The Weekenders

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “That is not going to happen on Belle Isle, and you know it,” Parrish said. She signaled the waitress for their check. “This is just you, panicking and throwing up roadblocks to your own happiness.”

  “No, this is me trying to save my own life,” Riley retorted. “I’ve already let one man ruin it. I’ll be damned if I’ll give Nate Milas a second chance.”

  37

  Aunt Roo looked around at all the somber faces gathered at the big mahogany dining room table at the Shutters. Evelyn sat at the far end in her customary Chippendale chair, and Riley sat opposite her in the chair where Roo’s brother, W.R., had presided. Billy sat across from Roo, and Parrish sat beside him.

  “This better be something good,” she said, stirring the ice in her Manhattan. “I’m missing poker night.”

  “Roo is right,” Evelyn said. “Dinner was very nice, so, Parrish, thank you for bringing that delicious lobster. But why all the urgency, Riley?”

  “I’m thinking it’s bad news,” Billy said. “Why else would we all be here on a Wednesday night?”

  Riley looked desperately at Parrish. They’d settled on a game plan for this dreaded meeting, but Riley was already starting to chicken out.

  “I realize I’m an outsider here tonight,” Parrish said finally, “but Riley asked me to come because she’s got something really difficult to discuss with all of you.” She looked pointedly at Riley, who nodded.

  “Okay, here goes,” Riley said. “You all know that Sand Dollar Lane has been foreclosed on, and is going to be auctioned off by the bank on Friday, along with all the other land Wendell bought for the north end development. And, well, the thing is, I can’t bid on the house, because I’m broke. It turns out that Wendell not only took out a new mortgage on our house without telling me, but he also emptied my trust fund to buy some of that land.”

  “Now, Riley,” Evelyn said, frowning.

  “It’s true, Evelyn,” Parrish said gently. “From what we can tell, Wendell went on a spending spree assembling all the land for the marina, hotel, and golf course he was planning. He closed down Riley’s trust account at Wells Fargo, and used some of the money to buy the old Holtzclaw property on Fiddler’s Creek. I’ve seen the bank records. Wendell really did take out a two-million-dollar mortgage on Sand Dollar Lane, then defaulted on it, which is how the foreclosure came about.”

  “Two million dollars!” Roo exclaimed. “I didn’t know the house was worth that much.”

  “It’s not,” Riley said. “He must have bribed some appraiser to give such a wildly bloated value. Daddy gave us the lot, but we only paid four hundred thousand dollars for the house when we built it.”

  “Can’t you go to the bank and tell them it was all a mistake? That Wendell had no right to take your money?” Roo asked.

  “Afraid not, Aunt Roo,” Riley said. “The bank that made him all those loans actually went out of business when Wendell defaulted, and they’ve been taken over by a new bank. That bank, Baldwin Community Bank, is liquidating those bad loans and selling the whole portfolio at an auction in Southpoint the day after tomorrow. My house will be auctioned off then.”

  “It’s definite, then?” Evelyn asked, looking at Parrish.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but I never trusted that husband of yours,” Roo told Riley. “He had shifty eyes.”

  “Roo, for God’s sake,” Evelyn said.

  “Well, he did,” Roo insisted.

  “The thing is,” Riley interrupted, “I don’t know where else to turn. I’ve started to look at going back to work in Raleigh, in the fall, when Maggy’s school starts. The new house will be ready by then. But in the meantime, I was wondering if maybe you all might be willing to loan me the money to help buy back Sand Dollar Lane.” She turned pleading eyes to her mother. “If it were up to me, I’d just let it go. But it’s Maggy’s home.”

  She bit her lip. “The other night I went into her bedroom to check on her, and she was gone. I tried calling her cell phone, but she didn’t answer. Just as I was getting ready to start calling her friends, I caught her sneaking back into the house. It turns out she’s been riding her bike over to the house late at night, after we’ve all gone to bed, and crawling in through a window in the laundry room. Maggy admitted that she sleeps in our bed, because she said the pillow smells like Wendell. She misses him dreadfully, and that house, and its memories, are all she has left of him. You’ve been wonderful letting us stay here, Mama, but it’s such an imposition.”

