Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense)

by Jill Winters

  Kingdom by the Sea

  Jill Winters

  Copyright © 2011 by Jill Winters

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to Carl, who never let me give up on myself and this manuscript. Thanks for all the laughs and advice, the Christmas movies, childhood-snacks-week & the chocolate cake bakeoff (oh wait…). I’m forever grateful for all the times you gently reminded me, “Okay…now what about the book?” May we be friends forever!

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Geo for so many things (including teaching me Poker so I could write Chapter 17), and to my family who makes me laugh and gives me helpful feedback. Thank you to my friend B.K. who took time out of his busy, high-profile schedule to dabble in some brainstorming and to nag me about my true calling in life. Finally, I am very grateful to the Chatham Coast Guard and Chatham Historical Society for assisting me in my research and giving me the grand tour. Thank you!

  Dear Reader,

  If you have never visited the lovely town of Chatham, Massachusetts, it may be something to consider. In autumn, it is one of the most idyllic, serene places I’ve ever seen. As soon as I arrived I felt as though I’d stepped into a charming postcard, with bursts of fall color & hints of Halloween. Of course the writer in me managed to imagine danger around every cobblestone corner and intrigue behind each rustling tree.

  From there grew my story of Nicole Sheffield, a bookish, somewhat sheltered heroine, who is in way over her head when she inherits her aunt’s house on the beach. Although Kingdom by the Sea is fictitious, the brief accounts of Chatham lighthouse history provided in the story are true. Also, the diary of Josiah Hardy II is real; I had the privilege of reading a copy of the document while I was doing research at the Chatham Historical Society.

  I hope you will enjoy this twisting tale and check out my other books, too.

  Best wishes!

  Jill Winters

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  About the Author

  Prologue

  She should have known something was wrong when she heard her dog start barking. But then, the weight of what she should have known seemed to mount in seconds.

  Nervously, she patted the wooden planks, searching as far out as her arms would splay. She couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her. The air in here was thick, almost suffocating. Still, she was focused solely on finding the thing—it was a little late to go back now. To pretend it didn’t exist. Crouched uncomfortably, she reached further inside the cramping space until her fingertips brushed across a soft velvety item, set way back.

  Impatiently she clawed at it, determined to pull it forward. Finally she was able to get a good grip on the satchel and drag it up into her arms. But it was only fleeting moments after—before she could fully understand the significance of what she had found—that she felt a strangle-hold like a vine twisting around her legs. She tensed and panicked—then struggled against the sudden constriction.

  Oh, God, no…history repeating itself, different yet—

  Suddenly she was being pulled. Like a rewinding film strip, she was careening backward. In her head was even the ticking thrum of film reel as it coils back. Right before it lands with a snap. The odor of sweat and dirt overwhelmed her. Confusion and terror nearly choked the breath from her lungs. And she heard the sound of her heels clacking on the steps, as she was dragged roughly across the threshold.

  PART I

  Chapter One

  Later there would be questions. There would be doubts and discovery—of a hidden picture, adultery, and even murder—and there would be fear. But now it started with a Monday in Cedric Davy's office.

  The room was as dark and rich as mahogany. Sunlight filtered through the octagonal window above the bookcase, and dappled across the wide, cherry wood desk. Nicole's family had already been seated when she arrived. As always, Nicole's mother, Gwen, looked like a stern little pixie. She had short dark hair and pale skin, the contrasting effect somewhat neutralized by a smattering of freckles. Her father, Anthony, appeared infinitely more at ease, even dressed in a tailored suit, crisp tie and Rolex—at which he spared another glance.

  Between Gwen and Anthony sat Nicole's sisters, Linda and Alyssa, as much a buffer as a support. After four years of divorce, it seemed that Gwen and Anthony had not yet mastered the high-minded art of civility, and certainly not friendship. At this point, given the devolution of a twenty-seven-year marriage, Nicole would say that her family shared a strained kind of closeness. Her two sisters were a study in contrast. Cynical and smoky-beautiful, Linda wore her hair almost like a protective cloak of black cashmere. Alyssa was vivid and bright, with a cherry-colored ponytail that swung when she moved.

  Linda: pretty and pessimistic. Alyssa: flippant and fashionable.

  Reducing people to their basic categories was, Nicole had discovered, an occupational hazard. She'd been an archives librarian for three years now, and had become maybe too accustomed to as
sessing, classifying and delineating. Still...when she'd looked at her family that day, she had found herself doing it. Gwen: loyal, capable. Anthony: protective, smart.

