The Summer Everything Changed

by Holly Chamberlin

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Louise. I should have known. I just should have.”

  “So the word is out,” Catherine said, closing the door and pouring a cup of coffee for Flynn.

  “Small town.”

  Louise managed a smile. “You can’t blame yourself, Flynn. If you had known anything bad about Jeff, you would have told me. I’m the one who should feel sorry, and guilty, and I do, I feel both.”

  “Now, enough with the guilt,” Catherine said gently. Charlie thumped her tail in agreement.

  Flynn joined the women at the table. “I thought you should know I paid a visit to Jack Otten this morning.”

  “Oh?” Louise thought that had been pretty brave of Flynn. And if Jeff was anything like his father, maybe a bit foolhardy, too. “Did he . . . I mean, what did he say?”

  Flynn sipped his coffee before answering. “In short,” he said, “the man told all. Seems Jeff’s past includes more than a few cases of robbery, as well as bullying. The kid’s been in and out of counseling programs for years, but nothing seems to stick. In my day we called a boy like Jeff Otten a bad seed. Nothing to be done about him but let him find his way to jail. Apparently, Jack and Sally have been fighting that inevitability in whatever ways they know how.”

  Catherine whistled. “The stuff of a soap opera.”

  “So I’m guessing that Jeff wasn’t actually working for his father,” Louise said. “He gave me a business card, you know. It looked official enough, but . . .”

  Flynn grimaced. “Jack Otten wouldn’t let his younger son near the business with the proverbial ten-foot pole. No, that card must have been a fake, just like every other thing about the kid.”

  Something occurred to Louise. “Was there any mention of a recent robbery?” she asked Flynn. “A bracelet of white gold and diamonds?”

  “Oh my God, the bracelet he gave Isobel,” Catherine said. “Don’t tell me he gave her stolen property. Man, I’d like to kill that son of a bitch.”

  Flynn nodded. “Stolen but subsequently paid for. The shop owner knew who had taken it. He had the theft on surveillance tape. Jack Otten paid up. It wasn’t the first time.”

  “Why did people continue to cover for him?” Catherine demanded. “The bad behavior must have been going on for years.”

  “I can’t say for sure,” Flynn admitted, shaking his head. “I’m guessing the Ottens paid well for silence. And a lot of people like Jack and Sally. They’ve been good to the community. And then there’s Michael. Everyone likes Michael. Guess people didn’t want one bad apple to spoil the reputation of the entire family.”

  “Allowing a violent young man to prey on vulnerable girls and steal from his neighbors is hardly being good to the community,” Louise retorted.

  “No,” Flynn admitted. “It isn’t. But don’t assume everyone was in on this conspiracy of silence. Jack told me plenty of folks let it be known they wouldn’t cover for Jeff if he came near their family or their business.”

  “It’s nice to know there are still some people with moral fiber,” Catherine said huffily.

  “Did he ask for my silence?” Louise asked. “In other words, did he name a price?”

  Flynn frowned. “Not in as many words. He wanted to know what you had decided to do. I told him I didn’t know.”

  Louise remembered how hard it had been to tell the truth when she was the one who had been abused. But she had done it, and Isobel could, too. One thing was for certain. The Bessire women could not be bought.

  “It’s up to Isobel,” she said. “I’ll back her whatever she decides to do.”

  Flynn finished off his coffee and rose. “I’m sorry again about all this,” he said. “Whatever I can do to help now, you promise to let me know.”

  Louise held out her hand and Flynn took it solemnly. Then he left, after scratching the Princess behind her ears.

  “Will you tell Isobel the bracelet was stolen?” Catherine asked when Flynn had gone.

  “I think I have to, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Frankly, it doesn’t suit her anyway. She should sell it and buy herself something she really likes. Something that says—I am Isobel.”

  Louise managed a bit of a smile. “Did you know that Jeff called her Izzy?”

  Catherine shuddered, and it was for real. “I think,” she said, “that I might have to let Charlie have her way with him after all.”

  Chapter 56

  CITYMOUSE

  Welcome once again, Dear Readers!

