Chapter 1

They came from every direction, floating down from trees, wafting on breezes, threading their way among tropical plants, through tall grasses, and into the sandy clearing. They rose up out of the still waters, small ponds, canals, and winding little streams among the trees here in Tarpon Springs. Tiny pinpoints of light so small they might be specks of glowing dust, they shined every color imaginable, constantly changing, sparkling and twinkling in hues of magenta and fuchsia and turquoise, yellow and cobalt and violet, chartreuse and copper and sapphire and tangerine and more.

A regal old toad, big and fat, looked on absently. Nearby, several small lizards sunned themselves, peering about lazily for a chance insect to devour. All looked utterly unimpressed by the show no human had ever witnessed. Then came the sound of gentle breathing from inside the end of a giant hollow log, nearly four feet across the opening and worn smooth by years of exposure. A smallish boy of twelve or so was napping inside.

More shimmering lights joined the swarm, swirling around each other in a translucent whirlwind, forming shapes that shifted and twirled in a frenzy like some spider-bit villager dancing the tarantella, fighting the fever that threatened to engulf its desperate victim.

Three-dimensional images appeared, faces forming and dissolving as butterflies spun off, flitting through sunshine to fade into showers of sparkles carried off into the sky. Tiny creatures strutted away on a zillion legs while birds circled and dived. The solemn eyes of a cat peered up, then spun away into more lights and more faces and more shapes. An armadillo danced a jig, swaying forward and back, swishing his tail this way and that, prancing in rhythm to the pulse of the Earth. Still more faces passed through and swirled away: old men and ladies, children and babies, dark and brooding souls, laughing tots, worried widows, teenagers with eyes gleaming of youth, mothers and fathers and grandparents and grade-schoolers�"all appeared in the air, sometimes lasting seconds, sometimes forming and disappearing all in an instant.

The toad looked away, but peering from the inside the log two big brown eyes watched with awe. Barely awake, Kevin Riner spied faint traces of a shimmering, all-colored ribbon snake as it darted by and dissolved into stardust that sparkled into the sand. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then looked again into the blinding yellow sunshine that baked everything it touched, wavy lines of heat rising from dark sur­faces. It made no sense; the harder he looked, the more difficult the lights were to see�"like trying to decide the ever-changing color of a twinkling star in the velvet night sky. Still, dots spun off and floated away, scattering here and there, sinking into the ground, plunging into cool waters. They glowed from dark depths in a flowing spring cut hundreds of feet through porous limestone, splintering into a million tunnels where last year’s rain filtered up to ripple in bright sunlight yet again.

Kevin climbed out of his private refuge and stood blinking in the afternoon glare, his eyes playing tricks, the lights nowhere in sight. A lizard scurried up a tree trunk; a beetle trundled across the sand. He listened to all the familiar sounds, the buzzes and chirrups and hums and tweets of all the creatures who lived here where he came when he needed time alone in a world that belonged only to him. Nobody but Kevin ever came to this spot, not since last year, the summer of 1989, when the only two families with kids moved from the fading trailer park he called home. He decided to head for the condos on higher ground along the main channel not far from the trailer he shared with his mom. Maybe Frank would be home.

Frank was pretty cool for an older guy, even if that patch of gray hair he combed across his balding pate looked a little silly. He didn’t seem to mind if Kevin hung around while he tinkered with his vintage Corvette, worked in his flower garden, or relaxed in the shade under those cypress trees by the water out back.

Kevin started down the sandy path, stopping one last time to look back. Maybe he saw a purplish twinkle out the corner of his eye, a silver sparkle in the weeds, the pinkest glimmer dashing between his feet. He turned several directions, always thinking he glimpsed something at the periphery, but the lights were gone, nothing to see but a toad gazing indifferently, and the glare of hot Florida sunshine in Kevin’s private sanctuary hidden amid the reeds down by the cool, clear springs.

He turned and ran toward Frank’s.

