The Beach at Painter's Cove

by Shelley Noble

  She’d just lock the door and take time to think. Do some research. Whether the paintings had been sitting there for the last ten years or whether they were newly painted by her aunt Fae, one more day wouldn’t matter.

  As earth-shattering as this discovery might be, she had more important things to worry about right now.

  The mere thought that something could be more important than a find like this staggered her. The thought that a headstrong, “attitudinous” tween could be that thing finished her off.

  Family. She was family.

  Issy backed out the door, closed it, and realized she didn’t have the key to lock it. But someone did. Someone must have been in the cabin recently or the door wouldn’t have been left ajar. And they would be coming back. She wanted to wait to find out who it was. But did she really? She had to find Steph. That was what was important. She was out in the woods somewhere either too embarrassed and humiliated to return to the Muses or too lost to find her way home.

  Issy could relate. She’d had some pretty tough years herself and she had to admit seeing her sister today had affected her pretty much the same way it had affected Steph. Run.

  Then a worse thought struck her. What if Steph had discovered someone in the little cottage. The forger? Or a predator. Issy missed the step and fell to one knee. What if he had Steph?

  Issy pushed to her feet and whipped around a full three-sixty. No obvious signs of a struggle. Sta’ calma. No one was here. Someone had been here. Probably just Aunt Fae, but maybe not. And she was wasting time.

  “Steph!” she called. “Steph! Answer me!”

  And there she was walking down the path that ran through the woods to the meadow and beyond.

  Issy ran to meet her. “Are you okay?”

  Steph barely looked at her, but Issy could see she’d been crying. No surprise there.

  “I don’t want to go back to Guilford.”

  “I know.” And from the sounds of things, she wouldn’t be. “Mandy and Griff have pleaded to stay until the end of camp. That gives you some time.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Issy empathized. She’d felt the same way when she’d left for college, like Adam and Eve must have felt when they were kicked out of the Garden of Eden. The truck ride with Ben to the university, him carrying on about the future and adventure, and her only longing for the safety of the past and home.

  He’d been right, of course. They all had. But it took years for her to realize it. And Steph was only twelve. Issy smiled thinking about that first morning at breakfast. Ben giving her grief about being a teenager and her confessing she was only twelve.

  If Issy hadn’t been worried about so many things, she would have known right then that she was committed to this family once and for all. They’d sent her to college, not just to get an education and not because they wanted to be alone together. But because they wanted her to return of her own free will, because she chose to be here above everywhere else.

  She sensed there was another turning point coming up. She didn’t know quite what it would be, but she knew who she wanted to share it with. The person who she now realized had always been there for her, who had helped her to see things clearly. Who’d always been a part of her life, even when she wasn’t around. Fortunately, she was meeting him for dinner that night.

  She and Steph began walking back toward the house; Issy slung an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “Let me tell you a story about a girl.”

  Chapter 25

  Steph balked at going inside the house.

  “Trust me, I’m not relishing this any more than you are,” Issy said, and steered them both up the front steps. But when they walked into the parlor, they only found Jillian and Paolo. Jillian held up her glass.

  “A little early for happy hour, I realize, but really someone has to keep up appearances.”

  “Where’s my—where’s Vivienne?” Steph asked.

  Jillian smiled slowly, accepting the hit. “In bed. Fae has gone off to her own cottage and said she won’t be back until late. Leo is upstairs playing step-and-fetch-it for the prodigal granddaughter. There wasn’t a thing I could do, so I came down here. Paolo graciously offered to keep me company, though I’m told you’re both going out tonight.”

  “There is still plenty of time to talk to Vivienne.” Issy turned to go upstairs.

  “There’s plenty of time when you get back. I spiked her drink.”

  Issy spun around. “With what? How long is she going to be out?”

  Jillian did the shrug she was known for. “Four to six hours, I imagine. I thought we might want to have a plan before we talk to her.”

  “Or time for George to get here?”

  “Actually I didn’t call him. And I thought we might want to question her once the kiddies are asleep.”

  “Oh,” Issy said.

  “I’m staying up,” Steph said.

  That shrug again. “Suit yourself. But it’s not a good feeling to find out your mother isn’t what you want her to be, is it, Oops?”

  “You’re awful,” Steph said, and ran out of the room.

  “Really, Jillian, was that necessary? The kid’s had a hard enough day as it is. She doesn’t need you rubbing her nose in it.”

  “Ah Oops, you have such a way with words. Paolo here has been telling me you’ve done quite well for yourself.”

  “Thanks for asking.”

  Jillian smiled. It actually looked genuine. “I’m a selfish person, Oops. You of all people should know that. Some people are just born that way. But . . .”

  She got up and crossed to the drinks cabinet. “I think even I don’t have the heart to separate Leo from Wes or Fae from whatever keeps her here.”

  “Leo keeps her here,” Issy said. “She promised Wes before he died.”

  “Really? That is loyalty. Why didn’t you come to the funeral? Even I left Henri—or was it Eduardo?— to make the trip.”

  “No one told me he was dead.”

