by Aaron Lazar
“Thanks,” I said, not sure what I was really thanking her for. Maybe it was for standing there in the bright sunlight, her frank eyes searching mine, her skin glistening in the heat. Maybe it was for the shockwave of love that surged through me. Or the way my legs turned to jelly when she was near. Could it be her velvety voice that trilled a looping dance up and down my spine?
A querulous snarl came from the back. “Sonny? Stop dawdling and get us out of here. It’s too hot for flirting.”
Sassy covered her mouth and laughed, and I grinned back at her. “Yes, ma’am,” I shouted to the lady. “I’m on it.”
Sassy settled herself just behind my driver’s seat. I climbed back up and started the engine, slowly meandering between the rows and up the dirt path leading to the farm. Halfway there, Jax hailed me from a patch of berries he’d been harvesting. “Hey, bro. Give me a ride.”
I stopped and he climbed aboard, sitting beside me in the front.
“Hot as hell out here,” he said. “We should go to the beach later.”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing back at Sassy. “Maybe you could come with us?”
She giggled. “I’d have to ask permission. But maybe.”
Jax turned and noticed her, his eyes practically bugging out. To my horror, he got the way he did around pretty girls, practically swaggering in his seat. “Hey, beautiful.”
I glanced back at her, wondering if she’d smack him. I didn’t think she’d like being treated that way. And I worried. Oh, yes, I worried. At seventeen, he’d stolen girls from all his friends. My mother said it was his devilish good looks, his undeniable charm. I worried some more. “Sassy, this is my brother, Jax. Jax, this is Sassy.”
She didn’t say much, just nodded and mumbled hello.
He swung around over the seat and plopped down next to her. “Sassy, huh? You go to our school?”
She didn’t answer.
He sneaked an arm around her shoulders, leaning too close to her face. I looked back and saw her slide away from him.
Good.
From the back of the trolley, her father curled a finger at her and patted the seat beside him. Her mother called out. “You come over here, girl. Sit with us.”
With flushed cheeks, Sassy stood, locking eyes with me. “I’ll try to make it. Paines Creek? Seven o’clock?”
“Seven’s great,” I whispered, almost driving off the track because I couldn’t stop staring at her.
She carefully made her way to the back of the trolley.
Jax guffawed. “I see how it is. Little Finn’s got a girlfriend. Oo-la-la.” He did a stupid hula dance and climbed back into the front. “Wait’ll I tell Mom and Dad.”
“Shut up,” I said. “Just shut up.”
Chapter 7
July 9, 2013
Noon
Libby did drag me out of my cocoon of woe that day. I’d stumbled into the shower and let the warm water soothe my bruised soul. She’d done me a good turn, and I needed to thank her for it.
After working outside all day—I’d mucked stalls, mowed the mansion grounds, and trimmed and fed all the roses in the garden—I realized how hungry I was. Those dried-out noodle casseroles just didn’t do it for me, so I headed to the local market in my noisy Jeep, eliciting stares from tourists and hoping Police Chief Kramer or Deputy Lowell didn’t catch me. I’d been warned about the muffler twice now, but I still didn’t have the cash to fix it.
Food came first.
Cars second. Long as they got you where you were going.
Right?
I jumped out of the Jeep and lunged for a rogue grocery cart that rolled toward me, threatening to add another dent to my vehicle.
“Whoa! Good catch, Finn.”
I turned to see Doc Fillmore, who I’d always known as Stinker from elementary school. The man had the ability to clear a room when he was in sixth grade.
“Hey, Stinker.”
He stood behind his Land Rover, loading a mountain of groceries into the back. The man had eight kids, all growing fast.
He came around to shake my hand. “Nice day, huh?”
A brilliant coroner, yes. Conversation? Not his forté.
“Yeah. It’s a nice one.”
I thought that would be it. Usually we didn’t talk a lot, except maybe when I asked about his family or he mentioned The Seacrest or Libby’s horses. He had a mad passion for horses and often followed us around to her dressage events.
