by Amy Saunders
Belinda snuck down the hall and strained to see beyond the stairs. Some woman she'd never seen before set products on the kitchen counter. But she was wearing the uniform of Portside House Cleaning. Belinda leaned against the wall in relief. Everything that had happened recently had her on edge. She couldn't sleep well at night, and jumped at every little sound, even during the day.
She grabbed her straw bag and jogged downstairs.
"Hi," Belinda said cheerfully, now that she knew it wasn't another thief. "I was expecting Christina. She's the one who came last time."
The woman, who was older and stouter than Christina, shrugged. "She's sick, so you'll have to put up with me instead."
The woman said it matter-of-factly, but Belinda still wasn't sure how to take it, and just smiled awkwardly and left her to do her job in peace.
A short time later, Belinda sat on the pool's edge while Bennett finished his lap. Belinda held out the stop watch, grinning as he squinted to see the time on the digital face. She loved that her family's home proved useful to him.
She'd casually invited him to come use the pool when they'd uncovered it and cleaned it out for the summer, and Bennett had lit up, his face all eager like a little puppy. She had not expected that reaction at all, but as it turned out, Bennett loved to swim, and had some sort of competition with himself, constantly trying to outdo his last time. He knew all of the real swimming moves too–the backstroke, the butterfly, the breaststroke. Belinda had no idea how many "strokes" there were in swimming until she started watching him. And, of course, timing him.
The first time he'd come over, without asking or saying anything, he just handed her a stop watch. She was about to ask what that was for when he stripped down to a black Speedo. Belinda had laughed out loud before she could control herself, the stop watch completely forgotten. He'd just turned around, giving her that blank "what?" stare he did so often. When she tried to explain diplomatically, he'd just shrugged and said they were practical for real swimming. Belinda warned him that she would be giggling the entire time, which didn't deflate his confidence one bit. He strutted to the other side of the pool and hopped in.
Once her shock wore off, Belinda decided she was cool with the Speedo. Especially after watching him emerge from the water that first time, glistening wet.
"You were a little slower that time," she said, setting the watch away from the water. "You need to practice more. You're losing your stuff."
Bennett splashed her. "Then you get in here and beat that time."
"Do I look like I'm ready for a swim meet to you?"
Bennett looked her over, taking his time. His eyes hadn't looked like he wanted her that much in days, and her heart rose up in her chest in hope. Maybe he wouldn't end up despising her for all time. "Nope."
Belinda wrinkled her nose. "If you want me to swim seriously, then I will have to get a serious swimsuit and then I promise you, you won't look as hungry as you do right now."
Bennett's lip curled up. Belinda kicked her leg to splash him, but he grabbed her ankle and yanked. She lost her balance on the edge and flopped sideways into the pool, choking as she surfaced.
"Graceful," he said.
Belinda pushed down on his shoulders, trying to dunk him, but other than his deltoids contracting, he hardly blanched. She gave up after a minute of that, exhausted. "I hate you."
Bennett whipped out one of his Kyle smiles. When he showed teeth, he could pretty much whiplash you. Even when he was being mean. Or wearing a Speedo.
He swooped her up onto the edge of the pool, along with a bucket of water, and pushed up out of the water himself.
"Giving up, huh?" Belinda teased.
Bennett ran a towel across his chest and back and flopped onto a lounger. "I'm pruny and I hate that."
Belinda crawled up onto her feet, the textured surface around the pool branding her knees.
He pulled his swim cap off, his dark brown hair matted around his head. He replaced his goggles (yep, he also had those) with aviators, watching her set up her lounger.
Belinda tucked her towel around the cushion, brushing her hands along it to straighten it out. She made sure her water bottle was in reach, and finally scooted onto the lounger, wiggling around until her bum found the perfect spot between comfortable and mobile.
"Are you good?" Bennett said, offering her a cracker.
"Perfect."
"So," he said, snapping a cracker in half, "the million dollar question. Why were you trying to hide your identity at the hospital fundraiser?"
The "so" part caught her attention immediately. It probably meant a shift in subject, and with Bennett, it probably meant a shift to a more serious subject. "Something is going on." He sat up straighter, setting the crackers aside. "There's no point in lying to me."
She frowned. That was true enough. He always knew. "I'm not going to tell you. It's probably just leading to more trouble, and you despise me enough already. I'll figure it out."
He looked genuinely shocked by that reveal. "I don't despise you."
"Are you sure? Because I've been getting a distinct resentment vibe."
Bennett stayed quiet.
"See," she said. "You are angry."
"Of course I am." Bennett turned to face her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't believe they were having this conversation with him in a Speedo. "But it's not because of what's happening to me. I'm mad because of what could have happened to you. And I'm even more upset because I'm not sure you appreciate that."
"You're mad because you don't think I care what you've sacrificed for me?"
"No. I'm mad because I don't think you understand what you've escaped."
Now she sat up. Her perfect bum niche was no longer what the moment called for. "I know what I've escaped." She paused. "I take that back. I don't really know because I've never experienced all that. But I'm scared enough to keep quiet, even though it's killing me to watch you lose everything.
