“Thank you for the dance lesson, Claire,” Jimmy said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re a natural, Jimmy. You don’t need me.”
The band rumbled through a new set of odd notes as they again set out on a search for the next tune. “Would you like to try it again?” she ventured.
“I promised this dance to Miss Victoria. I’m hoping to redeem myself after you kindly showed me the ropes.”
Claire pushed aside the disappointment. “Yes, of course. I’m glad I could set you on the right course.”
He saluted her. “I’m in your debt.”
Victoria moved through the crowd of dancers who’d already recoupled and searched for a rhythm in the band’s tune. Her smile was bright, and pinned to her lapel was a rose similar to Claire’s.
“What do you think of my flower?” Victoria said to Jimmy. “I admit I stole the idea from Claire.”
Jimmy’s gaze dropped to the flower pinned above her bosom, and as he stared at the bloom, his cheeks reddened. He cleared his throat. “It’s mighty nice.”
Victoria boldly placed her hand on his arm and put his hand on her waist.
Claire was left to walk to the side of the dance floor as Victoria laughed at one of his missteps. If he was worried about the dance steps or making a fool of himself, he quickly forgot about it when she seemed to trip and brushed her body against his.
“My sister has spun her spell,” Robert said.
His voice had her turning to find him holding two glasses of punch. “She’s lovely.”
He handed Claire a glass. “Lovely is her stock-in-trade. I fear the day when she walks into a room and not all the male heads turn and admire her. She’ll be lost.”
Seeing her now, Claire couldn’t imagine such a day. “I’m sure she’ll always turn heads.”
He sipped his punch, and she noticed the raw skin on his knuckles. “Maybe.”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
He glanced at his bloodied knuckles. “Naw. Just took care of a bit of business and in the process messed up my hand. Foolish.”
“I’m glad to hear it’s not serious.”
“Not serious at all.” He watched as Victoria laughed. “Claire, you have a style that none of the ladies here share. Even Victoria in all her finery wouldn’t be able to make an ordinary dress look so amazing.”
It was her turn to blush now. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to dance again?”
She looked toward Victoria and Jimmy. The next dance was starting, and they were already moving to a rhythm all their own. Jimmy had forgotten about their dance and had moved on.
Claire looked up at Robert. There was no spark and no rush of excitement when she peered into his brown eyes. But sparks and flickers were treasures reserved for the less practical.
And if Claire Hedrick was anything, it was practical. “Why, yes.”
Hours after Claire had left the dance, she stood at the kitchen stove in Winter Cottage, waiting for a kettle of water to heat. The cavernous room was quiet, but it would stir to life in two hours as Mrs. Latimer and her staff prepared for another busy pre-wedding day. It wouldn’t be long before the household realized that Victoria hadn’t returned.
The kettle whistled. She lifted it from the stove and poured the hot water into the waiting cup. How could Victoria be so foolish? This wasn’t Paris or New York. It was Cape Hudson, and no one did anything without someone noticing.
“That was stupid, girl,” she muttered.
The back door creaked open, and she turned to see Victoria peek into the kitchen. When she saw Claire’s trepidation turn to relief, she said, “Oh, thank my lucky stars. I’m safe.”
She closed the door behind her. Mushed hair, crushed petals of a tired rose still pinned on her bosom, and muddied shoes said so much.
“Where have you been?” The question sounded foolish to Claire the instant she asked it. She knew where Victoria had been and with whom. A surge of hurt and loss washed over Claire.
Victoria raised a finger to full rouged lips smudged by a kiss. “Not a peep, Claire.”
“You could get him fired,” she said.
Victoria arched a brow. “Who do you think we’re talking about?”
“Don’t play me for the fool. Jimmy.”
“How do you know it was him?”
This was a game to Victoria. “You danced with him all night at the party. You’ve shown a sudden interest in the morning hunt.”
Victoria handed her shoes to Claire and picked up the brewing cup of tea. “Are you jealous?”
She was. Terribly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t right. “The rules of the game don’t apply to you, but they certainly do to him.”
“Of course the rules apply to me. Why do you think I’m sneaking about? Father would have a fit if he knew.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
She would be forgiven eventually if found out. But Jimmy would find himself out of a job at best and shot at worst.
“But you won’t tell, will you? And you’ll clean my clothes before anyone is the wiser?”
As much as she wanted to see this foolish girl get her comeuppance, doing so would only risk exposing Jimmy. “Hurry to your room and pray your luck holds out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lucy
January 16, 2018
“Bones,” Lucy said.
“Yep.” Hank did not sound happy about this development.
She shone the light into the hole, which wasn’t more than ten feet deep. “Who do you think it is?”
“There’s no guarantee they’re human. Either way, I’m going to have to call the sheriff, which means a delay.” He dialed and seconds later said, “Rick. Need you out at Winter Cottage. We’ve found something.”
She listened as he explained and wondered who or what lay at the bottom of the well.
“Naw, whatever it is has been there a long time. There’s no rush.” Hank shoved his phone back in his pocket. “He’ll be right out.”
Hank dug a roll of yellow tape from the back of his truck and strung it around the area. He ordered his men to finish up so the other crews that needed to come through here would have a solid road.