  Then she thought of Nina. Warm, poetic. Gone.

  And that was the reason they sat here today. They were gathered for the reading of Aunt Nina's will. Absent was Nina’s and Gwen's younger sister, Beth. According to Cedric Davy, they were still waiting for someone. But it couldn't be Beth, Nicole knew. She had already heard ad nauseum from her mother about how Beth wasn't coming.

  Nicole had met her aunt's lawyer, Cedric, once before. But over the evaporating years, he had drooped. Twisting a lock of her own dark hair, she covertly studied him. His pupils appeared like shiny black balls inside two heavy sacks. His hair was like strands of pulled thread trying to cover an overturned porcelain dish. Unoriginally, Nicole supposed, Cedric's decrepitude became an immediate symbol for the time that had elapsed.

  Cedric, Nicole categorized briefly, well-meaning and mediocre.

  Suddenly, the door opened and a man entered. He looked about sixty and was only faintly familiar. “Good, Mr. Kelling, you're here,” Cedric said. “Take a seat and we'll begin.” Nodding a brusque greeting to the room, he went to sit in the back, in a chair against the wall.

  Abel Kelling had been Aunt Nina's on-and-off boyfriend for many years. Had Cedric not said his name now, Nicole might not have recognized him. Abel's appearance had also been distorted rather cruelly by time. He looked bloated and ragged; there was nothing “pleasant” about his plump face and dissipated complexion.

  Cedric let out a raspy cough that scratched the air. Then, in a lawyerly voice that lacked emotion, he read Nina's will aloud.

  The will was deceptively simple, but Nicole didn't know it at the time. In fact, when she had climbed the narrow brick streets of Beacon Hill that morning, she had never considered that entering Cedric's office would be like placing herself at the tip of a slide.

  To sisters Gwen and Beth went various childhood relics, and to Anthony went a signed first edition of The Catcher in the Rye. Nina left her nieces, Linda and Alyssa, stock certificates and jewelry, and to Abel, her boat. “'Finally, to Nicole,'” Cedric read, “'I leave my house and all of the contents therein unless otherwise specified.'” The room remained quiet, except for a soft gasp that came from the back.

  It really should have come from Nicole, as she was stunned herself. Nina's house! Nicole had not been there in at least a year, probably longer. It didn't make sense. Surely Nina would have bequeathed her home to one of her sisters. Or even to Cedric to sell and then divide the proceeds? Or—

  “That's it?”

  Everyone turned.

  Abel Kelling was leaning forward in his seat, rapping his thumb on his thigh. He looked purposeful, on edge, almost...angry? “What about the artwork?” he demanded.

  “Are you referring to Nina's own artwork?” Cedric asked.

  “Yeah, of course. Plus, you know, if there's other artwork in her house that's worth a lot.”

  An awkward moment settled on the room. There was tactlessly mercenary—and then there was this.

  Nina Corday had been a successful painter in her own right, as well as something of a collector. Despite her long career, she had not painted any new pieces since becoming sick. Was her boyfriend now hoping for some kind of posthumous windfall?

  Narrowing her eyes, Nicole assessed him. Abel Kelling: graspy.

  Cedric explained, “It's my understanding that Nina's own body of work—that which is thus far unsold—is the property of the Goliath Gallery here in Boston, where the pieces were commissioned. As far as any paintings that Nina may have owned separately, those would fall within the contents of the house, now belonging to her niece, Nicole.”

  Abel looked like he was going to say something more, but didn't. Instead, he shifted in his seat and visibly tightened his lips.

  Meanwhile, Nicole struggled to absorb all of this. Her inheritance was not truly sinking in yet—it was still more a swirl of words, floating outside of herself.

  Cedric folded his hands on his desktop and addressed her directly. “Now, what this means is that the deed will be turned over to you. You can keep the house, obviously, or, more likely, you'll want to sell it.”

  “I can help you with that, sweetheart,” her father offered.

  Cedric continued, “Before you sell the house, you will want to inventory everything inside and have some sort of auction. I will be happy to help you where I can. At this point, do you have any questions?”

  “Um...wow,” Nicole said finally, feeling a little stupid as she said it. Wow was always such an insipid thing to say. “I never expected this. I'm so...I'm overwhelmed. I mean...that Nina would entrust me with so much.” A timid smile broke from her lips. “I'm just stunned.”

  She would never have expected a gift this size from anyone. Was it because she and Aunt Nina had always been similar to each other? More fascinated by books than by people; more inclined to listen than to talk. And each was the middle girl in a trio of sisters...they had always had sort of a connection.

