Page 17 of On Fire Island

Big Les got up every morning at 5:00 a.m. and crossed the Great South Bay to pick up fresh bagels and the morning papers. He was back in time to help unload the 7:00 a.m. freight boat. He never complained, but people on the receiving end of those early-morning papers and fresh bagels would adversely describe the winter as too long and the summer as too short. At least I always felt that way.

A handsome man with a weatherworn but welcoming smile, Big Les added, “The wife has your schedule,” before getting back to business.

Winnie sat on her perch at the back of the store, answering the phones while searching for Matty’s delivery schedule.

“Bay Harbor Market,” she said into the receiver before quickly pulling the phone away from her mouth to plant a loving kiss on Matty’s cheek.

Matty smiled hugely. I knew he was thankful that at least some things hadn’t changed.

Matty grabbed a box of Lucky Charms and a quart of milk before heading to the most popular place to congregate in the store—the deli counter. There, Little Les was already crafting a sandwich. He wasn’t the only one, by the way. There were always one or two other guys by his side. But a response of anyone but “Les” to the common question, “Who made my sandwich?” was usually met with a grunt of impending dissatisfaction.

Upon seeing Matty, Little Les wiped off his hands on his apron and came around the counter for a burly bro hug, exclaiming “Matty!” Followed by a rustling of his hair and a “Hey, you grew some!”

I’d noticed it too. There were a few years when the height difference between Matty and Dylan was like a textbook illustration for a puberty chart for boys versus girls. They once played Romeo and Juliet at the annual Bay Harbor Kids Shakespeare Festival. I’ll never forget Matty on his toes for their fateful kiss. Now, at sixteen, he had finally surpassed her.

“How you holding up?” Little Les asked, clearly referencing Renee and Tuck’s divorce.

“Good, good,” Matty lied. “You?”

“Can’t complain.”

The main reason for his lack of complaint, Darcy and their adorable three-year-old son, the littlest Les, came by. She hugged Matty hello, leaving him to blush while discussing her plans with Little Les.

“Baby, I’m making the next boat. Do you need anything from the other side?”

Little Les gently touched her face and kissed her lips.

“I got all I need right here.”

She leaned in—“I’ll be back after lunch”—and out. “Bye, Matty. Sorry about all the crap with your parents.”

Poor Matty. The off-season gossip trail ran deep.

As she left, Little Les headed back around the counter.

“What can I do you for?”

“Half a pound of herring with cream sauce, please.”

“Pickled herring? Is your grandfather visiting?”

“No, it’s for my neighbor... Shep.”

Les Jr. pulled out the herring and scooped it into a container.

“Talking about your neighbors, you haven’t seen Ben, have you? Half of his family has called here looking for him. It seems he skipped town after the funeral. He’s not answering his cell, and his house phone is off the hook.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“That I haven’t seen him, which I haven’t, but I’d like to know if he’s here and if he’s OK.”

“He’s here.”

Les Jr. passed him the container of herring and spoke discreetly.

“Tell him I’ll keep covering for him but that he may want to check in with his mom. She is pretty panicked.”

“I’ll hang up the phone when I get back. I got it.”

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