by Beck, Jamie
“Heavens on earth, why would you cancel? This is a celebration! My first grandniece.”
I smiled, grateful for her enthusiasm yet aware my own happiness was no longer as complete. “Thank you for being so excited, but I’m feeling overwhelmed. It’s coming to the end of the school year, and with the anniversary of my dad’s death . . . it feels like the wrong time.”
The disgrace of using my father’s death as part of a cover story made me want to throw up. My father had loved children and been particularly tickled when Kevin made him a grandfather. When Lyle and I first discussed having a baby, I’d secretly anticipated sharing something with my dad that wouldn’t involve Erin.
“Amanda, listen to me, dear. You can’t wait for the perfect time to do things, because there is no perfect time. Once this baby comes, you must be ready to go, go, go. Now, come on, let’s have a party.”
“I appreciate the pep talk, but Lyle’s out of town on business and I’m . . . I’ve got a lot to handle. Maybe after the baby comes.”
“But then you won’t have all the things you need. Oh dear. I have to speak with Madeline. If it’s too much for you to host at your house, she should host it. I’ll come a day early to help set up.”
“Oh no, Aunt Dodo, please don’t.” Her tendency to boss everyone around would not only be unhelpful but also would send my mother into a tizzy.
“Don’t you worry. I know how to handle my baby sister. See you soon. Kisses.” And then she hung up on me.
I should warn my mother, but this day had sapped all my energy. Experience also had taught me that sisters had to manage their own relationship. After all, neither Mom’s, Dad’s, nor Kevin’s attempts to wrangle Erin’s and mine had ever made a difference.
Grabbing all the pillows, I then stuffed some around my awkward figure for support. Little by little, my body felt as if it were sinking into the mattress. My eyelids drifted south . . .
“So you think I can do it?” Lyle stood in the kitchen, orange juice in hand, looking at me with hope in his eyes.
“I know you can. You’re driven, persuasive, savvy . . . and irresistible. If anyone can sell that old factory, it’s you.” I buttered my toast.
Lyle set down his glass and came over to wrap his arms around me, giving me a kiss that made me weak in the knees. “Thank you. You’ve no idea what your support means. Marrying you will always be the best decision I ever made.”
I hugged him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. “I feel exactly the same way.”
“Amanda!” A man’s voice called my name from downstairs. For a second after waking from my nap, my heart was at peace. I thought Lyle was downstairs and it had all been a horrible dream. Then I replayed the voice that belonged to Stan, and the nightmare continued.
“Just a minute!” I rolled off the bed and risked a quick look in the mirror. Gah—nice deep wrinkle across my cheek. From the top of the steps, I gazed at Stan. “Sorry. I dozed off.”
“No worries. When my wife was pregnant, she slept whenever she could. Your body needs the rest.” He nodded with a warm smile.
I made my way downstairs, thinking he must be a gentle husband and father. “Do you have questions?”
“Yes. Let’s sit in the kitchen.”
“Sure. I could use some herbal tea. How about you?”
“That’d be nice, thanks.” He followed me and took a seat while I quickly made two peppermint teas—from the gift basket Erin had given me when she learned I was pregnant—and then handed him one. “Ooh, smells great.”
I took my seat before sipping from my cup. “So what can I help you with now?”
“Well, first off, were you and your husband in the market for a boat, or talking about a Caribbean cruise—like a private charter yacht?” He looked hopeful, which made my stomach drop.
Lyle had grown up near Lake Michigan and become an accomplished sailor by his teens. He’d always wanted his own boat, but I’d suggested we save that money, arguing we could always rent a sailboat, like he had for one of our first dates. He’d splurged to charter a gorgeous sailboat that day. He’d looked so happy and free at the helm my heart ached to remember it.
I’d never been to his family home in Michigan, though. That third time I’d suggested meeting his dad had drawn a severe argument that ended with my promise to never bring it up again, so I’d finally stopped. In any case, now I couldn’t help but wonder if that freedom he experienced on a sailboat had always been his heart’s true desire.