  Over the past few years, Nicole had become “busy.” After college had come graduate school, and after that, work—and, well, there was always a multitude of self-absorbed excuses for letting someone drop off your radar. In fact, looking back, she had only made it down to the Cape a handful of times in the last several years.

  When Nina had become sick, she should have made more time for her. It was inexcusable, Nicole knew now with sudden disgust (Regret making its usual late entrance to the party). Now, with this bequest, Nicole was beyond flattered. But also naggingly uneasy, because any excitement was muddied by guilt. Honestly? She didn't deserve a gesture like this.

  Cedric reached inside the brown envelope that had contained the will and pulled out several smaller envelopes. “She left you each a note.”

  Envelopes tore and papers rustled.

  Nicole broke the seal on her envelope and pulled a slip of paper from inside. She unfolded it and read: My darling, you are so special to me. Please understand why... “Oh—” she said suddenly, and turned around. “This one is yours, I just realized.”

  Impatiently, Abel rose from his seat and snatched it from her. As if it were an afterthought, he passed off the note that had been intended for Nicole.

  He clutched the page with both hands and read eagerly. His eyes scanned back and forth as if searching for something specific. Meanwhile, Nicole turned her attention to her own note:

  Nicole, when you girls were little, I told you stories of castles and pirates and buried treasure. It wasn’t all make-believe, the note went on. It turns out that there are pirates and there is a treasure—but the treasure is a house. You'll know what to do.

  Slowly, she re-folded the paper. The tip of her nose burned, as her vision blurred. The more she tried to keep from crying, the more insistent her tears became, until hot water like acid pooled in her eyes.

  The treasure is a house.

  Aunt Nina's words seemed to linger only briefly in front of Nicole's eyes—and then pirouette and twist away, vanishing for a time into the air.

  ***

  The restaurant was crowded but the man in dark glasses concerned himself only with the party of five seated in the center. Three twenty-something girls and their parents, out to eat. From the sidewalk, he’d seen them walk in; he’d followed from a reasonable distance. Got a table for one, between the bar and the hallway to the restrooms. Of course it was really a table for two; they didn’t make tables for one, did they? They made you look at the empty chair across from you.

  Casually, he observed the family. Particularly, he paid attention to the girl in the middle with the dark hair and green eyes, wrapped up in a thick turtleneck sweater. Nicole was her name. She didn’t appear to be doing much of the talking at the table. And now she stood. Soon she was walking. Away from her table—and straight toward him. Instinctively, he averted his gaze.

  He could see and sen
se that she was walking right up to him. Because of his sunglasses, she could not have known that he was watching her. Automatically, he focused on his open menu, pretending to study it as he felt her coming right up beside his table.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her until she continued past him.

  He sighed with relief. If she saw him, it might all be ruined. And then he heard a clatter near him and turned.

  “Oh shoot!” Nicole murmured, and knelt down to pick up her cell phone that had dropped out of her bag. Briefly she glanced up at him and said, “Sorry” with a deprecating kind of smile. He didn’t know what she was apologizing for; “shoot” wasn’t exactly the worst he’d ever heard.

  He didn’t say much back, because he couldn’t. Instead, he offered a brief close-mouthed smile and turned his face back to his menu. She gathered up her bag and continued on to the ladies’ room. The man decided that when she returned, he would be gone.

  Chapter Two

  The days and details that followed the reading of the will were like bricks of mud at the base of pyramid. Sturdy, essential, practical.

  Nicole had paid her rent for the month, packed a few bags and prepped for her trip to Cape Cod. She didn't have to request time off from work—she had lost her job at Hill House Library only a few weeks earlier. Much to her lingering disappointment, she had been laid off pretty unceremoniously along with a few others.

  And then were the inessentials—like a dinner out with her family, when Aunt Nina's will could be discussed in the privacy of an overcrowded restaurant, where unsolicited parental advice could flow like the wine and be, in theory, digested with the food. As an investment banker, Anthony brought a complex financial perspective to Nicole's inheritance. Nicole tuned out a lot of what he said, and Gwen cut off the rest—injecting various bits of unvarnished “truth” according to her own gospel.

  For one, Aunt Beth should have been there. “Unforgivable,” Gwen had said more than once, as she'd cut her steak with sharp precision. As an ER nurse, Gwen was used to precision. And to blood—which pooled in a crimson puddle on her white plate, and slid in red rivulets across the china with each measured stroke of the knife.