“Here’s our coffee, sir. Please sit down.”
The dining table was bridge-sized and metal-legged, crowded with an electric percolator, two plastic cups on saucers, a box of sugar, a pint container of half-and-half, and a plate of Oreo cookies. Next to that was a two-foot-square cardboard box labeled KAREN in black marker.
We sat down facing each other and Best picked up the pitcher and started pouring. His complexion was florid and mottled, like raw sweetbreads, and his blue eyes popped behind thick lenses. Furrows scored his brow, as if the flesh had been plowed. The rim of his collar bit into his neck flesh like a knife in shortening. His mouth was thin, his nose wide and bulbous with large pores. The little hair he had was slicked and black.
“Karen looked like her mother,” he said. “Cream and sugar?”
“Black is fine.” I took the cup.
“Mrs. Best was beautiful,” he said. “Talk of our town was what did she ever see in me.”
Short laugh. Wide spaces between brown teeth, lots of silver fillings.
“My son Craig took after her too. Here, have an Oreo—Karen used to break them apart and eat the filling first. She could spend half an hour on one cookie.”
Behind him, against a backdrop of fruiting trees and golden wet sheaves, a wet-eyed Ruth embraced Naomi.
He filled his own cup. “So what, exactly, led you to Karen?”
“Just what I told you, Reverend.”
“Memories? Do you have children, doctor?”
“No.”
His lips puckered and his eyes closed for a moment. “Here.” Reaching for the box. “Let me show you what I’ve got, and you tell me if any of it helps you.”
Standing, he shoved his hands deep into the carton, like a surgeon rearranging viscera. What little space was left on the table quickly filled with spiral notebooks, bound stacks of newspaper clippings, and other papers.
He untied the clippings first and passed them to me. The newsprint was brittle and dry, the color of weak tea. The cutouts were twenty-one years old, all from a beachside throwaway called the Shoreline Shopper.
Best ate a cookie, then another, as he watched me read.
The first pages were taken from the classifieds. Two months’ worth of a Personals ad, circled in blue:
Lost. Reward. Karen Denise Best, 19 y.o., 5-7, 117, blond hair maybe dyed brown, blue eyes, speaks with a New England accent, appendectomy scar. Our daughter was last seen walking up the road to PCH at the Sand Dollar Restaurant in Paradise Cove. We love her very much and miss her and we are worried. Please call collect, any hour, to 508-555-4532. Any in formation leading to finding her will be $$$ rewarded.
“Did anyone ever call?” I said.
“Lots of people called. Liars and practical jokers, and some well-meaning people who thought they’d seen her. I paid out eighteen hundred and fifty-five dollars.” He poked a finger under his glasses, rubbing his eye.
I turned back to the clippings. The last was an article from the op-ed page, written by the editor of the paper, a woman named Marian Sonner, and surrounded by ads for local shops. A poor-quality photo of a beautiful fair-haired girl was set in the middle of the text. Even the blurred reproduction couldn’t hide the innocence and enthusiasm on the heart-shaped face.
FATHER TRAVELS FROM EAST
IN QUEST FOR MISSING DAUGHTER
MALIBU. Special to the Shopper.
Sherrell Best is a determined man. Maybe even stubborn, but who’s to blame him? Isn’t stubbornness part of the American Dream, Malibuites?
Raised in the midst of the Great Depression, he fought in World War II, rising to the rank of sergeant, came back and married his high school sweetheart, the lovely Eleanor, and built up a plumbing supplies business from scratch. To top it off, he and Eleanor had two young’uns: beautiful blond Karen and, two years later, freckle-faced Craig.
So far so good. Then it crumbled.
Out here, no less. In golden So Cal, where the waves are blue and the sky is too, and sometimes what happens to people isn’t all sun and prettiness.
Malibu. The golden heart of a golden state. Where peace and freedom and love are the bywords of a new generation that’s never experienced the hardships of its forebears.