I shook my head. “No. Why?”
He clucked. “Well, I found a lot of searches for long-range miniyachts. Charters and used ones for sale.”
Only then did I recall the Abaco part of my earlier conversation with Lyle. Oh God, he’d taken Ebba for a sail, like he’d done with me. The image of him at the helm revisited me. Handsome and proud, the wind in his hair. Another of my special memories now sullied. “Lyle mentioned something about a weekend in the Bahamas. While tying a boat to a dock in Abaco, he lost his phone. It’s why he called from a strange number. Could that be what he’d researched?”
Stan’s bushy brows tightened. “Could be. Do you have that phone number? I’m not legally allowed to track that, but the police could . . . if you get them involved.”
“It’s in my recent-calls list.” I let the remark about the cops pass as if I hadn’t heard it. “Anyway, Lyle loves boats. He could’ve been fantasizing about what he’d buy when his deal paid off.”
Even I heard the pathetic hope in my voice.
“Maybe.” Stan flipped through his notes some more. “I also found searches for foreign incorporations and banks—the Caymans, BVI, Isle of Man, and such.”
Isle of Man?
I didn’t know anything about the law, but movies had taught me enough to know that people hid money in the Caymans. Did he plan to hide his business income in order to reduce alimony and child support payments?
My heart rate skyrocketed, which was bad for the baby. I must’ve been blanching, because Stan touched my hand.
“Amanda, relax. Breathe and drink more tea, or maybe get some water. I know things don’t sound promising, but I swear to you, if he’s hiding money, we’ll find him and get justice.”
How sweet of him to pretend that Lyle was not up to tricks, but I knew he didn’t believe it. Even I now experienced doubts, but I nodded nonetheless. “What if he’s plotting something . . .”
“Here’s the good news. The vast majority of these guys aren’t nearly as smart as they think they are. Like in this case, with him failing to scrub his browser and such, they leave clues. And this woman—Ebba—she’ll have left clues, too.”
“Will you be talking to people about her?” I bit my lip. Half of me desperately wanted to learn every detail; the other half would rather know nothing.
“She’s a big piece of the puzzle.”
“But then people in town will talk.” I practically slumped onto the table. It would be harder to patch my life back together—with or without Lyle—with everyone whispering and judging me. “Could there be another explanation . . . maybe the Cayman Islands have something to do with this Florida deal?”
A stretch, but hope was seductive.
I covered my face with my hands and drew a deep breath.
“Amanda, I’m very sorry. And trust me, you’re not alone. Many wives have been where you are, looking for ways to protect their families and their children’s future from men who’ve let them down.”
“You must think my holding out hope is foolish.”
“No. Don’t let anyone make you ashamed to have invested your heart in your marriage. And it’s not uncommon for wives to refuse to involve the cops for a bunch of reasons, so don’t feel guilty about turning to me first. Or for holding out hope. There’s still a lot we don’t know, and maybe he’ll snap out of this midlife crisis before things go much further. I’ll certainly exercise discretion while looking into Miss Nilsson’s life.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” I push
ed my hair back. “I wish I didn’t feel so powerless. Weak. Idiotic.”
“From what I can see, your husband is the idiot not to appreciate the life he had here.” He smiled, and I again subdued the urge to seek a hug.
“Worst-case scenario—what happens if there is no deed and he runs before we find him?”
“Let’s not jump ahead. He’s promised to send the deed, and he might make a timely payment to your mom. Like you’ve said, being an adulterer doesn’t make him a thief, too. I hope, for your sake, that’s the case.”
He hadn’t answered my worst-case question, which told me that my options were limited. “Thank you for your discretion. I’ll forward the deed when it comes and let you know if I learn anything more.”
We both stood, and Stan followed me through the entry to the front door.
“I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, take care of yourself and that baby. Whatever happens, don’t panic. Your family will help you through.” He patted my shoulder before walking to his car.
I closed the door, grateful to Kevin for sending me the perfect PI. Having a family to lean on made me lucky.
