While Rocky’s personal page was mostly private, he also had a business page under the name Fine Goods by Rock. There, he posted—or someone did—photos of quilts and vases, dolls and lamps and pitchers. There were before-and-after shots of a dresser he’d restored, and three days ago, this: “FGBR will be in Damariscotta this Thursday, joining forces with some of our faves at the Vintage Pop-Up at St. Mark’s Church on Fairfield. Drop by to check out jewelry, textiles, small decorative items, and trading cards!”
“More freaking trading cards,” Laurie had muttered when Nick sent her a screenshot.
There was never really a question that Laurie and Ryan would go together. She would have to stay out of the way, because she assumed it was possible that during some conversation she hadn’t observed, Matt had told Rocky more about her or even explained who she was. Every avoidable risk was to be avoided, so Ryan and Laurie agreed that she wouldn’t get too close.
“How am I going to know what’s going on, though?” she said.
“You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on.”
It was June who suggested the phone, while they were conducting a strategy session via FaceTime. The ubiquity of the Bluetooth earpiece—and especially the Bluetooth earpiece worn by an earpiece guy who didn’t seem to have a reason to wear one—meant that Ryan and Laurie could surreptitiously be on the phone, him with a Bluetooth and her with her earbuds plugged into her phone, and nobody would know she was listening in. Asked where she got this idea, June admitted she got it from Jim and Pam on The Office. “That’s a fictional show,” Ryan said.
“Based on real phones,” June said. “Also,” she added, “Laurie should wear some big sunglasses or something.”
“You are getting carried away,” Laurie told her.
“No, she’s right,” Ryan said. “I’m going to be John No Last Name, and you’re going to be…Big Sunglasses Instagram Mom.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Oh, I do,” June said. And by that afternoon, she’d made a delivery of a large straw tote. Inside it were the aforementioned big sunglasses, a large-brimmed sun hat, a water bottle with the words I WISH THIS WERE WINE stenciled on it （“It was a gift from my cousin,” June said with an eye-roll）， and a rhinestone iPhone case.
On Thursday morning, Laurie put on a yellow sundress and packed up the rest of her gear in the tote. When she came out to the kitchen, Ryan was there in his khakis and a plain white T-shirt. “I have to admit,” she said, “you really look like a John No Last Name.”
He whipped off his shades. “Just John. No interests. No history. No connections. Just a taste for vengeance.”
“It’s perfect.”
Laurie drove her rented Civic. It took about forty-five minutes to get to Damariscotta following the curve of Route 1 as it wove around ponds and through quiet towns you could be into and out of within a few short blocks. “Does being back make you miss it here?” Ryan asked her.
“It makes me wish I visited more,” she said. “You?”
He adjusted the vent so the AC was blowing more directly on him. “I don’t think I appreciated it at all. That you could drive out and be by the water or get in a boat and be on the water, or…you know, when I was fourteen and I was playing basketball against Freeport, it’s not like I thought about the fact that people literally took vacations here, just to be here.”
“People take vacations to New York too, though,” Laurie said.
“They do. But the people in New York know that, you know? But yeah, when I come back up here, I feel like I’m eating a really good sandwich I stopped tasting because I ate it every day.”
“You like New York still?” she asked.
“Oh hell yes,” he said. “I finally figured it out. The city. It’s like a huge amusement park where you only want to go on a few of the rides, and you have to figure out how to get to just those things and where the bathroom is and how not to waste your time standing in all the lines for stuff you hate. Do you like Seattle? Are you used to the weather?”
Laurie let out a little sigh. “People think it rains so much more than it does. It doesn’t pour all the time or anything. It’s just gray for six months out of the year. But I can be in a gorge, or at the coast, or in the woods, or at a waterfall, you know, without doing more than a day trip. And I still get to be in a city where there’s plenty of theater and music and more than three escalators. I get to know that I’m not going to run into people I know every time I go out to buy a bottle of wine.”