“Er, Finn. I wanted to say…” His face turned reddish. “I mean…”
“Thanks, Stink.” I figured he was trying to say he was sorry for my losses.
He cleared his throat. “I am sorry about your wife and brother. But I wanted to say I’m also really sorry about the child.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I pushed the cart against my Jeep so it wouldn’t roll down the incline, and took a few steps toward him. “What?”
He shuffled his feet, then summoned his professional demeanor. Straightening, he locked eyes with me. “As I’m sure you know, Cora was about four months pregnant. I’m really sorry.”
The blood drained from my face and I swayed. Catching myself, I leaned over the hood of the Jeep.
“Finn?” He hurried to my side. “Finn? I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t get the words out.
He looked really flustered now. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry. I assumed…”
I found my center and straightened. “No. It’s okay. I just…it was just a shock.”
His eyes continued to register deep surprise. “She didn’t tell you?”
I breathed deeply and exhaled. “No.”
He looked sorry for me then, and I hated that. “Er…she might’ve wanted to surprise me. On our anniversary. It’s coming up in a few days.” I choked back the emotion and swiped perspiration from my brow. “That’s probably it.”
I wondered again. Jax? What in God’s name were you doing with my wife?
Stinker finished loading his bags into the car and lowered the door. “Aw, poop. I didn’t mean to throw you a curve, Finn. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I was going to turn away, but thought I’d ask if there were any more surprises discovered on the autopsy table. “Did you find anything else? What about my brother?”
“Nothing surprising. Death by head trauma. Neither one drowned, thank goodness. They were dead before they reached the water.” He frowned. “I probably shouldn’t say. But since you and I go a long way back…”
“What is it, Stink?”
He pursed his tidy mouth into a small circle and smacked his lips. “There was a substantial amount of alcohol in your brother’s bloodstream.”
“Oh.” I knew Jax drank. He’d been drinking since that night he’d left the cigarette burning on our family’s couch. So, he killed our parents and little sister, and now my wife. I felt myself go sick inside, but tried to summon some semblance of normalcy. “I guess that’s not a surprise. He had a bad habit.”
“It may be why they went over the cliffs.”
I looked in the direction of the bluffs. “Right. Those curves are nasty up there, but if you go too fast, or if you’re drunk…or both…”
It still didn’t explain why they’d been together.
“Thanks, Doc.” I switched to his more professional nickname, feeling a bit ashamed I’d slipped back to his childhood moniker.
“It’s okay. And you can call me Stinker. Everyone does.” He chuckled. “I kind of like it.”
I released a grim smile, pushing away the anger and new knowledge about Cora. “Okay. Thanks, Stink. See you around.”
He saluted and got into the Land Rover. “See you at the inquest.”
Inquest?
I didn’t know they’d have such a thing.
Would I go? Could I?
I didn’t know.
Hunger drove me into the store, where I spent almost every last penny on a huge sirloin steak, potatoes, lettuce, milk, and cereal. I
didn’t know if I could feed that horrible black pit in my heart and stomach. But I was sure going to try.
Chapter 8
July 9th, 1997
5:30 P.M.
Dinner at our house was always a big deal. My mother made sure she left the blueberry fields by two-thirty every day, so she could have a feast on the table for her men by five-thirty.
Today was no different, except my grandfather was still up from Florida, which meant we might use the cloth napkins and good china. I loved it when he stayed with us, and looked forward to our deep conversations. I especially wanted to ask him about girls. I needed to know how to act with Sassy, how to get her to like me. And maybe he could help me figure out how to ask her to go steady, when the time came. I’d never had a serious girlfriend, and I wanted to do things right.
My annoying brother had that look on his face that meant he was cooking up something to get me in trouble. I could always tell.
We sat, said grace, and my father offered the first slab of pot roast to Gramps. “Here you go, Dad. Mary’s specialty.”
