She smiled. One side of her mouth lifted higher than the other, and she took in his body from head to toe in one long, slow gaze. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as I feared.
"Max, this is one of my best friends, Tara Fielding. She owns and runs Over the Moon Dance Academy on Main Street, down by the museum."
He stepped forward and extended his hand.
She shook it, and they held on a little longer than necessary.
Holly rolled her eyes. "Oh great, now he'll never leave." She turned and walked toward the back of the house.
I wanted to clap. This was perfect. It would be more perfect if Holly would leave though.
He didn't bother asking why I was here. It seemed to not matter. In fact, he didn't take his eyes off Tara. I wouldn't have been surprised if he forgot I was in the room.
They sat together on the black leather sofa across from me.
"Have you danced all your life?" he asked.
"Yes, since I was two." She actually batted her lashes, but she did it so fast, it looked natural.
"Have you ever tried out for So You Think You Can Dance?" he asked.
"No. I used to dream about being a prima ballerina, but it would've meant leaving Danger Cove. I love it here. I'll never leave."
They faced one another. I could've been streaking naked, and I doubted either would notice.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I'm a photographer. Most of my paid work is weddings, baby and family portraits. But I prefer nature. The rain against a window pane. Leaves falling from the trees. Bird tracks in snow. That just doesn't sell."
"That sounds fascinating. I don't know much about photography, other than the best angle to take a selfie."
They chuckled. Oh boy, this was going to be a long night.
I twisted my body to get a better glimpse of the box behind me. I slowly raised my hand and bent back the closest flap. This was hardly the correct position to snoop in. One glance in his peripheral vision and Max would catch me. I didn't want to lose his trust. I let my hand drop.
"What's your favorite thing about your job?" Tara asked.
On second thought, if I wanted to learn anything new about Nathan and Mom, or who hated Nathan enough to kill him, I couldn't just sit here listening to picture talk.
"The space of an image. When I look at a landscape or something, it's not what you see that's important. It's what you don't see."
I raised my hand again.
"That's so fascinating. Isn't it, Riley?"
I flinched. Oh my God. She chose now to include me? I dropped my arm and gave them my full attention. "Yes, fascinating."
Max stood up. "How about some coffee?"
"That would be great," I said with a smile. Then I could snoop properly.
He walked from the room, and I stood and ran to the back of the couch.
"What is it?" Tara whispered.
I opened the flaps wider and saw a box of brown and black books, perhaps journals. On top of them lay an open envelope. The yellowing corner of a sheet of paper within the envelope stuck out of the top. It was addressed to Nathan, and the postmark was twenty-nine years ago. Wow, that was old. I gazed at the return address, but the corner of the envelope was bent and it wasn't all visible. My eyes noticed the town first. Danger Cove. Then I looked farther up at the last name, and the last three letters spelled ton. I'd bet a lot of last names ended in ton, but the first one that came to mind was Mom's maiden name, Templeton. What was the likelihood that Nathan saved a letter from Mom? I was probably just being dramatic again. But I had to make sure, just in case.
"Where's Max?" Holly said from the doorway.
I jumped and almost swallowed my heart. I stared at her.
She was looking at Tara, but she had to have seen me snooping. She had on her jacket, and a black purse hung over her shoulder.
Tara was wide eyed. "Um, he's making coffee."
I turned my back to them and pretended to find complete fascination with a portrait of Nathan holding a book, but he was smiling directly at the camera. He really had the most intense green eyes. I waited and listened for Holly to walk back out, but there were no sounds. I could feel her staring at me. Dishes clanked in the kitchen, and I turned.
Holly stood right behind me, but her back was to me. I couldn't see what she was up to, but I wondered if she was looking in that box.
Max entered with a tray of cups and a plate of cookies. He set it on the coffee table. "Sorry I don't have anything sophisticated. I only have Oreos. I wasn't expecting company."
Holly was looking in the box. She reached into it and then pulled back. "None for me," she said. "I'm taking off."
Max glanced at her. His flat expression said he didn't mind.
She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. That was different from the last few times she was here. She walked toward the foyer, and I noticed a letter sticking out of her purse.
I glanced back into the box. No letter.
Damn.
* * *
After two cups of coffee and a trip to the restroom, Tara asked Max if she could see his work. And praise the gods of snooping, they went upstairs. I feigned another trip to the bathroom and stayed downstairs. When I heard their footsteps fade off, I went back to the box.
I searched again just to be sure Holly hadn't pushed the letter aside and it was wedged between the books and the side of the box. But sure enough, Holly definitely had taken it. Damn. She knew I'd seen it. Granted, I had no right to look, but I was certain she had no right to steal it. It was a long shot that it was from Mom anyway.
I picked up the top journal and opened it. Nathan's handwriting was tiny block letters. It must've taken a lot of patience to write so small and evenly. He was preparing for an audition with a huge movie deal. He hadn't had a hit in a few years, and the pressure was high—from his agent, his fans, himself.
Nothing about Mom.
I glanced up at the date. During this time, she and Dad were already married. I wondered if she and Nathan were still in contact.
