Curtis grinned. His aunt was always trying to get him married. She thought Raine needed a mother, but he’d never met a woman who intrigued him enough to pursue. He wasn’t into casual relationships either. He was an all-or-nothing sort of guy. “You’re the prettiest girl here, Ede. I’d rather spend time with you.”
She patted his arm with her free hand. “Save your flattery for one of those pretty girls on the pier.”
Sara reached them too. She was about twenty-eight with honey-colored hair and eyes as gray as the sea in November. She was the medic with Curtis’s helicopter team. They’d always been friends but nothing more. Sara only had eyes for Josh Holman, the team commander, though the idiot never seemed ready to make his move.
Sara shaded her eyes from the glaring sun and smiled. “I didn’t think you’d be able to stay out of the water for long.” She glanced at Edith. “Did you tell him?”
Edith shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Tell me what?” Curtis didn’t like the serious expressions on both women’s faces.
“Amy Lang is living at Rosemary Cottage.”
His stomach clenched. “So?”
“So she should know. Raine deserves some of that estate.”
He set his jaw and looked away from Edith’s pleading gaze. “Raine wants for nothing. I’ll take care of her.”
“What about Amy? Doesn’t she deserve to know she has a niece? And her parents would love to know they have a granddaughter. You should have contacted them when Gina died. It’s not right.”
It was a familiar argument, one he’d won only because it would take so much effort to find the phone number he needed. Edith had pushed him but hadn’t insisted. Her entreaties were going to get fiercer with Amy on the island.
His aunt’s eyes narrowed, and she pointed her finger at him. “I know that expression. You’re mustering all the reasons why you should stay silent, but think, Curtis. What if the shoe were on the other foot and you didn’t know Raine existed? Wouldn’t you want to know?”
He couldn’t deny it. Ben might be scum, but his family was one of the wealthiest on the Eastern Seaboard. They had a mansion in Newport, an expansive “cottage” on Cape Cod, and a family jet. Rosemary Cottage, cute as it was, was nothing to them. They could provide more for Raine than he could, but what if they tried to take her away from him? Curtis would never survive losing her. Her smile was the first thing he looked for every morning, and reading her a bedtime story was the nighttime ritual he most enjoyed.
“Curtis?” his aunt persisted.
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise you.” Like he would think of anything else.
He remembered Amy so well. The first time he’d seen her she’d been coming up out of the water with Ben. Curtis had come to the beach that day to confront Ben and tell him to leave his sister alone. Instead, Amy had asked him to take a picture of the two of them. She looked like a mermaid with her dark hair streaming down her back to her waist. Her eyes were an unusual color—part green and part golden—and they were full of love and laughter as she looked toward the camera.
It was because of her that he hadn’t had the nerve to confront Ben. He didn’t want to be the one to cause that expression of sisterly adoration to vanish. So he’d taken the picture, then gotten in his Jeep without a word.
A year later, when Gina was dead, he often thought about that moment and whether his sister would still be alive if he’d put an end to it then and there.
TWO
When she got off the ferry at Hope Beach, Hope Island’s only town, Heather felt as though she’d stepped into another land. The sooner she accomplished her mission and got out of here, the better.
The sun beat down on her head as she walked along the pier to the quaint little town. Heather’s first order of business was to find a job so she could fit in. A measly $532 nestled in the large Juicy Couture handbag slung over her shoulder, and it wouldn’t last long—a few days at most. Grant could have been a little more generous, but he was a stickler for the little details being right in order to blend in.
Heather held up her head and ignored the friendly stares of the people she passed. There were several restaurants in town. Oyster Café was the first place she saw. Leaving her luggage on the porch, she tucked her long blond hair behind her ears, then pinned on a smile and approached the door.
The building was old outside with wooden siding that had been battered by the wind, rain, and sea. It was all Heather could do to keep her smile in place when she stepped inside. The floor was wooden with the finish worn off. Old tables and mismatched chairs crowded the three small dining rooms. Red-and-white-checkered tablecloths covered the tables, and the owner evidently thought the measly sprigs of flowers in jelly jars made up for the lacking decor.
It would be so humiliating to work here, and she nearly turned around. But no, she had no choice. Grant had tossed her out to sink or swim.
“By yourself today?” the server asked. She was in her forties with faded blond hair and tired brown eyes. She wore jeans and a red T-shirt with a huge oyster emblazoned across the chest.
“I was wondering if you’re looking for any help?”
The woman looked her over. “How old are you, honey? Twelve?”
Heather tipped her chin up. “Eighteen.” The lie was only six months off.
The woman smiled. “Sorry if I offended you. You look young. Can you prove your age?”
“Yes.” She pulled out the ID, knowing it would take a person far more trained than someone in this backwater to realize it was fake.
The server stared at it, then back at Heather. “You ever worked before? That purse probably cost more than I make in a week.” Her gaze swept over Heather’s legs. “And you’re wearing Joe’s jeans. Though I don’t recognize shoe brands, I can tell they were as expensive as your purse.”
Heather tipped up her chin and stared her down. “You’re judging me on my clothes? Would I be applying for this job if I had no experience?”
“You tell me.”