I dragged myself back upstairs to our closet, where the majority of Lyle’s clothes and shoes remained neatly organized. No wonder I’d had no clue that he’d planned an extended getaway.
As I fingered his jackets, his cologne wafted through the closet, stirring a vision of him in the midst of his morning routine. He’d shower, shave, then do twenty quick push-ups—just enough to open his pores—before spritzing himself with Terre d’Hermès. Sometimes, when he had an especially important client meeting, he’d ask me to assist with his tie and cuff links. I’d enjoyed helping him put himself together—like teammates—and then sending him off with a kiss.
The toxic brew of fond memories and sorrow gave me a headache. What made me so dispensable? With my father for Erin. Tommy Cantor for Jasmine Berry. Now Lyle for Ebba. I’d given my all to make those men happy. To make them proud of me. To earn their love and respect. Still, when push came to shove, they each preferred the company of someone else. Someone more carefree . . .
I eyed that box with Lyle’s father’s last-known contact information. If I crossed that line, Ebba would win, because Lyle would never forgive me.
The phone rang. Mom. “Hi, Mom.”
“What did you say to Dodo?” Her terseness made me start.
“That I was thinking of canceling the shower.”
“Now she thinks I’m a terrible mother for not taking better care of you, and she’s pressing me to host this shower here. Oh, I could just strangle Lyle.”
I literally bit down on my tongue to keep from lashing out. I’d only tried to help her by canceling the shower. Couldn’t she see that everything wasn’t about her? She had a lot at stake—I got that—but I could use some comfort, too. “I’m sorry. I’ll call her later and take the bullet, okay?”
“No, I’ll handle Dodo. I’m fed up with how she bosses me around as if I’m a child.”
Dodo’s dictatorial tone could be draining, but she cared about us. “She’s been worried about you since Dad died, Mom. It’s sweet.”
“You always give everyone the benefit of the doubt.” Her tone proved that wasn’t a compliment.
If I didn’t believe that most people meant well, there’d be no point in investing in any relationship. “Speaking of that, Lyle finally called me this morning. He’s sending me the deed to the land he bought. The PI promised to double-check it along with all the other information he gathered today.”
For several seconds, nothing—not a grunt, gasp, or peep of any kind—came through the line.
“That must’ve been a hard conversation. Are you okay? What did Lyle say about Ebba?” My mother mispronounced the name, giving it a long-e sound.
“He’s torn . . .” A lump strangled my throat. “I can’t talk about this now, Mom. I’m exhausted.”
“Oh, honey. I remember how hard it was, being in love with your dad while he was still getting over Patty.” She sighed. I appreciated her empathy, although our situations were hardly similar. “Persistence paid off, though. Drink lots of water and get plenty of rest.”
“I will.” I wandered to my sofa and sank against the pillows. “Have you spoken with Erin about Dad’s records?”
“No, why? Did she ruin them?” Mom clucked at the other end of the line. “How like her . . . so disorganized.”
“No, Mom. Max stole them. Erin filed a police report today.”
“Oh! William’s records gone, too?” The emphasis on “too” broke my heart. Despite her empathy, she wasn’t about to accept anything Lyle told me at face value. That my husband could be worse than Max made me cringe. While I’d always hoped to find some common ground with my sister, our poor taste in men was not what I’d had in mind.
Projecting more confidence than I felt, I said, “It’s been a terrible week, but let’s hold on to hope. You know Rodri will hunt Max down for Erin, so the albums will be recovered. And Lyle has a proven track record in real estate. This project will come together, and you’ll get your money back.”
“That still leaves Dodo. She cannot learn any of this, or I’ll never hear the end of it. Truly, she’ll blab to the whole family.” Mom paused, probably projecting to cousin Sue’s inevitable snark without concern for how she was adding to my burden. “I wish your father were here . . .”
So did I.
