Barefoot at Midnight (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 3)

by Roxanne St Claire

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later that day, Law relaxed in Libby’s comfortable Infiniti SUV as they drove down the beach road from Barefoot Bay into town. Libby had suggested she drive them to the fresh market to get supplies and ingredients, since he could hardly do that on a bike. As often as possible, he sneaked a peak at the driver, who was as nice to look at as the beach view on the other side.

  Libby was a complex woman, he thought, enjoying her profile and the way she handled the luxury automobile.

  “Nice whip, yoga bear,” he said, patting the butter-soft leather seat.

  “Not from yoga, believe me. Divorce has its benefits.”

  “You got the car?”

  She threw him a smile. “I got a mountain of cash because that son of a bitch cheated on me right out in the open and didn’t bother to hide what he was doing. Combine that with my brilliant barrister brother, a fair judge, and no prenup, and you can color me comfortable.”

  He laughed a little. “I see where your daughter gets her honest streak.”

  “Why lie about it? I didn’t cheat on him, but I was foolish enough to marry him.”

  He eyed her again, having a tough time imagining pragmatic Libby being foolish about anything, especially a man. She had endured some crappy relationships, that was for sure.

  “Did you marry him for his money?”

  “Pah.” She flicked her finger as if the idea were purely annoying to her. “Money has never been a motivator for me. I told you, I married for love.” She looked skyward. “Totally foolish.”

  “You fell for that myth?” he teased. Well, sort of teased.

  “Hey, I was thirty-six years old and just past my peak. Just.” She winked at him. “You know, by a day or two.”

  He chuckled. “If this isn’t your peak, I don’t think I could have been able to be in the same room as you when you hit it.”

  She brushed a lock of blond hair over her shoulder with a playful smugness. “I was insanely hot.”

  “You are insanely hot.”

  “You’re very sweet, but nine or ten years ago?” She whistled softly. “Peaked. And Parker Blaine was…anxious to get to the top.”

  “Parker Blaine? That name alone should have made you run.”

  “I liked it,” she said. “It sounded like an old New England family to me, but trust me, it was not. He was a ruthless real estate developer who built skyscrapers in Miami and hotels in the Caribbean. But mostly, he was an insecure fifty-three-year-old man with a little dick and a big ego, and I was purchased for one purpose: eye candy.”

  “Come on, Lib. You’re too smart to get snookered into a deal that raw.”

  “Love is blind and dumb, Law. I really, truly cared about him and thought his ego was a form of confidence.”

  “And his dick?”

  She gave a sad smile. “I gave him a pass because you can’t help what God didn’t give you.”

  He kept his mouth shut, knowing exactly what God gave him and certain that she’d know, too, eventually. But not while she was dumping on her ex-husband.

  “So how long did it last?”

  “Long enough for his ambition to kick in, along with his need for the next bigger thing. A bigger deal, a taller building, a shinier trophy. He found one, and I was famously taken off the shelf.”

  “But well paid.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “That was Sam, really. He’s a shark.”

  “He’s a good lawyer, and he seems fair,” Law said. “And his compromise makes sense, at least to me. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “You can’t exactly get all the food from that fresh market on a motorcycle,” she said. “I don’t have a class to teach until later this afternoon, so I don’t mind going with you.”

  “I don’t mean this drive or this trip to the market,” he said. “I mean this plan to let me be so involved with the restaurant.”

  She kept her eyes on the road, thinking. “Don’t think it’s pure altruism on my brother’s part. I’m sure there’s some legal benefit to us opening the doors to you, with or without that will.”

  “But you could have said no.”

  “You should know by now that deep down what’s really important to me is to find out if Jake was my father and…why he wouldn’t take responsibility for that.” Her voice hitched a little, and she threw him an apologetic look. “I like being fair about it, don’t you?”

  “I do, and I know you doubt your mother, but I doubt Jake sometimes. And my memory. So as long as we have doubts, why not?”

  “I thought you firmly believed my mother is lying.”

  “What I firmly believe is that if Jake knew you and Sam were his, he’d have taken full responsibility. Although…”

  “Although what?” she prodded when his voice trailed off.

  Law shifted in his seat, wondering how many cards he was going to show in one day. Many, it seemed. “When he was slipping into that coma and telling me about the will, he did make a point of saying the Pelican was mine and ‘no one else’s.’ And he mentioned that secret.”

  “Then he knew about us. I told you.”

  “And he ignored you? It’s preposterous, if you knew him. Jake did the right thing, always. Maybe her version of the story is something of the truth, but she didn’t want to marry him.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “She’s not changing that story, though, and there aren’t very many people around who could have known them when they were younger and involved.”

  Traffic slowed to almost a stop as they neared town and the turn for the causeway.

  “Can you even remember a time when there was more than one car on this road?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the backup. “I came this way to and from Mimosa High every day, and there were days when this street was deserted.”

  “The resort changed everything on this island,” he mused.

  “Not everything. The town is still small, there’s only one traffic light, and the Super Min is still at the heart of it all, but—”

  He snapped his fingers. “Hey, I have an idea.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “The person who would have known them both when they were younger.”

