had no idea what going rates on Nevis might be. “I’ll expect regular reports and receipts for everything,” she said.
Lauretta smiled a pixie smile. “When we’re all done, you’ll put this place on the historical society house tour.”
“Don’t wager on that,” Els said, recoiling at the thought of strangers ogling her home and commenting on her taste, Jack’s taste. Already she felt protective of his possessions, wanted to understand their allure and purpose. She looked at the shelves stuffed with books and files. “And don’t touch this room,” she said. “I’ll sort it when I can get back.” She gathered up the papers on the floor, put them into the filing cabinet, and swept the items she’d removed during the hurricane back into the desk drawer.
Lauretta took in the bulletin board. “I hear he was quite the ladies’ man.” She walked into the bedroom and gestured toward the mattress and sheets. “Exhibit A. We might need to burn those.”
“Just get me something I can sleep on without contracting a disease,” Els said.
Lauretta opened the cupboard and ran her hand over the stack of dress shirts, yellowed on the folds. “I can give these to the church jumble sale,” she said. “Long as I don’t say whose they were.”
“Leave them.”
“What do you want with a dead man’s clothes?”
“I can’t explain,” Els said. She wished she’d kept something of Mallo’s, a favorite shirt that held his scent.
Lauretta nudged the basket chair. “My granny had one on her front porch.” She picked up its stained seat cushion by the corner and dropped it onto the floor. The bottom of the chair was woven with a heart-shaped hole in the center.
“I doubt your granny’s was a Japanese love basket,” Els said. “Seems our Jack was a ladies’ man, indeed.”
Lauretta pulled off a faded gift tag that was tied to the edge of the hole with pink satin ribbon and read, “‘Save this for me alone and let your imagination run. Love always, Amelia.’ Granny’d be blushing to her roots.” Lauretta snuggled into the chair and let it swing. “I gather you have experience with one of these.”
Els imagined the pleasure Jack might have given his women and felt a bolt of desire for the first time since Mallo’s death, as if the walls were exuding pheromones that she was no longer too numb to sense. She took Lauretta’s hand and pulled her up. “You and