Page 41 of The Change
Harriett greeted Celeste with a kiss on the mouth that left Celeste weak in the knees. She could feel Harriett’s hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. Neither of them cared who was watching—though Celeste worried Harriett might try to drag her belowdecks. She snuck a glance at Harriett’s friends, who were doing their best to appear nonchalant.
“Hello.” She gently pushed Harriett back. “I’m Celeste.”
“My apologies,” Harriett said. “Celeste, I’d like you to meet my friends Jo and Nessa. Ladies, this is Celeste.”
“Nice boat,” Jo said awkwardly, struggling to hide her amusement.
“Thanks,” Celeste replied. “It was my husband’s forty-fifth birthday present to himself. From what he tells me, it’s something all big shots need, even the ones who vomit at the sight of the ocean.”
Celeste saw Nessa’s eyes pop at the wordhusband. Harriett noticed, too, and gave her friend a wink.
“Her husband, Andrew, and I used to work together,” she said. “Now he has the job I deserved, and I have sex with his wife. I think I got the better deal, don’t you?”
Nessa was getting used to Harriett teasing her. “Couldn’t tell you,” she replied coolly. “I’ve never worked in advertising.”
Jo let loose a cackle. “Nice one,” she said, and with that, the ice was officially broken.
“So you guys ready to set sail?” Celeste asked. “Harriett says you want to go out by Danskammer Beach to whale watch? I warned her you might not see many whales this time of year.”
Celeste felt an arm wrap around her waist. “And I promised Celeste that she wouldn’t go home disappointed,” Harriett said. “I called ahead and told the whales we were coming.”
It hadn’t occurred to Nessa to take the whale comment seriously. She assumed Harriett was kidding around to entertain the pretty lady whose blue-striped sailing shirt and pearl earrings made her look like Jackie Kennedy. Yet just as Danskammer Beach was coming into view, Nessa saw a massive slab of dark gray flesh break the surface on the starboard side of the boat, and a spray of water shot ten feet into the air.
“Goodness!” she yelped, feeling the tingle of spray on her bare skin. “What is that?” If something so big could appear unannounced, who knew what else might be lurking beneath the waves.
“It’s a whale,” Harriett said with a knowing smirk. “A female humpback.”
“You guys got lucky!” Celeste shouted from the wheel. Harriett lifted an eyebrow and her smirk spread into a grin.
“You really can talk to whales?” Nessa asked.
“You said your grandmother’s friend Miss Ella spoke to snakes. I thought I might have a go at chatting with a whale. I’ve spoken to this one, but I can’t confirm she’s listening. She’s the strong, silent type. I yammer away, but she never talks back.”
The whale swam alongside the boat as if escorting them to their destination. As they got closer to Danskammer Beach, Nessa felther body go cold. The two girls were down there, their faces staring up at her from the murky water.
She laid a hand on Harriett’s arm. “Would you ask Celeste to stop here?” Nessa asked. “And keep her busy for a little while, if you would.” They hadn’t discussed the importance of being discreet; it went without saying that no one needed to know they were looking for ghosts, not whales.
“Not a problem.” Harriett made her way to Celeste at the other end of the boat.
With the engine off, the boat bobbed up and down on the waves. The whale cavorted around the vessel, launching herself upward, twisting high in the air, and sending a burst of water into the sky when she slammed down on the surface.
“She’s putting on a show.” Jo took a seat next to Nessa. “It’s like she’s covering for us.”
“Yeah.” Nessa pulled a sketch pad and pencil out of her handbag. She wasn’t feeling chatty.
“Can you see the girls?” Jo asked quietly.
Nessa glanced up, her face grim. “Yes,” she said. “It looks like their bodies were dropped in the same place. If so, I don’t think it can be a coincidence. The same man must have killed them both.”
They floated just below the surface, their long hair undulating in the ocean’s currents. Mandy Welsh’s pale face shone like the moon. She had frank, honest eyes the color of moss. The rest of her body, clad in a billowing black dress, blended in with the depths below. With so many photos online, Nessa didn’t need to sketch Mandy. Her subject was the Asian girl in the red hoodie with long black hair and lips parted as if she wished to speak. She looked even younger than Mandy, Nessa thought. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.Don’t you dare cry, Nessa,she heard her grandmother chide her.
“You’re good at that,” Jo said. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“I’m not,” Nessa told her as she sketched the outline of the girl in the hoodie. “I haven’t opened a sketchbook in years.”
The last morning of Nessa’s summer in South Carolina, her grandmother had slid an envelope full of cash across the breakfast table. She’d never had much to spare, so Nessa knew it was meant for something important.
“When you get home, find somebody who can teach you to draw,” she’d said. “You don’t need to be Leonardo da Vinci. But you need to be able to sketch a face so people know who they’re looking at.”