  “Charity Grambling!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright as she read his mind. “That is brilliant, Law. She owned the Super Min back then, she knows everything about everyone, and she loves nothing more than gossip.”

  “Plus, the Super Min is in the background of that picture,” he added.

  “You’re right. She might be able to tell us something concrete.”

  “Do you want to go back home and get the photo?” he asked.

  She tapped her handbag on the console. “It’s right here.”

  “You carry it around?” he asked, surprised.

  “I don’t want to lose it.”

  But something told him it was more than that. “Okay, we’ll show it to her, and if I know anything about that woman, she’ll spill everything she knows.”

  Libby cringed a little. “But I don’t want her to know about my mom or anything about us,” she said. “It’ll be all over town before we get over the causeway.”

  “We won’t tell her a thing,” he promised. “We’ll say we found it in the Pelican and wanted to know if she has any idea of the date. Historical value. She eats that stuff up with a spoon.”

  “Dating that might be tough.”

  “Don’t underestimate Charity Grambling.”

  She gave him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Law.”

  “For what? Throwing myself to the she-devil of Mimosa Key?”

  “For wanting to find out the truth.”

  He shrugged. “It’s what Jake would want.”

  “And I’m sorry to keep making you talk about him.” She reached over the console and took his hand. “And I’m sorry you lost your friend.”

  He took her hand in both of his, mostly for the pleasure of sandwiching her long, lean, smooth fingers between his palms. “I’m sorry he didn’t
know he had a daughter as great as you and a son who might have changed his mind about lawyers.”

  She smiled, a little sadness in her sweet eyes as she turned the SUV into the Super Min lot. After she parked, she grabbed her purse and climbed out. Law followed and met her at the front of the car. “Let me talk,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because she likes me.”

  Libby snorted. “Charity Grambling doesn’t like anyone.”

  He lifted his brows. “Trust me on this, Lib. She goes full-out cougar on me.”

  “This is Charity. You think she’s a cougar, but she’s a feral cat on the prowl for dirt and destruction.”

  Before they reached the door, he held out his hand. “Give me the picture.”

  With a skeptical look, she slipped her fingers into the side pocket of her bag and produced the photograph. He took it and placed a hand on her back and led her to the door of the convenience store that had probably been built the same year as the Pelican. “Brace yourself, Lib. Old ladies love me.”

  She rolled her eyes as he pushed the door in and met the gray-eyed gaze of the seventy-five-year-old Mimosa Key institution whose mother could not have chosen a less appropriate name. There wasn’t a charitable bone in the woman’s body, but somewhere, deep inside, she was a woman. And that woman, shriveled on the inside and out, had at least one working hormone left in her body that always came alive at the sight of Law.

  “Well, look what the busty blonde dragged in.” Charity pushed up from the stool she’d perched on for what had to be fifty years behind the cash register. “Lawson Monroe, where have you been?” She actually came out from behind the safety of her counter, as if she had to get closer to him.

  “Sweet Charity, it’s good to see you.”

  Despite the light flush of color that deepened her weathered cheeks, she managed a scowl. “If it was good, you wouldn’t be a stranger.” Her gaze shifted to Libby and instantly turned distrustful again as she looked up and down. “Glad to see you’re not walking around in those sausage skins you call exercise clothes anymore.”

  Libby smiled. “You should take one of my yoga classes, Charity. It’s good for the soul.”

  “My soul is a lost cause, and my bones are brittle.” She shifted her attention back to Law. “Ever since Jake Peterson croaked, you’ve been MIA. What brings you back here?”

  “This.” He held out the picture for her. “I found it in the Toasted Pelican and thought you might like to see it. Isn’t that the Super Min in the background?”

  She whipped it up and adjusted her glasses. “Let me see.” She squinted at the shot, angling it one way and the other. “Oh yes. That’s my shop before I got the Shell franchise. Lord have mercy, that Frank Rice was a handsome man.” She looked up and gave a sly smile. “Reminds me a little of you, Law, with that sleek silver hair.”

  “Frank Rice?” Libby asked, leaning in.

  Charity barely spared her a look. “Oh, he was a fine-looking man even then, maybe fifty years old.” She pointed to the other man in the picture with young Jake and Libby’s mom. “Of course, he’s dead now, and I heard he had dementia so bad he didn’t recognize himself in the end. I hope someone shoots me if that happens to me.”

  Law was pretty sure half the town would line up for that job. “So you know when this was taken?”

  She squinted and then looked up at Law. “Oh, that Frank was like Rock Hudson, you know? His wife left him, I recall, in an ugly divorce. Took him for every penny, and he had plenty of those.” She tapped the picture, squinting as if she were looking into her memory. “Rosalind!” she exclaimed. “Rosalind Rice, that was her name. Went by the name Rosie.”

  She looked up at them, beaming. “Not bad for an old bag, huh? Guess no one’s going to shoot me after all.” She chuckled and continued to study the picture. “But I do remember Frankie and that little Rosie wife of his. He was a very important person in his day.”

  “Okay, thanks, Charity.” Law reached for the photo, frustrated that she was concentrating on the wrong couple.

  She snapped it back. “Not until I know.”

  “Know what?” Law and Libby asked in unison.

