by Beck, Jamie
I got out of the car, slightly self-conscious in the conservative dress I’d purchased years ago for “grown-up” events. Mom had bought my lie about dressing up to make a good impression at Castille’s. Concealing my real plan would let me avoid her disappointment if I failed. Truthfully, she might’ve told me not to come. Sidestepping that conversation meant I wasn’t breaking a promise.
Time to get into character.
I opened the realty shop’s door and glanced around the open room to find seven polished mahogany desks but only three agents busy at work. Lucky for me, I spotted Jane Bauer from my research. Averting my eyes from the other agents’ gazes, I beelined for Jane’s desk.
“Good morning.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Roxy and I’m looking to buy my first house. My friend told me about this agency—actually she mentioned a broker, Ebba Nilsson—so here I am. Are you her?”
Jane shook my hand. I could tell she bought my cover story, so I relaxed. “No, Ebba left a few weeks ago, but her specialty was really commercial properties, anyway. I’m Jane Bauer, a residential property specialist, and I’d be happy to assist you.”
“Oh, terrific.” I took a seat, mentally telling myself not to tip my hand too quickly.
“So, Roxy, are you new to town, or have you been here long?” Jane smiled pleasantly.
“I’ve been here almost two years,” I lied. “To be honest, my boyfriend and I are breaking up, and I need to get out of our apartment and away from the memories, you know?”
She made a sad face. “Oh, yes, I do. I’m sorry about that, but a pretty little place of your own will show him what he’s missing, won’t it?”
“For sure.” I grinned, hoping to keep my lies straight.
She took out a yellow legal pad and wrote my name across the top. My mother would admire her picture-perfect penmanship. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Something new but small. Two bedrooms, max. I like an open floor plan.” Hopefully, a natural opening to bring up Ebba again would happen soon, but while I was there, I might as well learn what the town had to offer.
Her expression turned more serious. “Would you be willing to look at condos?”
“I wasn’t thinking about them, but maybe. What’s your opinion?”
“Well, a lot of single women like condos because they don’t have to deal with yard maintenance, they like the amenities like pools and small gyms, and they like the built-in community.”
“Ooh, I didn’t think about that. I suppose condos are filled with people my age.”
“Including men with good jobs.” She smiled conspiratorially.
Ugh. I couldn’t think of anything I’d like less than a group of ambitious prepster dudes barking up my tree, but this kind of chatty conversation could pave the way to bringing up Ebba. “Good point. It’s hard to find single men around here.”
“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes.
I cackled like we were long-lost friends. “Okay, let’s look at condos. Now, I don’t have a huge budget. I was thinking two hundred grand tops.”
“That will limit our options, but I know of two developments with open units in that price range. One has a nice pool and party room, too.” She smiled and punched a bunch of stuff into the computer.
“Sounds perfect! Maybe I could move in in time to break out the bikini.”
“It’ll be like living in a resort.” She waved a hand in a “you go, girl” manner.
“I like your spirit.” I high-fived her. “I’m glad Ebba wasn’t here.”
“Thanks.” And then I saw it—a gleam in her eyes as if she was pleased to have been deemed better than the absentee broker.
“It’s weird, though,” I said, wading in carefully. “My friend gave me the impression that Ebba was a real go-getter. Top broker. Why’d she quit?”
“To be honest, it’s a little bizarre. She’d grown secretive all spring. We suspected she’d met someone, but she wouldn’t really tell us much other than that he was charming and successful and getting out of a ‘bad situation,’ which I guessed meant he was still married. We never saw her out with anyone, which also points to an affair.”
“Well, that’s really awful if it’s true. But doesn’t she still need a job?” Hopefully my curious-but-dopey act was working.
“No, actually. Apparently, they’re sailing off together—literally.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“Right? I like the Caribbean as much as the next person, but living on a boat full-time would be claustrophobic.”
“Exactly. Those islands could get boring fast.”
“Well, they won’t be there forever.” Jane looked around at the other brokers—one of whom was on a call, the other on his computer—then leaned a little closer, holding her hair to one side. “To be honest, Ebba was a good broker, but those awards started to go to her head. She got a little boastful, so when she quit, she did ‘casually’ mention how excited she was to become an international real estate investor. They’re sailing down the chain of islands all the way to some island off the coast of Venezuela. It sounded risky to me, but whatever. I bet she regrets it in about a year.”
“It does sound risky, especially if this mystery man actually was married. I mean, once a cheater, always a cheater.” And a thief. And an absentee father.
Jane planted her palm on her desk for emphasis as she said, “Ex-actly.”
“It sucks to be single again”—then for a second, Eli’s face flickered through my thoughts—“but it’s better than being with an asshole.”
“Amen, sista!” Jane laughed, and suddenly guilt swamped me for leading her on with my fake name and pretend house-hunting. I couldn’t ever use her as a Realtor without her exposing the truth about me, but I would send her business whenever I learned of others who were looking to upgrade. “So shall we go check out these two condos?”
“Right now? Oh, gosh, I really only stopped in to get the ball rolling. I assumed we’d need to set up appointments. How about you give me your card, and I’ll call you later today to do that? I’ve got a bunch of errands I need to take care of right now.”
