by Nina Lane
Tension locks my shoulders. I’m afraid of him too, but for totally different reasons. Last night proved my feelings toward him are still right at the surface of my skin. Anger, pain, bittersweet longing, even the fragile threads of a trust I’d thought was irrevocably broken.
Nathan rubs a hand over the back of his neck, his mouth turning downward. “Now Danforth wants to put some sort of water booster station at the spring because he’s expanding into the bottled water industry. That’s why he shut down Blue River. Residents are ticked off that he wants to profit from a natural resource that belongs to them. There’s talk about a class-action lawsuit against Invicta.”
Good lord.
I tighten my grip on my cup. I can’t believe it. Cole was supposed to work in ocean conservation, studying whale and shark distribution, spearheading beach cleanups and researching marine wildlife.
Instead he’s a hardcore corporate overlord crushing smaller businesses, putting people out of work, and turning the town against him? Never once would I have pictured that of him. Not the bright, ocean-loving boy with the sun-streaked hair and eyes the color of the sea.
Nathan points his chin toward the historic Snapdragon Inn, which presides with stately elegance over the southern corner of the square.
“Danforth bought the inn when the city council was considering getting rid of it because it was straining the budget,” he says. “Everyone hoped he’d donate the inn to the Historical Society. Instead he set up his office there.”
“He moved the Invicta Spirits offices into the inn?”
“His office,” Nathan clarifies. “The main headquarters are in the industrial park over near Benton, and the distilleries are in factories. For whatever reason, Danforth decided the company’s owner and president needed a whole damned inn as his office. Probably as a big fuck you to the town. It’s like a lair. I’ve heard his employees aren’t allowed in without an appointment. No one is.”
I frown. The Snapdragon Inn is on the other side of the masonry wall edging the Botanical Gardens. Extending halfway down the block, the wall conceals only a corner of the garden. At some point, the rest of the garden was enclosed by a wrought-iron fence that’s much more aesthetically pleasing than the old wall.
Before I can process the idea of painting the mural so close to Cole’s office, my phone buzzes with a text from him. Work at the cottage is done.
“People are pissed.” Nathan pulls his eyebrows together. “The problem is that Invicta Spirits provides a lot of revenue, so there’s not much anyone can do. Word is he’s trying to deflect the growing protest by sponsoring the Bicentennial Festival…or his PR people are making him do it…but it’ll take a lot more than that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Even with the knowledge that Cole doesn’t want me here, even with the still-festering ache over the way he’d walked out on me, I can’t wrap my brain around it.
“It’s all kind of shitty, but hopefully good will prevail.” Nathan lifts a hand to a passerby who gives him a wave of greeting. “I don’t know if the lawsuit is going forward, but I guarantee Danforth won’t get away with his tactics for much longer.”
I don’t know what to make of any of this. I tuck my phone away and gather my things. “Nathan, it was great seeing you again.”
“You too, Josie.” He rises to his feet and takes my paper cup and plate to the recycling bin. “I’d like to see Vanessa again sometime as well.”
He turns back to me. Though he’s in the shade, a shaft of sunlight illuminates his brown eyes.
A sudden image appears in my mind, shockingly clear—Nathan’s eyes, burning red, his face pale and drawn in a dizzying kaleidoscope of darkness and flashing lights.
My heart hammers. I grab the back of the chair.
What the fuck was that?
“…staying with her?”
His voice breaks through my haze. I deflect the stabbing fear that my nightmares are starting to invade my waking hours. It’s bad enough that they destroy my sleep, but if I see them during the day…?
I pull in a breath. “Sorry, what?”
“Are you staying with Vanessa?” he repeats.
“No, up at my mother’s cottage near the harbor.” Struggling to regain my composure, I loop my backpack over one shoulder. “I’m heading over there now. Haven’t had a chance to get settled yet.”
“I’ll come with you, if you need a hand.” He glances at his watch. “My shift is about over.”