                 

Frank Tanyon hovered around the flower bed in front of his condo, hoping to glimpse his new next-door neighbor, giving wide berth to the movers and that little firecracker of a woman finding fault in all their efforts. Kevin stole quietly up from behind to stand beside the old fellow and watch.

“Is that her?” Kevin whispered.

“I’m not sure. I will say, though, that I’m a bit disappointed.” He watched a long divan being brought down the ramp. “I was hoping for a nice, congenial neighbor, maybe a learned old gentleman for trading stories and lies, or a nice unattached lady who makes lemonade and enjoys an occasional dinner out.” Frank threw up his arms in disgust, then smiled and leaned over to elbow Kevin in the ribs. Whispering in the boy’s ear, he concluded, “Instead, I get a shriveled up old hag who’s rapidly working her way up to the rank of all-out b***h.”

Kevin snickered and nudged him back, understanding his disappointment. Units A and D were owned by retirees with homes and cottages up north, not used more than a few weeks per year. Frank lived in Unit B, but ever since his friend and long-time business partner in Unit C died the year before, Frank passed his time as the only person in a big deserted place. He had just about given up hope that the devel­oper would ever put up the other buildings originally planned.

“So what’s wrong with this one?”

“Just watch.” Frank walked over to two of the movers and offered to help. The woman made a bee-line from the truck, intercepting Frank and snapping orders for him to stay out of the way. The movers shook their heads resignedly as the old fel­low retreated to watch again from the flower beds with Kevin. “So what do you think?”

“B***h,” concluded Kevin.

“B***h,” Frank had to agree.

                 

Beverly Herndon gripped both armrests as the jet descended toward Tampa. Long past any chance to turn back, the recent widow regretted that moment of weakness when she’d foolishly decided to sell her home in Michigan and settle for a condo where aging snowbirds flock to pass their final days in air-conditioned oblivion. Mired by grief and loneliness, she’d dismantled her life in a desperate bid to spend more time with her only daughter, a young woman busy finding her own place in the world. Worse, this move would put her way too close to Loretta, her meddle­some older sister, an overbearing toxicant best suffered in small, infrequent doses.

Beverly swallowed hard during landing, her heart racing in anticipation as the plane taxied to the gate. Linda would be waiting in the terminal, her ever-present camera poised to capture the moment, a picture of happy reunion masking the inevit­able: a brief interlude reveling in the illusion of better days, then the onset of pervasive loneliness, this time leaving her trapped far from home.

Propelled down the cramped walkway, she scanned the waiting faces.

“Mama!” Linda called, a flash of familiar blond hair pushing through the crowd. Beverly summoned her best smile just in time for the shot.

Click.

Linda never looked more beautiful, the 24-year-old’s blue eyes sparkling, her tan face aglow. For an instant it seemed this might work after all, that Beverly could find ways to share a not-too-intrusive part of Linda’s life while gradually discovering new ways to live her own.

“Hey, sweetie,” was all she managed to say before the tears came. She found herself in Linda’s arms, the daughter now holding the mother who’d held her so many times.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Linda whispered.

Beverly dabbed her eyes with a tissue, then struck a regal pose for another snap­shot before they strolled arm-in-arm toward baggage-claim. “Is the truck here yet?”

“Just arrived. Aunt Loretta’s out there supervising the movers.”

Beverly chuckled at the thought. “They’ll be happy to get done and get away from her.”

“Oh,” Linda teased, “you wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“At least she proves that some things in the world never change.”

Finding the right carousel, they stood off to the side and waited for Beverly’s bags.

“So did you find out what’s holding up the money?” Linda asked.

“Well, sort of. I sure wish I’d asked a lot more questions when your father was alive. Bless his heart, he always wanted to handle everything himself�"the man’s job, he called it.”

“He did watch out for us,” Linda said quietly, her eyes wistful. “He just didn’t expect we’d be on our own so soon.”

Beverly looked away, and she found herself surrounded by indifferent strangers all crowded into this unfamiliar place, too many things changing too fast, the future she never imagined eclipsing a past still too bright to examine, even as it sometimes grew too dim to recall.

