“You have to keep the police away from us.” Whitney Overton’s voice was low, but anger punctuated each word. “We can’t afford this kind of publicity.”
Grace had welcomed her newest clients’ call when it stopped her brooding over the embarrassing conversation with McNamara. Now, in the cramped sitting room of Melanie’s suite at the Egret Inn, she was having second thoughts. The three youngest children were watching Daniel Tiger in an adjoining bedroom. The music and singing cartoon characters made an unsettling backdrop to their discussion of the fire and the Overton family’s missing patriarch.
“Another crisis!” Melanie said. “I just can’t handle it, especially since Heath isn’t here. I have such a hard time without him.” She sat on the edge of her chair, hands tucked under her legs and shoulders hunched up to her ears. “First, he disappears, then the police say he stole a car, and now a fire in the garage. We’re all about showing the world how our version of family life can be peaceful and harmonious, but we keep having one disaster after another. We should project the happiness we had in the early days when we had our babies, and Heath was doing the work he loved. That’s the picture we’re selling.”
Whitney groaned and said, “Not selling, Mel. For God’s sake, watch what you’re saying.”
“I’m not in public,” Melanie said. “Grace needs to know what we’re doing if she’s going to help us.”
“She knows, already, don’t you?” The look Whitney gave Grace said if she didn’t know, she’d better fake it or they’d be there all day.
Grace said, “You’re demonstrating a polyamoric family life in a positive light by making a television show, and you hope to have a lot of viewers and advertisers and make money. Is that about right?”
The sisters nodded, and Melanie said, “We want it to reflect how happy we were in the years when Heath was a minister. That’s really all he’s ever wanted to be. Besides a doctor, I mean. Pediatrics was his first love, but all that schooling takes so long — ”
“Mel,” Whitney tapped her watch. “We’re paying by the minute, here. She can read his bio online.”
Grace’s face hurt from trying to maintain a neutral expression. “We’ll roll this time into the initial consultation fee,” she assured Whitney. “No additional charge for today.” She couldn’t see how any of it was relevant to her finding the missing man, but she wanted to hear more. “Why did he leave the ministry?”
“There!” Melanie said to her sister. “I told you someone would ask that.” To Grace, she added, “We grew out of the church, in a manner of speaking. We changed as a family, and it wasn’t something the congregation understood. When you have a calling, you should answer it, don’t you agree?”
Whitney said, “Get on with it, Mel,” and made a rolling motion with her hands.
Melanie leaned away from her sister with an injured air and gave her attention to Grace. “When we left the church and moved to Atlanta, Heath found a job selling cars. We initially had our doubts, but he turned out to be just as good at that as everything else he did. We got back on our feet, financially, and refocused on our family’s calling. Heath met Felicia at work, and they became friends. When we started talking about another wife, it was natural to consider her as a candidate.”
Whitney’s expression said not everyone had been on board with the calling or the selection of a third wife.
Melanie carried on, clearly enthralled with her own story. “We’re not part of a religious or social group promoting plural marriage, so we didn’t have support or guidance. It was a real problem figuring out how to add Felicia to our family and make it legal.”
“How did you solve it?” Grace asked, hoping they already had an answer.
“Actually, it was simple. I agreed to divorce Heath so he could marry Felicia and adopt her children.”
“But then neither of you will be married to him.”
“That’s right.” Whitney smiled and patted her sister’s arm. “It’s a huge sacrifice for Mel. But since we’re birth sisters and sister wives, our children are first cousins and also half-siblings. Heath will always be their father, regardless of who he’s legally married to. Mel and I maintain separate relationships with Heath, and nothing will ever change that. Once he marries Felicia and adopts her children, they’ll be half-siblings of our children. Three emotional relationships for the adults, one family with all the children. Understand?”
Not in a million years, Grace thought, but she said, “Well if it works for you.”
“It does,” Melanie assured her.
“My inclination is to call Ms. Jones,” Grace said. “But you didn’t seem in favor of that. May I ask why?”
Whitney’s worried expression returned. “She’s a bit excitable,. and we can’t risk her thinking our agreement isn’t rock solid. We need to appear absolutely confident that the plan is still on track, which is why we can’t ask the authorities to look for Heath or do anything to upset Felicia. Our deal with Lightning Strike only works if they are both here on time for filming. We have a tight schedule to get them married on script.”
Melanie jumped in, saying, “You see why we’re so worried, don’t you? Everything is riding on this show. And the show’s only marketable when we add Felicia and her children to the storyline. But to do that, Heath and I have to divorce, even though we’re still very much in love.”
“That’s it, Mel. You don’t talk about this on camera,” Whitney said. “You make it sound mercenary.”
“We have to be mercenary.” Melanie turned on her sister, eyes flashing. “We have to keep that contract foremost in our minds because for sure and certain no one else is.”
Grace sat back, shocked, and watched as Melanie gathered speed. Whitney sat motionless, and Grace saw that she had misjudged their personalities. Melanie was the weak sister and Whitney the strong one, but only as long as Melanie allowed it.
