by Mary Carter
Jesse hopped off the counter and plucked a strawberry from a bowl. “Are you still thinking about that kiss?”
“No. It was nothing. I already confessed to Brad and everything.”
“How’d he take it?”
“Jealous, but didn’t overreact.”
“So why are you still obsessing over it?”
“I’m not.”
“I know you.” Bailey sighed and threw a strawberry at Jesse. “Can’t fool me,” Jesse said as she ducked.
“It’s no big deal. He’s leaving. Thank God. They just—remind me of us at that age. Sometimes I wish we had it all to do over again, you know?”
“What would you do differently?”
“I don’t know. Learn to surf. Get allergy medication. Forget the fireplace. Stop insisting Brad use condoms.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Except for the condom bit. Which I know you don’t mean. Trapping a man into having kids has never worked.”
“I know.” Bailey stood at the sink and glanced out the window. “Jake told me he’d have kids with me. Can you believe it?”
“Sounds like more than a kiss to me.”
“He didn’t mean it. He was just being young and outrageous.”
“He’s sexy.”
“I guess I just feel guilty,” Bailey said.
“For being attracted to him? That’s just human nature, my friend.”
“No,” Bailey said. “For considering it for half a second.”
“An affair?”
“Running away with him. Having a baby. I mean, I never would have done it. But just the fact that I allowed myself to fantasize about it, even for a second, made me feel like I’d done something terrible. Like I’d cheated on Brad.”
“Stop torturing yourself. You didn’t do anything.”
“I liked the kiss.”
Jesse shrugged. “Not a crime either. He kissed you, right?”
“Yes. But, Jesse? I thank God he’s not staying.” From behind them, someone cleared their throat. The sound hit Bailey like a gunshot. She and Jesse whipped around. Jake was standing in the doorway.
“I uh—was sent in on a beer run,” he said. From the grin on his face, there was no doubt. He’d heard every single word.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Bailey couldn’t stop saying it. Jake had already exited with the beer, grin still plastered on his face. “Oh my God,” Bailey said again. “This is bad.” Confessing your guilt to your best friend was one thing. Having the object of the guilt overhear then being forced to sit through dinner with him, and his fiancée, and his grin, and your husband, was unbearable. If only Bailey had never learned to talk. Somehow, Jesse helped Bailey go through the motions. Bailey sat at the picnic table opposite Jake and Angel while Elizabeth held court.
“I’m so envious of you,” Elizabeth said to Jake and Angel. “Traveling is what life is all about. I can’t imagine being stuck in one place for too long.” Was it Bailey’s imagination, or did she just cast a knowing look Brad’s way? Angel followed Elizabeth’s glance and also smiled at Brad.
“Brad inspired us,” Angel said.
“You both did,” Jake added, looking at Bailey. “We want to be just like you two.”
“Only happier,” Angel said. Bailey glanced at Angel. She had such a pretty, innocent face. Then her eyes fell to her hands. Sure enough, there was a tan line around what looked to be a ring on her wedding finger. Should she say something to Jake? Then again, wouldn’t he have already noticed? Then again, he was a guy. They weren’t always the most observant. Then again, he’d noticed plenty of little things about Bailey, so he was observant. Unless he was only observant with Bailey because he liked Bailey better than Angel. In which case, didn’t he kind of deserve what he got? Running off with a woman he didn’t like well enough to notice she used to have a wedding ring on her finger? Or maybe it was an ex-husband and he knew all about it, and seriously, it was nobody else’s business. Bailey wished Jesse hadn’t pointed it out.
“Bailey and I were happy,” Brad said. “Even if we weren’t always the best travelers.” Bailey glanced at Brad. “I might have told her a few stories,” he said. Bailey scanned her memory, wondering which “few.” Did he tell her about the time she threw all the cups and saucers within reach at the Parisian café? Or the hotel in Rome where he stood on the sidewalk below their room and she shouted at him from their window for a full thirty minutes? Or the sunburn in Barcelona where she cried anytime anything touched her and had to stand like a statue for the entire day? Brad missed exploring Gaudí park, something he really wanted to do, but never got the chance because they left early the next morning for Portugal.