“No, that’s okay.” I dig into my bag for the cottage keys. “But thank you.”
After saying goodbye, I hurry toward the path leading to the cove. My return to Castille is supposed to inspire hope and light. But what if I fall even deeper into the dark?
Chapter 6
Josie
* * *
This time, stepping into Watercolor Cottage is a pleasure. Afternoon light illuminates the old wood trim and cream-colored plaster walls. A tiled sunroom lined with windows overlooks a spectacular view of the boat-dotted cove, and a queen-sized bed rests against the wall. Wooden shelves hold glazed clay pots and an art-supply box stained with paint.
Mom.
My anxiety and confusion drain away. I set down my backpack and drink in the air as if it’s the potion I’ve been needing. The elixir that will help heal me, inspire me, turn me into the woman I want to be.
As long as I have enough lights. Aside from the ceiling fixtures, which are dim, there’s only one floor lamp. I bought an industrial-strength flashlight from a hardware store this morning, so I should be okay tonight, but I’ll buy more lamps tomorrow.
After unpacking a few things, I head to the old Colonial house on Poppy Lane. Ours had always been the “artsy” house on the block with my mother’s sculptures decorating the front lawn, and Teddy’s toys scattered everywhere.
Now the whole lot looks shabby and worn. Patches of brown dot the lawn, the paint is flaking, and weeds poke out of the flowerbeds where my father used to plant petunias and marigolds.
I walk to the front porch, catching sight of a fat, ceramic frog nestled among the weeds. With a wide grin and a vaguely cross-eyed stare, Bartles has guarded the yard since I was five years old.
I remember the day my mother had brought the frog home from her studio, remarking that she’d made a mistake with the eyes, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. My father had promptly christened the frog Bartles and placed it right beside the front walkway. Despite the fact that Bartles is no longer surrounded by colorful annuals, at least he’s still in his place of honor.
The front door opens before I reach the steps. My sister comes onto the porch, her sleeveless top displaying her tanned arms, her hair falling in honey-colored waves to her shoulders. In loose black pants and an embroidered maternity top, she’s a vision of willowy beauty.
“Sorry I missed your text.” She holds the rickety screen door open. “I’d have been here if I’d known you were coming early.”
“It’s okay. The person subletting my apartment asked to move in a couple of days in advance, so I left sooner than I’d expected to.”
She glances toward the driveway. “Where’s your car?”
“I just got a rental at the train station.” I climb the porch steps. “I returned it this morning since I can walk everywhere.”
“How was the trip?”
“Fine.” I stop beside her, hating the tension vibrating between us.
We look at each other, as if trying to figure out if either of us has changed. She’s still lovely and elegant with her golden hair and graceful figure. I’m still…Josie in the middle. Ordinary height, brown hair, average weight.
As a nerdy artist, I’d never minded us being so different physically, but I had envied Vanessa’s self-assurance and ease with people. She’d been popular and friendly, on the student council, involved with many clubs.
I’d been the odd girl who usually had her nose in a sketchbook and liked hanging out in the woods. But my sister’s glow always brightened
my own aura, and we’d once had a close relationship dominated by amused affection over our differences.
We reach for each other at the same time. Our embrace is awkward, due to both time and the baby bump swelling under her shirt. Briefly, I touch her belly.
No matter how hard and unpleasant things have gotten for me and my sister, she’s going to have a baby. My nephew. A new person in our small, broken family. If there was ever a time to repair our strained relationship, that time is now.
I follow her into the house, bracing myself for a wave of grief that never comes. There’s nostalgia, yes, and the ever-present bittersweetness of happy memories mixed with loss, but I’m more surprised than sad.
Though some things are the same—the shabby birch and maple furniture, the throw rugs covering sections of the scarred hardwood floors—so much is gone. Our father’s books, our mother’s paintings and sculptures, the shelves of knickknacks and projects Teddy had brought home from school.
