Page 23 of Swept Away

“Oh… That’s Anne-Marie. She takes care of the house.”

“Do you know if she’s related to the owner? And do you know who the owner is?”

“Uh…”

She ponders for a moment.

“I think the woman is related to the owner. The house belongs to her sister. And, um… her sister moved to Arizona a few years back. I didn’t talk much to that woman, but she was nothing like Anne-Marie. She was quite nasty. I don’t remember that woman’s name. Sorry.”

She makes an effort, though, while I mull over the next question.

“Oh. I know. Her name was Alexandra something. Everybody called her…Sandy?”

Her eyes sharpen on me.

“Why are you asking me about her?”

I shrug before tossing the next question at her.

“Did Sandy have any family left?”

Distracted, Penny thinks about her answer, forgetting about what she just asked me.

“I think she did. Yes, she did. Her daughter was about your mother’s age. She moved to New York for work right after college, and I think she got married and had kids. Or maybe she didn’t have kids. I don’t know for sure. She rarely came here to visit her mother, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Sandy had always been difficult, not easy to get along with.”

A few moments of silence sidle up to us, and I realize she’s waiting for an explanation on why I’m suddenly so curious about the history of that house.

“The only reason I’m asking is because I often wondered why the house is still unoccupied,” I say, proud of my answer.

“Yes, it’s odd, isn’t it?” she agrees before shrugging again. “Who knows? Maybe Sandy’s family plans to return and live here at some point.”

“Would you?” I ask with a smile.

She sighs while mulling over an answer.

“Uh… Probably not. Although I might when I’m close to retirement. But I love New York too much.”

“Maybe Sandy’s niece could move here and enroll in college,” I toss at her, gauging her reaction.

For a moment, she has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Sorry, I digressed,” I say quickly. “I thought her daughter had a daughter.”

Her brow creases with concentration.

“She might. See, I don’t know. I didn’t keep track of all this. I only exchanged words with Sandy’s daughter a few times. Um, her name was Lisa. Yes, yes… I remember talking to her just before she left. She wasn’t happy with her mother and couldn’t wait to get out of here. I couldn’t blame her. Other than that, I don’t know much about that woman or her family. I’m sure she has kids, most likely your age. She should, right?”

Disappointed, I contemplate another question, but I swiftly realize I hit a dead end.

Lisa may or may not have a daughter. And she may or may not have had another husband and a son from another marriage. Or perhaps her husband may have fathered a son with someone else.

If I asked Penny whether Lisa had been married twice, she’d probably look at me with crazy eyes.

It’s hard to explain that kind of interest in someone’s life without offering some kind of explanation.

We wrap up our conversation within moments before splitting up.

She heads to a different store while I walk home, still thinking about Lisa’s story, absolutely convinced something’s amiss.