  “Oh, that’s right. It was during that big installation of yours in Paris. I think the consensus was they didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Bother me? Did they actually think I would ever be too busy to come to my own grandfather’s funeral? The only father figure I ever knew? Really?”

  “I imagine they wanted to spare you from the catfight that ensued.”

  “What catfight?”

  “The will,” Jillian intoned, and shuddered dramatically. She took her newly poured drink back to the sofa. “It was like It’s a Wonderful Life meets Kill Bill. Not pretty.”

  “Uncle George and Dan Bannister?”

  “And poor John Renfroe trying to whereas and wherefore through the riot. Leo escaped to the freshly dug grave. Fae began to dance among the guests and George threatened to have them both committed just so Dan couldn’t get his hands on the money. Looks like George was right.”

  “Maybe about Dan, but not about having them committed.”

  “No, they’re perfectly happy in their bizarrely constructed existence. But even you have to admit they need to have—shall we say—help. Unfortunately, Dan Bannister put paid to that.” Jillian took a sip of her drink. “And everything else.”

  “Maybe not,” Issy said.

  “Have a scheme in mind, Oops?”

  “Perhaps. I’m going to take a shower and then Paolo and I are going out.” No one needed to know they weren’t going out together. “Be sure Vivienne is awake when we get back and don’t ask her any questions until we do.”

  Paolo followed her out and caught up to her on the stairs. “Hell, the plot thickens. Do you want me to come back after dinner or make myself scarce?”

  “I don’t know. I mean . . .” She wanted so badly to tell him what she found—thought she found—but she couldn’t take the chance. Not that she thought he couldn’t be trusted, but there might be repercussions that could be the end of both their careers for sure. “Are you saying things are progressing rapidly with you and Chloe?”<
br />
  “On the horizon, perhaps. But my first loyalty is to you.” He grinned. “For now.”

  When they met downstairs at six, Issy had changed several times and had finally settled on her alternate gallery dress and strappy summer heels that she’d fortunately packed for the trip to D.C.

  “Mama mia, as they say,” Paolo said. “You look divine.”

  “Chloe said Ben was wearing a suit.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It’s a little weird. He’s Chloe’s big brother.”

  “He’s also a man, cara. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “I’ve noticed. It’s still a little weird. And I probably should stick around here in case Vivienne wakes up and tries to leave. I want to know what happened to Leo’s money.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. I’m pretty certain Jillian wants to know that as much as you do.”

  “That’s why she’s still here, isn’t it? To get her share of whatever money there is.”

  Paolo opened the passenger door of the Alfa Romeo for her. “When she first arrived I had her pegged as a total mercenary, but I’m not sure. She seems to be going through a little softening. She actually helped Griff make a P, B, and J. It was a pathetic mess. I could have offered to help but it was vastly entertaining. So I just watched.”

  “Jillian and peanut butter? The mind boggles.”

  “Do you ever call her Mother?”

  “Nope.” They got into the car. “I’m a Whitaker, since I’ve never been sure whether I was born a York or something else. Speculation was rife. I consider Leo and Wes my parents and grandparents.”

  “I’m glad you appreciate them, but it’s an awfully big chip to carry around especially wearing that dress.”

  She frowned at him. “I don’t have a chip. Just telling it like it is.” She’d been shocked, then angry at first, when she’d first discovered the tabloid article in a pile of old magazines.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, maybe a little chip. But she did leave us.”

  “In good hands. Or at least in loving if not the most experienced hands.”

  “True.”

  They parked in front of Chloe’s new house and met Ben crossing the street.

  Chloe ran out to meet them. “Come in. It still smells a little like polyurethane but it’s home sweet home.” She hustled them inside.

  One whiff of the new floors and Issy’s mind flew to the cabin and the paintings. “It’s charming,” she said distractedly, then took in the living room, filled with chintz-covered furniture, comfortable and Country Living ready. “And it’s so you. I love it.”

  “And you can give her the tour some other day,” Ben said. “I have reservations.”

  Issy barely had time to say good-bye before Ben was leading her out again. Once they were back on the street, he stopped. “You look wonderful.”

  Amused, Issy said, “Thank you. You’re cute, too. Are we in a hurry, really?”

  Ben stretched his neck like maybe his tie was too tight. “I was trying to spare you the Cook’s tour. It invariably leads to what’s wrong with my house and my life.”

  “She loves you and your house,” Issy said.

  “She’s driving me nuts.”

  “Is that why you asked me out? To appease Chloe?” Issy asked, surprised at her disappointment.

  “No. No. It was after I asked you; she gets these notions.”

  “About marrying you off? I know. I’ve known you guys forever, remember? She’s been trying to marry you off since you were sixteen. You don’t know how many ‘unsuitable’ girls I saved you from when we were growing up.”

  “For which I’m forever in your debt.” He opened the door to Chloe’s car for her. “Thought you might prefer a real car tonight. Besides, the pickup hasn’t been cleaned in a week or so. Been too busy preparing for the storm.”

  “Thanks for that bit of thoughtfulness. How is the storm progressing?”