My grandfather took a large slice and passed the plate. “I remember. This stuff melts in your mouth. Any chance I could hire you to cook aboard the houseboat, Mary?”
My mother tittered and actually blushed. Gramps always made her act like a little girl, and I marveled at the interplay between them.
The mashed potatoes started their way around the table, followed by gravy, fresh green beans, and salad. Jax plopped a mountain of potatoes on his plate and leered at me across the table. “I have some news, guys.”
I glared at him, beseeching him with my eyes not to say anything about Sassy.
Of course, he fed on that with definitive glee. Words burst from him with a sing-song taunting voice. “Finny has a girlfriend.”
He knew I hated being called that sissified nickname, and more importantly, that I didn’t want to spoil my budding romance by making it dinner table conversation.
My mother smiled nervously, my father frowned, and Gramps shot me a conspiratorial glance.
My mother spoke first. “Oh, honey. Isn’t that nice? What’s her name?”
I made a hole in the top of my mashed potato mound and filled it with gravy, studiously avoiding her eyes. “We’re not dating or anything. I just met her.” I barely whispered my reply. “Her name’s Sassy.” I couldn’t admit that she hadn’t given me her real name. It would be humiliating, and Jax would get too much mileage out of that.
My father cut a bite of pot roast, his eyes seeking mine. “Who’s her family?”
I stuttered. “I…I don’t know. Yet. She’s just someone I met the other day.”
Gramps nudged me. “The girl from the beach?”
I nodded, studying my plate again.
He took a swig of his drink, then set it down. “Nice girl.”
Jax guffawed a laugh. “You don’t even know her last name?”
My mother—ever the peacemaker—tried to stop Jax. “Honey, don’t rile up your brother. It’s nice he met a girl.” Turning to me, she said. “You should bring her to dinner some night, dear.”
I blanched. That was the last thing I’d do. “Okay, Mom. Maybe.”
Jax chortled again, took a long swig of milk, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, earning a frown from my father. “Hey, bro, if she’s not your girlfriend, maybe I’ll ask her out. She’s really hot.”
I slammed my fork onto the table and glowered at him. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Gramps laid a hand on my arm. “Hey, boys. There are plenty of fish in the sea. And listen, Jax, Finn saw her first. I’m his witness.”
Grateful, I smiled at my grandfather, tossing another scowl at Jax. “I’m going to ask her out. So don’t even think about it.” Proud of myself for standing up for me—something I found exceedingly hard to do around Jax—I began to attack my food again.
Jax snorted another laugh. “Okay, okay, little bro. I guess you deserve to have a little fun.”
My father cleared his throat. “Listen, boys. I don’t want any of this puppy love stuff getting in the way of the farm.”
I could tell he was about to start his favorite lecture, and I sighed inside while pretending to listen.
“You boys have a job to do. I know it’s summer, but you need to continue to get up every day at six, no exceptions. No late nights. No drinking. No smoking.” His voice deepened and turned even firmer, if that was possible. “And if you get close with these girls, I want you to take precautions.”
My mother flushed again. “Anthony!”
Gramps covered a grin. “Tony’s right, Mary. Young love is grand,” he glanced at me with a genuine smile. “But you don’t want any young ladies showing up on your doorstep with babies in their arms. And you sure as hell don’t want to catch anything. If you need help with this stuff,” he glanced at my mother’s horrified expression, “come to me. I can help you be safe.”
Even Jax looked uncomfortable, which made me happy. I wondered if he’d ever had a scare with a girl. He’d had so many girlfriends, I’d lost count.
“Okay, Gramps. Thanks. But right now I haven’t even held hands with her. So let’s not jump the gun.”
That earned another nervous laugh from my mother. “Good boy. Now, let’s change the subject.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Who wants blueberry pie?”
All hands shot into the air.
She pushed back her chair with a relieved smile. “Well, then. Okay. Sit tight while Jax and I get it.”
