At Wave's End: A Novel

by Patricia Perry Donovan

  David paused mid-roll. “I barely know the kid, outside of practically carrying him upstairs last night.”

  “You don’t have to be his best friend. Just take him out once or twice. Show him the basics, so he’ll feel more comfortable here.” Faith grabbed David’s baseball cap, placed it on her head and twisted it backward. “You know: make him feel like one of the dudes.”

  Now it was David’s turn to laugh. “If it’ll get you to take off that hat, I’ll do it.”

  Just as Faith was turning out the kitchen light before bed, Gage surprised her by poking his head in the doorway. He had returned toward the end of dinner, sullen and uncommunicative, refusing anything to eat and going straight to his room.

  “My mom said I had to apologize. So, like, I’m totally sorry about last night.” His words tumbled out in a rehearsed rush.

  Faith folded her arms. “We were pretty worried about you.”

  “Last time. I swear. So, like, are we cool?” Avoiding her eyes, Gage drummed the door frame.

  “Yeah. We’re cool.” Faith smiled at him. She’d been in similar straits at that age a number of times: new town, new school. It could be painful to try and fit in.

  Gage ceased his drumming. “Awesome. ’Night.”

  “Good night, Gage.” A forced apology was better than none, Faith thought, heading upstairs. And she gave him a lot of credit for approaching her at all. Maybe with David’s help, Gage could find his way in Wave’s End, making some new friends and acquiring some new interests.

  52

  Unbeknownst to Faith, while she had coped with Ellie’s arrival, Connie had wasted no time recruiting Bruce to piece together the Mermaid’s Purse’s financial puzzle. Clearing the breakfast service the following morning, Faith glanced up to see her mother walking the newspaperman into the dining room.

  “Bruce is going to help us,” said Connie.

  “Really? Help how?”

  “Well, for starters,” Bruce said, “Maeve has granted me power of attorney—”

  “Power of attorney?” Mouth agape, Faith dropped into a chair. It was one thing for Maeve to let Bruce stormproof a few windows, but to hand him control of her affairs? Was Faith the only one who found Bruce’s involvement extreme?

  “Yes. That way, I’m able to find out what the bank knows,” explained Bruce. “I’ve just come from reviewing Maeve’s accounts.”

  “Accounts.” Faith drummed her fingers on the table.

  “But before we get into that,” Bruce continued, “let me just say I’ve been warning Maeve about Lenny Walker for a while. Walker had a reputation around town as a heavy gambler, some pretty high-stakes stuff.”

  There had been signs over the last few years, Bruce explained: the accountant’s ostentatious three-story home on the inlet, the extravagant yacht docked in front, investment in a waterfront seafood restaurant. “And then right after the storm, it was as though the guy dropped off the face of the earth. His restaurant went dark, and he walked away from everything.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Faith asked.

  “I have my sources. And I did try to alert Maeve, but she refused to listen. Said the Walkers had always taken care of The Mermaid’s Purse.”

  “You mean, had their greedy hands in The Mermaid’s Purse,” said Faith. “Can’t you do something? Publish a story about the fraud and expose Walker?”

  “And be sued for slander? At this point, it’s only hearsay. I can’t print a word until charges are filed.”

  Faith leaned forward. “So there will be charges.”

  “Sorry. I can’t say anything more.” He tipped his chair back.

  “But if charges are filed, and Walker’s found guilty, what happens to the contract my mother signed?”

  “It’s too early to determine the actual owner of the inn.” Bruce tapped his fingers together. “The short answer is, the bank will repossess this inn unless the total amount in arrears is paid.”

  “And how do they expect us to do that?” asked Connie.

  “They’ve given us a couple of options for repayment.” Bruce cleared his throat as he opened a folder. “The first and simplest option would be for the building owner to grant permission for the bank to sell the inn.”

  “That will never happen. Maeve won’t agree, and neither will I.” Connie flattened her palms on the table, ready to do battle.