  “It hasn’t made landfall yet. The models are disagreeing. It might just curve and peter out over water. Or it could keep traveling along the coast, gathering speed, and hit somewhere between New Jersey and Martha’s Vineyard.”

  “I guess I’d better start making preparations,” Issy said. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate.

  “I can come over and help with the heavy stuff, but you need to get the normal supplies ready, make sure you have plenty of batteries, water, the usual. Between the four of us, we should be able to get the plywood over the conservatory windows. How good is Paolo with a hammer?”

  Issy shrugged. “We have installers to do those kind of things, but I imagine he’s no schlepp.”

  “Which is women-splain for he’s good at everything? So he and my sister—”

  “Stop. You’re just as bad as she is. Do you need help protecting the marshes?”

  “I don’t protect them, they do the protecting, their main enemy is man—people. I have to protect the equipment. My instruments make delicate measurements, and anything can upset them or break them. They’re very temperamental.”

  “Little divas.”

  “Yes but nothing like the ones you face.”

  They both laughed and fell into an old familiarity, mixed with a new feeling of discovery. Issy felt her anxiety float away.

  They drove to a nearby town, parked on a side street, and strolled down the crowded sidewalk toward the water.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind the crowds after being pretty much inside the Muses all week.”

  “It’s a perfect choice. And after Manhattan this is just the right amount of crowd.” As they walked down the brick path to the restaurant, Issy was acutely aware of Ben’s hand resting on the small of her back. It was different from the casual arm slung over her shoulders of their childhood and teenage years; as comfortable, but with an added zing of something Issy wasn’t ready to name.

  La Moule was a small bistro-type restaurant at the end of a wide seawall.

  It was crowded but muted, cozy with candlelit tables and a brick fireplace filled with antique oak kegs for the summer months. At the back was a large deck that overlooked an inlet and a wider view of the sea. In the west the sun was beginning its nose dive behind the coastline. The eastern sky was already midnight blue.

  “I got a reservation for inside if that’s okay.”

  She smiled up at him “Not in the mood for mosquitoes tonight?”

  “I eat enough of my meals roughing it. This is sheer decadence on my part.”

  “Please tell me you don’t still carry your lunch in with the first-aid supplies.”

  He laughed. “You remember that?”

  “Not easy to forget. We were always afraid that you’d get involved with whatever it was you were doing and eat the gauze pads instead of your sandwich.”

  “Well, rest easy, the first-aid kit has been replaced by a sustainable, insulated state-of-the-art lunch bag.”

  They sipped wine and talked and ate and talked and the evening slipped into night.

  “It’s so weird being back,” Issy told him over a shared piece of chocolate cake.

  “Especially with your mother and Vivienne making guest appearances.”

  “It’s crazy. When Jillian showed up the other day, I couldn’t even look at her. I knew she was up to no good. And sure enough, she came because she needed money and probably saw Leo and Fae as easy pickings, especially with George as an ally. But there are moments when I forget to be angry.

  “I mean I know she’s totally useless, and I certainly have trouble accepting that she’s my mother. But she did help with the filming, and she was in the attic with Mandy, and she made Griff a peanut butter sandwich. She didn’t lift a finger for the first few days, but there seems to be a bit of thawing. She can’t be all bad, can she?”

  “You mean, just sort of selfish and self-serving?”

  “Then it wasn’t me, Ben?”

  Ben reached over and lifted her chin. “What are you talking about?”

  “I g
rew up with Vivienne telling me I was the reason Jillian dumped us. That life was perfect before I came. That Jillian took one look at me and burst into tears.”

  “Oh, I remember Vivienne all right. Talk about divas. Chloe said she was mean to you, but you didn’t believe her?”

  “After a while, yeah, I did.”

  “I hope you don’t still believe that.”

  “No, not rationally, but there’s still this tiny little dark seed of doubt.”

  “Well, banish it. The problem is with Jillian not you. Believe that.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “And with that crybaby sister of yours. Chloe said she showed up today broke and in tears like always.”

  “Always?”

  “Don’t you remember? She always cried over everything. It was the Vivienne ‘Don’t Call Me Viv’ show or nothing. Nobody liked her. I was only nice to her because Chloe said I had to be or she would be worse to you. My parents agreed.”

  “I had no idea.”

  He sat back. “Well, now you do, and let’s not talk about your family anymore. What are your plans for the rest of the summer, or do you have any?”

  “I told George that if he insisted Leo and Fae have someone to stay with them, I would.” Her words fell into the space between them.

  “Did you mean it?”

  Issy shrugged. “I did at the time.”

  “But now?”

  “I don’t know. I love my job, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  Issy looked around the restaurant. It was a stupid thing to do. Spies weren’t hanging on to her every word. Actually there was hardly anyone left still eating.

  “There’s something I need some advice about.”

  “From me?”

  She nodded. “Maybe. But can we go someplace . . .”

  Ben gestured to the waiter and paid the bill.

  They walked along the water away from the crowds. Now that the time had come, Issy didn’t know how to start. She stopped to look over the railing at the lights reflected in the dark water of the marina.