“A changeling?”
“An elf, to be precise.”
“No way. Elves are tiny and have pointy ears and wear little pointy hats. And besides,” she added abruptly, “they don’t exist.”
Fae cut off a slice of the yummy-looking loaf cake. She slid it on a plate and put it in front of Steph. “Well, I daresay, Elf on a Shelf doesn’t exist except in the mind of a marketing department, but faeries, elves, and all sorts of fey people do, and they don’t look like you think they do.”
Steph raised her “skeptical” eyebrow to let her great-aunt know that she wasn’t buying it.
“Have you read Lord of the Rings?”
Steph shook her head. “No but I saw all the movies.”
Fae sighed. “Well, in Lord—”
“I remember. There were elves but that was just Orlando Bloom wearing prosthetic ears.”
Fae sighed more deeply. One of those sighs people make when they’re disappointed in you. Steph had experienced plenty of those. Yet the idea of an elf was taking hold in spite of her best rational efforts. The old guy did kinda look like Orlando as an old guy.
Fae pushed herself out of the chair. “Have another piece of cake. I have something for you.”
Steph wondered if she was going to drag the “elf” out to the porch and try to pass him off as anything but an old dude. But she only came back with a big book.
Fae put it on the table and turned it around so Steph could read the title. “It isn’t Tolkien but I think you might like it. Some of the stories are a little risqué, the satyrs are . . . you know . . . and male faeries adore beautiful women and can be very virile. But the elves . . . the elves are incomparable. So don’t show your mother.”
Steph grinned. “Thanks.”
Issy wandered out of the bank in a stupor. There was nothing left. The money that was supposed to last a lifetime and beyond was gone. She couldn’t comprehend it; she didn’t know what to do about it. She climbed into her car, unaware of the stifling heat, the blistering seats. There was no money.
It had to be a mistake.
She considered going back, asking them to check again, but that would be useless. The money was gone. Unless Dan Bannister had moved it to a different bank.
In small withdrawals instead of one big check? Not likely.
Not likely but possible, Issy insisted, clinging to her last hope. Yeah so if that was the case, where were the checks and where were Vivienne and Dan?
So help her if she ever saw her sister again, she would beat the crap out of her. Dan, too. Except Issy didn’t even know how to throw a punch.
There was only one thing to do. And she didn’t expect much help; she certainly hadn’t gotten it the last time she’d called. She called anyway. And he actually answered.
“Uncle George. It’s Issy.” She suddenly didn’t know where to begin.
“Is Leo—?” he prompted.
“She’s okay. She had a fall, a dizzy spell or something. They’re keeping her in the hospital for a few days for observation.”
“I see. They’ll probably want to check her into . . .” His voice buzzed out until he said, “. . . rehabilitation center. Our family always uses—”
“Wait, we’ve already been through that; she refused to go. I’ll be lucky if I can get her to sleep in Mrs. Norcroft’s room downstairs until she’s more stable.”
He snorted. “And where is Mrs. Norcroft going to sleep?”
“At her sister’s on the other side of town, where she is now because Vivienne fired her for stealing.”
“What? That’s preposterous. She’s probably just trying to save money. Tell her I said to hire her back. Oh, that’s right, she’s disappeared. Along with the deadbeat husband. I don’t suppose they’ve returned?”
“Not yet.”
“I doubt if you had the good sense to turn her offspring over to the state, did you?”
“No, they’re at the house with Chloe Collins. Remember her?”
“Vaguely. Where are you?”
“At the moment sitting in my car outside the First Coastal Bank.”
“Don’t tell me you need money already and you can’t get into the bank account. Get Leo to write a check.”
“I did. She wrote a check and I tried to cash it. There’s no money.”
“Ridiculous; she probably wrote it on the wrong account.”
“Mr. Kilpatrick took me to his office. Listen, Uncle George. There is no money. In any of the accounts. I couldn’t even cash a two-hundred-dollar check.”
“It must be some kind of glitch. Or he was looking at the wrong accounts.”
“The glitch is there is no money left. And I don’t think we can blame this on Mrs. Norcroft.”
“No, dammit. I think we can blame this on Dan Bannister. But is Roy Kilpatrick sure about this?”
“Yes. What are we going to do?”
“You’re going to do nothing and say nothing. I’m going to make a few discreet inquiries, beginning with Kilpatrick. Maybe things aren’t as dire as they seem at first glance. Dan might have decided to move the funds to another bank for a higher interest rate.”
“You think that might be it?” Issy asked hopefully.
“Perhaps, but I think it more likely that Dan and Vivienne absconded with the money. I’ll check it out. Anything else I should know?”
Issy didn’t want to confide in George. It would just make him angrier and more bitter. But it couldn’t be helped. She was out of her element.
“They owe the market two thousand dollars. I don’t think Leo and Fae have any idea that there is no money.”
“And they are not going to find out.”
“How can they not? I don’t know what bills have been paid and which haven’t. Mr. Ogden said he hadn’t been paid in three months; maybe no one else has either.”