  “That’s what I told them,” Bruce said. “If you choose the second option, to fight for the property, the bank would grant you a three-month repayment period starting from their initial notice.” Bruce riffled through some papers. “Which went to Walker a month ago, according to their records.”

  “But Maeve never knew about that,” Faith protested.

  Bruce shrugged. “This is what they’ve told me. They will allow you to occupy the property during the repayment period, which ends December 31.”

  “Looks like we have no choice but to go for that one,” said Connie.

  “But that’s crazy,” protested Faith. “That’s barely enough time for the boarders to find other living arrangements.”

  “And where do you propose they go, Faith?” Connie asked. “We know there’s not enough housing to go around. Aren’t I right, Bruce?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Although if the state extends the temporary housing allowance period, they can stay here a while longer.”

  “If our doors stay open,” lamented Connie. “Surely the bank could offer some leniency in light of Maeve’s thief accountant.”

  “They might have, had the homeowner let them know they were having difficulty. They did reach out to Maeve several times.” As proof, he offered a sheaf of notices on bank letterhead addressed to Maeve.

  “Letters Walker obviously intercepted,” Faith guessed.

  “So at this point, the bank’s time frame is firm,” Bruce said.

  “And if we can’t raise the money in two months?” Faith asked.

  “Sheriff’s sale.” Bruce shifted some papers in the folder. “And I’m afraid there’s more. Walker opened a credit line against The Mermaid’s Purse.”

  “If Maeve had fallen behind on her payments, why would the bank ever approve a line of credit?” Faith asked, incredulous.

  “Because Walker was smart. He opened the credit line before his shenanigans started, when the inn was still in good financial standing. Under the guise of financing renovations.”

  “Well, that’s a joke.” Faith thought of the inn’s damaged roof, peeling shutters and antiquated fixtures.

  The bank had since closed that account, but not before Walker had written upwards of ten thousand dollars in checks against it, Bruce finished.

  “But that’s fraud! That grubby . . . Hold on a sec.” Faith got up and rummaged in a kitchen drawer for a pen and paper. “Okay. We’re talking a couple of back mortgage payments, plus the ten-thousand-dollar credit advance,” she said, jotting down the figures. “It’s a big debt. We can’t get around that. But why not just use Maeve’s lottery proceeds to pay what she owes?” Triumphant, Faith set the scratch paper on the table for all to see.

  Exhaling, Bruce twisted his lips before responding. “Actually, there are two problems with that. First, Maeve received only about half of the fifty-six hundred essay entries she needed.”

  “Then she should have cancelled the contest. Or extended the deadline,” said Faith, recalling the contest rules.

  “What? And create more competition for me?” protested Connie.

  “I suggested both of those options, but apparently Walker convinced Maeve to cut her losses, that a contest extension would dilute interest in the inn.”

  “He cut her losses, all right.” Faith scribbled a few more numbers. “Even so, half the entries still leave her with several hundred thousand dollars. Why not start with that?”

  “We can’t.” Shaking his head, Bruce closed his folder. “Her lottery proceeds have disappeared.”

  “But he told Maeve he deposited them,” protested Connie.

/>   “He told Maeve a lot of things, Mom. Bruce, what do you think happened to the money?” Faith asked.

  “I could imagine any number of scenarios: gambling, secret bank account, Ponzi scheme. We won’t know for sure until they find Walker.”

  There was one small piece of good news, Bruce said after the women had digested the information. Walker hadn’t touched Maeve’s household checking account. The balance there remained healthy enough to pay for Maeve’s incidentals while she recuperated, as well as carry the inn’s operating expenses for the two months, providing they budgeted carefully, he said.

  “Somehow, we have to drum up business for The Mermaid’s Purse.” Connie snapped her fingers. “I know! What about a holiday tour? Faith, you and David can cook up some nibbles to serve, and I’ll lead the visitors around the inn. We could hire some musicians—”

  Faith frowned. “A tour’s nice, but David’s working all kinds of crazy hours. And there’d be costs for food, decorations, entertainment. Besides that, Thanksgiving’s less than three weeks away. Do you think we could pull together an event like that so quickly?” Faith looked to Bruce for feedback.

