“I told you I’d handle everything.” Another kiss, a real one that trailed down her neck, then lower.
She pushed him away, grabbed her wine glass, and took a fortifying swallow of the merlot. “What have you done?” she repeated.
“Way to kill a moment.” He forced a laugh and moved to the loveseat in front of the fireplace. Patting the space beside him, he said, “Come on. I’ll leave you alone until you fling yourself in my arms. It’s that good, Grace.”
She joined him and tried to tamp down her rising panic. David tossed out good news like candy. He only worked this hard if he knew her immediate reaction would be ‘no.’
He pulled a folded brochure from his back pocket and handed it to her. Smoothing it open, she saw it was a realtor’s ad for a waterfront home near Queenstown. Under a headline boasting ‘All New Construction,’ the single-story stucco and glass structure spread out over six thousand square feet and overlooked a massive pool. A long, T-shaped dock stretched from the property’s edge out into the Wye River, where a large speedboat was tied off.
“What have you done?” She knew she sounded like a parrot, right down to the squeak in her voice.
“We’ll have a real home, Grace. Not a condo in DC, but a home.” Despite his promise, he moved to close the gap between them. “Sell this museum, don’t sell it, I don’t care. Stay here with Mosley and his law practice, or come back to DC and work with me; it’s your call. But this,” he tapped the brochure, “will be our home. Yours and mine. And here’s the best part: you get to finish the inside. It’s brand new, and you can design the kitchen and pick out all the finishings for the interior. It’ll be finished soon. If you want to live there full time, I’ll commute. If you’ll give in and live in DC, this will be our fabulous weekend home.”
The house was everything she hated in architecture. The ‘surprise’ was everything she hated about their relationship. His expression was Little Boy at Christmas, and once again, he’d set her up to be the Grinch.
“Why?” she demanded. She couldn’t believe they were going over the same old argument again. “I’ve told you I’m not ready to get married.”
“You will be when you see this place, babe. I was there today with my agent, and I’ll take you out there in the morning.”
He pulled her into a gentle embrace, and she let him hold her. It was easier to talk into his shoulder. “I don’t want to do this, David. Buying a house is a huge commitment.”
His arms stiffened around her. She rushed on, her words landing on the soft cotton of his shirt. “I want you to be happy. I gave up being me for years, to make sure you got what you wanted.” The speech that had been building up for weeks was falling out of her mouth faster than she could put her thoughts together. “I did it for a long time. I made you happy, and I made Mom happy, and I told myself it was enough. It wasn’t enough, David, and I won’t do it anymore. Everything needs to change.”
“Everything such as, what?” He pushed her to arm’s length, forcing her to look at him.
“Everything. All of it. Our relationship. I need a break.”
“Stop. Just stop talking,” David let go of her and turned away. “I shouldn’t have sprung it on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t, but I’d feel the same no matter how you told me.”
He stopped at the door to pick up the duffle bag and said, “I’m sorry. I seem to have picked a bad time for good news, but don’t go overboard.”
In an un-David-like move, he left without drama, telling her to slow down and think things through. Her initial relief vanished when she remembered that he never gave up. Not in a courtroom, and certainly not with her. He’d only retreated to regroup.
The ring on her hand felt like a ticking bomb, and she couldn’t get it off fast enough.
Chapter Eight
MELANIE
She pulled on a peacock blue sundress, adjusted the fabric, looked at herself in the mirror, and stripped again. The pile of discarded clothing was growing, and the two remaining outfits she had to try on didn’t look promising. She’d spent the first ten years of her adult life either pregnant or lactating. She had to work on herself every minute, or she’d never look right again.
“We need to talk, Mom.”
Melanie ignored her daughter and picked up a cotton sweater and skinny capri pants. She’d managed to lose another five pounds, but the sweater would add bulk.
“Here, try this.” Hallie held up a sleeveless sheath with lace three-quarter sleeves, a sweetheart neck and a retro kick-pleat. “They sent it to me, but I’m going with a more casual look.”