“I can’t wait,” Angel said. “Everybody thinks I’m so high maintenance, but I’m not. Have I or have I not been sleeping in a tent for like a whole month?”
Had it been a month? Bailey didn’t think so. Although in some ways it felt like years.
“And you look so gorgeous,” Elizabeth said. “How do you do it?” Bailey got the feeling Elizabeth was just being nice to Angel to upset her. Jesse came to the rescue.
“I think Brad and Bailey are amazing,” Jesse said. “Besides the traveling they’ve done, now they live in a lighthouse. How cool is that?”
“Makes me want to go through our old pictures and postcards,” Brad said.
“They’re in the desk in the Crow’s Nest,” Bailey said. As soon as she said it, another thought hit. I know that because I saw them when I put the broken urn in there. It was really because she’d tried to snoop and peek at his journals, but that drawer had been locked. She put the pieces in the opposite drawer, vowing to ask Brad why he needed to lock drawers.
“I’ll get them,” she said. She stood.
“Wait,” Brad said. “I didn’t really mean we’d bore our guests with them.”
“I’d love to see them,” Jesse said.
“Wait,” Jake echoed. He turned to Angel. Bailey recognized the look. It was the one men gave women when they were afraid what they were about to say was going to make them mad, so they made themselves look as vulnerable as possible so they wouldn’t get their face eaten. “I think we should postpone our trip,” Jake said in a rush. “Stay here for a while.”
“No!” Bailey said. All heads turned to her. Perhaps she’d been a tad too emphatic. “Seize the day,” Bailey said with a fist shake. “Carpe diem!”
“How could we leave now?” Jake said. “In the middle of a good ghost story?”
“Ghost story?” Captain Jack said. Elizabeth pushed her chair back from the table. Her glass tipped over and she knocked into Captain Jack.
“So sorry,” she muttered. She didn’t even reach to pick up the glass, she just pushed away from the table. “I have to powder my nose,” she said. Oh my God, Bailey thought as she watched her stumble away. She’s drunk.
Bailey and Brad simultaneously reached to clean up the mess. When Brad’s hand brushed hers, Bailey took it and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He looked at her and they locked eyes. She smiled. She knew he’d noticed his mother’s drunken state as well. She wanted him to know she was there for him. He smiled at her and gave a nod that would have been imperceptible to anyone else.
“Let’s have the ghost story,” Captain Jack said loudly. Since Elizabeth had left the table and Thomas had his mouth full, everyone turned to Jesse.
“I had just fallen asleep,” she said, “when I heard a noise.” Bailey was happy the sun was still up and they were in a large group outside of the house. She’d yet to admit it, but the thought of the place being haunted was starting to get to her. A few years ago she wouldn’t have believed in a near-death experience, or Olivia being a card shark, so who’s to say there was no such thing as ghosts? “I opened my eyes and I saw a man in my room—he was standing just a few feet away—near the dresser.” Dresser, Bailey thought. An image flashed through her mind. Olivia’s broken urn, wrapped in tissue paper. Bailey hadn’t put it in Brad’s desk—she’
d thought about it and then didn’t want him to come across it and be upset—so instead she’d put it in the master guest room dresser.
“We should get one of those ghost hunting shows out here, Aunt Bailey,” Thomas said.
That’s not a bad idea, Bailey thought. She caught Brad looking at her.
“Publicity is part of the fabric of our society,” she said. “Deal with it.” She expected a lecture; instead, Brad just laughed.
“I love you,” he said. He said it loud. He said it in front of everyone. He said it like they were the only two people in the world. Bailey felt a rush of warmth all over her body.
“I won’t let you turn this place into some kind of spectacle,” Captain Jack said.
“Won’t let us?” Brad said.
“This ghost nonsense,” Captain Jack said. “You’re turning us into a laughingstock.”
“At least our ghost is friendly,” Bailey said.
“And tall,” Jesse said. Bailey shivered. She couldn’t imagine waking up to see a tall, strange man standing near the dresser. Wait, Bailey thought. The little guest room dresser. She hadn’t put the broken urn in the master dresser. Since they saved that room for higher-paying guests, she’d put it in the bottom drawer of the little guest room dresser. Bailey stood from the table.