  “Truthfully, no. And while I admire your initiative, thanks to all the media attention about the storm, it’s going to be hard enough to entice folks back to Wave’s End next summer for a vacation, let alone this Christmas.” With a glance at his watch, Bruce pushed his chair back from the table and stood.

  “Sorry, ladies, but I’m due at the paper. I think we have to face reality here. Two months isn’t enough time to save this place. The Mermaid’s Purse has had a long, satisfying run in Wave’s End, but come the new year, the inn will have to shut its doors.”

  And what would happen to Connie if it did?

  Standing, Faith met Bruce’s gaze. Why had he shot down Connie’s idea so quickly? With his allegiance to Maeve, she would have expected him to fight a little harder. “Certainly, you know Maeve and this town better than either of us, Bruce. But I’d like to ask a favor: that we don’t say anything to the guests just yet about the foreclosure. I want to give this a little more thought, just to see if there’s any way out of this.”

  53

  Once the three agreed Bruce would go back to the bank with their decision, the journalist gathered his documents and prepared to leave.

  “Bruce, can I ask you one more thing?” Faith hurried to catch up with him outside.

  “I told you everything the bank went over with me.”

  “I know. It’s not about that. Actually, I was wondering if you’d heard anything more about that fire up at the beach.” Even though Faith had resolved to steer clear of the Castro family drama, she couldn’t help but notice how preoccupied Roxanne had seemed since that night. Gage’s mother spent hours napping in her room, and when she did come to meals, she picked at the food on her plate. Faith was anxious for any information that might exonerate Gage, and therefore lighten Roxanne’s burden.

  “Nothing concrete yet from the fire chief, but these investigations take time.” Bruce leaned against his car. “Why the interest?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Is this about the boy?” Bruce angled his head toward the house. “David told me Gage was MIA that night. Still having trouble accounting for his activities, is he?”

  “Or maybe he’s protecting somebody. Either way, his mother’s pretty worried.”

  “Well, it’s no picnic parenting a young man. Especially alone. I can vouch for that. Tell you what: if I hear something, I’ll give you a heads-up.” With a sympathetic clasp of Faith’s shoulder, Bruce was gone.

  54

  “I’ll have to call you Audrey from now on,” Ellie said wickedly.

  The friends were splayed across Ellie’s bed one afternoon a week after her arrival. To Faith’s relief, Ellie was doing so well as Mona’s companion that Fred practically had to pry his wife from the side of the expectant mother.

  Initially, Fred had been too nervous to leave the two women alone. But once he saw how gently but firmly Faith’s friend cared for her charge, he relaxed a little, even permitting Ellie to take Mona for brief walks.

  Watching the gentle man enjoy a moment to sit and read by himself for the first time since the couple’s arrival, Faith had been awash in guilt. How could she have doubted Ellie’s parenting ability? If her friend showed half the tenderness toward her newborn that she exhibited with Mona, she’d be a wonderful mother.

  There had been another bonus: Mona hadn’t had a single spell since Ellie’s arrival.

  “You know I’m kidding,” Ellie continued. “But Audrey might be a good alias if you were thinking of editing your online dating profile.”

  “I was thinking of deleting it altogether, for all the luck I’ve had with it. And it’s not funny.” Faith swatted Ellie’s thigh. “How would you feel if your parents suddenly announced you were born with a different name?”

  “I’d be upset, of course. But your mother did that to protect you.” Lying back, Ellie popped a chocolate-covered caramel into her mouth.

  “I get that, but why didn’t she tell me sooner? My father’s dead; there hasn’t been anything or anyone to be afraid of for years. And are those things good for the baby, by the way?” she asked.

  “Dark chocolate. Antioxidants,” Ellie mumbled, her mouth full. “Listen, when a woman is abused, even psychologically, the way your mother was, the trauma stays with her. Remember Jenna from freshman year? The girl with the jealous stalker boyfriend?”

  Faith scratched her head. “I remember. We were all so envious at first, because he paid her so much attention.”

