“On the night of her death, Mark was in Tahoe on his ski trip. Cynthia invited me over. Mark had proposed and I thought Cynthia wanted to bury the hatchet, if you will, make friends. We both loved her son, or so I told myself. Instead, she called me a whore and offered me money to leave him. Of course, I turned it down. I stormed out of the house and went home and cried for an hour. But then I got so angry with her, I wanted to talk to her, try to reason with her. She came from humble beginnings, too? Did you know that?
“When I got back to the house, she was dead. I swear to God. I heard Ebby crying upstairs and Elodie barking out orders to Allegra.” Melinda shivered. “It was awful. I felt someone watching me. When I looked outside the window, I thought I saw the glow of a cigarette. The bag of sovereigns was right there behind the desk. I couldn’t resist. The idea that I could have my own wealth was irresistible. I honestly had no idea what I would do with them. Over the years, I thought about mysteriously giving them back, but the situation never presented itself.”
“Where did you keep them?”
“At first I kept them in my parents’ garage in an old suitcase. When my parents sold their house, I buried them in the woods.” Melinda laughed. “I had my own buried treasure. When my marriage started to fall apart, when I realized that I’d married an abusive son of a bitch, those coins were my security blanket. I realized I had made a huge mistake marrying Mark. He was abusive and cruel, but I felt stuck, so a little over twenty years ago, I started cashing them in and stashing the money, knowing when the time was right, I’d leave.
“I want you to tell Ebby that I’m sorry. Tell him I didn’t mean to hurt him—”
Both women froze at the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel.
“Olivia?” Brian called out.
Olivia turned to see Brian in his pajamas, walking barefoot on the gravel. “I’m here. Just taking the garbage out,” Olivia called.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Melinda—” But as she turned around, Melinda Engstrom was gone.
Chapter 39
Olivia
Six months later
Olivia stood in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, taking in the crystal glasses, the used napkins set beside the delicate china plates, and half-empty wine bottles glimmering in the candlelight, in her mind the perfect tableau of a successful dinner party. She and Brian had been surprised when her long-time friend Lauren showed up with Detective Rathman. Apparently the two had met at a mutual acquaintance’s dinner party and had started dating. Conversation had flowed, along with the wine and the laughter. Lauren regaled them with stories of her life in the music business. When she passed the baton to Rathman, he told them stories of his life as a cop in New York that even Brian couldn’t match.
As the group moved into the living room and settled in front of the television, Olivia scooped coffee into the French press and put on the kettle. At this very moment, all was right with her world. She savored the feeling. For the first time in decades, she felt a deep sense of peace. That feeling of being lost without a career had slipped away, as she reflected on how she would step back into family law and – as Stephen had suggested – exit on her own terms.
“Hey,” Lauren said, carrying the empty wine glasses to the sink. “You okay?”
“Never better,” Olivia said and meant it. “There’s brandy to go with the coffee, if you want to carry it in?”
“Sure,” Lauren said. She stepped close to Olivia and spoke in a whisper. “I like him, Liv. Do you think it’s weird that I’m dating a cop?”
“Not even a little.”
“We’re going hiking tomorrow,” Lauren said. “He’s nice, isn’t he? He reminds me of James Bond.”
Olivia laughed out loud. “Grab the brandy, would you?”
They carried the coffee and brandy to the couches where Brian flipped through the channels with the sound muted.
They had all come together to watch a true crime show about Cynthia Engstrom’s murder. Although actors had been hired for the dramatization of the events surrounding the murder, Detective Rathman and various members of the Engstrom family had given interviews, providing the audience with a firsthand account.
The story of Cynthia’s murder and Fiona’s role in it had captured the headlines. As the details came forth, especially those surrounding Cynthia’s brother, Gary, and Fiona’s accusations, the story garnered interest. Melinda’s theft of the famed bag of gold sovereigns and slowly cashing them in, so she could run away from her husband, had added an extra layer of intrigue. Just as the sensational news of Fiona’s video confession started to lose steam, Mark Engstrom was quietly arrested at a hotel in Southern California near the Mexican border. He was charged with securities fraud, wire fraud, mail fraud, money laundering, and for filing false claims with the SEC. When the extent of his crimes came to light, he was catapulted into the spotlight. The news channels were reporting there was so much evidence against Mark Engstrom, the case was a slam dunk, and his lawyer was trying to negotiate a plea. Mark’s arrest kindled interest in the disappearance of the Engstrom sovereigns and his wife.
“Some of these shows are really dumbed down,” Lauren said.
“This one won’t be,” Martin Rathman said. “They’ll be putting a lot of emphasis on the hunt for Melinda and the coins.”
“They won’t find her,” Brian said. “She’s long gone.”
“Have either of you heard from Ebby?” Lauren asked.
“We talk occasionally,” Olivia said. She pushed the plunger in the French press and poured out the coffee. “He brought me a copy of his cookbook. He’s going to focus on writing now. Last I heard he, Elodie, and Felicity were in upstate New York.”
