The tide turns.
The fourth thing you notice about Baysafe—and this is the one that keeps Clara up at night—is the gratitude. Because Baysafe is safe. No break-ins. No fires. No car accidents. The last fatal car wreck was 1976, when a drunk tourist from Boston wrapped his sedan around a telephone pole. The last burglary was never solved, but the stolen jewelry reappeared on the steps of the police station three days later, still in its case. The town’s insurance rates are the lowest in the county. The children grow up healthy. The elderly die quietly in their beds, never in pain, never alone. baysafe
Clara’s father told her once, when she was small, that every town has a secret. Not the kind you tell, he said. The kind you keep. He’d pointed to the water, black as ink under a new moon. That’s our secret, Clary. That’s the safe. The tide turns
All it asks in return is the occasional stranger. And her silence. No break-ins