  “Oh, Riley,” Evelyn started, then she burst into tears.

  “Well for goodness’ sakes,” Roo said.

  Billy knelt by his mother’s side, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Now, Mama,” he started, “I know you thought the world of Wendell, but you heard what Parrish said. It really is true. I think we have to find a way to help Riley, if we can.”

  “That’s just it,” Evelyn sobbed. “There’s nothing I can do. I—I don’t have any money either.” She buried her face in her napkin. “I’ve been such a silly old woman.”

  “Mama?” Riley rushed over. “Please don’t cry. Can you tell us what happened?”

  “I’m so stupid,” Evelyn insisted. “I’ve ruined everything. Everything your daddy and granddaddy worked for.” She lifted her head and looked around at her family.

  “He told me it was a sure thing. That I would get my money back, with interest, and nobody would have to know. And, like the old fool I am, I believed him.”

  “Who, Mama? Who told you that?” Billy asked, patting her hand.

  But Riley knew, of course.

  “It was Wendell, wasn’t it?”

  Evelyn nodded, too overcome for a moment to speak.

  Parrish got up and silently fetched the bottle of wine she’d brought from the kitchen, refilling all the empty glasses at the table.

  * * *

  When she’d downed a glass of Parrish’s Silver Oak cabernet, and after she’d gone upstairs to repair her makeup, Evelyn sat back down at the head of the table.

  “Wendell came to me, last fall, and said he had finally managed to talk the Holtzclaw boy into selling him their house and land. It was something my daddy, and then W.R., had been working on for as long as I can remember. Miss Josie strung W.R. along for years, but she never would sell. And after she died, one son wanted to sell, but the other boy didn’t. Then the son who was the holdout died of a heart attack. I don’t know how Wendell did it, but he finally got that Holtzclaw boy to agree to sell. But he wanted an awful price! Fifteen million! Wendell said this was the chance of a lifetime. But the bank would only give him so much, and he was still short. He said another buyer was waiting in the wings, and if he didn’t come up with the money, we would lose out, and some other developer would swoop in and get that land.”

  Evelyn looked around the table. “Belle Isle Enterprises has always been the majority property owner on this island. When W.R. married me, my daddy made him promise he’d never let the island get taken over by an outsider.” She shook her head. “I thought of Wendell like my own son. He came from such a nice family. I can’t understand what happened to him.”

  “How much money did you give him, Mama?” Riley asked.

  “Not as much as he wanted,” Evelyn said. “He told me he needed another five million, which was preposterous! I went to my stockbroker, and asked him to sell some of my stocks, but he said the market was down and it was a terrible time to sell. So, then, Wendell had another idea. He said I should take out a mortgage on Shutters.”

  “If you did that, you really are an old fool,” Roo said, draining her wineglass and sliding it across the table to Parrish for a refill.

  Riley’s stomach twisted, knowing what would come next.

  “Wendell said I should take out a balloon note. I’d never heard of such a thing. So I went to the manager at Wells Fargo, and he explained it. The bank would lend me three million dollars, and I would pay the interest only on that
amount, for three years, but then, at the end of that time, the balance of the mortgage would be due.”

  Evelyn took a deep breath. “Wendell showed me the plans for the marina and the condominiums and the new subdivision. The lots on the creek would sell for nearly a million apiece, and he said he already had commitments from three buyers. He promised I’d have my money back in a year—with interest. And, in the meantime, he’d help me pay the monthly interest on the loan.”

  “You really did it? You mortgaged Shutters?” Billy asked, looking queasy.

  She nodded. “For the first three months, Wendell did what he said. But then in April, he said he couldn’t come up with the money, because he’d had some kind of a shortfall, due to expenses. He promised to make it up the next month, but May first came and went, and he didn’t send my check. And then, well, you know. He was dead.”