“Probably trying to get some privacy,” Lauren said.
Brian put his arm around Olivia, and she leaned into him. She thought about loose ends and her need to have things tied up and tucked away. Prior to Leanne, her relationship with Brian was a tangle of unsaid words and half-spoken promises. All that was in the past now. They had talked about their feelings for each other, both expressing their fears, worries, and expectations for the future, an act of intimacy that bound them together. She looked around at her friends and honored this moment, grateful that she and Brian were now free to weave their own story. Together.
Chapter 40
Ebby
Six months later
Elodie was already at Fiona’s grave when Felicity and Ebby came walking up the sloping grassy knoll, a huge bouquet of tulips under Felicity’s arm. As they drew close, they saw Elodie was on her knees, working a trowel and planting a small rosebush near Fiona’s headstone. Ebby smiled to himself. The groundskeeper had given them strict instructions against planting anything. Elodie had scoffed at him and promptly ignored his warnings.
“She’s spry as a teenager,” Felicity said.
“Until she stands up, and then she’ll complain about her aging knees,” Ebby said.
When Fiona had held the gun to her head, Ebby hadn’t thought about her fragile bones as he had tackled her to the ground. The fall had indeed broken her hip and wreaked havoc on the alignment of her spine. Once she arrived at the hospital, she was whisked off to surgery for an immediate hip replacement. She didn’t survive the anesthesia, and Ebby Engstrom was given yet another burden to shoulder. Because if he hadn’t tackled Fiona, she would have never broken her hip. It she hadn’t broken her hip, she wouldn’t have needed the anesthesia that killed her – so he thought.
It wasn’t until the autopsy was completed that the family discovered Fiona had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer four years earlier. At the time of her diagnosis she had – against her doctor’s vehement advice – refused all forms of treatment, thereby signing her own death sentence. During the autopsy it was discovered that the cancer had metastasized and spread throughout Fiona’s body, and that she was literally at death’s door. The medical examiner had taken the time to speak with Ebby per
sonally. Based on his findings, he doubted Fiona would have lived another month. “I don’t want you to feel the guilt of her death, Mr. Engstrom. If my aunt held a gun to her head, I would have done the same thing.”
Ebby believed his aunt had wanted to die. Maybe Fiona felt she owed her life for the one she had taken. Now, he stood before her grave, ready to say a final goodbye before he moved to Italy.
“I had no idea what Cynthia and that brother of hers had done to Fiona. If only she had told me.” Elodie stood now, her head bowed before her sister’s grave. “But times were different then. Women who came forward with accusations of rape were often ignored or told it was their own fault.”
Felicity put her arm around Elodie. “Remember we agreed that it’s time to say goodbye to the past. We Engstroms need to move forward. Ebby’s moving to Italy, where he’s going to write a new cookbook, and you and I will be very happy at the beach. We can remember Fiona there.”
When Elodie touched Felicity’s cheek, Ebby knew everything was going to be okay with his little family. They didn’t talk about Mark. Ebby had tried to reach out to his brother after his arrest, but Mark didn’t want to see him and specifically forbade his family meddling in his business affairs. Ebby had no problem honoring Mark’s wishes. He had broken free of his jealous older brother who had controlled the family narrative to suit his purposes, who had used the Engstrom name and reputation to garner the trust and favor of his clients, only to turn around and cheat them.
“She’s right,” Ebby said. “It’s time to move on.”
“I’m so proud of both of you.” Elodie looked at Ebby and Felicity and said, “We’re family now, the three of us. No more secrets, okay? Family’s the most important thing. I want you both to promise me that you’ll never forget that.”
“Promise,” Felicity said.
“Promise,” Ebby said.
“Very well. Ebby, be good. We love you and will look forward to seeing you at Christmas.” They hugged their goodbyes. Felicity would ride to the beach house with Elodie, while Ebby would head to the city to celebrate with all The No Name Diner staff, who had pulled together to purchase the restaurant. Ebby would turn in his rental car and spend the night at a hotel near the airport. By 10 o’clock, he would be on an airplane bound for Rome. The time had come for Edward Engstrom to make his own way in the world.
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Prologue
Sunday, October 5
When the alarm blared the Sunday financial recap, the woman woke with a start. She didn’t care about the Dow Jones Industrial Average, nor did she care about market volatility. Fumbling, she unplugged the old-fashioned clock radio and tossed it under the bed. Her thoughts, as they often did, went to her lover. She rolled over and pressed her face into his pillow, taking in the scent of him, that strange concoction of vanilla and citrus that made her senses reel.
Rolling over on her back, she took a deep breath, and cradled her belly, thinking of the baby that grew inside her. The positive pregnancy test lay on the table next to her, its vertical pink line a source of unimaginable joy. She snuggled under the duvet as the automatic coffeemaker kicked into gear, filling her apartment with the aroma of the dark roast coffee her lover preferred.
