Read Online The Bay at Midnight by Diane Chamberlain - Free Book Online

wait, hon?” she asked. It felt so strange to be called “hon” by someone half my age. Better, though, than ma’am.
    “No, thanks.” I smiled at her. “I’m fine.”
    It was warm in the restaurant, or at least I was warm. I had on cropped black pants and a sleeveless red top cut high on my shoulders, but I noticed other women in the restaurant were pulling on their sweaters. I didn’t even bother carrying a sweater since menopause hit me a year ago.
    I’d taken a table at the front of the restaurant so I would be able to see Ethan when he walked in. I wasn’t sure I’d recognize him. Through the window, I studied the men walking by, searching for lanky academic types. I watched people entering and leaving the little shops on the other side of the street. A young man stood directly across the street from me, rubbing lotion on a woman’s back. I watched the two of them until a pack of bicyclers sped by, blocking my view.
    I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes late. Maybe he wasn’t going to show up. He certainly had not welcomed my call.
    “I’m sorry Abby disturbed you with this,” he’d said, once I’d identified myself. He had a soft voice, exactly the sort of voice I would have imagined him having, and he did not sound irritated or angry. Just tired.
    “She had to.” I was on the phone in my office, staring at the words Chapter Four on my computer screen. The rest of the pagewas still blank. “She was right to,” I said. “And she and I agreed that the situation needed looking into.”
    He was quiet. “I’m not sure that I agree,” he said finally.
    “We’re talking about a serious injustice,” I said. “A man served time in prison for something he didn’t do. And we’re talking about my sister. ” Along with the old sense of loss I felt at the mention of Isabel came the suddenly realization of my insensitivity. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” I said quickly. “I didn’t even offer you condolences. I’m very sorry. I know what it’s like to lose a sibling.”
    I heard him sigh. “Thanks,” he said. “Ned…I don’t know what happened to him. He had some sort of breakdown in his late teens and early twenties. He became…I don’t know how to describe it. He was just existing. Not really living.”
    Don’t you think that suggests he was carrying a guilty secret? I wanted to ask but decided against it. This wasn’t the time.
    “How bad was it?” I asked. “Was he able to work?”
    “Oh, yeah,” Ethan said. “He wasn’t that bad off. He spent time in Vietnam, which didn’t help his condition, and he was eventually discharged for a sleep problem. Then he got his degree in accounting and worked for a plumbing company, doing their books. He never got married. He dated a little, but never anything serious.”
    “Abby said…or rather, implied, that he had a drinking problem.”
    “Yes, he did,” Ethan said, “but he wasn’t a sloppy drunk. It didn’t get in the way of his work or anything. Just kept him numb. We tried to get him help, but he would never admit to having a problem.You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.”
    I had many more questions but felt anxious about asking them over the phone. I was afraid if I probed too deeply, he would hang up on me.
    “Can we meet?” I asked. “I’d like to talk to you in person about this. About the letter.”
    There was a silence so deep and long I had to ask him if he was still on the line.
    “I’m here,” he replied in that soft, soft voice. “And yes, I’ll meet you. Where are you living?”
    “Westfield,” I said. “How about you?”
    “On the canal,” he said, and I doubted that he knew how those three words stopped my breath. “We winterized the summer house years ago,” he added.
    “Do you live there with…”I wasn’t sure who else might be living in the Chapman’s old house with him. His parents? His wife?
    “Alone,” he said. “My wife and Abby used to live here, too, but I was divorced