  “What did you do?” Riley asked. “How did you pay?”

  “I sold some of my stock, and my broker gave me the dickens about it, but I didn’t know what else to do,” Evelyn said. “I kept telling myself that something would change, and it would be all right, but then we found out your house had been foreclosed on, and all I could think about was losing this house.”

  Parrish cleared her throat. “Evelyn, if you don’t mind my asking, exactly how much interest are you paying?”

  “It’s forty thousand dollars,” Evelyn said. “Every month.” She turned to Riley. “I’m so sorry, honey. You don’t know how sorry. I believed Wendell instead of my own flesh and blood. And now I’ve ruined everything. This house—this was to be yours and Billy’s after I’m gone. And Maggy’s. It was all I had to give you. And now it’s gone.”

  “You haven’t missed a payment, though, have you, Evelyn?” Parrish asked.

  “Well, no. But I’ve been dipping into my principal to pay that interest, and W.R. told me I should never, ever, do that unless it was an emergency.”

  “I’d say keeping a roof over your head is an emergency,” Parrish said.

  “You haven’t ruined anything, Mama,” Riley said, hugging her mother again. “And it’s not your fault. Wendell fooled all of us. We’ll figure this out, somehow, and anyway, nobody wants to lose this house, but the most important thing is that we have each other, right?”

  “That’s true,” Evelyn said tearfully. “And right now, I’m realizing how important that really is.”

  Billy cleared his throat. “Uh, as long as Mama’s coming clean about her questionable judgment regarding Wendell, I guess now would be a good time to admit that I did the same thing.”

  “Oh my God,” Riley cried. “You didn’t! Why?”

  “Same old story,” Billy said. “He came to me, said his hotel deal was in jeopardy, and if he didn’t get the money to buy some additional land, the whole north end project would go up in flames. He swore me to secrecy and promised it would be strictly a short-term loan, and he’d pay interest. Long story short, I cleared out almost everything in my trust fund and gave it to him.”

  He looked over at Riley. “I’m so sorry, sis. If I had the money, I’d give it to you. You know I’d do anything for Maggy.”

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Riley said, looking around the table. “He took us all in. Every single member of this family got ripped off by my husband.”

  “Except me,” Roo said brightly.

  “Of course not,” Evelyn said.

  “What? You think because I dress like a bag lady, I’m the poor relation? Well, the joke’s on you, Evelyn Riley. I’ve been playing the stock market for years. I bought Facebook at seventeen and change when it was in the toilet.”

  “I’m amazed,” Evelyn said, shrugging. “All these years I’ve been buying you lunch at the club.”

  “And that’s why I’m rich and now you’re poor,” Roo said cheerfully. “And by the way, Wendell did try to hit me up for money, but I told him, no way, José. ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’ that’s my motto.”

  “Good for you, Roo,” Billy muttered, getting up to go look for the vodka bottle.

  “And in the meantime, Evelyn,” Parrish said, “if you like, I could go to the bank with you and see if they’d be willing to renegotiate that balloon note. They’ll do that sometimes, under some circumstances.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Billy said quietly.

  All heads turned in his direction. “It’s great of you to offer, Parrish, but I’m her son. I’ll go to the bank with Mama and explain that she took out that note under duress. We can work something out.”

  “Thank you, son,” Evelyn said, tearing up again. “But what are we going to do about Riley’s house?”

  “I’ll just have to tell Maggy the truth,” Riley said. “Or a version of it. I can’t tell her the full extent of what Wendell’s done. Not until she’s older, anyway. I’ll think of something.”

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Roo said loudly. “Here I sit, and it’s like I don’t even exist with you people. Did nobody think to ask me if I’d like to help buy back Riley’s house?”

  Riley was, for once, speechless.

  “Roo, you just told us neither a borrower nor a lender be was your motto,” Billy said.