She saw the card on the doormat just as she poured her first cup of coffee.
I’ve rented a beach house for us tonight. I’ll send a key and the address by messenger. Meet you there around ten?
Leaning back against the counter, the woman closed her eyes, anticipating their rendezvous. Dear God, she craved him.
She did not know she had less than fifteen hours to live.
Chapter 1
Friday, October 10
Olivia Sinclair’s life fell apart on the day of her sixty-second birthday. The morning started with promise. She and Richard lay entangled in the sheets, their limbs intertwined and glistening with sweat. Olivia marveled – as she often did – at the way their passion had withstood decades of marriage. Somehow, she and Richard had managed to keep passion alive.
“Happy birthday, beautiful.” Richard ran his fingers along her side, taking his time at the curve of her hip. “I’ve got something for you.”
Olivia watched her husband, his body still athletic and strong as he moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. When he turned to face her, he held a familiar blue Tiffany box.
“This is for you, for your birthday and your retirement, a celebration of your accomplishments, if you will. I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m proud of you, Liv.” Richard always gave Olivia jewelry from Tiffany’s at birthdays and Christmas. This year’s gift was a platinum necklace, the pendant an antique skeleton key studded with diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” Olivia said. She held up the platinum key to the morning light, the sunbeams making the diamonds dazzle.
Richard took it from her. “Let me help you put that on.” He hooked the clasp and kissed the back of her neck. “When do you and Claire sign your paperwork?”
“She’s coming in today. I’m going to ask for all the changes you suggested. Assuming she agrees, we’ll wrap things up.
“She’s got the capital?”
“She does. I think she’s probably borrowing the money, but she’ll be fine.”
Richard ran his fingers through Olivia’s thick hair. “I hear she’s a go-getter. Are you okay with walking away from all that success, the notoriety?”
“Notoriety? That’s your department. You’re the television legal guru. I just help beleaguered women get their fair share.”
Richard laughed.
“At least we can travel now, or at least I can come with you when you go away for weeks on end for depositions and trials,” Olivia said.
“That’s great, honey.”
“We need to talk about your plans, Richard. Do you have any idea when you might walk away from Rincon Sinclair?”
Richard turned to Olivia. “I’m not ready, Liv. Not now. Maybe a year or two?”
“That long?”
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
Olivia recognized this ploy. We’ll talk about it later meant they wouldn’t talk about it again until Richard was good and ready. She was about to push him, wrangle a commitment to retire out of him, when the alarm by his side of the bed started blaring the morning news.
“You shower first. I’ll make the coffee.” Richard tied his bathrobe around his waist and turned off the radio. “Are you sure you don’t mind cooking tonight? It’s your birthday.”
“I’m sure,” Olivia said. “I want to cook dinner for my family.”
“Maybe you can strike a truce with our son-in-law,” Richard said.
Olivia held her hand over her heart. “I swear, I’ll try.”
As she headed into the shower, she thought of the promise of freedom, and the time she would have to garden, travel with Richard, and tackle her toppling To-Be-Read pile of books.
After Richard left, she took her time over the morning paper and was going over her calendar when the front door opened and Denny called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”
“In the kitchen,” Olivia said.
Her daughter stepped into the kitchen, a sweet smile on her face, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders, a huge bouquet of flowers in her hand.
“Happy birthday, Mom.” Denny kissed Olivia’s cheek before pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, honey.” Olivia watched her daughter over the rim of her cup, trying to ignore the dark circles under Denny’s eyes and the tight lines around her mouth.
“How’s David?”
Denny smiled to take the edge off her words. “Come on, Mom. We both know you don’t care a bit about my husband. But he’s fine, thank you very much.”
>
She set her coffee cup on the table and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, a gesture that reminded Olivia of Denny when she was an outspoken, opinionated little girl. Richard and Denny would debate at the dinner table, Richard subtly teaching his daughter to argue like a pro. Olivia suspected that those arguments were Richard’s attempt to get Denny interested in the law.
Olivia loved that irreverent spark in her daughter and had been dismayed to see it diminish when David Grayson came into her life. Now Denny watched what she said, and if David was around, she would cast anxious glances his way, worried – to Olivia’s mind – that what she was doing would make David angry. Denny never argued, never expressed an opinion these days. That impulsive, no-filter child had married a man hell-bent on putting out her fire.
“Honestly, Mom, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I wish you two could spend some time together. If you got to know David, you’d come to realize what a good man he is. You’re just not used to his traditional values. You’re a modern woman, Mom. I’m not.”
Olivia longed to ask her daughter about her marriage, to make sure she was okay, but she was afraid that her inquiry would be seen as an intrusion, which would push Denny even further away, so she let it go. For now. “Honey, I’m never going to believe that women need to be told what to do by their husbands or boyfriends. Marriage should—”
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