  CityMouse is back after her hiatus, and very happy to be here!

  So many thanks to Gwen for so many reasons. Every girl should have a friend and partner in adventure as good and kind and as smart and brave!

  There’s much to catch up on, and I hope you’ll be patient with me as I do that catching up.

  For now, let me leave you with a quote from the late, great Coco Chanel:

  “The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.”

  Hugs and kisses, Isobel, aka CityMouse

  It had been a week since that fateful night, the night when everything had changed again, but this time for the better. Isobel and Gwen were hunkered down in Isobel’s room, on her bed, survivors of a crisis that had almost torn apart their friendship for good.

  “I’ve never cried as continuously as I’ve cried since the night Jeff stormed into our house,” Isobel admitted. “I feel like I’m crying for every sad thing that ever happened in my life, from losing my favorite toy when I was two to—well, to losing my perfect family a few years back.”

  Gwen reached out and squeezed Isobel’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wish I could turn back time . . . Remember how I told you I’d heard that Jeff was a troublemaker?”

  “Yeah. The day Jeff came by with the daylilies. The stolen daylilies.”

  “Pilfered from Mrs. Baker, right. I still can’t believe she went to the police about a few stolen flowers! But I’m glad she did.”

  Isobel laughed. “Gardeners are a special lot. Passionate doesn’t even begin to describe them.”

  “Anyway,” Gwen went on, “a few weeks after that I asked my parents if they had ever heard anything more specific about Jeff. They had, but couldn’t be sure any of it was true or just malicious gossip, considering their source.”

  “Who was. . . ?”

  “A woman who manages one of the laundry places for tourists in Wells. Seems she dated Jack Otten briefly way back when, before he married his wife. I guess she’s still angry with him for breaking up with her. My dads say she’s always ready with a bad word about everyone in that family.”

  “Oh. Nothing like a woman scorned . . .”

  “Right. Only her tales about Jeff turned out not to be tall, after all. Anyway, at the time I was afraid I was being unfairly prejudiced so I decided not to say anything more to you. Clearly, I made the wrong choice. I’m so sorry, Isobel. I can’t say that often enough.”

  Isobel smiled. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t have believed you if you had shown me written proof and photographic evidence of Jeff’s being a jerk. Do you know what I found out? The day before he attacked my mom and me, I didn’t hear from him at all. Turns out he was with one of his criminal buddies in New Hampshire, robbing local stores and generally being a public nuisance. They even got pulled over for speeding, but somehow, probably because of Jeff’s so-called charm, they didn’t get a ticket.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Isobel smiled. “Flynn, of course. Hey, will you tell me what those threatening texts actually said?”

  Gwen grimaced. “Trust me, you don’t need to know the details. But they were definitely from Jeff, and that’s when I knew that whatever rumors had been going around about him were true. I’m ashamed, Isobel. I know I should have told my parents but I was so afraid. See, Jeff had threatened to hurt you if I continued to see you.”

  Isobel leaped off the bed. “What! But I thought Jeff had threatened to hurt you if we spent time together.
I think he felt threatened by you, and by our relationship. What an idiot I was!”

  “Me, too! Here we were, both trying to protect each other . . . It’s a sick, dark comedy. And I had no idea of how to get you away from Jeff, or of how you could get yourself away, or even if you wanted to get away!” “I didn’t want to get away,” Isobel admitted, sinking down again on the bed. “Not for a while. And then . . . I did. Desperately.”

  Gwen sighed. “How could this have happened to us, of all people? We’re smart and savvy and yet . . . we allowed some jerk to control our lives.”

  “Like my mom says, people like Jeff, liars and abusers, are very, very skilled at manipulating people. Even super-smart people get fooled by them.”

  “Yeah. It’s frightening. Well, one good thing came out of all this.”

  “What?” Isobel asked. “Aside from the fact that we both learned some valuable lessons.”

  “Yeah, but more importantly, no more ‘Izzy’!”