“What did you do with everything?” I wave a hand to the living room.
“What do you mean?”
“Mom’s art and stuff. Dad’s history books.”
“Oh, it’s all in the basement.” Vanessa heads for the kitchen. “Come on in. I just have to pour the tea.”
“Do you mind if I check out the basement later?”
“Go ahead.” She takes a kettle from the stove and pours water into a teapot. “If you want to take any of it with you when you leave, please do. I don’t need all that stuff around.”
My stomach curdling with both irritation and guilt, I sit at the table. I hadn’t been here when Vanessa was finalizing the details of our parents’ estate. I’d been too devastated to want to return.
She’d sent me my share of the inheritance and told me we co-owned the house, Watercolor Cottage, and a little cabin on Eagle Mountain called Heavenly Daze that had been our father’s favorite place. But even three properties hadn’t been enough for Vanessa.
She’d also gone after Cole for blood money. A month after the car accident, she’d filed a multi-million dollar wrongful death lawsuit against him. She’d accused him of having been driving while distracted, overtired or even possibly intoxicated.
I’d learned about the lawsuit a month before I was planning to move to San Francisco. While I’d welcomed the idea of escaping, my sister’s legal action had wrought fresh anger and pain. I’d been furious with Vanessa—not because I cared about Cole any longer, but because I hadn’t wanted anything from him. Certainly not his money.
“You did what?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Vanessa folded her arms, her features stiff. She’d aged fifteen years in the past month. So had I. Every second of torment and loss was burned into our bones, our skin. But after our initial outpouring of grief, a strained distance had spread between us.
“He owes us,” Vanessa said. “If it hadn’t been for his reckless driving, they’d still be alive.”
“He’s not a reckless driver!” I retorted. “He never has been. It was an accident.”
“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if he’d been paying attention.”
“He was.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t remember. He might have been drunk, for all we know.”
“He didn’t have anything to drink at the party. I was there.”
“So was I.”
“You didn’t see him drink anything.” I started to shake with anger. “No one did. And his blood test was negative.”
She rolled her eyes. “Those tests aren’t reliable.”
“Vanessa, it was raining. The car slid on that sharp curve just after Old Mill Bridge. He lost control.”
“Right. He lost control. It was his fault.”
“It was an accident!”
“He fucked up and killed our parents and brother!” Her voice rose to a yell. “If he’s not going to prison for that, I’ll make him pay another way.”
We fought. She hired a lawyer. I’d moved to California earlier than I’d intended, refusing to have anything to do with the proceedings. I hadn’t even wanted to talk to my sister for fear that she’d bring up the lawsuit.
Then less than three weeks after she’d filed the suit, she sent me an email telling me they’d reached a settlement. Cole had given her the full sum of what she’d demanded. The suit was dropped.
I’d wanted none of the money, sick at the thought that Cole had very likely been forced to either use his trust fund or ask his father for it.
Now, however, I don’t want to bring up the acrimony that tore my sister and I apart. I just hope my being here is enough to convince her I want to make amends.
“Maybe we can donate some of Mom and Dad’s stuff.” I accept a cup of tea from her. “The museum at Ford’s would love Mom’s art, and we can give Dad’s books to the Historical Society.”
“Sure.” She sits across from me with her own cup. “Get rid of whatever you want to. It doesn’t matter to me.”
What does? I bite back the question because the answer is obvious. Her baby. That’s what we both need to focus on. Vanessa won’t want to sort through old, dusty memories, but she will want to get ready for her son.
She’d once been a talented interior designer, but her husband had wanted her to stop working after they got married. Too late, she’d discovered he’d purposely isolated her as a means of getting his hands on almost all the financial assets she’d brought to the marriage. Including the money she’d gotten from Cole.
“So you’ve got the mural all organized?” She pours milk into her tea.
“I’m going to a meeting about it tomorrow. Allegra King wants to have the unveiling ceremony at the Bicentennial Festival in August.”