  “Until the guy freaked out on Jenna so bad she had to drop out of school.”

  At that moment, David and Roxanne strolled by Ellie’s room, their voices low. Faith leaned toward the hall, straining to hear their conversation. Ever since Gage had warily accepted David’s invitation to go surfing a few days ago, the boy’s mood had improved, to Roxanne’s relief.

  “Right. Dropout,” Faith echoed as Roxanne’s door closed. Had David gone inside? she wondered. It didn’t matter; she thought she had heard Gage come upstairs earlier, too.

  Stop it. There’s nothing between them, besides David being a bit of a mentor for Gage.

  Faith tossed the empty candy box at Ellie. “All I’m saying is, nothing good ever comes from keeping secrets. I only wish my mother had told me about my name change sooner.”

  “She probably felt guilty. She didn’t want to be that mother, who let her child down, whose kid lost out on a dad because she picked the wrong guy.” Ellie sat up at the head of the bed, stroking her belly. “This is what you have to ask yourself, Faith Sterling: would your life have been any different, or any better, as Audrey Hennessey?”

  It was the same question that had been running through Faith’s brain on a nonstop loop ever since she had stumbled on her original birth certificate. “I’ve been thinking about that, and—”

  “Miss Faith? Miss Ellie? Are you in there?”

  At Fred’s frantic call, Faith slid off the bed. She found him outside the door, white-faced and wringing his bandaged fingers. “When is Miss Ellie going to help Mona get ready for her nap?”

  Ellie joined the pair in the hall. “I did, a little while ago. She was sleeping like a baby when I left her.”

  “Didn’t I ask you to tell me when you did that, Ellie? So I could look in on her? You left Mona alone, and now she’s gone!”

  55

  Ellie clutched her belly. “What do you mean, Mona’s gone? Maybe she’s in the bathroom.”

  “She’s not,” Fred said. “I’ve checked everywhere in the house.”

  “What are we going to do?” Ellie asked. “I’m so sorry I screwed up, Fred. I’ll come with you to look for her, of course.”

  Faith worked her lower lip. “No. I think it’s better if you both stay here. That way, when Mona comes back, the two of you will be here to calm her.”

  In truth, Faith had no idea if this was the best s
trategy. Dashing around the inn, she collected Connie, David, Gage and Roxanne and explained what had happened. After dispatching Gage to search The Mermaid’s Purse from attic to cellar, she instructed the others to take their phones and fan out into the garden and surrounding neighborhood. If they should spot Mona, they shouldn’t shout or otherwise startle her but simply stay with her while getting word to one of the others.

  If Mona were frightened, there was no telling what she might do.

  Outside, dusk capped the brilliant sunset, striating the horizon pumpkin and violet. Her heart hammering, Faith trudged south, block by block, past the nautical bungalow, wishing she had grabbed a flashlight to illuminate the shrubs and shadows and aiming her phone’s light instead.

  “Mona,” she called softly. Beside her, the rush-hour traffic built, and Faith brushed away the possibility that a confused Mona might decide to step into the street. “Mona. Please. It’s Faith. It’s time to come home.”

  After walking for nearly a half hour, she had reached the outskirts of downtown. It was dark now; even in her sweatshirt, Faith felt chilled. No one else from the inn had contacted her with any leads. This was foolish: they were wasting valuable time when the police were much better equipped for these situations. She was about to call 9-1-1 when, peering into the darkness one more time, Faith clutched her chest with relief. Up ahead, on the bench of the glass-walled bus stop, sat the snowy-haired Mona, still clad in her nightgown. Smiling serenely when Faith appeared in front of her, Mona patted the empty place beside her.

  “Hello, dear,” she said, as casually as if the two had bumped into each other at breakfast. “You going to the city, too? How fun. We’ll take the bus together.”

  “I can’t today, Mona. Maybe another time.” Sitting down, Faith carefully placed her hand next to Mona’s. “Fred’s a little worried. He doesn’t know where you are.”

  “Fred?” Mona frowned a moment, then brightened. “Such a dear man. Doesn’t he know I can take care of myself?”