  “I shudder to think that I allowed him to call me that! And get this. Flynn told my mom that Jeff wasn’t working for his father at all. And he isn’t going back to college, either. He got kicked out for cheating. Seems it wasn’t his first offense. Big surprise.”

  “I wonder what he would have told you in September when he failed to drive off into the sunset?”

  “Some lie, I’m sure,” Isobel said. “But I was beyond believing anything he said. All I wanted was to get away from him without putting anyone in harm’s way. Myself included. Do you know I actually believed him when he told me he volunteered at a retirement home!”

  “Doing what, poking the residents with a pointy stick? What a piece of crap.”

  Isobel laughed. “How eloquent!”

  “Don’t hate me for asking this. But aren’t you still afraid of Jeff, even a little?”

  “No.” Isobel’s reply was emphatic. “Now, I’m furious. Finally. And I don’t feel one little bit bad about being angry.”

  “Good. I’m really glad to hear that. Though I have to admit, I’m still a wee bit afraid of him. Crazy, isn’t it?”

  Now, Isobel squeezed Gwen’s hand. “You know,” she said, “Quentin spoke to me. It was right before Jeff’s midnight performance in our kitchen.”

  “What do you mean, he spoke to you?”

  “I can’t break a confidence, but I can say he told me he knows someone who was hurt by Jeff. A girl. He said he hadn’t spoken to me before because he was hoping Jeff had changed. But I guess some people just don’t. Or can’t. Or won’t. Anyway, Quentin apologized for not warning me sooner. I guess he was just trying to be fair.”

  Gwen sighed. “Good people trying to do the kind thing— to give a guy the benefit of the doubt—and what was the result? Disaster. It really sucks.”

  “Quentin is a good person. No lying, no pretense. You have good taste, Gwen. Have you noticed his face is kind of delicate in that Johnny Depp kind of way?”

  “Have I noticed? Am I blind? And that smile! I think I’m going to squeal! And I am so not the squealing type! People who dress like I do generally don’t go around squealing.”

  Isobel laughed. “So, are you two formally a couple?”

  “No, but I’m hoping. Do you know, he thinks it’s cool that I have the guts to dye my hair weird colors?”

  “Really?” Isobel sighed. “Boy, are you lucky. Not that you don’t deserve it. Quentin likes you just the way you are. Jeff liked his own image of me, an Isobel that didn’t actually exist.”

  “I wonder if that’s common with abusers. I mean, I wonder if they tend to see people how they want to see them. Or, if they’re incapable of accepting that another person is an entirely separate being and that she has the right to be that entirely separate being.”

  “Abusers as egoists?” Isobel said. “It’s an interesting notion.”

  Gwen clapped her hands together; because she was wearing ten rings, one on each finger, it made quite a noise. “I think we need to have some fun. Now.”

  “Fun is a Gwentastic idea!”

  “Then it’s settled.” Gwen held out her hand for her friend to take. “Ice cream from Goldenrod Kisses. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 57

  Catherine and Charlie came by the inn one morning a little over a week after Jeff’s performance in the Bessire kitchen.

  “Here,” she said, handing Louise, who was sitting at the table, a travel magazine. “There’s an article in there about some of the most awful inns in the country. I laughed out loud.”

  Louise smiled. “Thanks. I’m in the mood for something amusing right about now . . .”

  “Look, Louise.” Catherine took a seat next to her friend. “I have to apologize to you again. I feel like I really let you and Isobel down.”

  “Don’t blame yourself—” Louise began but Catherine cut her off.

  “No, hear me out. I’m furious with myself for not knowing something was wrong with Jeff. I should have known. I was too complacent. And I should have listened to Princess Charlene. She knew the truth, and she wasn’t afraid to make a ruckus about it.”

  Louise sighed. “And all I did was make excuses for Jeff . . . I’ll never ignore Charlie’s warnings again.”

  As if in approval of that vow, Charlie put her front paws up on Louise’s knees and smiled.

  Catherine and her companion left soon after for their second morning constitutional. Louise remained where she was; she had felt beyond tired since the night of Jeff’s intrusion.