"I've had dreams...dreams where I've confessed what I did. I always wake up in a cold sweat because facing the consequences terrifies me. And I've gone over and over again if it would help you if I did. Terrified or not."
He was shaking his head fervently. "It wouldn't help. Don't even consider it."
"I know. That's what I keep returning to and it's maddening. It would make things worse. But I feel like such a coward hiding from what I've done. You're not hiding. And I can't stop what's happening as a result."
"I didn't have much of a choice when I found Brooke–Riley–dead in my house."
"It's my fault."
"Actually, I see it more as Brooke's fault. She put things in motion–and it caught up to her."
"But I helped. She may have twisted my arm, but I still went along with it."
"That's true also."
That was unnecessary honesty in her opinion. But she'd wanted him to talk and she knew what kind of things usually came out of his mouth. "I am scared, Bennett. But things keep happening and I can't just ignore them."
"What things?"
She started to turn away, but he clutched her arm and leaned his head in closer. "Belinda, what things?"
And then it all tumbled out, from the first meetings with Colleen to her last conversation with Kyle about the thief.
At the end, Bennett crossed his arms. Other than the nice visual with his arm and chest muscles flexing, that usually wasn't a good sign.
Belinda conjured her best innocent-as-a-dove expression. Of course, this is all how she wanted things to go. She wanted Bennett in on the joke–she needed his help and expertise. Not to mention, she missed him like crazy. But if she just told him all she'd been doing, he'd be upset and they'd be back where they started. This way, he'd cajoled the truth from her out of concern after they'd both opened up about their issues. So he was more likely to be softer about the whole affair, and help her in the end.
Bennett smirked. "There's more. I can feel it. So just go ahead and tell me now."
&nbs
p; "I did some of my own investigating. While you were at work."
"Do tell."
"I searched through your financial records and broke into your filing cabinet. Plus, all the usual things. The trash, medicine cabinets, drawers. That sort of thing." The only detail she was omitting–only for the time being–was the private investigator. She hadn't figured out how to use that information yet.
She was fully prepared for a complete volcanic eruption of anger. But after a moment of processing, he tossed his head back and laughed–a real, echo-inducing laugh–and his eyes glistened. He smiled, showing teeth, and gazed at her like she was the most wonderful thing since kitesurfing.
"Aren't you mad?" she said, completely puzzled. She'd accepted that part of her plan would mean he'd be angry with her. "I've been invading your privacy left and right."
Bennett shrugged. "I hacked into your phone's GPS to follow you remotely. We're even."
Belinda should have been indignant, but this was just how their relationship worked. "Can you show me how to do that?"
He laughed again. "Not on your life, Kittridge. If I give away all my tricks, I won't be able to keep my eye on you."
She'd persuade him to teach her later. Or go behind his back to Jonas.
She noticed he didn't volunteer anything about the woman he was with at the fundraiser, but one step at a time.
"Are we anywhere near good?" Belinda said. "Because I desperately want us to be near good."
Bennett moved next to her on the lounger and pulled her into a tight hug. "We're definitely near good."
Belinda wriggled her arms out of the contorted position they got into, finding her way around his back. He was still damp and his skin smelled like chlorine.
She wrapped her arms tighter. "I don't want to sneak around and hide things from each other so we have to resort to underhanded spying. I want to join forces."
"So we can rule the galaxy together?"
"With your GPS hacking skills and my cupcake truck, I think we can go bigger than the galaxy."
Bennett kissed the top of her head. "Then we better get to work."
Chapter 14
Belinda put Bennett to work at what he did best, and gave him Elena's password-protected flash drive. He was impressed with her impromptu hideaway in the turret.
Meanwhile, Belinda got to work on a different project. Her idea about easing Gary into giving his story to Colleen got her thinking about her situation with her grandmother. She knew people were fickle. As quickly as they'd kick you out of their circle, they'd welcome you back in. With the right motivation.
The most expedient way to get on anyone's good side was to spread your money around in a generous and charitable fashion. Give everyone a snapshot of the fountains of gold in your backyard and they'd come flocking. She knew of various projects and fundraisers happening or about to happen. They never stopped. But to achieve what Belinda wanted, they needed to do more than just win a dinner for two at a charity auction, or donate outright to the firefighter fund. They needed to go big. Give all the residents of Portside something to think about.
After sleeping on it, Belinda knew what to do. She called a family meeting–her parents and Kyle–and proposed her idea. She wanted it to be their family, and she'd surprise her grandmother with the benefits. Belinda didn't want her grandmother's money involved, but she'd reap the rewards all the same.
Her parents were surprised, which wasn't...surprising. She was suggesting a huge outlay of money. But she thought she made her case pretty clear, despite having to sidestep her bottom line reason for suggesting it.
She had to wait for that answer, too, while her parents looked into her proposal. But before any of this could come to completion, the women in Belinda's family received an invitation to a private, and very exclusive, charity luncheon. Normally, their invitation would be a given. But right now.... Well, Belinda couldn't quite figure how that had worked out. But it was another move in her favor.