These past few days, a little gap had opened between my mom and me. A fall from grace on my part. Collateral damage from Lyle’s behavior. All my life, she’d been the one person whose approval I could count on. I couldn’t stand to lose it, too, yet could hardly blame her, given the situation. “I could use some company today. Would you like to bake a pie or something?”
“A pie?” She sounded confused, then sighed. “I guess that would be nice.”
“I’ll swing by the market and come to your house.” It might help to be together in her kitchen, where we’d baked more treats than I could remember. My mom made the flakiest crust in the county—even had a blue ribbon to prove it. I couldn’t do squat about my marriage today, but I could protect the other relationship that I needed to be happy. “Blueberry sound good?”
“You know I love blueberry.”
The smile in her voice lifted a weight off my chest. “See you soon.”
While I changed into casual clothes, the doorbell rang. I made my way downstairs, stunned to see the Bon Fleur truck in my driveway.
The delivery woman handed me a lovely bouquet of pink roses exactly like the ones Lyle used to send to my classroom. My heart swelled with hope. “Oh, these are gorgeous. Thank you.”
“Have a nice day.” She waved before wandering back to her truck.
I closed the doors and took the flowers to the kitchen, adding more cold water and a couple of drops of bleach to preserve their freshness. With my nose buried in the petals, I wanted so badly to accept this gift as a good sign. Plucking the card from its plastic holder, I then took it from the envelope and read:
Amanda,
No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.
Deed will come from the lawyer soon.
Lyle
I crushed the card in my palm, heartbroken. The flowers hadn’t marked a decision. They were to keep me on ice or in limbo or whatever other words described this uncomfortable space of uncertainty.
Did he not understand how hurtful his gesture was? Perhaps I’d been wrong to think someone with his background capable of giving and accepting healthy love. He would probably argue that these flowers were a show of affection. That he could’ve left me dangling after that phone call with no further word.
Maybe he meant the gesture as a kind remembrance of better times. But no matter how beautiful the bouquet, right now I’d rather Lyle had simply sent that deed.
CHAPTER SIX
ERIN
“What do you mean you can’t find him? This town’s not that big, Rodri. He’s broke, too, so there aren’t
many places he can hide.” With the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, I stooped to unlock my bike while half the women in town strolled past. I didn’t care who overheard me, though. Enough was enough. It’d been almost forty-eight hours, for God’s sake.
“We’ll keep looking, but he might’ve split town. In fact, if I were him, I would’ve taken off after stealing your albums.” Rodri chuckled. I did not.
Max wouldn’t have fled to his dad’s. Old Charlie wouldn’t put up with him lying around the living room all day. With no siblings to turn to, that left his mom. Now that had possibility. She babied the crap out of him, resulting in his massive case of Peter Pan Syndrome. Not that either of them saw it. Joan—that was her name—lived in Atlantic City. Twenty-five dollars in bus fare would put him across state lines. That sneaky weasel. “He could be with his mom in Atlantic City. Try there.”
“That’s not my jurisdiction.”
As usual, rules stood in the way of easy solutions. What was it with society and rules? People were always looking for excuses to bend or break them. Wouldn’t it be simpler to get rid of them altogether?
“Get a local cop to pick him up. Or drive me there so we can haul him back ourselves.” I imagined Max’s stunned expression when he opened the door to find us standing there. “I’d love to get my hands on him.”
“That’d be entertaining, but, no, I can’t do that.” He paused. “I’ll be honest. Extradition is expensive and time-consuming. Paperwork galore. You’d be surprised how many people get away with pretty big crimes by crossing state lines. This theft isn’t likely to be something that the department will pursue with much vigor if Max is in Jersey.”
“Well, that sucks!” I stood, holding the phone again now that I’d freed my bike. I needed those albums. Like, needed them to function. That music kept my dad alive for me. I thought better when pairing the right album with a particular problem. I couldn’t move forward without those records. And the whole reason I’d kicked Max out was to get my life together, so I needed this major distraction to end yesterday.
“Sorry. I’ll look into it, but we’ve got bigger crimes to solve. You’ll have to be patient.”