  Jeff Otten. Her instincts had been dulled by his charm and his good looks. It hurt her to admit it now, but she had felt relieved that Isobel had a boyfriend to occupy her time. Even when Isobel’s behavior had begun to change, Louise had convinced herself that Isobel was just experiencing episodes of the usual adolescent angst—and she had turned her attention to the business of the inn.

  Now she knew that the return of the nightmares (there had been none since Jeff’s attack) had indeed been warnings from her subconscious. On the surface Ted Dunbar and Jeff Otten were so very different. But some deep instinct had tried to warn her that handsome, polite Jeff was at bottom the same person as Ted. A coward and a bully.

  There had been moments since Jeff’s attack on her family when Louise felt she would never break free of the guilt and shame that gripped her for not having seen what was happening to her daughter. Her worst sin was that she had succumbed to her own largely unconscious prejudices. In her volunteer work she had counseled the message that “it could happen to anyone,” and yet, deep down, she just hadn’t been able or willing to believe that it could happen to her own flesh and blood. She had been unforgivably blind and unconsciously arrogant, quick to assume the worst about that couple down in Kittery earlier in the summer yet failing to identify her own child as a victim.

  How could she ever make it up to Isobel? She felt it would take a lifetime to atone for her neglect. As a small start, she had rescheduled their special day in Portland, with a visit to the spa, lunch, and shopping. Catherine and Flynn had agreed to play innkeepers for the day . . .

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Isobel came loping into the kitchen and sat in the chair Catherine had vacated.

  “How are you?” Louise asked. “And don’t say fine. Give me something real.”

  Isobel smiled. “Okay. Are you ready for a revelation?”

  “I have to be.”

  “Toward the end I started to get really angry with you for having brought us here to Maine, even though I know that an abusive relationship can happen anywhere. But I felt so trapped and so isolated . . . I just didn’t know who to blame . . . other than Jeff, of course, but for some reason I couldn’t blame him, not for a long time.”

  Louise swallowed her tears. “That was hard to hear, but I’m glad you told me. No more withholding the important stuff.”

  “Right. It’s time to be brave.”

  “I’m just sorry you had to learn bravery through fear. I had hoped to teach you another way . . .”

&n
bsp; Isobel smiled. “You did, Mom. You do all the time. It wasn’t fear that made me run into the kitchen when I saw Jeff grab you. It was love. Okay, and it was also anger. I mean, all I could think of in that split second was, how dare he touch my mother!”

  Louise took her daughter’s hand. “And all I could think in that moment was, Is she crazy? Run away!”

  “There’s something I just don’t understand, Mom. How could Jeff’s mother keep her mouth shut knowing her son had a history of hitting girls? I mean, I know she’s his mother and mothers don’t like to think badly of their children, but . . . It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “You were expecting a show of female solidarity?”

  “I guess I was,” Isobel admitted.

  “Well, the maternal bond is strong enough to cause a fair amount of poor judgment at times. I’m not sure how much we can blame Sally Otten. Though she and her husband certainly weren’t doing Jeff any favors by bailing him out of trouble over and over again. All they were doing was making it easier for his behavior to deteriorate. And on some level, I’m sure they knew that.”

  “How do you stand being a parent? It must be brutal!”

  Louise laughed. “At times it is brutal, even with a wonderful child like you. But it’s worth the trouble, trust me.”

  “I wonder if Mrs. Otten would have acted differently if she had a daughter. I mean, then she would have had to do something to stop Jeff, right?”

  Louise shrugged. “Hard to say. Remember, we know almost nothing about her. Maybe Jeff was the apple of her eye when he was little and she can’t let go of that image. I suspect we’ll never know what really goes on in that house.”

  A thump from the hall announced the arrival of the mail being dropped through the slot in the front door. “I’ll get it,” Louise said. When she returned to the kitchen, she was already sorting through the stack of envelopes. “There had better be a check in here from . . . Well, speak of the devil. Or rather, his mother.”

  “What is it?” Isobel asked.

  “A letter from Mrs. Otten. It’s addressed to you.”