“So what did you learn?” Linda asked quickly, maybe sensing how easily Beverly tended to lapse into that overwhelming sense of helplessness that had marked so many of her days these past five months.

“Well, it seems your father already knew Uncle Chuck was sick before they sold the company. I never believed he really wanted to retire, but his heart just wasn’t in it anymore, not with knowing Chuck would no longer be a part of something they’d built together from scratch. When Chuck died, he did intend to leave us his estate. The reason your father sued the bank was because they stalled probate and refused to pay it out. I don’t think it was the money he cared about so much as that he owed it to Chuck not to let them steal his life’s work.”

“But how are they getting away with that?”

“Without your father knowing it, Chuck had put everything into a trust and fool­ishly gave the bank control. He didn’t want to burden us with handling his af­fairs as he got sicker, and he was afraid the state would take it if he had to be put into a long-term care facility.”

“But doesn’t the will beat that?”

“The bank’s claim is that it’s invalid since Chuck relinquished his authority to name an heir. They lost in circuit court, but now while they appeal, the bank continues to bilk the principle for administrative costs while our lawyer is charging a fortune in legal fees. Stockbridge says I already owe his firm nearly two-hundred thousand, win or lose.”    

“Wow,” Linda whispered as a buzzer signaled the conveyer. They grabbed the bags and headed for Beverly’s sedan, which Linda’s roommate, Sherry, had driven down the week before. They loaded up and, with Linda at the wheel, escaped the parking-garage gloom, bursting through a curtain of blinding glare and into the warm Florida sunshine.

“Maybe it’s time,” Linda suggested, “to seek some independent advice.”

“I think you’re right, but for today I’m going to forget about it and enjoy my time with you.”

Linda reached over to squeeze her mother’s hand, and Beverly knew that living close enough to touch her like this, even for a moment, on those days she needed her most . . . well, giving up everything else will have been worth it.

“Hey, I’ve got good news,” Linda said, turning south toward Tarpon Springs. “My boss said I can stay on for another year, so I don’t have to take the other job up in Tallahassee this fall.”

“But will he let you take more pictures?”

“Oh, I’m in no hurry for that. The research department is a good way to learn the newspaper biz. Besides, you just got down here.”

“You don’t have to decide right away, do you?”

“Oh no.”

“Then we’ll talk about this some more. And don’t think I moved down just be­cause you’re here,” Beverly insisted, smiling over at Linda. “I’d heard Florida’s got better homestead protection in case all those crooked bankers and lawyers bankrupt me.”

Linda chuckled, which satisfied Beverly, who didn’t want her daughter to realize the shades of truth lurking beneath her joke. They rode along in contented silence for a while, Beverly studying the area and trying to imagine when all this would someday come to seem familiar.

“There’s Lake Tarpon,” Linda said, pointing at the picturesque scene appearing on the right. “Try to keep Sunday open next week. Sherry and I are renting a pontoon boat so we can party with you and Aunt Loretta. There’s a park at that end where we can barbecue and sit around feeding cat food to the giant toads.”

“Did you say toads?”

Linda wagged her brows. “You’ll see.”

“Well, I’ll just have to check my social calendar and try to pencil you in.”

“Practice batting your eyelashes, too, in case we find some foxy guys to flirt with.”

They turned off the main road and headed back toward the condos, pulling up to where Loretta stood glaring at several exasperated movers. Linda grabbed her camera as she stepped out. “Come on, Mama. One more picture.”

Beverly positioned herself amid the mayhem. As Linda focused, a voice said, “Hi, neighbor.”

Click.

The first photo of Beverly Herndon, just arriving from Houghton Lake, stand­ing in front of her new home, and some guy named Frank managed to sneak his grinning mug into a corner of the shot.

                 

Kevin walked up the path behind the mobile-home park. He passed one boarded-up trailer at the end and went up to his own from the back, surprised to find his mother’s car gone.  Maybe she got a chance to work an extra shift at the drugstore again, something she would never turn down. They needed the money.