The dress was beautiful, and the deep rose color would complement her dark hair, but Melanie shook her head. “If it fits you, I’ll never get into it. Besides, it’s too young for me.”
“Put it on,” Hallie ordered. “You’re looking at yourself with crazy eyes again.”
The family joke made Melanie smile. “It’s not crazy eyes, sweetie, it’s real,” she said as she looked at the dress. “But, I’ll try to squeeze into it.”
The dress floated over her body, softening the sharp angles and covering the few signs that she had ever given life. “I still look huge, but I guess it will have to do,” she said.
“Maybe Aunt Whitney can take it in through the hips.” Hallie’s voice was tense with concern. “This is a size two, and it’s big on you, Mom. You should eat more.”
Melanie always ignored such negative comments. She twisted and turned in front of the mirror and pictured herself standing between Whitney and Felicia while the cameras rolled. She’d be tiny and delicate with her sister wives towering over her. No one would ever believe she was the oldest wife and the mother of seven.
“Your silver sandals will go with this, don’t you think?” Melanie stretched up on her tiptoes and examined the curve of her calves with a critical eye.
“I was going to wear them, but you can have them. Now can we talk about Dad?”
Ignoring the question, Melanie said, “Pick anything you like from those things on the bed and pack the rest up for Sawyer to return to the studio. That nasty woman from Wardrobe said one outfit each, then we have to use our own clothes. Good thing I went shopping for us last week, huh?”
“Anything?” Hallie eyed the clothes her mother had rejected.
“Nothing’s too good for my big girl.” Melanie brushed her daughter’s cheek with a kiss. “But not the dresses. You have to look the part, honey. Happy Active Teenager, that’s your role, remember? Try those cute jeans and the striped boat neck top.”
“I will. But before everyone comes back, we have to talk about Dad. He’s just out there somewhere. The police said the rental car people couldn’t reach him and we can’t, either. Where is he, Mom? What’s going on? He doesn’t even know about the fire yesterday. I really need him.”
“Oh, sweetie, we all do.” Melanie finished buttoning her blouse and slipped on her old Birkenstocks. She looked like Hallie’s mom again as she gathered the girl into her arms. “I know this is hard for you, and I’m sorry. The last few days have been awful, but it’ll be over soon.” She patted Hallie’s back, making a mental note to tell Sawyer they needed a personal trainer. Hallie was getting too soft. “Your father will be here soon, and everything will be fine.”
“Are you sure? I mean, what if — ”
“I said it will be fine. Your father’s working on a special project for the show, that’s all.”
“What kind of project?”
“I told you, developing some sites for a couple of the shows we’re filming near the end of the year. Sawyer’s handling everything while Dad’s gone, so don’t worry.”
“Yeah. Mom, about Sawyer. There’s something else.”
Melanie’s tone turned harsh. “You’d better not be starting up with him again. I fixed that once, but I can’t complain about him now.”
Hallie pulled away and sat on a corner of the bed. “He’s only a few years older than me. I’ve already told you I came on
to him; he didn’t do anything. I was the one who broke the rules, and I did it again yesterday.” She squeezed her eyes shut. The rest of her words came out in a rush. “The littles were happy watching TV, and I went out behind the garage to smoke. Then, one of them yelled, and I think I threw the cigarette down without putting it out when I ran back inside. I’m sure I started the fire.”
“Smoking!” Melanie grabbed her daughter, pulling her off the bed and shaking her. “You promised you’d stop. What if someone saw you? How does it look for us if we’re preaching moral values and raising children in a strong family unit when you’re out there smoking? How could you?”
“Did you hear me?” Hallie yelled. “I started the fire, and Sawyer got hurt.”
“Oh, I heard you, and now you listen to me, young lady. You don’t smoke, so put the whole thing out of your mind. And as for Sawyer, why did he go into the garage, anyway? Nothing of ours was in there.”