“Nature calls,” she said. Tall, she thought as she headed upstairs to the guest bedroom. Our ghost is tall.
Bailey bounded up the steps to the second floor. She rounded the corner, headed for the last guest room on the right. She stopped short when she saw Elizabeth standing over the bed in the master guest room. She was slightly bent over. Bailey was worried she was going to get sick. She hated to admit it, but her first clenching fear was for the beautiful down comforter on the bed. As Bailey got closer, she noticed Elizabeth was holding a wallet and dumping its contents out on the bed.
“Elizabeth?” She whirled around. Bailey stepped into the room. Elizabeth was holding a man’s wallet. A driver’s license was dumped on the bed. It was a picture of Captain Jack. Elizabeth brushed past Bailey and quickly closed the door. “What are you doing?” Bailey asked even though it was pretty obvious.
“Look,” Elizabeth said. She pointed at the license. “Edgar. No wonder he wouldn’t tell anyone his name.”
“Edgar?” Bailey said. She picked up the license. Sure enough, there was Captain Jack’s face. Edgar Penwell, the name read. “Oh my God,” Bailey said. She looked at the rest of the items strewn on the bed. Photos. Of Angel and Jake, and Angel and “Edgar,” and Jake and Edgar. But it was one particular photo that drew Bailey’s attention. Angel in a wedding dress. Standing next to Jake in a tux. So that explains the impression of a ring on her finger, Bailey thought. Good catch, Jesse. Bailey picked up the wedding photo and turned it over. Mr. and Mrs. Jake Penwell. Bailey looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes were clear, her posture steady.
“You pretended to be drunk,” Bailey said. Elizabeth shrugged.
“I’ve certainly had enough practice.”
“And when you spilled the drink?”
Elizabeth wiggled her fingers. “He didn’t even feel it slipping out of his pocket.”
“You shouldn’t have done this—”
“I did it for you.”
“Me?”
“You said you were dying to know his name.”
“Since when have you ever done anything for me? Or Brad, for that matter?” Bailey knew it wasn’t the time to start a family fight. They had to get this wallet back to Captain Jack—Edgar—and she had to sit somewhere and think about what this all meant. Tall, the ghost was tall. Bailey hurriedly put everything back into the wallet.
“Go back downstairs,” she said. “And act as normal as possible.”
“I can put it back—”
“No,” Bailey said. “Not yet. Please, Elizabeth. Not a word.”
“Fine.”
“And you’re still going to have to act a little drunk.” Bailey felt guilty—it would continue to hurt Brad—but she couldn’t take the chance that the captain would get suspicious.
“What’s with you?” Elizabeth said. “Do you recognize the name?” Elizabeth hadn’t been around enough to put any of it together. Jake and Angel Penwell. Nor, of course, did she know about Trevor Penwell or his supposed wife Edga.
“I can’t explain anything now,” Bailey said. Even if she wanted to. “Trust me. I need you to go back downstairs and keep him occupied.”
“Not a problem,” Elizabeth said. Before Bailey’s eyes, she suddenly became inebriated again. She stumbled to the door. For a split second she straightened up and grinned. “How’s that?” she said. Bailey felt a little sick to her stomach.
“Perfect,” she admitted. “Don’t let any of them leave. Including Jake and Angel.”
“I doubt I’ll have to try very hard. Jake’s been looking at you like he’s a lion and you’re a tasty little gazelle.”
Bailey laughed. I never thought I’d say this, she thought, but I kind of like this Elizabeth Jordan. It didn’t last long.
“You have no clue, do you?” Elizabeth said softly. For a split second Bailey thought she was talking about Edgar, and Jake, and Angel. Then she realized she couldn’t have been.
“I have lots of clues,” Bailey said. “I just can’t put them all together.”
Elizabeth laughed and Bailey almost liked her again. “There’s a reason,” she said, “he won’t have a baby with you.”