I skimmed through the middle of the book. From what I could tell, there was no mention of Mom. If I wasn't trying to find references to her, his talk about the industry would have been interesting, but I didn't have a lot of time. I didn't know what Tara and Max were doing upstairs, but I had to plan they wouldn't be long. I put the book down and skimmed through another. Book after book, page after page, there was no mention of Mom. The dates on these entries were too new. He'd obviously stopped being her mentor at this point in their lives. I needed to find journals from before Mom and Dad were married.
Near the end of one book, a passage caught my eye.
I saw her on the street today. Even though we live in the same town, it's been a while.
Was he referring to Mom?
She didn't see me. She was with a couple of friends, on their way home from school. She looked as beautiful as I remembered. Just like her mother.
Me?
I haven't seen Lily in a while either. It's on purpose, I'm sure. She's happy with her husband and daughter. The girl—Riley—has an infectious smile. I wanted to get closer, to see if she resembled me at all. But I didn't.
The book almost slipped from my hand. What? Oh my God. Resembled him? Was I Nathan's child?
I blazed through the rest of the book. He learned he didn't get a movie part, and he was beyond upset. He drank every night, becoming unable to function sometimes. His agent frequently came by and put him to bed. How sad. All over a movie deal, or did some of his pain have to do with Mom and me? I shut my eyes for a second. I couldn't believe Mom had an affair with Nathan Dearborn. I couldn't believe I became a part of their secrets. I couldn't believe he may have been my father.
My stomach lurched. I wanted to cry out. This wasn't fair, and it shouldn't have been happening. I took in two semi-deep, cleansing breaths to calm my stomach and my mind.
Then I opened my eyes and read.
This isn't just about the one l
ousy part. I know this. It's years of disappointment. I just can't seem to shake it. My agent used the word "depression" today. I ordered him out. Nathan Dearborn wasn't going to be one of those head cases. No shrinks. No pills.
In the last entry, his handwriting was different—scratchy and uneven. It was dated the day of Mom, Dad, and Aunt Sandra's accident. My stomach seized at the memory.
What did I do? I can't believe it. No, please, God. It has to be a bad nightmare, but I don't even remember it. The last I recall, I was home, pouring myself a whiskey. My agent came by, and we argued. He left. Then I woke up in my driveway, behind the wheel. The front of the car is smashed.
For the second time that night, I felt sick to my stomach. No, he wasn't responsible. He couldn't have been.
The news talked of the accident. Lily. Poor Lily. She's dead. It can't be my fault, but there's blue paint on the front of my car. Their car was blue. I want to die too.
Oh my God, it was true?
"You shouldn't be reading that," said Max.
I flinched and looked up. He stood in the doorway with Tara.
She frowned. "Riley, what is it?"
Tears filled my eyes. "Were you going to tell me Nathan killed my parents?"
Tara gasped.
Max shook his head once. "No."
I swallowed hard. "Were you going to tell me he could be my father?"
He hesitated. "No."
With the journal firmly in hand, I pushed past Max, ran out, and puked in his front yard, by his neighbor's bush.
* * *
I paced my living room, staring at the journal that rested on my coffee table like a black hole into hell.
"Okay, we need alcohol," Tara said and went into the kitchen. She came back two seconds later. "You're out."
"A drink is exactly what I need," I whispered and thought of Nathan. He'd allowed alcohol to consume him, to kill my family. No, he'd killed them. The alcohol had diluted his abilities to drive correctly, but he was responsible for their deaths.
"You do not have to tell me twice," Tara said and grabbed her purse and keys. "I'll be right back.
When I didn't reply, she gripped my shoulders and shook me gently until I looked into her eyes. "I will be right back. Please don't go storming off. Be. Safe."
Did she think I was going to hurt myself? No. The only one I wanted to hurt was Nathan. But I would never get that chance because someone beat me to it. Maybe I could find his killer and thank them.
I couldn't form words, so I simply nodded.
"Good." She let me go and raced out of the house.
I continued my pacing. Back and forth. The book mocked me. I lifted it and threw it at the far wall. It smacked against it, nicked the paint, and fell to the floor. I considered tearing out each page and ripping them into tiny pieces, but then my proof would be gone. I wasn't sure why I needed proof. Nathan couldn't be prosecuted now. And it wouldn't bring my folks back. Aunt Sandra. Amber.
I sighed and fell onto the sofa. I had to tell Amber. I couldn't keep this from her. And Uncle Doug. Grams. They all deserved to know.
I glanced at my cell on the table. Part of me wanted to pick it up and dial Jared. If he was here, he'd wrap an arm around my shoulders and let me lay my head on his chest and cry it out.
I didn't want to cry. I did want Jared here though. I leaned forward and reached for the phone.
The doorbell rang, and I flinched. I practically ran to it and flung it open, ready to snatch the booze from Tara. But Max stood there instead. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk." He didn't wait for me to invite him in. He pushed through, probably afraid I'd slam the door in his face, and stepped into the living room.
I sighed and slammed the door shut. I wasn't mad at him, but his presence still angered me. "Have you known this whole time?"
He stood by the end of the sofa and faced me. "About which?"
"All of it," I shouted.