"On a scale of pudgy to crane-lifted out of the house, how fat do I look?" Victoria stood by the kitchen in her house, holding her arms up to her shoulders, and twirled in a slow circle. She wore a knee-length dress in a spring green flower pattern that made her skin glow and her coppery hair shine. "Be honest."
Initially, if Belinda's family was snubbed, Victoria was going to boycott the charity luncheon. But now they were going together for moral support. Belinda wasn't sure how everyone there would react to her.
"I'm not going to tell you you look fat, Vix. Especially not when you have a perfect little lima bean growing in there. And when you start crying during TV commercials."
"I am not that sensitive."
Belinda tilted her head. "You cried during a car ad last night."
"It was an emotional car ad! There was a new baby and the dad.... It was not my fault."
Belinda forced back a grin. "It's totally not your fault. It's the lima bean's fault. Now, come on. You look fine."
Belinda drove, and they crawled down the long stone driveway of the home where the luncheon was hosted. The white house sat low on the property, and was almost completely hidden from the road by large, gnarled trees and a wall and gate. But they were on the main ocean road, which had a constant stream of traffic in summer. If they didn't hide the house like that, they'd never have any privacy.
They could smell the salt as soon as they stepped out of her Mini, and a light breeze ruffled their dress hems. Despite its size, the house felt cozy set back off the road like that.
Their high heels click-clacked on the marble floor as a maid led them through the house into the most lovely sun room ever. It had twenty-foot ceilings with floor to ceiling windows on two sides, facing the water and a well-groomed lawn. They were closer to sea level than Belinda's family home. Today, a white tent was spread out over the lawn, filled with round tables and bright pink and orange place settings.
The sun room sported a variety of potted plants, including some tropical, leafy things, lounge chairs and benches tucked in between. Waiters offered champagne and hors d'oeuvres inside until time for the official luncheon to begin.
Belinda knew she was in trouble as soon as she stepped into the room.
Every single person stopped talking and turned to look. Except one woman, who had been out of the room when Belinda arrived, started talking–loudly–about her constipation issues.
Belinda considered yelling, "Surprise!"
Then, once everyone resumed their conversations, she was acutely aware that they'd abandoned their previous topics to whisper about her.
On the positive side, not a single person dared snub her. Belinda made a point to smile and say hello to each and every woman there. She asked about their sick relatives and when Johnny and Sarah would leave for college. She morphed into her society self and everything else melted away. This was PR, and she'd been taught to own it by the best of the best.
While Belinda listened to an older woman, who wouldn't deal with you if she thought you unworthy, wax on about her grandson's multiple DUIs, she caught her grandmother's eye and nodded in her direction. She couldn't help feeling a flush of satisfaction. When they left that luncheon, no one would have a single bad thing to say about any of them. Not that they were out of the second-class ski resort yet, but they were close.
She extracted herself from DUI Granny, and went to search out Victoria, who had disappeared into the bathroom again. On her way, she ran headlong into a platinum blonde with cherry red lips.
Belinda stared back dumbly, all her people skills flying from her with images flashing in her mind of this woman stepping out of a limo–with Bennett.
The woman smiled sheepishly, and held out her arms to hug her. "Belinda!"
The moment she spoke, Belinda knew her.
"Alexa?"
Alexa laughed and nodded, pulling her into a tight squeeze.
The last time Belinda saw Alexa–probably the summer before college–her hair was black and she had a nose ring. She still did,
a small diamond stud, but the attitude she'd radiated then was long gone.
Her platinum hair was in a circa 1940s bob with waves framing her heart-shaped face. And she had a bandage around her left bicep. Had she been hurt in the drive-by?
"Let's go outside," Alexa said, directing Belinda toward a side exit and into the yard. "I'd like to chat."
The idea of "chatting" with Alexa Dupuis dumbfounded her. But again, this was good PR, being seen in close conversation with Alexa. People would remember that positively.
"My fiancé is finally coming into town," Alexa said, "and we'd love to have dinner with you and Bennett. I wanted to invite you directly because I honestly wasn't sure you understood about the fundraiser."
"The fundraiser?" Belinda was trying to piece together what was happening.
Alexa Dupuis was with Bennett at the fundraiser, and now she was acting like they were friends. They had never been friends, not even in school.
"The hospital fundraiser," Alexa said. "Bennett told me you had a previous engagement and couldn't come, but I was worried you just misunderstood. I wanted to make sure and speak to you personally this time."
Belinda had been invited to the hospital fundraiser and Bennett never said a word. Why on earth not? And he hadn't breathed a word he'd even spoken to Alexa.
Okay. Belinda had to admit he had a good reason not to bring up his former girlfriend. But a straightforward explanation would have been a lot better than stumbling on them together at an event.
"I just..." Belinda started out, trying not to sound completely ignorant of the situation. "I just wasn't sure I should come. You know, with history and all."
"Of course you should come! Because of history." Alexa whipped out her cell phone. "I'd rather arrange the dinner with you if you don't mind. You know how men are."
Belinda didn't know how men in general were, but she was starting to get a solid idea of what her man was like. So she readily volunteered her number. She might be able to extract a bigger idea of what was going on from Alexa, who apparently thought Belinda was in the know.