“It’s been a week of surprises,” she said.
Hank shook his head. “That’s an understatement.”
It wasn’t more than a few minutes before the sheriff’s truck appeared at the end of the driveway. No lights, no sirens, but a lot of questions.
Rick Markham climbed out wearing a ball cap that read SHERIFF. His hair was dark and cropped close. He wasn’t as tall as Hank, but he had a muscular frame and a bearing that suggested he wasn’t to be crossed.
Hank shook hands with him and then introduced Lucy.
“Some welcome, isn’t it?” the sheriff asked.
“Everyone keeps telling me this is a sleepy little town, but my first twenty-four hours have been hectic.”
“I hear Natasha spent the night here,” the sheriff said.
Lucy didn’t bother to ask how he knew. “She did. I’ve told her she’s welcome for the next couple of weeks.”
“She’ll love the idea of bones in the yard. That kid likes puzzles,” Rick said. “Let’s have a look.”
He strode to the edge of the well and looked in, shining his light. “You’re right, Hank. Whatever the hell it is, it’s been there awhile.”
“Can’t you tell if it’s human or not?” Lucy asked.
Rick shook his head. “When it’s been this long, it can be hard to say. Amazing how a bear claw can look like a human hand.”
“So what’s to be done?” Lucy asked.
“I’ll place a call to the state and see what they suggest. You never know. They might want to send one of their own. I’d say for now, let’s board it up so that no one falls in. Weather’s supposed to be clear the next few days.”
“Sounds good,” Hank said.
“You’re going to leave it?” Lucy asked.<
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Rick dusted the dirt from his fingers. “Just until I hear back from the state. My only concern now is folks coming to have a look and disturbing the site. If it’s a human down there, they deserve to be identified properly.”
Lucy checked her watch. She still had six hours before she needed to pick up Natasha.
“Rick, while I have you, Lucy would like to bury her mother’s ashes in the Jessup graveyard. Any restrictions?”
“They in a proper container?”
Lucy nodded. “They are.”
“Then I don’t see a problem.”
“Great,” Hank said. “I’ll set it up.”
“When do you think you might be having the service?” Rick asked.
“I wasn’t really thinking about a funeral,” Lucy said. “Anything that formal wasn’t exactly my mother’s style.”
“Wouldn’t it help with closure?” Hank asked. “Maybe she wanted to do this for you.”
“Perhaps. Then I guess anytime would be fine.” She nodded to the hole. “When will you know about the bones?”
“When I’m dealing with the state, I never can tell,” Rick said.
“I’m going to run Dolly back to the house and then head into town. I want to check on my Jeep.”
“No need for either of you to hang around,” Rick said. “I have this covered.”
“I’ll drive you,” Hank said.
She called Dolly, who came prancing out of the woods, and the two ran up to the cottage. In the kitchen, she put a bowl of water down for the dog, along with food and a folded spare blanket for her to rest upon. Dolly lapped up her water and started nibbling her food. It wasn’t a ringing endorsement but a step in the right direction. When the dog settled on the blanket, she went right to sleep. Too many months of not running and playing outside, and now Dolly had all the extra fun she could handle.
“I’ll be right back,” Lucy said.
To her relief, the dog didn’t argue.
She hurried back to the construction site and found Rick in his truck on the phone and Hank standing nearby. When she slid into Hank’s passenger seat, he got behind the wheel and drove them toward town.
“I have the Charger. You don’t have to drive me around,” Lucy said.
“I don’t mind. Glad to help.”
Hank drove them past town to a small garage located off Route 13. It looked like a throwback to another time. The gas pumps still had the dials that spun as the dollars and gallons clicked off. It had a single bay and a small office with a soda machine in the corner. Two green vinyl chairs held together with duct tape sat on each side of a 1950s-style cash register. On the walls were vintage calendars featuring bikini-clad women and dozens of license plates from across the country.
A young man in his early thirties came out from the back, wiping grease from his hands. He moved with a slight limp but appeared fit and trim. “Hank.”
“Rex.” He extended his hand, unmindful of the grease.
Rex wiped his hands one last time before accepting it. “Hey, buddy.”
“I’d like you to meet Lucy Kincaid. She’s the owner of the yellow Jeep.”
Rex arched a brow. “Oil change. That’s all I got to say to you, miss.”
“I know I’ve been behind on a few details,” Lucy said.
“You nearly burned up your engine. I flushed out the systems, put in fresh synthetic oil, which will buy you more time, but it’s not a free pass. The car’s gonna need a major engine overhaul in the next year or so. I’ve bought you some time, but not much.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll stay on top of it.”
“I’m no sir,” he said, grinning. “I was enlisted. The officer’s bars belonged to Hank.”
“Check. I’ll keep that in mind. How much do I owe you?”
“On the house. Welcome to Cape Hudson.”
Being beholden to anyone was always awkward for Lucy. She’d received enough charity when she was little and Beth couldn’t make the rent, find money for a school lunch, or scrape together cash for back-to-school clothes. She’d had to take it all, but it always left her feeling like less. “Thanks.”