He shook his head. "I did know about Nathan possibly being your father."
"How? Why?"
"I recalled one of his visits to our house. I was only a kid, around ten years old, but I heard him talking to my father about Lily. He said that he still loved her, but she was already married. My dad asked, 'And what about the daughter?' Uncle Nathan said he didn't know if she was his. I don't think he wanted to know."
My right knee shook. I sat on the sofa. So Nathan hadn't wanted me? That was fine. I'd had a great father. Dad's goofy smile came to mind. I couldn't not be his. Had he suspected anything? I hoped not. My thoughts raced so fast, a headache formed in my temples.
"And the accident? When did you learn about that?" I asked.
He nodded to the journal on the floor behind us. "When I found the box and read that."
The letter. It had to be from my mom. "What did the letter say? The one in the same box. It was from my mom, right?"
His expression didn't change. He knew. "I hadn't read it yet. Did you take it?"
"No. Holly did. She saw me snooping."
He huffed air out of his nostrils, making them flare a bit.
"What do she and her sister know?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. We haven't discussed it. I didn't think they knew anything. Every conversation is about the house and his possessions."
"But you inherited the house. What are they still arguing about?" It dawned on me that if Nathan was my biological father, Max would be my cousin.
"I only inherited the house. Not the things inside."
That was odd. "Who do they go to?"
"That's why I'm here too. I said that I wasn't going to tell you the truth about Nathan maybe being your biological father. That's not exactly true. I wasn't sure what to do. When I first came to town, I didn't know if you knew about Nathan and your mother or not. After tonight, it was obvious you didn't. But I needed time to figure out if you were on the up and up. When I arrived, I'd only known that he'd died in your bakery. I hadn't learned how yet, so I had to wonder if you killed Uncle Nathan."
I opened my mouth and then shut it. "You thought that?"
Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. I'd wondered if he'd killed his uncle. But up until Nathan Dearborn walking into the bakery, I'd barely known he existed. And I certainly had no idea that this man was a part of my life.
"For a moment, yes. I had to."
"Why did you have to?" I asked, thoroughly confused again.
"I'm the executor of Uncle Nathan's will."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Uncle Nathan left a portion of his estate to you," Max said.
I disbelievingly chuckled. "Excuse me? That's crazy."
"He left you close to a million dollars."
Holy cupcakes!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, I woke up earlier than I thought I would, considering I hadn't gotten to bed until almost 3:00 a.m. Max had left right when Tara returned, and then she and I had drunk and talked about it all—Nathan, Mom, the accident, the inheritance, and even Will. I cried for hours. Tara had no idea how to comfort me. There was nothing she could do. My entire life had changed in less than a month, and since all of the people involved were already dead, I wasn't sure if there was anywhere to go for answers.
Tara was concerned about leaving me alone, so in order to try to cheer me up, she turned on my laptop, and we did several thousand dollars worth of virtual window shopping. Luckily, my credit card balance had very little left on it, so I didn't actually buy anything. But damn, I saw the nicest pair of black suede pumps.
Now, I pulled on my black just-below-the-knee gaucho pants—which were really just super-wide-legged capris—a sleeveless red-and-white striped knit top, and in-line skates. I rolled out of the house, determined to find out exactly what had happened to Nathan. The best plan of action was to speak to the other people at the bakery that day. Mallory Winchester, the PTA mom with the penchant for gossip, was first on my list. But before I headed to her house, I had a pit stop
to make.
I rolled into Danger Cove Cemetery and over to the three graves I visited often. I sat between Mom's and Dad's graves and lay down on the grass. The sky was blue and bright, and it looked almost unreal.
"Well, you'll never guess how my weeks are turning out. Mom, I wish you were here to tell me what happened between you, Dad, and Nathan. Who is my father?"
I patted the grass on top of Dad's grave. "Not that it matters. I had the best daddy in the whole world."
A bird chirped in a nearby tree. Did they have parental problems? Did birds mate for life? Mom must've known I belonged to Dad, otherwise, why would she have married him. Right?
I shut my eyes. Oh shut up, Riley. It doesn't matter anymore. They were happy. I knew that. It was the only thing that still mattered.
When I was done, I headed over to Mallory's. I rang the bell, and she answered wearing a lime-green jogging bra and black biker shorts. Her hair was shorter than the day at the bakery. It was up in a stubbly ponytail, and sweat flattened several tendrils of loose hair to her forehead. Her breathing was heavy, and she sucked on a pink-colored bottle of water. At least I assumed it was water.
She squinted, then widened her eyes. "Riley, hello. What are you doing here?"
"I was hoping we could talk about that day at the bakery," I said.
She frowned, looking uncertain as to what I was talking about.
"The day Nathan died," I added.
Her eyes widened again, and she stepped back. "Oh sure. Come on in."
That got her attention. I reminded myself to be careful what I said, because she was a busybody.
She led me through the immaculate, brown and sage-green, TV-less living room, the kind that was just for show and no one actually used. We passed the wood and stainless steel dining room-slash-kitchen and stepped into a den. The entire room was decorated in beiges. Even the tables were a very light brown. This family had a love for earth tones.
Death by Scones Page 13