Heading around to the other side, he picked up a plastic milk crate, placed it upside down under a window, then stepped up and stood on his toes, peering into the dim interior. Rats! Mark was in there, snoring quietly on the couch amid the clutter of beer cans and snack wrappers. Not much older than twenty, he looked like a sleeping Satan. Those piercing eyes, scraggly goatee, and jagged scar down one cheek always made Kevin feel creepy. A bourbon bottle stood empty on the side table. A broken lamp sprawled across the floor.

Kevin hopped down, moved the crate away, and went to the rusty shed out back. He pulled open a bent door and squeezed in among the broken lawnmower and piles of junk, then reached into a torn box and removed a toilet paper roll, disappointed to find only two or three squares hanging from it. He frowned, went back outside, and looked toward the small patch of woods behind the park, but the idea of relying on bug-crawly leaves, well, just didn’t seem like it would do the job. Deciding to take a chance, he went around to the front and fished a key from his pocket, opening the door as quietly as he could, then easing inside.

Struck by a blaze of sunlight, Mark rose up, staring with one open eye. “Get outta here, you little s**t!” He threw his bottle at the door, barely missing the boy.

Jumping out, Kevin slammed the door and fled down the path. He should have known better than to try to come home before his mother. She always acted as a buffer between him and that unemployed jerk who sort of moved in over the winter.

Stopping short of the clearing where Frank lived, he sat down and tried not to cry, wiping tears away in spite of himself. His belly cramped and uncomfortable, he urgently needed to use a bathroom. He wiped his face on his shirt and sat very still, trying to calm his breathing, hoping that Frank had returned from seeing his accountant�"“Money-grubber,” as he liked to call him. He headed past the small pond, crossed the stream on a makeshift log bridge, and walked across the yard toward the entrance to Unit B. The moving truck was gone, but he could hear voices and sounds from inside Unit C for a change. He rang the bell twice, waited, then rang again, holding his belly with the other hand, his frustration threatening to bring more tears.

Finally Frank pulled up and stepped out of his car. “Hey, hoodlum. What’s up? Couldn’t find any liquor stores to rob?”

“Frank, can I use your bathroom?”

“Well, it’ll cost you a quarter.” He fumbled with his keys, got the door open, and let the boy in first. Kevin wasted no time dashing down the hall.

After the second flush and sounds of running water, Kevin emerged feeling a lot better. He had combed his longish, silky brown hair, feathering back the slashes cut over each ear. Frank waited at the breakfast nook with a cold beer and half a turkey sub in front of him. Across the counter, he’d set out a cold Mountain Dew�"Kevin’s favorite�"a whole ham and cheese, and a basket of corn chips.

“Come on, pest. I don’t like to eat alone, ya know.”

Kevin climbed up on the stool and started chomping, scarcely taking a breath, glad that Frank always had extra munchies and stuff around. He always found Mountain Dew in the refrigerator even though he had never seen the old man drink one.

“So is your mom late?”

“Prob’ly. She’s still saving up for school.” As long as he could remember, his mother had been pursuing an ever-elusive cosmetology certificate to become a licensed hair dresser.

“Good for her.” Frank had asked him to bring his mom for dinner several times, but she always declined, and Kevin steadfastly refused to let Frank come to his trailer. He’d spotted the older guy driving by once when nobody was home, but Frank never mentioned it, probably understanding his young friend was ashamed of where he lived. So far he’d managed to keep Mark secret, afraid that if Frank found out, he’d consider his mother trash and might not want Kevin to come around so much.

“So how’s your new neighbors?” Kevin had finished the sub and started work­ing through the last of the corn chips.

“I don’t know yet. That woman we met doesn’t live there. She’s the sister of the one who bought the condo�"a lady named Beverly. I tried to help them when they were moving everything inside�"even got myself invited in by her daughter, uh, Linda�"but the other two obviously didn’t want me around. That sister, Loretta, acted suspicious of me, watching my every move like I might steal something. Linda kept trying to be friendly and get me into conversations with her mother, but Beverly never did warm up. She’s a sharp-looking lady who seems nice, anyway, so I guess she just felt overwhelmed and didn’t want to have to deal with me. I bowed out after a while and left them unpacking.”