“Lightning Strike is already asking questions about Heath.” Melanie spit out the words. “We can’t turn up short a new wife, and we can’t start over with a new woman. We’re going on as if nothing is wrong. Got it? Because I’m tired of arguing about it.”
Whitney turned to Grace, her resigned expression giving nothing more away. “I think my sister has told you enough to get started. Despite how it sounds, we love our husband, and he loves us. We’ve all sacrificed a lot for this television series, and we need Heath here soon, or we’ll lose everything. We want you to find him, discreetly, while keeping the police away from us and Lightning Strike.”
“Okay,” Melanie nodded. “That’s better, sister. Now, Grace, how are you going to do that?”
Sawyer Renne’s arrival with a large fruit basket saved Grace from explaining a plan she didn’t have. A chorus of squeals from the children announced him, and by the time he came through the sitting room door, the sisters were on their feet. Whitney accepted the basket and began distributing the contents to the children who followed in Renne’s wake, while Melanie launched herself at him for a hug.
“Where have you been?” she cried. “I thought they weren’t going to keep you at the hospital?”
Renne glanced at Grace before answering.
“She’s our attorney, Sawyer,” Whitney said.
Melanie told Grace she could leave.
“No.” Whitney dropped the basket on the coffee table and sent the children back to their cartoons. “We need to talk, all of us, while Hallie has the other kids at the park. I want to make sure we’re all on the same page on handling the publicity about the fire.”
“But the fire doesn’t affect us,” Melanie said. “Sawyer will get us another house, a better one, won’t you?”
Renne was slender with carefully tousled light brown hair and eyes so pale they were his most arresting feature. Only slightly taller than Melanie, he looked like one of the children as he floundered about for an answer to her demand. Grace wondered what kind of film company sent someone this young and inexperienced to handle a group like the Overtons.
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br /> “Uh, no,” he finally said. “The house is habitable. The fire marshal released it, and the rent’s paid in advance. You can stay here tonight, though.” Renne still smelled of smoke, and Grace thought the whole house probably did. He would have a problem getting ultra-sensitive Melanie back in there.
Whitney said, “What have you been doing? You said you were fine, and we needed you.”
“I said I was okay, not fine. I was a light-headed from the smoke, and my chest hurt, so the paramedics wanted the ER docs to check me out.”
This brought maternalistic tsking from Whitney, but Melanie still looked put out.
“Also,” Sawyer added, “I needed to call the office and fill them in. I didn’t think talking with the police around was a good idea, and things seemed under control. I’m sorry, I guess it rattled me. When I left the hospital, I went by the police station to give them my statement. I talked with the younger cop. He asked a lot of questions, and it took forever.”
“I don’t understand. Why?” Whitney asked.
Again, Renne looked at Grace. “I’m not sure why you need a lawyer, but I’m not comfortable talking with her. She doesn’t represent Lightning Strike, so I have no protection.”
“From what?” Grace asked.
“The cop said the fire wasn’t an accident.”
Chapter Six
For the first time in weeks, Grace quit work at six. It had been a long day, and she was ready for it to end. After making his upsetting announcement, Sawyer Renne had insisted she leave. Whitney had agreed with Melanie that Grace should focus on her original assignment. She’d left the sisters huddled with the producer and decided to end her arrangement with them as quickly as possible. The Overtons weren’t being completely honest with her, and she didn’t need a complicated case when she was so close to leaving Mallard Bay.
On the short walk home, she let the beauty of the little village soothe her. Her favorite street was a narrow lane lined with tiny eighteenth-and nineteenth-century watermen’s cottages. Their simple architecture, neat gardens, and air of history always made her smile. At the corner, Georgian and Victorian structures claimed the landscape, and the houses grew larger. When she turned onto Barclay Street and saw Delaney House, her steps slowed. It was getting harder and harder to come home these days.
The mansion and its grounds covered the largest residential tract in Mallard Bay. Grace’s work to restore her mother’s family estate had occupied most of the last two years. Acclimating to life on the Eastern Shore while renovating the historic building had been both wearing and exhilarating. Accomplishing her goal was thrilling, but after the initial rush of happiness had come a sharp let down and the inevitable question — what next?
She was getting married — maybe. David’s insistence on setting the date and her reluctance to do so was the source of their never-ending argument. Before she did anything else, she was going to France for an extended vacation, and she was going alone. David didn’t want to go and didn’t want her to go. Neither of them was budging.
She was selling Delaney House — sort of. Eventually. If everything worked out. It made her head ache to think about the long-range plan she’d let her cousin, Niki Malvern, talk her into. If all went according to her new business partner’s proposal, the risk was moderate, but complications were already arising. The latest one caught up to her as soon as she stepped through the front doorway.
High-pitched laughter floated down from somewhere on the upper floors. The open hallway with its domed ceiling three stories above provided excellent acoustics for the women who were discussing the merits of a Rococo style bed. Grace preferred clean lines, but her main concern was the decorating budget. She was the one funding it, and she’d specifically instructed Niki to purchase sturdy, hotel quality furniture for the guest rooms. She’d also refused to give into Niki’s request for a professional designer.
