The Last Beach Bungalow by Jennie Nash

thing that would add any pizzaz whatsoever would be accessories. Scarves, shoes, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, belts— the list of things that could bring salvation were endless. I picked up two pairs of earrings and went and knocked on Jackie’s door.
    “Yeah?” she asked, ear buds still in her ears.
    “Which ones, do you think?” I asked, holding up the earrings.
    She pulled the ear plugs out. “I’d definitely go with the gold,” she said, in a voice that was too loud for the real world but just perfect for me.
    We had an appetizer of walnut and shrimp sushi and California rolls made with crab that had been flown in from Maryland. Rick ordered warm sake, which we both love. For dinner, we had pecan-crusted salmon with baby bok choi and for dessert, there were three kinds of crème brulee. Rick ordered a bottle of champagne and raised his glass to make a toast. “To five great years,” he said. He leaned down to kiss me and presented me with a blue Tiffany box. Inside was a silver heart-shaped key ring with a key to the new house, and a small card that said, “Here’s to forever.”
    “Here, here,” CJ said, and drank another sip of champagne.
    I squeezed Rick’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you, sweetie,” I said. He looked at me and winked.
    Vanessa produced a small white oblong box.
    “What’s this?” I asked.
    “Just a little something,” she said.
    It was a gift certificate from a spa that had recently opened in the Village. On a line at the bottom of the coupon were the words “Energy Healer: One Session.” Vanessa was a connoisseur of healing treatments. She’d had massages in red rock canyons and pedicures designed to cure every ill known to the foot. She’d had people manipulate the bones in her skull and wrap her entire body in seaweed. Some people thought that there was a pill or a prayer to heal every ill, some people turned to shopping or to drink, but Vanessa thought anything could be made better with a treatment at a spa.
    “What magical powers will this bring me?” I asked.
    “It will help you stay calm through the big move. I booked you an appointment for Monday.”
    “Calm sounds good,” I said.
    “Plus,” Vanessa said, “it will ignite your sexual energy.”
    “Oh, la la!” CJ said.
    I slapped his forearm.
    “Ouch,” CJ said. “She could do some serious damage with that right hook.”
    “Don’t I know it,” said Rick.
    “No need to have any security guards with her around,” CJ went on.
    “Or Ghostbusters ,” Rick said.
    “Halloween is long past, buddy,” CJ said. “You’re good with the ghosts.”
    Rick drained his glass. “April thinks there’s something wrong with the house. Evil spirits, that kind of thing.”
    “I didn’t say that,” I said.
    “It’s just the bathroom wall color she doesn’t like,” Vanessa said.
    “That’s not true, either,” I said, my voice getting higher pitched.
    “She’s fantasizing about another house,” Rick said.
    Something about the way my husband said the word fantasizing made my belly go cold. Was Rick having an affair? Is that why he had remained so cheerful through all these months when we’d barely touched each other? I scanned my mind for any suspicious comments, any unexplained late-night meetings. An image flashed through my mind of Rick in bed with another woman— a faceless woman, but with dark hair and smooth skin, and hunger in every move she made. Anger welled up in me, as if I’d caught him with his pants down.
    “Rick, that’s not fair,” I growled.
    “But it’s true,” he said, and then turned his face toward CJ. “She keeps talking about some house down by the beach.”
    “She’s writing about that house,” Vanessa said. “It’s the house from the contest.”
    I thought of what it had been like to walk through the front door of the beach bungalow, confronted suddenly with the trellis, the trees and the fireplace that was so much like my grandmother’s. I thought about how