When we reached Oceanside, I asked Emily to wait while I checked the inside of the house. I lifted Sandy’s riot gun from the back seat and clicked off the safety before I opened the front door.
I went inside and turned on the lights in the kitchen, then went through each room checking under beds, in closets, in the bathroom. Nothing.
When I came back into the kitchen, Emily was standing by the kitchen sink. She had the pearl-handled automatic in her hand with the gun barrel pointed at the floor.
“It’s all fine,” I said. “No concerns.”
Emily slid the pistol back into Sandy’s purse.
“Well,” I said. “Let me show you around.” I leaned Sandy’s shotgun against the sofa.
I showed her where to find dishes, glasses, and silverware in the kitchen, showed her the bathroom, and turned the light on in the bedroom where Sandy had slept the previous night. Sandy had left some of her clothing out on the bed and rocking chair, and had hung a jacket on the rack for the free weights.
“I feel like an intruder,” Emily said. “These are Sandy’s things.”
“It won’t be for long,” I said. “Sandy wouldn’t have agreed to take your place if she didn’t want to do it.”
“I guess so.”
I told Emily that I was going to get ready for bed, and then I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I came out, Emily was standing near the window that faces the beach. The moon illuminated the bay and the grey-black shapes of Three Arch Rocks.
“This view is really special,” she said.
I nodded. “You’ll be able to see a lot more in the morning. Good night, Emily.”
“Good night,” she said without looking away from the window.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in the next bedroom. Just yell, okay?”
“I think I can make it through the night,” she said.