“What does that involve?”
“A ribbon-cutting ceremony, music, food. It’s scheduled for the morning right before the parade.”
Vanessa frowns, bringing the cup to her lips. “I don’t want to attend something like that.”
“Why not?”
She sighs. “Look, I’m glad you’re painting the mural. I want Mom and Dad to be honored and remembered in a good way, and I know you need to do this for them. But this also means that everyone’s going to be talking about it again, what a tragedy, all that crap. And then, poor pathetic Vanessa, did you hear her husband stole her money and ran out on her? And she’s pregnant on top of it all. Such a shame, she used to be so bright, homecoming queen, track star and all, and look at her now.”
I have no response to that because it’s probably the truth.
“At least you’re able to come back as a success,” she continues.
“God, Vanessa.” I lean closer, reaching out to touch her arm. “Do you know why I’ve been a successful artist? Because every painting that comes out of me is a mess of pain and sharp angles. Critics call it edgy and dramatic. Young collectors love it. And yes, I’ve found a catharsis in what I do, but I’m tired of pouring anguish on to a canvas. I want to do something hopeful and good. That’s why I’m here. I know people will be talking about the accident again, but maybe this will shift their focus into thinking about Mom, Dad, and Teddy as people instead of about how they died. The only difference between you and me is that no one really knows how bad it’s been for me.”
Except for Cole. Because of last night, he knows.
Vanessa’s eyes cloud over. “I’m sorry, Josie. I don’t even want to be back in Castille, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’m surprised you wanted to come back.”
“I wanted to come back for the mural, but also for you.”
A faint light appears in her expression. She pats my hand. “I’m glad you did.”
“So am I.” Relief twines through my heart. “Hey, do you want to go shopping this weekend? Maybe we can have lunch, then pick up a few things for the baby. Are you going to decorate a nursery?”
“I haven’t really thought about it.” She sips her tea and shrugs. “I figured he’d just stay in my room.”
<
br /> “We can still get a nursery decorated. Paint, furniture, curtains.” Warming to the idea, I check the calendar on my phone. “Let’s plan for Saturday afternoon. I need a few things for the cottage too.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have the cottage ready for you. Did the water and electricity work?”
“No, but Cole—”
My voice breaks off. I’m surprised at how easily his name still slides from my lips. Vanessa tenses.
“Cole?” she echoes.
I glance at her warily. The bad blood between all three of us runs in multiple directions.
“I saw him at the pier,” I explain. “When I found out the electricity didn’t work, he helped me out.”
Her eyes ice over. “How?”
Discomfort rustles in my chest. “He let me stay overnight at his house.”
“You mean his monstrous estate over on Sea Avenue? How did that happen?”
“I was in a bind last night.” I swallow hard, unwilling to tell her about my panic attacks. “He happened to be there.”
“You need to stay away from him.” Vanessa sits back, folding her arms almost protectively around her belly. “He’s not the man he used to be.”
“I know.” My unease intensifies. “I ran into Nathan Peterson this morning, and he gave me the lowdown on Cole’s transformation into a corporate tycoon.” I push to my feet and bring our cups to the sink. “I almost can’t believe it.”
“It’s the truth. Nathan was the one who told me about it too, like he’s the town herald warning people about the dragon.” She gives a bitter laugh and shakes her head. “Cole Danforth, Castille’s biggest tyrant. Can you imagine what Mom and Dad would say?”
I don’t want to. Just the thought constricts my heart into a fist. I don’t want to imagine what Mom and Dad would say about me and Vanessa either.
Ten years later, we’re all so fucking broken.
Shaking off a sudden despondency, I turn back to my sister. “Hey, Nathan said he’d like to see you again. Didn’t he have a huge crush on you in high school?”
She rolls her eyes, though a slight flush colors her cheeks. “Not to be conceited, but a lot of boys had a crush on me in high school.”