“Sure.” She smiled and handed me a business card. “It’s been nice talking to you. I’m sure we can find you the right place to start over.”
I stood and shook her hand again. “Jane, you have no idea how grateful I am for all your help today.”
On that note, I turned and darted out the door, eager to share what I’d learned so the cops would have what they needed to trap Lyle. The drive across town seemed to take forever, but I smiled when I saw Amanda’s car parked in front of the house. I whipped into the garage and practically jumped out of the front seat.
“Hey!” I yelped after dashing into the kitchen. Not only weren’t Mom and Amanda baking, but I didn’t detect a whiff of sugar or browned butter. Mo hadn’t come running at me, either. My heart sped up, wondering if something else went wrong while I’d been gone. I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled, “Mom?”
“Back here,” came a voice muffled by the closed kitchen window.
Was she hurt? I raced to the deck, where I nearly crashed into Amanda and Mom enjoying a cup of coffee. Mo’s tail wagged as he trotted over to greet me, but I was too shaky to pick him up.
Mom frowned at me, setting down her cup. “What’s wrong? You look wild.”
“I know where Lyle’s going!” The chair I’d yanked scraped against the deck before my butt hit its seat. Mo jumped on my shins, so I lifted him onto my lap.
“How?” Amanda’s face paled.
When you live in a town of eighteen thousand people, it’s big enough that you don’t know everyone, and today that had worked in our favor. “I went to Lyle’s old office and pretended to be looking for a new house. While getting to know another broker, I got some deets about Ebba, and one thing led to another.”
“What broker? What ‘deets’?” Instead of jumping for joy, my sister trembled. In fact, she might’ve stopped breathing, too.
“Jane Bauer.”
Amanda slapped her head. “Jane’s a huge gossip. Oh God, did she know about Lyle?”
“No. Relax. I went in as if someone had recommended Ebba, so Jane said she’d quit.” As I recited the conversation back practically word for word, I’d hoped my sister would calm down, but instead she turned green. “Amanda, this is good news. Let’s call Stan and Kevin.”
I thrust a phone at her, but she didn’t take it.
“What’s wrong?” I shot my mom a quizzical look. In return, she offered up that pinched expression that informed me I’d done something she didn’t like.
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, nodding. “I’ll call him.”
She hoisted herself out of the chair, which wasn’t easy with that round belly, then disappeared inside.
When I went to follow her, my mom called, “Stop!”
My hands shot out from my sides. “Why aren’t you excited, or at least relieved?”
She pitched her face upward as if begging my dad for some wisdom about how to deal with me. “I realize you’re trying to help, but did you stop for one minute to think about how hard it is for your sister to hear about Lyle’s grand cruise with his mistress?” She shook her head, letting the rustle of the sycamore leaves fill the temporary silence. “You expect her to move on without paying any respect to what she’s losing. Yes, you were right about Lyle all along, but your sister loved him, Erin. He was her husband, not some high school boyfriend. Life as she knew it is over. That’s hard for most people, but especially for someone like her, who works so hard to keep things together. You could try being more sensitive.”
I scratched behind my ear, having no ready comeback, mostly because there wasn’t one. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.”
I peered through the window but didn’t see my sister in the kitchen. “Okay. I’ll try harder, but, my gosh, can’t we celebrate the fact that this nightmare might be over soon? We should book tickets to Turks and Caicos or something today, ’cause I want a front row seat to his arrest.”
“Arrest?” Her demeanor shifted from concern to self-preservation in a blink. “Lyle hasn’t missed his interest payment yet. Until he does, that’s premature.” Mom purposefully tapped her fingernail against the arm of the deck chair four times.
Things never went anywhere when Mom’s fingernails got involved. My skin prickled and tightened from frustration.
“Lyle wouldn’t be sailing off to South America if he planned to make those payments. When’s it due?” I asked.
“Monday.”
In two days. I guessed we’d argue about the cops on Tuesday, then.
Amanda returned, still clutching her phone. “Well, that yacht Stan’s been tracking is in Turks, so it’s more evidence that The Office—that’s the boat’s name—is in fact Lyle’s and making its way south. He’s still working on linking all the wire transfers from our bank to Lyle and the company and the boat. Until that’s tied up, Lyle could claim to be borrowing or leasing the boat from a friend or something, or using Mom’s money for something else. Who knows? He’s obviously the best liar.”
“So we wait?” Mom asked, looking almost relieved that she had a reprieve from notifying the authorities.
Amanda shrugged. “Stan suspects Lyle plans to hang out around Venezuela because, while technically there’s an extradition treaty between it and the US, it’s considered a fugitive-friendly nation, especially with all the current political upheaval. Lyle could live there a long time without having to worry about being extradited.”
When neither of them said more, I let out an exasperated raspberry. “We have enough circumstantial evidence to convince the authorities to investigate. If they issue warrants, they might get access to information Stan can’t. It’s crazy to sit on our hands and let Lyle get away.” So much for being sensitive to my sister’s feelings.
“I said no!” My mother fisted both hands and beat them against her chair.