Hallie’s mutinous look said the confession was over.
“Start talking,” Melanie demanded. “Or I’m calling Fred Renne right this minute.”
The mention of Lightning Strike’s CEO ended the argument. Sawyer had his job due to his uncle’s generosity, but the Overtons owed the elder Renne much more than an entry level paycheck.
“I called him,” Hallie said. “I wanted to see Sawyer, and I called him. But when he got here, the garage was on fire, and he ran inside, and everything went crazy after that.”
“What was in the garage that was so important?”
Hallie began to cry. Melanie’s mind raced as she held her daughter. When the sobs eased, she wiped her daughter’s face and said, “Tell me everything, from the beginning. I can fix it all, but you have to tell me.”
Knowing better, but wanting to believe her mother, Hallie talked.
Chapter Nine
Grace faced Wednesday morning grateful the long night was over. She’d only slept briefly and woke at three. Unwilling to try to sleep again, she’d walked through Delaney House, letting its emptiness echo in her heart. By six, she was desperate to get out of her own head. She ran her usual two miles, showered, dressed, and went to the office all on autopilot. The brochure on her kitchen counter never left her thoughts.
The opening screen on her computer monitor was a bird’s-eye view of the Latin Quarter in Paris. She looked at a small corner cafe and imagined herself at the single empty table on the sidewalk. Her plane ticket was non-refundable. She’d either make the flight in July or lose her money. When she’d bought the ticket, she’d already missed two self-imposed deadlines for leaving Mallard Bay and was desperate for any trick to keep her plans on track. This time she would be successful, but first, she had to do something about David.
She made herself concentrate on finishing the work she’d agreed to do for the Overtons. The sooner she could wrap up that project, the better. She wanted to have a clear idea of their legal situation before meeting with them again, but lack of sleep and impotent fury kept distracting her. Between yawning and mentally cursing David, she didn’t get much done. Curiosity nagged at her to go see the house he’d picked out, but it felt like giving in, and pig-headed stubbornness wouldn’t let her do it.
Remembering that Whitney had emailed her the promotional video for the Overtons’ show, she opened the file, curious to see Heath Overton.
Melanie and Whitney hadn’t exaggerated. The Plurals Next Door was ready to roll. The production was polished and professional, complete with sitcom theme music and soundbites from Heath, Melanie, and Whitney and, after a dramatic Tada chord, their fiancée, Felicia Jones.
Melanie and Whitney looked both younger and more sophisticated than the women Grace had met. Care had been taken to emphasize the sisters’ similarities in appearance and wardrobe. Someone had gotten Melanie to open up, literally. She sat untwisted on a couch, laughing and flicking her long hair out of her face as several giggling children played around her. A beaming Whitney, who carried a toddler and led a small boy by the hand, soon joined them.
The currently missing husband appeared next. The shot widened to show a dark-haired man of medium height and medium build. Everything else about Heath Overton was extraordinary. He had a bone structure and natural grace that the camera loved. His smile looked sincere, and charisma fairly leaped from the screen. Whitney handed him her little girl as he joined his wives on the sofa. The child clapped her chubby hands and laughed in delight as he held her in the air before setting her on his lap. The older kids, dark-haired, handsome stair-step miniatures of their parents, filed in and lined up behind them.
Felicia Jones and her children, blonde counterpoints to the Overtons, entered, and the cameras zoomed out to capture everyone. Only one thing kept the group from projecting bland perfection: while the adults welcomed the new arrivals, the teenagers’ expressions said trouble was about to break out. Grace wanted to see what happened next with this family. Maybe the Overtons were on to something — if they still had a father and a contract.
Googling ‘Overton’ and ‘plural family’ produced links to the websites for Lightning Strike Films and the Overton family. Neither told her anything she didn’t already know, but she spent a few minutes studying the family’s promotional photos. They all looked relaxed, happy, and attractive. Grace wondered how the women she’d met yesterday had been transformed for filming. Just getting Melanie untwisted and dry-eyed would have taken some work.