  “Why you’re asking.” A smug smile looked like it would crack her peanut-brittle skin. “There has to be a reason why it matters so to you.”

  Law shouldn’t have underestimated this woman’s curiosity. “I told you, I found it in Jake’s stuff,” he said. “And I was wondering if you knew when it was taken.”

  Charity finally released the photo. “Of course I know. That picture was shot on November 5, 1970.”

  Libby’s jaw dropped. “How can you be certain?”

  She slid a blood-red nail along the photo, stopping at the outside wall under the Super Min sign. “The store was painted seafoam green right there. But see the side of the building?” She angled the picture. “Navaho white. That’s the actual name of both colors. Lord, my memory is a beautiful thing.”

  “How does that tell you the day?” Law asked.

  “Some obnoxious little pricks egged my whole building on Halloween. I had to wait three days to have it painted, which would have been November 3, 1970. They had to stop halfway, without finishing, until the following Monday because it was a Friday. And you see that little red sign on the door? That was my closed sign, and I used to be closed every Sunday back in the day when we had blue laws and such. So this had to be taken on Sunday, making it November 5, 1970.” She gave a yellowed, smug-as-hell smile. “Does that help?”

  “Yeah, and if I ever need an alibi for a murder, I’m calling you,” Law said.

  “Thanks,” Libby mumbled and started for the door. As Law moved in the same direction, Charity grabbed his forearm to whisper, “Hey, did you ever find out who took over the Toasted Pelican?” she asked. “It killed me that I couldn’t help you, Law.”

  “I did find out,” he said, the bell ringing when Libby went outside alone.

  Charity pointed a crimson talon at him. “Spill or die.”

  “Can’t,” he said, making her eyes go wide with disbelief. “But if you want a real treat, stop in for dinner one of these nights.”

  She snorted. “If I want a piece of meat that tastes like the wheel of my car, I will.”

  “Things have changed. I’m running a gastropub in there right now. Spread the word, will you?”

  “That’s like asking me to breathe.”

  “Then do your thing, Sweet Charity.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “That’s the real reason you came in here, isn’t it? Not trying to find out about Frank Rice. You want me to help that business.”

  “I admit I had an ulterior motive. Bring your whole family to dinner one of these nights. I think you’ll like it.”

  She gave a shrug and shooed him out the door. “Get out there quick before all that makeup melts off her face.”

  Libby barely had any on. “You’re jealous, Charity.”

  “You bet I am,” she admitted. “If I were younger, you wouldn’t have a chance.”

  He just laughed, blew her a kiss, and joined Libby, who stood in the blazing sun, clicking on her phone.

  “Well, we got a specific date,” he said.

  “And an important one, if this website is correct.”

  “What website?” He leaned closer to see what was on her screen, but the sun was too bright.

  “The one that says a baby conceived on November fifth would be born on July twenty-eighth.”

  He thought about that for a second, and realized where she was going. “Thought you said your birthday was July Fourth.”

  “It was, but my mother said a thousand times we were three weeks early and were due on…” She lowered the phone and looked at him. “July twenty-eighth.”

  “And that makes you think that picture was taken the day you were conceived.”

  She nodded. “And there she is, standing next to Jake, who’s looking at her like she hung the moon.” She sighed and took his hand. “Not adm
issible in court, but it sure feels like we’re getting closer to the truth.”

  “That’s what you wanted, Lib.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know what I want. I mean, yes, the truth. But for some reason, I’d hoped it would be different. That he would have wanted us.”

  “I still think your mother might be playing with history a little bit.”

  “She might be.” She reached the car and tapped the keyless entry. “I’ll call her again tonight and see if I can shake more out of her.”

  “In the meantime, you and I have a restaurant to run.”

  “For what? Ten more days?” She opened the door and looked over the roof at him, squinting in the sun. “Doesn’t it bother you that at the end of that time, you may not have that will and I’ll own the property?”

  “I want the experience, even if it’s just for ten days. Also, it’ll give me time to take that hideous bottle rack down behind the bar. Can I?” he asked.

  “Knock yourself out. I certainly won’t want it there when it’s a yoga studio.”

  “Great, I’ll get Mark and Ken to help me. If I leave, at least I will have done it.”

  “Leave? Where would you go?” she asked.

  “Probably Arizona.”

  The squint disappeared as her eyes widened in surprise. “Why Arizona?”

  “Because I have a job offer there.”

  He saw her swallow. “So, if I win this thing, you leave?”

  “Yeah. Why do you seem so surprised?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just…” She slid into the driver’s seat, and he waited a beat, then got in his side to find her staring straight ahead. Did his going to Arizona bother her?

  “You’re just what?” he asked.

  She stabbed the button and brought the Infiniti to its quiet life. “I’m excited about going to the fresh market,” she said with a bright smile plastered on her face.

  But he didn’t believe her for one minute. She was disappointed he would be leaving, which was…all the more reason to leave.

  Chapter Sixteen

  News traveled fast around Mimosa Key. So fast, Libby suspected Law had mentioned the changes in the menu and atmosphere to Charity Grambling. She showed up that night, with her sister, their daughters, their husbands, and some friends.