Amanda flinched. “Lyle doesn’t know I hired a PI, so he thinks he’s fooled me with that deed. He and Ebba aren’t rushing anywhere, so we have a little time. But I have to agree with Erin, Mom. Maybe it’s time to involve the police.”
Mom shook her head. “You said we could offer Lyle a deal first. One that gets me my money and you your house and sole custody.”
“An illegal deal,” I reminded them both.
Amanda’s face pinched as her gaze darted from me to Mom. Her fingers were turning white around the phone still in her hand. “Mom, even if I caught up to Lyle, he’d probably laugh in my face and try outrunning the law before he’d hand over anything to me.” Her free hand rubbed her forehead. It struck me then that this was—in my memory—the first time she’d ever defied our mom. “If he gets to Venezuela, we’ll have lost everything, and I’ll be in limbo for years trying to prove he abandoned me.”
“But the alternative is becoming the talk of the town. Poor Amanda Foster and her stupid mother, both duped by that con man!” Mom scowled. “Our reputations will be ruined. Even if he’s arrested, I’ll probably get very little money back, and you’ll lose your home and have no guarantee of custody once Lyle gets out of jail.”
“It’s hard to pretend life is A-okay when people ask me when Lyle’s coming home. ‘I’m not sure’ isn’t working so well anymore. Ebba’s coworkers suspect she was having an affair. Once people know Lyle and I are done and start putting together the timeline, gossip will spread. Playing dumb will make us both look stupider than the truth does.” Amanda tossed the phone aside and rubbed her breastbone.
“You’re not stupid. He played us all,” I said, harkening back to that cold February afternoon when I should’ve acted on my instincts when my radar had sensed the sex in the air, despite how Lyle and Ebba had played it off. But Amanda had been happily planning for the baby, never mentioning any problems, so I’d let it go.
“Talk about the divorce like we discussed—irreconcilable differences. But don’t mention the money,” Mom insisted before she pushed herself out of her chair and took her empty cup inside, mumbling something about Dodo.
Once she’d gone, I whirled on my sister. “Don’t listen to her.”
“Please don’t push me.” She gazed blankly at the yard before briefly closing her eyes to catch a breath.
One look at her belly and the stress etched on her face kept me silent. At least she’d started to see reason. Eventually she’d do the right thing. She always did. The funny part was the fact that I wanted to follow the rules for a change.
My sister’s pained stare broke me.
“Amanda, I’m sorry if I overstepped today. I got impatient, but I didn’t mean to upset you more.”
“It’s not your fault I’m upset.” It would be if she knew the whole truth. It’d be a relief to simply confess, but unburdening my conscience now seemed more selfish than helpful. Amanda turned to me, her face flushed. “I just—it kills me that Lyle’s sailing around with no remorse whatsoever. He never loved me.” Her voice cracked.
She rarely showed her pain to me—at least not this directly—and I desperately wished I could take it away. “He doesn’t love Ebba, either. He only loves himself.”
I held my breath then. The last time I’d made a remark of that ilk had been their first anniversary—the “paper” one. She’d had their wedding vows transcribed in calligraphy on large sheets of paper, which she’d framed, so I called to see how he’d liked it. When she described what sounded like a tepid reaction and then told me he’d given her a box of stationery—something that hadn’t taken much time or effort—I’d popped off a cutting remark, at which point she’d insinuated that I was jealous and then hung up on me.
Today she didn’t defend Lyle—a promising change. Instead she shrugged. “I’ll survive, but how will it affect Willa to have a dad who couldn’t care enough to stick around?”
Given our awesome father, I couldn’t imagine that. I wondered, however, if Amanda was also projecting a
bit of her own feelings of rejection, too. Our father had never neglected her, but she’d yearned for a relationship with him that never fully formed because they were such different people. Sensing a need for a lighter topic, I said, “Let’s take things one day at a time. Want some help baking now that Mom’s pissed off at us both?”
She flashed a half-hearted smile. “No offense, but when’s the last time you used an oven?”
“Fair enough. Go buy out the counter at Sugar Momma’s and save yourself the effort. I think you need to rest, Amanda. You’ve lost your glow.”
“Hard to glow when my life is falling apart.” Amanda tucked a section of loose hair behind her ear. “How about we talk about you instead. Have you heard from Eli?”
I shook my head. Each morning I’d stare at the sliding doors, hoping he’d show up to yoga, but he’d steered clear of this house and me since the K-bomb. “I finally googled him, though. He’s cowritten a ton of songs, produced a bunch, too. He never let on about all his success, which makes me like him more. I also found pictures of his wife and him at the CMAs. She was pretty in a soft way, like you. Fine features. Fair-haired.”
Amanda protectively cradled her stomach. “When I think about what happened to his wife and baby, I feel sick. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Willa. She’s all I have.”
It saddened me that she believed her child was all she had. She needed a new perspective, and a new goal. Revenge worked for me. “The only person anything bad will happen to is Lyle. I’ll make sure of that.”
But as my words made their way into the universe, I regretted tempting fate. When Amanda shivered, I prayed it was from the cool spring breeze whipping across the yard.