“Lucy’s stuff still in the Jeep?”
“Right where you left it,” Rex said.
“Great. Lucy and I have to get going. There’s going to be a funeral for her mother tomorrow,” Hank said.
“Tomorrow?” Lucy shrugged. “Is that enough time?”
“It won’t take much time to get the spot ready,” Hank said. “Spreading the word in town takes all of five minutes.”
“Why would anyone from town come?” she asked.
“Respect,” Hank said without hesitation. “A lot of folks knew Beth Jessup. Let’s say 4:00 p.m.? Natasha would be irritated if she couldn’t come along. That kid hates to be left out of anything, even a funeral.”
Rex wiped his hands. “Nice of you to look out for the kid.”
“It’s not a huge deal,” Lucy said.
“It’s a very huge deal,” Rex countered.
She accepted the keys and made her way to the Jeep. Hank kept pace with her.
Lucy slid behind the wheel. It felt good to be around something familiar. “Thanks again, Hank. Beth would have appreciated the weirdness of this moment. She hated being ignored more than anything, and she loathed ordinary. Now she’s front and center of what promises to be a unique tribute.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t even know where the Jessup plot is.”
“I’ll pick you up at 3:30 p.m. tomorrow, and then we can get Natasha from school.”
A breeze blew in from the bay, carrying with it the thick scent of salt, but also a growing sense of obligation. “Sounds like a plan.”
She drove to the end of town and spotted the library on Main Street across from the beach. The Cape Hudson Library wasn’t large, and it had a funky art deco facade dating back to the 1920s.
She hurried up the front steps, pushed through the doors, and strode straight to the information desk. The older woman behind it had short graying hair and glasses that reminded Lucy of a 1960s Hitchcock movie.
“Welcome, Miss Kincaid.”
“You know my name?”
“I do. I also knew your mother. I’m Faye Reynolds.”
“Do you recall assigning a history project to my mother?” Lucy asked.
“I do.” Her frown softened a fraction. “She was supposed to interview one of the older folks in town. She picked Mrs. Buchanan. Did you find the tape?”
“I think I found that project at Winter Cottage, as well as half a dozen other tapes.”
“Your mother was one of my best students. Smart girl. She loved to write. Very creative, but she wasn’t the most disciplined student.”
“That about sums up my mother.”
“I will say, your mother went out of her way to appear inarticulate, but she was smart. The problem was, she became bored too easily.”
“Mom always could figure out just about anything if she chose to put her mind to it.” Give her the task of writing a song, and she would work tirelessly for days. But if you needed her to cook a meal or push a vacuum, forget it.
“I watched the first tape before the house lost power last night.”
“I’d be curious to see it sometime if you don’t mind sharing. I understand Beth and Mrs. B made over fifteen hours of recordings.”
“You never saw the tapes?”
“Beth left town without ever presenting it.”
“Do you know why she left?”
“I asked around. I’d heard she’d had a terrible fight with her father, but he never said a word about it when I confronted him. I thought she’d come back eventually or at least get in contact with Arlene, but she never did.”
“Does this library have any information on the cottage or the Buchanans? I’d like to read all I can about it and them.”
“Sure. The local newspapers were full of articles about them. I’ll search through the microfilm and see what I can find.
“Let me do some digging today. The house dates back to 1901 and the paper started five years later, but I should be able to come up with several tidbits.”
“Thanks. Trying to fill in this part of Beth’s life.”
“I understand.”
“Do you remember her dating anyone about the time she left?”
The woman was silent for a few moments. “She dated a few boys.”
“Any names?”
“I’m not sure I remember. I’ve taught so many kids over the years. Time jumbles things up sometimes. Let me think on it.”
“Thanks. Hey, I’m having a funeral service for her tomorrow at the Jessup family plot at 4:00 p.m. You’re welcome to come if you like.”
“I’d like that. Can I bring anything?”
“No. That’s not necessary. It’s just going to be really informal.”
Mrs. Reynolds picked up a pencil and made a note. “See you at four tomorrow, Lucy, and I’ll bring what articles I can find.”
“Thanks.”
Lucy drove around town, trying to get the lay of the land. She’d thought maybe she had missed part of the town when she’d arrived, but as she drove, it quickly became apparent that her first impression had been correct.
Back on the main road, she headed north until she spotted the vineyard and then the cottage, driving over a small temporary bridge the road crew had just built. She thought the news of the discovery would have made it to town already, but there was no sign of anyone nosing around.
She parked by the side of the house and hurried through the kitchen entrance, greeted by Dolly’s barking. “I told you I’d come right back. Don’t run off. I don’t have time to chase you down.”
Dolly, nose to the ground and tail wagging, headed toward the reeds. Lucy unloaded the Jeep, carried all her belongings up to her room, and unpacked. With her clothes in the drawers, her makeup in the bathroom, and her sketches on the walls, she felt a little more at home.
With Dolly on her heels, she went into the main parlor, inserted the second tape, and then hit “Play.” The static cleared, and the image of an eighteen-year-old Beth appeared.
The phone rang in the kitchen, and she hurried to answer it.
Winter Cottage Page 13