Jax grumbled. He hated helping with anything. But he got up and slogged after her into the kitchen.
Gramps leaned toward me, speaking in a low voice. “You going to see her again, son?”
“I hope so. Tonight on the beach.”
“Let me know if you need a ride.”
“Thanks, but I’ll just take my bike. It’s easier. And it’s not far.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing toward the kitchen. “Watch out for your brother. He’s trouble.”
I stabbed my last green bean. “I know,” I said. “Always has been. Always will be.”
Gramps nodded. “Good. Long as you’re aware, you can watch your back. And your girlfriends.” He loosed a lazy, conspiratorial smile.
“Thanks, Gramps.” I squeezed his hand under the table. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Chapter 9
July 12th, 2013
11:35 A.M.
The inquest was over, and both deaths were ruled accidental. As I sat in the sun outside the courthouse, I wondered if they’d ever consider charging my brother post mortem for killing my wife because he was drunk. Or would they just let it lie?
I guess I already had my answer.
Libby sat beside me on the bench, one arm looped through mine.
“Thanks for coming along today, Lib,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” She pressed my hand. “I figured it would be a rough one.”
I glanced sideways at her, grateful for her unusual kindness. Her long legs stretched out in riding breeches and boots on the paved courtyard; the sun sparkled on her small silver spurs. She had a dressage class to teach soon, and had dressed for riding before she decided at the last minute to follow me to the inquest in her Jag. Her hair was plaited in a long braid that snugged down her back; the hairstyle accentuated her high cheekbones and complimented her big, dark eyes. As much as I tried not to think about it, Libby was a striking woman. It was too bad she usually hated my guts.
The past week had been such a nice change. No sniping. No biting my head off. She’d just been…nice. Weird, but nice. I guess that’s what happened when you lost the absolute last two members of your family, except your dog. People got weird. People changed. People pitied you.
That part, I didn’t like so much. I guess I’d rather be feared than pitied. It depressed me even more.
“I’ve gotta go.” She tapped her toes on the paving stones, stretching her arms overhead. “Got a class to
teach.”
“Time to order a burger? My treat.” I smelled onion rings frying at the burger joint next door and had an uncontrollable urge to eat junk food. Her father had paid me yesterday, even though I hadn’t actually worked for all the days he credited me. With a hundred bucks in my wallet, I’d already bought some groceries, filled my tank, and felt flush.
She checked her slim diamond watch. “Well. I’ll have to get it to go.”
“Perfect. I’ll do the same.”
We stood together and walked toward the stand, assaulted by the aromas of frying food again. My stomach rumbled. “What’ll you have?”
She tilted her head to the side, studying the white board. “I can’t decide between the lobster roll or fried clams.”
“That’s one thing I always liked about you, Libby. You eat like a regular person, not like an anorexic bird.”
She chuckled and nudged me, glancing back toward the courthouse. “Hey, isn’t that Ed Sawyer?”
The lawyer who’d served my family since I was a kid marched toward me, arms pumping at his sides. “McGraw!” he called. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.” He reached me in three long strides, his gray hair blowing back in the hot breeze. He clasped my hand, peering at me through rheumy blue eyes. “We need to meet. It’s about your brother’s estate.”
I stared at him. “His estate?”
His eyes slid sideways toward Libby. “Want to continue in private?”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. Libby’s a friend.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Well, we have the will to deal with. You’re Jax’s only beneficiary. He left you everything. It’s actually quite a fortune, McGraw.”
“Call me Finn,” I said, not really absorbing what he’d said.
“A fortune?” Libby raised one eyebrow.
“He invested wisely over the past decade. And of course, there’s the blueberry farm itself. Acreage on Cape Cod is worth millions now. This is prime property. Three hundred and fifty acres located a mile from the beach. You’re looking at several hundred million, maybe more. That’s not counting the house. And listen, being up on the hill the way it is with its view of the bay… We’re talking big bucks, Finn.”