Although Melanie and Whitney hadn’t asked her to, she read the marriage laws in Georgia and Maryland’s ‘crimes against marriage’ statutes. When she finished, she decided that there weren’t any serious issues with their plural family arrangement.
Whitney had changed her last name to Overton, wore a wedding ring, and called herself Heath’s wife. The name change was legal; she had the right of free speech and the right to wear any kind of jewelry she wished. As long as she and Heath didn’t commit fraud by claiming to be married, they should be in the clear. The only thing Grace found for the State of Maryland to throw at the threesome was adultery between Heath and Whitney, a charge which carried a ten-dollar penalty. Not exactly a deterrent, and who’d file a complaint?
Even bringing Felicia and her children into the mix didn’t break any laws Grace could find. If Heath and Melanie divorced and Heath married Felicia and adopted her children, all three women would have the Overton name, as would all the children. In the new family unit, only Felicia would be Heath’s wife, although the Overtons claimed not to recognize a distinction between a legal union and their moral commitments to each other.
A review of the contract Heath, Melanie, Whitney, and Felicia had signed with Lightning Strike Films revealed a straightforward agreement. The failure of any of them to perform under the specified terms meant the contract was void for all of them.
She turned her attention to the personal information Whitney had given her on Heath and Felicia. For her husband, Whitney had only provided a copy of his driver’s license, social security card, and the phone number of the car rental agency. The two reports on Felicia provided much more information, but little of it was useful.
Starting with the basics, Grace called all the work and home numbers for Heath. The home landline and cell phones went to voicemail, where she left messages. The sales manager at the dealership where Heath and Felicia had met confirmed that neither was still employed, then unloaded snarky opinions of his former employees. By the time Grace got him off the phone, she felt reasonably sure the couple hadn’t been in touch with him recently.
Next, she checked public records in Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia. No arrest or citations showed up in either name. They were equally clean in Georgia, where she only found Felicia’s divorce from a Robert Lee Jones. Grace hoped she wouldn’t have to find the ex-husband in the sea of men carrying versions of that name.
A call to Ernie’s Royal Rides in Baltimore got her nowhere. Once she identified herself as the Overtons’ attorney, the leasing manager said, ‘no comment’ and hu
ng up. She briefly considered driving over for an in-person conversation, but knew she was only avoiding the most obvious next step.
She needed to know what the police were thinking. The easiest way to find out was to call McNamara, but there was the uncomfortable matter of yesterday’s argument. Her argument. Mac had enjoyed a good laugh at her expense, and calling him now would be beyond embarrassing.
Over the past six months, he’d made his interest in her clear, but in a lighthearted, no-pressure way. She hadn’t reciprocated, but she hadn’t discouraged him, either. Now here they were — she was still engaged to David, and Mac was seeing someone else. More than ‘seeing.’ She’d run into the couple last week at the bakery, eating breakfast and looking happy.
Everyone said Ashley Greenburgh was the perfect match for the widowed Chief of Police. A widow herself, Ashley was an attractive, late forty-something with a wide smile and easy laugh. While she wasn’t the first woman to set her mind on ending McNamara’s single status, this time, he was cooperating.
Another good reason to leave, Grace had thought. If Mac was waking up to women after a ten-year hibernation, she didn’t need to be in his first round of options.
So why had she asked him to lunch yesterday?
If she was honest — and she was too tired of her relentless introspection to be anything else — she had to admit it was because she enjoyed being with him. She wanted their friendship to stay that way, friendly. Mac made her happy, or he had until he’d changed from Grace’s friend into A Man. The last thing she needed was another one of those.
Chapter Ten
The good news was, McNamara wasn’t mad. At least she thought it was good. Grace didn’t have much experience with men who didn’t hold grudges.
When they’d covered the weather, and she’d assured him she was fine, she asked about the investigation into Heath Overton’s disappearance.
Bad Intent Page 4