“Issy, I’m depending on you to keep your head. There’s no reason for this to become public knowledge. A scandal like this would be bad for the family and my reputation as a financial investor. And I don’t intend to air the family’s laundry in public just to exonerate myself from accusations of sheer incompetency at best.”
“But you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No. Dan Bannister did that, but when it hits the fan, it hits everyone.”
“That’s terrible. But if he did take the money do you think we’ll be able to get it back?”
“Not if he’s already spent it or hidden it. So it’s best to prepare yourself to prepare Fae and Leo when the time comes.”
“Prepare them for what?”
“For going to live in a state-supported facility instead of a posh assisted living cooperative that we’d planned.”
“Uncle George. You wouldn’t do that to them.”
“I’m not paying for my father’s follies.”
“Why can’t you just let it go?”
“That’s what I intend to do, and I suggest you do the same. Not that I expect you to listen to my advice. They’ll suck you dry if you let them and be totally oblivious about it the entire time. I can’t tell you the times I gave them advice only to be ignored. I could have kept this from happening, but Wes was determin—” He broke off.
“So you won’t help?”
“I’ll make a few inquiries, have my secretary research state facilities. But I will not bail them out financially. You do realize we’re talking millions. I don’t know how much exactly. Wes didn’t confide in me. No telling how bad it is. But the contents of the house should bring a good price at auction. And the house is standing on prime real estate.”
“You can’t.”
“We have to think of what’s best for Leo and Fae.”
“And if it’s sold, they won’t have to go to a state facility?”
“I don’t know, Issy. I’m not sure that it can be sold, and even if it could be, it wouldn’t sell in time to help Leo and Fae. I’ll call you when I learn something.”
“But, Uncle George—”
He hung up.
“Thanks.” For nothing. Still it was useless to argue. His animosity toward the family seemed out of proportion to a few loans and not being named caretaker of the Muses. If she’d hoped for a bailout, it wouldn’t be coming from Uncle George or anybody else that she could think of.
It looked like the only thing standing between Fae and Leo and the old-folks home was Issy.
And she had to go to Washington.
“Hey, how’s Leo?” Chloe asked as she took a double-sized casserole dish out of the oven. “I meant to ask Ben when he dropped Fae off, but he went straight to work. And Fae didn’t come in, just hightailed it across the lawn to the woods.”
Issy went to the sink and poured water into a glass. “She seemed better today. She wants to come home.”
“They’re not going to send her to rehab?”
Issy held up a finger while she guzzled down half of her water. The taste was so familiar that she forgot for a minute that their life was on a crazy spiral out of control. Instead she hovered in an endless summer of beach days and impromptu evening concerts, artistic temperaments, and Fourth of July fireworks.
“Sorry. She’s refusing to go. Says she can take care of herself.” Issy looked at the ceiling. “Do she and Fae look after themselves? Fae said Vivienne fired Mrs. Norcroft for . . .” She hesitated. She didn’t want to start any rumors about the housekeeper, especially with the missing money hanging over their heads. Or not hanging over their heads, as it turned out. They were out of money. How was she supposed to deal with that?
“Issy, if you’re worried about me saying anything, I already know. Ben stayed long enough to tell me. For stealing. It’s a crock, but Mrs. Norcroft must be devastated. To be accused of stealing after she’s worked for this family for decades; it’s just mean-spirited. I’ve never seen Ben so angry. I confess I feel like punching Vivienne’s lights out myself.”
“Right now you’d have to stand in line,” Issy said. “But first things first. Where is Ben?”
Chloe’s face lit up.
“I just want to ask his advice about maybe moving Grammy downstairs at least until she’s stronger.”
“He’s gone to check on some tests he’s doing in the salt marsh.” Chloe sighed. “I swear he’d tramp around in the mud all day if left to his own devices. What he needs is another interest.”
“Like changing the back parlor into a bedroom suite?” Issy smiled. She knew that wasn’t what Chloe was talking about. Chloe had been marrying off her older brother since he was sixteen and they were ten.
“Like trading in his bachelor life for marital bliss. But in spite of all the hard work I do, he’s still single. I’ll never have nephews and nieces.”
Issy coughed out a laugh. “I have three that are yours for the taking.”
Chloe made a face. “They’re a little spoiled, aren’t they?”
“An understatement. Vivienne was always one of those nothing-but-the-best kind of people. Sort of like our mother, only totally opposite. No bright lights, big city for her. She wanted the big house in the burbs, with the designer kitchen. She was born hardwired to HGTV. Her first words were probably ‘granite countertops.’”
“Highly overrated,” Chloe said.
“You’re probably a quartz kind of girl, right?”
Chloe grinned. “Yep, though now all I have is imitation something.”
“Hasn’t held you back. Dinner was delicious last night.”
“Thanks. I made lasagna for tonight. I thought the kids might like it.”
“I’m sure everyone will.” Issy pulled out a chair and sat down. “What am I going to do?”
“Well,” Chloe said, sitting down beside her, “you’re going to let Ben and me help you.”
“Chloe, you’re my best friend, the sister of my heart, but I need to make immediate arrangements for Leo and then find some kind of care for the children until their mother returns . . . if she returns.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “Do you think Mrs. Norcroft would consider coming back—if I begged?”