She looked away from the woman’s penetrating stare, then forced herself to look back and hold the woman’s gaze. “I need the job. I’m a hard worker. Let me prove myself.”
It took all her strength to humble herself with this woman. But she could do it.
Her smile seemed to sway the woman. “All right. There’s an oyster festival going on all month, and I just lost my best server. I’ll give you a try. Follow me to my office to fill out your paperwork. You can start tomorrow.”
Heather bit back a jubilant giggle. “You’re the owner?”
The woman nodded and thrust out a calloused hand. “Imogene Castor. And your name is?”
“Heather Granger.” Just in time she changed the last name to match her ID.
Back in the office, she filled out the paperwork. She had to consult the fake Social Security card in her wallet, but she managed to hide the fact that it was the first time she’d ever seen employment paperwork. At least she had a job. She’d be able to melt into the residents and do what Grant wanted.
She tucked her pen away. “How do I get out to Tidewater Inn? I’ve heard that’s a good place to stay. They have long-term rates.”
“Oh, honey, if you don’t have a reservation, forget it. Everything is booked for the festival. I guess you could ask though. The owner is a softie, and she might let you bed down on the sofa until a room opens up.”
It was better than sleeping on the beach. “How do I get there?”
Imogene pointed down the main drag. “It’s down Oyster Road just out of town. Big old mansion. You can’t miss it. You have a car?” When Heather shook her head, Imogene gestured toward the phone. “Just call them then. They’ll send a car for you.”
“Thanks, but I think I might have more luck in person. I’ll walk. Can I leave my luggage here until I find out if I can stay?”
“You can leave your luggage, but it’s a long walk. Four miles.”
Heather nearly winced at th
e thought of walking that far in these shoes. “I’ll manage. Thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”
“Five thirty.”
“In the evening? I don’t work the lunch shift?”
“In the morning. We open at six for breakfast.”
Heather wanted to tell her to forget it, but she pressed her lips together and nodded. Only when she was back out in the sunshine did she exhale and mutter an expletive under her breath. She’d never gotten up that early in her life. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. Leaving her luggage on the porch, she trudged off down the narrow street.
It took over an hour to walk to the inn, and when she got there, she was informed that the owner was gone and not expected back tonight and that no rooms were available. The manager tried to call the owner, but voice mail picked up instead. The manager didn’t have the authority to try to find a place for her.
Heather went back outside. Her feet hurt. She wasn’t used to walking much of anywhere. The little Camaro her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday had never seemed so appealing. If only she could have brought it with her.
Her steps dragged as she walked back toward town. Her vision began to blur, and she was swaying by the time she could see the town in the distance. But she wasn’t going to make it. She desperately needed water, food. Breakfast had been seven hours ago.
There was a cute cottage at the edge of the maritime forest. All kinds of flowers and weeds sprawled through the yard, and several vehicles were parked out front. Surely they could spare a drink. She headed toward it and noticed a sign in the yard that read Rosemary Cottage. Such a welcoming place might house friendly people.
Libby’s smile beamed down at the tiny infant in her arms. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, Amy.” Her hair spread out on the pillow, and her smile was in contrast to the fatigue in her eyes. The baby yawned, his small mouth so perfect.
Amy poured her some water. “I’m glad I was able to experience the moment with you.” No matter how many babies she delivered, the miracle of birth never ceased to amaze her. Meeting a new little life was an experience like none other.
Her gaze lingered on the mother and child. It was one she would never know any other way.
Brown hair askew, Alec knelt by the bed beside his wife and new son. His blue eyes were moist. “He’s beautiful.”
He still wore his Coast Guard uniform. When he touched Noah’s hand, the infant gripped his finger. The baby’s eyes fluttered and opened. He stared at his daddy with rapt attention.
Amy’s eyes burned. Ben would never be a father, would never see a child’s first smile or hear a little one call him Daddy. She’d thought she would feel closer to him here, but she hadn’t realized how she would think of him with nearly every breath.
Alec stared up at her. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. There was no time to get her to the mainland. Good grief, I barely had time to get here before his head crowned.”
Amy smiled. “You might have had to deliver him yourself.”
He shuddered. “I would’ve been afraid I would drop him.”
“You haven’t held him yet. It’s okay. He won’t break.” Amy leaned past him and lifted the infant from Libby’s arms. She needed to clean him up better, but that could wait.
Alec’s eyes widened as she laid the baby in his arms. “He doesn’t weigh much.” The infant appeared even smaller in his muscular arms. At six two he towered over Amy.
“A little over seven pounds. A good weight for two weeks early.”
Alec glanced up. “You’re sure he’s fine?”
“Completely perfect. His lungs are strong, and he’s nice and pink. You’ll want to get the doctor to take a look at him, but I’m not concerned.”
Alec’s gaze went back to the baby. “His eyes are shaped like yours, Lib.”
“He has your hairline.” Libby winced as she scooted a little higher on the pillow. “You need to call your parents.”
Alec nuzzled the baby’s soft hair. “And Zach. He’ll be bummed he missed the birth.”
Amy hadn’t met Alec’s nephew Zach yet. She started for the door. “I’ll leave the three of you alone to bond. My things are still in the car, and I need to get to cleaning.”