And just like that, Bailey hated Elizabeth Jordan again. But Bailey didn’t have time to obsess on Elizabeth’s parting comment, or the pitying look on her face, or the ice-cold spear that stabbed Bailey when Elizabeth whispered the words. She wanted to convince herself that Elizabeth was just trying to upset her, but she could tell that Elizabeth was being truthful. She knew something about Brad. Brad who just squeezed her hand across the table and loved her out loud. Brad out in the rowboat, looking terrified. Please, don’t believe a word she says. But Elizabeth hadn’t looked vindictive, just sad. Bailey didn’t have time to ponder it anymore. She ran to the guest room where Jesse had spent the night.
Edga Penwell, Bailey thought bitterly as she knelt down beside the dresser drawer. She’d fallen for it. The lighthouse keeper’s wife. Went insane. You have the same look in your eye. She was going to get the captain for this. She opened the drawer. There it was, wrapped in tissue paper. Bailey knew what she was going to find, even before she unwrapped the pieces. Most of all she was angry at herself for being so naïve. After all, the only “proof” she’d had that Edga existed was the obituary, a “report” from a blogger, and an old photo of a man and a woman. The obituary was the only thing that would have taken some time to fake, but it certainly wouldn’t have been impossible. Bailey suddenly remembered all the funny looks and silence from townspeople whenever she gently tried to bring up the subject of the late keeper’s wife. At the time she thought they just didn’t want to discuss the “tragedy.”
So Edga was really Edgar. And it didn’t seem likely that he’d ever tried to hang himself in the attic. And if he was a ghost, he was such a good one that Bailey was definitely going to cash in on him. So were he and Trevor lovers?
Bailey opened the tissue paper, and carefully inspected the broken pieces. Finally, she found it. A small sticker on the back of one piece. Island Supplies. He’d been behind it all. With a little help from Jake and Angel. Bailey had played right into his hands from the moment she stepped into the house and saw the obituary, then accepting the “contractor” he’d recommended while Brad started corresponding with a woman who had also had a near-death experience. Actually, Angel had joined the lighthouse committee right after the auction. The plan was in motion right after Captain Jack lost the bid. Now she knew the “who.” But why? What did they have to gain? Wishing you owned a certain piece of property was one thing. But who would go to these lengths to get it? And had they now given up? Was that why Jake and Angel were leaving? No wonder the ghost was so active last night. Captain Jack was ge
tting desperate. Bailey had to talk to Brad and figure out why they were doing this. And then, of course, they would be left with the biggest question of all: What did they plan to do about it?
Chapter 35
Bailey put Edgar’s wallet and the piece of urn with the Island Supplies tag into a bag and headed downstairs. Elizabeth had kept her word, and everyone was still on the patio, eating strawberry shortcake, drinking, and chatting. Now what? Should she call the Coast Guard? Turn the three of them in for breaking and entering and impersonating a ghost? Did she have enough proof? She could just see herself trying to talk to the Coast Guard. He’s tall. He owns this broken urn. His name is really Edgar, and he’s a liar.
Not exactly fingerprints and DNA, now was it? She could at least kick them off the property and warn them never to come back. But not until she figured out why they were doing all of this, and she didn’t think coming out and asking them was going to be very productive.
She snuck past them and ran to the lighthouse tower. For now, she would tuck the wallet and urn away. Maybe she’d start with Jake. What a jerk. Coming onto her when he was married. Of course she was married too, but he was the one who was pushing it. Had that all been part of the act? They must think she was quite the fool. Bailey wanted to catch Brad’s eye as she snuck past but he was too busy hovering over Elizabeth, who was enjoying her drunken act a little too much. Bailey could hear her laughing across the lawn. Tree was the only one who noticed Bailey, and the partiers must have been refusing to give him scraps, for he abandoned his spot underneath the picnic table to follow Bailey.
Once up in the loft, Bailey tucked her “evidence” bag into the top of her dresser drawer. Wait. Anyone could get into it. She glanced at the top of the dresser where Brad had left the key to his upstairs desk. Where he kept his journals. She would not read them, she would not do that to him, she would simply lock the evidence away. Bailey took the key and climbed up to the Crow’s Nest. Once again, Tree whined from the steps.