She found her cousin on the second floor, laying large swatches of upholstery material across a worn velvet fainting couch and talking over someone on her cell. Niki saw Grace in the doorway and ended the call, but not before Grace recognized Niki’s mother’s voice running on as her daughter hung up on her.
“What are you doing here?” Niki asked.
“Last time I paid the bills, it seemed like I still lived here.” Grace looked around at the collection of battered furniture she hadn’t seen before.
Since agreeing to let Niki open an inn in Delaney House, the cousins’ relationship had grown rocky. Even though Grace had never planned to live permanently in Mallard Bay, she was reluctant to turn the restored mansion over to Niki. The property had been listed for sale for a year with no serious offers, but Grace was still confident the right buyer would walk in the door. Eventually.
Niki’s plan, while emotionally tricky to execute, could work. She owned a successful bed-and-breakfast operation, the Victory Manor Inn, but the four rooms she rented didn’t bring in enough income. Adding a sister inn with six more bedrooms and large reception areas would change that. In the business plan, the additional revenue from room rentals and events would repay Grace’s startup investment and give Niki a modest salary. Then, in two or three years, Grace could sell her property as a profitable business or a single-family home. Niki would have time to find another property to replace the lost income or, more likely, sell the Victory Manor Inn and go on to a new career choice, debt-free. Grace had decided her cousin’s proposal was better than letting the newly renovated house sit empty, waiting for a buyer with deep pockets.
The ink wasn’t dry on their agreement before Niki started trying to take over Grace’s life.
Ignoring the dig, Niki said, “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve had a fabulous idea.”
“No. Not if it involves recovering antiques with,” Grace looked at the information tag on the nearest fabric swatch. “Two hundred dollars a yard? Are you crazy?” She was beginning to think she should have agreed to hire a decorator. Having a consistent third person in the mix would have given Niki someone to bounce ideas off of besides her interfering mother. Connie Delaney was always happy to suggest ways to enhance her daughter’s business enterprise using Grace’s money.
“Hush. That’s retail, not my price.” Niki gathered up the swatches and changed the subject. “Do you know what happened on Jefferson Street? There were a lot of sirens earlier. Avril stopped by here on her way back from Baltimore, but left as soon as I told her. She hasn’t called, and I can’t get Aidan on the phone. When I see him, I’ll kill him for worrying me.”
Niki and Aidan Banks had been a couple for so long, their tumultuous relationship seemed normal. Niki was always irritated with Aidan about something, but they talked to each other several times a day, if only to continue an argument. It hadn’t occurred to Grace that Niki might not know about the fire. Telling one half of the duo anything usually meant both heard the news.
“I’ll bet it had something to do with the TV show,” Niki ran on. “I started to cut through the woods to see if there was a film crew there. Then Mom called, and I couldn’t get away from her. Was that it? Were they filming? I’ll die if I missed my chance to be in a scene.”
“No, you didn’t.” Grace explained about the fire and left her cousin on the phone, contributing to the spread of the news.
After changing into shorts and sneakers, she went for a run. She’d hoped to clear her mind, but thoughts of Niki using Delaney House as an inn circled in loops with the day’s events. Both work and home provoked anxiety and pushed her to run faster. When she returned to Barclay Street, it was getting dark. Niki’s car was gone, and she’d left every light on downstairs. The house glowed like a jewel, but Grace only saw dollar signs. And then she noticed David’s black Porsche parked across the street.
She climbed the front steps slowly, trying to muster some enthusiasm for her fiancé’s unexpected visit.
Her former boss and lover had come back into her life last winter. She hadn’t said ‘no’ when he got down on one knee
and presented the iconic blue box. She hadn’t said ‘yes’, either, but details rarely got in the way of what David wanted. The box and its sparkly contents remained in her jewelry drawer unless he was in town. Her only significant acknowledgment of her engagement had been to increase the amount of her homeowner’s insurance. She wasn’t wearing the ring now, a detail guaranteed to set him off.
An hour later, she wished they only had the ring to argue about.
Chapter Seven
Grace insisted on cleaning up before getting into the reason for his unusual mid-week visit. She was careful to put the ring on before rejoining him in the sitting room of her apartment on the third floor.
“I walked around downstairs while you were in the shower,” he said as he uncorked the wine he’d brought. “Looking good.”
Her nerves went into overdrive as she took in the telltale signs. David wore khaki pants and a polo shirt. He’d taken time to change out of his suit after work. That meant there was no emergency, just no notice to her of his plans. The duffel bag by the door said he meant to stay over. The compliment on the house he disliked and the expensive wine meant he was trying to soften her up. But for what?
He left their glasses of wine on the breakfast bar and reached for her. “I have a surprise,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her gently.
“Must be something to get you here on a Tuesday night,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. He was so handsome, and when she was in his arms, it was easy to remember how much she’d once loved him.
He stroked her back and switched to her other ear, still whispering and dropping soft kisses to distract her. “I know you’re worried about what comes next. The wedding, where we’ll live, all the details. It’s a lot, and I completely understand that you have your hands full with things here.”
“What have you done?” she whispered back, mainly because the words stuck in her throat. This had all the hallmarks of being so, so bad.
Bad Intent Page 3