“I’ll help you get them out,” Alec said.
“No, they aren’t heavy. You need to get acquainted with your new son.” Amy shut the door behind her. It was important for the new family to have alone time. She knew Libby and Alec would want to kiss all of Noah’s fingers and toes and exclaim over every feature. It was a precious time, and she didn’t want to intrude.
She lugged in boxes and luggage from the car and deposited them in the living room, then pulled all the sheets from the furniture. She got her cleaning supplies out of the car and dusted everything, including the wood floor. Once it was clean, she kicked off her shoes. The vacuum was in the hall closet so she cleaned the floors and furniture with it, then retrieved her most precious box—the one containing her pictures. She wiped off the frames before arranging them on every available table in her bedroom.
The last item in the box was her calendar. The date four days from now was circled with red. She needed to make an appointment here for that follow-up blood test. She hung the calendar on the refrigerator with a magnet.
She took a few minutes to wander through the house, pausing here and there to smooth the surface of a table or touch the plump comforter on her bed. Rosemary Cottage was the same and yet—different. While she recognized every item in the house, it felt odd to be here without Ben.
The doorbell rang, and she looked out the front window onto the porch. Pearl Chilton, Libby’s aunt and the town postmistress, stood at the door. She was about five feet tall and as round as a beach ball with an enormous bosom. Her salt-and-pepper hair was wrapped up in a French braid on the back of her head. Surprisingly curvy legs extended below her skirt. Amy had always liked Pearl. Everyone did. She knew everyone’s business, but she wasn’t a gossip. People just gravitated to her warmth and unconditional love.
Amy threw open the door and hugged the older woman. “Did Libby call you?”
Pearl’s heavy brows winged up. “Why, no, honey. Was she supposed to?”
Amy didn’t want to spoil Libby’s surprise. “I thought that’s why you came. Come on in.” She stepped out of the way and let Pearl enter.
“I saw Libby’s SUV out front. Is she helping you?”
“Something like that.” Amy nodded. “I was about to have some coffee. Want to join me?”
“I’ll take tea if you have any. And I brought you some cookies.”
Only then did Amy notice the tin in her hand. “That’s so thoughtful.” She accepted the tin and led the way to the kitchen. “It’s still a bit of a mess in here. I think the teakettle is in the cupboard over the stove.” She opened the cabinet door and found the battered metal kettle. Much of the red color had been rubbed off over the years. She rinsed it and filled it with water, then set it on the gas burner.
Pearl was already rummaging through the various boxes of tea. “I think I’ll have Earl Grey. You?”
“Coffee for me.” She went back to the living room and carried her box of coffee supplies back to the kitchen. “I brought my own.” She pulled out the cups she used. “Ben bought these for me.” She held up the pottery mugs decorated with sea turtles.
Pearl’s smile faded. “I was so sorry to hear about Ben, honey. I’m sure you’re still grieving.”
Amy’s throat closed, and she swallowed hard. “I wanted to ask you about the accident. You were one of the first on the scene, weren’t you?”
“I was on my way home and saw the Coast Guard cutter on its way in. I wanted to invite Alec to dinner so I went out to the pier when it docked.”
“What did Alec say?”
“He told me that Ben was missing, presumed drowned. Then he showed me the surfboard with the shark bites on it.”
&n
bsp; “Did you see any blood?”
Pearl’s forehead wrinkled. “No. I’m so sorry he drowned, honey. I know it has to be hard.”
“I don’t believe he drowned.”
Pearl’s wise eyes were studying her. “You have more information?”
Amy hesitated, then nodded. “His death was no accident.”
THREE
The only way Amy would be able to erase the skepticism on Pearl’s face was to show her the e-mail. She went to the living room, retrieved her purse, and extracted the paper. “I got this two weeks ago via e-mail.”
Her expression troubled, Pearl unfolded the printout. “From someone named ‘A Friend’? That person must have started an e-mail address especially to do this.”
“I know.” Amy watched while Pearl scanned the message.
Pearl laid the paper on the table. “It’s pretty cryptic, Amy. It’s likely a prank.”
Amy snatched up the note. “A prank? Listen to this: ‘Dear Amy, You might want to take a trip to Hope Beach. There is more to Ben’s death than you realize. Your brother had secrets—secrets that led to his death. Hypocrisy is one of the worst sins a man can commit. I hate to say it, but he deserved what happened to him.’”
Pearl sipped her tea, then put the cup back in the saucer. “It sounds to me like someone disliked Ben. There’s no mention of murder.”
Would this be everyone’s reaction? Amy held up the note. “Read between the lines! ‘Secrets that led to his death.’ Doesn’t that sound like murder?”
Pearl held her gaze. “Honey, there are sick people in the world. People who like to hurt others. This sounds to me like that kind of person. Did you show the police?”
Amy dropped the note to her lap and stared into her coffee. “Yes. They think it’s a prank. They traced the IP address to a library in Richmond. They checked the log-ins, but the name used ended up being fake. I think that’s suspicious all by itself. If someone had nothing to hide, why not use his real name?”
Colleen Coble Page 2