  “I’m not talking about a loan. This would be a gift. To Riley and Maggy.”

  “Oh no, Roo, I couldn’t take your money,” Riley demurred.

  “I don’t know why not. Except for Evelyn, you and Billy are all the family I’ve got left. And from the looks of things, I don’t believe Billy’s going to be giving me any great-nieces or nephews. Right around the time you were born, I bought FedEx stock. Made a killing on it, too. I’ve had that money set aside for both of you, for years now. I’d just as soon give you your share now, while I’m alive and able to enjoy your kissing my butt every day out of gratitude, than wait until I’m cold and in the grave.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Riley said, astonished.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll take the ferry into town tomorrow and get you a cashier’s check. Now, then.” Roo tapped her cheek. “Just give me a little sugar and then get this old girl another Manhattan. That fancy wine is giving me a headache.”

  38

  Gnats swarmed as Nate Milas plunged into the tall grass at the creek’s edge. But he’d come prepared this time, coated himself in bug spray, wore long sleeves and work boots. Still, it seemed that every time he inhaled he got a mouthful of no-see-ums.

  He glanced back at the dock to make sure his Pathfinder was securely tied. It was a typical steamy June day, and his shirt was already sticking to his back. The tide was out, and when he saw the thick oyster beds that lined the steep bank, his mouth watered for the taste of oysters the way they’d eaten them as kids—pried open with a jackknife, coated with hot sauce, and popped right in the mouth, fresh out of the creek. He took out his cell phone and clicked off a couple of photos.

  He knew from his reading that the oyster fishery was making a comeback on this part of the coast, and had tucked that fact away. Now, it was an added attraction to the plan that was coming together in his head.

  Nate unfolded the survey map of the Holtzclaw property that he’d bought at the county courthouse the previous day. As he walked the property, he marveled that this island jewel had gone untouched for so many years. According to the survey, the parcel contained just under fifty acres, and of that there was more than a thousand feet of creek frontage.

  Gazing down at Fiddler’s Creek, he could envision a multitude of deep-water moorings, more floating docks, and a heavy-duty boat lift. There was also enough high ground for drydocks, trailer parking, and room for whatever outbuildings would be needed.

  Heading away from the river, he walked past the house toward the hard-packed road that led onto the property. For the first time, he noticed a large barn-type building, half-hidden by a dense stand of overgrown azalea and camellia shrubs, and nearly smothered by a thick wisteria vine growing up from the north corner of the structure.

  He found the ba
rn door, but it was fastened with a new-looking padlock. He stood back from the building a few yards and took some photos. He didn’t actually need to see inside. The sloping tin roof was rusted, but intact. With any luck, the rest of the structure, built of the same weather-beaten cedar as the house, was sound. The barn, which didn’t appear on the survey, was a huge plus.

  He hiked up the drive toward the main road, noting the new gate—and the damaged padlock. He’d idly wondered how Riley had gotten onto the property, and the lock confirmed his suspicions. He smiled despite himself. She was maddeningly stubborn and opinionated, but Riley Nolan wasn’t one to let a little thing like a locked gate keep her from her mission.

  Nate turned back around and returned to the house. After his confrontation with Riley, he’d been too depressed to complete his exploration on Sunday, but now there was plenty of time.

  He climbed the stairs to the third floor. The roofline here was steeply pitched, but on each side of the central hallway were tucked two more bedrooms with a bath connecting each. He photographed each room, then walked through the rest of the house, documenting nearly every inch.

  The kitchen wing was located in a shed-roofed addition on the side of the house. It looked to have been added sometime in the sixties or seventies, with cheap roll-vinyl flooring and outdated harvest-gold appliances. A shattered window over the rust-stained, cast-iron sink looked out onto the creek. He looked up at the ceiling and saw evidence of more raccoon activity, and water damage from a leaky roof. None of this mattered. The space was large, and once gutted, he felt sure it would accommodate a commercial kitchen.