Frank watched while Kevin cleaned up the mess.

“You didn’t eat yours! You want me to wrap it up?”

“Naw, just toss it. I’m not hungry anyway.”

While Kevin wiped off the counter, he asked, “Hey, Frank, you got some work you need done? Like weedin’ the flowers or something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes�"and watering, too. I have to go over this stuff from Money-grubber by tomorrow. Why don’t you snag yerself another Dew and get me a beer; then I’ll meet you outside.”

Over the next few hours, Kevin weeded and watered and raked and pruned and picked, occasionally feeding crickets to the toad who lived under the edge of a small bush by the gutter downspout. Frank lay sprawled in a chaise-longue while he went through papers, playing with his calculator, frowning occasionally, making notations, chatting with Kevin, and keeping an eye on the condo next door.

By 6:00, Kevin had dragged the hose and sprinkler out to water the lawn, so Frank packed up his things and rolled the chair back inside. He pulled a cell-phone from his briefcase, then walked over to Beverly’s door and knocked, pretending to make a call while Kevin watched curiously. Linda answered the door with Loretta peering over her shoulder.

“I’ve got the pizza place on the phone now. They need to know what you want on yours. Anchovies? Rattlesnake? Octopus? Wildebeest?”

Linda laughed. “Anything but mushrooms. Mom doesn’t agree with them.”

Loretta frowned and announced, “I have to be leaving, now. I’m volunteering in Seminole.”

“Come on, Aunt Loretta, Frank’s buying!”

“No, I’ve got to go.” She turned and called, “Beverly, I’ll be by day after tomor­row. Hopefully your car will be here by then. Remember to keep checking your phone to make sure it gets turned on.”

While Loretta headed toward her car, purse clutched tightly, Linda shrugged and sheepishly told Frank, “Well, you better make it a small pizza.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll hose down the kid�"” He gestured toward Kevin watch­ing from the flower bed. “�"And meet you and your mom on my deck out back�"say, fifteen minutes or however long you need?”

His offer accepted, Frank hastened to set out all the accoutrements of a patio picnic. He urged Kevin to take a shower and put on one of the outfits he’d bought him for changing after dirty-work, the housekeeper knowing that any boy-sized clothes in the wash belonged on a shelf in the garage. Kevin unlocked the small refrigerator under the backyard bar, then helped him light some mosquito coils before fetching some clothes and following him inside, each grabbing one of the bathrooms. Ten minutes later, they stood in the hallway, inspecting each other. Agreeing they were just two too-handsome dudes, they went out to await the ladies.

Linda and Beverly came out back and joined them on the deck. They, too, had made a hasty effort to clean up after a day of unpacking and moving dirty boxes around. Frank introduced Kevin as his youngest friend. When the pizzas arrived, everybod­y discovered they were hungrier than expected. Beverly seemed a bit uncomfortable at first, but she finally relaxed and joined in the aimless chit-chat that Frank endeavored to keep light and easy. Everybody included Kevin in the conver­sation, treating him just like another grown-up, so for a while he got to feel pretty good about himself, worries about going home again forgotten.

A cool breeze blew in from the coast, a lovely evening with beautiful sunset visible off to the right, colors splayed across the springs. They all sat mesmerized for a while before the ladies got up to go. Linda explained that her mom would be staying with her in Tampa that first night, bedding and such still not having been found among the boxes. They declined Frank’s offer of a linen loan, so the guys walked them to their car and wished them a good night.

Kevin thanked Frank and, before it got too dark to see his way, headed down the path toward home. He came out behind the trailer and saw his mom’s car, so he took a deep breath and let himself in.

He found his mother sitting on the couch crying, a purplish bruise under one eye, bleeding from a split lip.

Mark was gone.

Author's Note

Please ignore the lack of Paragraph indentations. You may download a PDF copy of this sample chapter at www.freshinkgroup.com. I also consider requests for review copies.