“Maybe, but Mrs. Norcroft is getting older, too.”
“I know.” What she needed was someone strong and agile. Someone who could care for an eighty-four—five?—year-old lady who thought she was thirty-five, keep one eye out for Fae, and still be able to manage kids. And who would work cheap.
What she needed was herself.
She was strong. She cared about the family. She was affordable. And there was no one else. She could finish up the D.C. installation via Skype. She had two weeks’ vacation time due. Two weeks. Hardly any time at all.
The thought turned sour in her stomach. Hardly any time at all to fix her family situation, more than enough time to lose her job to an ambitious assistant. Everything inside her was screaming “get on that shuttle. If you don’t, you’ll never leave.”
It was just like twelve years before, standing on the drive, trunks packed, waiting for Ben to pick her up in his truck and drive her to the university. Only then she hadn’t wanted to leave. She’d actually begged them to let her stay.
The Muses was her home. The only place she’d ever known. Her family. A family who didn’t run away.
But the truck came inexorably through the gates. When she turned back to Leo and Wes, they were arm in arm, smiling at her. No sadness at seeing her leave. And she wanted to run back to them and beg them once again to let her stay.
But they had discussed her future. They were excited for her getting out into the world. They assured her that the Muses would always be her home. But already she could feel the invisible chasm opening up between them as Wes and Leo turned to each other and Issy knew things would never be the same.
Ben stopped the truck, jumped out, and put her suitcases in the bed.
“Get a move on. Adventure awaits.”
Easy for him to say. He was out of school and living in a shack on the marshes.
He put the truck in gear and drove out to the street, Issy looking back as her grandparents turned sfumato—blurred through her tears.
“You’re going to be fine, kid. It’s going to be an adventure.” They turned left and suddenly the Muses was out of sight. Issy had never looked back.
Until now.
She glanced up to find Chloe watching her, and she knew what she had to do.
She couldn’t leave them like this. It was time to call Dell and explain that she needed to take her two weeks’ vacation now.
You’re going to be fine, kid. An adventure. She’d worry about the rest later.
Chapter 7
Steph went to her room after dinner. She’d been hoping Aunt Fae would come back, but she didn’t. Issy was there, though, and Issy wasn’t happy about it.
You could tell just by looking at her. She smiled and everything, but she wasn’t there. Not really there. Most of the time these days her mom and dad weren’t there, even when they were. And now they weren’t even there physically.
This was really beginning to suck. The only thing that didn’t suck was Great-Aunt Fae, even though Steph hated to admit it. Her dad said she was a crazy old coot, and maybe she was kind of crazy, but in an okay kinda way.
Steph tried looking through the trees to see if any lights came from the direction of Fae’s cottage, but there was nothing. She was pretty sure she could find her way back there, but maybe not in the dark.
She didn’t exactly believe her aunt about the man she’d seen being an elf. Maybe it was because she’d gotten the image of Elf on a Shelf in her head and couldn’t get it out. She’d read books about humanlike creatures and shapeshifters—she’d loved Twilight. She’d even read a few other vampire books, and come to think of it, there were faeries like Fae described in one of those. Her mother found them and took them away, saying they were inappropriate.
Her mother should get a clue. Some statistic said kids today knew more by the time they were Steph’s age than their great-grandparents learned in their whole lives. Sometimes Steph wished she didn’t kn
ow so much. But tonight she wished she knew if there really were other kinds of beings.
Changeling. Maybe that’s what she was. It would make a lot of sense. She wasn’t like Amanda or Griffin or their mother.
She locked the door, pulled the book Fae had given her from under the pillow, and opened it to the first page. It was kind of dull at first. An introduction about the science of otherworldly beings and various cultures they were found in.
She skipped over some of those parts, she could always go back. She read on and was just thinking about going to bed when the book mentioned the Elf King, which made her think of Legolas in the movie. And he did sort of look like the man today, except younger with long light hair and clear skin, tall and . . . And that’s when she got to the good part.
Issy stood just outside the kitchen looking both ways down the dark corridor. The kids had gone to bed. Chloe and Ben had gone home. Now it was just her and the house.
The house she loved. A huge house that suddenly felt claustrophobic.
She’d called Dell; he’d reluctantly okayed her vacation. She’d called Paolo, who of course completely understood. She’d scheduled a Skype meeting for the team the next morning.
She missed her work already. She always felt whole when she was working, as she saw her exhibit designs become a reality. Maybe what she did wasn’t fine art, but a bad installation could kill an exhibit.
Issy was proud of her work. She was afraid if she stayed away, she would lose it. Hers was a competitive field. For all their sublime artistic reputations, museums were places of cutthroat competition. The pay was poor, the hours were long, but it attracted passionate and talented people, some of them willing to throw you under the bus to get your job. Deirdre came to mind.
But it couldn’t be helped.
Issy looked toward the front of the house, where the rooms lay in shadow. The Muses was such a huge part of all their lives. For more than two centuries, it had been a haven for artists, a meeting place of great minds, great ideas, rowdy fun, and heated arguments—and after World War I, free love and booze.
The Beach at Painter's Cove Page 7
