“This is, um Meg—he buys my produce in town?” She was unsure how to introduce herself. After all she wasn’t a friend or even a patron.
“Sam is busy and we don’t need no vegetables tonight.” The voice sounded impatient.
“I know Sam is busy, and you don’t need vegetables, but I NEED to talk to him. It’s an emergency!”
A long, obviously irritated breath came through the phone. “Like I said, Sam is busy.”
“Put him on the phone!” Meg yelled into the receiver. She would not be put off again by someone who thought she was unimportant. Her father had treated her like a child until the day he died, but now he was gone.
“Hold a minute.” The irritated speaker placed the phone down with a clunk.
Long minutes later a voice came on the other end, “This is Sam, and this had better be good.”
“Sam, this is Meg and it’s not good. I’ve been broken into and threatened. I didn’t know who else to call. I need help!”
“This is who?”
“Meg! With the vegetables!”
“Sorry Meg, I don’t need any vegetables tonight but thanks.” The noise in the restaurant increased as someone laughed.
“No wait, don’t hang up! I need your help. I’m not selling anything. I’ve had an intruder at my house and I’m afraid to leave. Please help me!”
“Meg? Are you all right?” He finally understood. “Hold a minute.” He walked away from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. “Okay, I can hear now. Is something wrong? Did you say you had an intruder? Where? At your house?”
Finally, someone understood her. “Yes, he broke into my house and threatened me. I’m sorry to call you but, you were the only person I could think of. Alex didn’t answer his phone, and Jon is on the mainland.”
“Well, Alex is here having dinner. You hang on, I’ll be right there.” The phone went dead in her ear.
Chapter 17
Alex was scooping the last of Sam’s Louisiana Shrimp Bake into his open mouth when the man behind him leaned his chair back.
“Good stuff, huh?”
Alex wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Oh my God, Sam really outdid himself tonight.” Alex smiled with satisfaction.
“It’s not Sam—it’s his shrimper that’s good. Nothin’ but the best.”
“Who’s his shrimper?”
“Well, me of course.” Paul smiled.
“Oh Paul, I can’t take you anywhere. Leave the poor man alone and let him eat his dinner in peace.” The plump woman across the table from Paul smiled as she berated her husband.
Alex turned around to face the man who’d interrupted his dinner. “I’m Alex Wallace.” He stuck out his hand.
“Paul Smith. And this here is the little woman, Becky, my wife. You’re the artist that just moved to the island.” It sounded more like a statement than a question. Small towns.
“That’s right, and you own one of those shrimping boats at the dock?”
“I own the only good shrimper around here. I sell to Sam and others who know a good thing when they smell it!”
“How can something that smells so bad, taste so good?” Alex laughed.
“Well, that depends upon what you think smells bad. I happen to think they smell like money!”
“Alex,” Sam ran over to his table. “Meg’s in trouble.”
“What’s wrong with Meg?”
“Evening Paul,” Sam said quickly, nodding. “Meg just called and said she had an intruder that threatened her. She tried to call you but you didn’t answer.”
“I left my phone at home accidentally and didn’t think anything about it.” He stood up from the table.
“Come on, let’s go. I told her I’d be right there.” Sam jerked his head toward the door.
“Something’s wrong with Meg? Then I’m coming too. Honey, I’ll see you at home.” Paul pecked his wife on the cheek and ran for the door with the others.
****
Meg sat on the couch in the dark, afraid to even turn on a light. The light coming from under the door to the bathroom she was about to use when interrupted, was the only one on in her tiny house.
Hearing voices coming from the sand dunes, she looked up and tightened her grip on the unlit flashlight in her hand. Was the intruder back?
“This way,” a familiar voice said, leading the others to the back of the house.
“This garden just keeps getting bigger!”
“Meg!” Someone whispered as the group knocked on the back door.
“Alex?” Meg ran for the door and unfastened the broken latch.
Alex stood in the dark with two men behind him. “I tried to call you. I was afraid you weren’t speaking to me!” Meg said as she hugged him, pulling him inside. Behind him on the crooked steps stood Sam Taylor from Le Chez and Paul Smith, the shrimper from down on the dock.
“Sam!” Thank you for coming so quickly.” She hugged the chef as he entered.
“What are friends for?” Paul said as the tall man ducked his head coming in the door.
“And Paul! Good grief, Sam you brought reinforcements.”
“Well, you have a lot of friends in this town.” Sam looked around at the tiny house. “That garden keeps getting bigger! Alex led us around it or I’d still be looking for the house. Do you ever rest, woman? Now tell us what happened. Who was it, and what did he do? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“He hangs out at the dock sometimes and has a tugboat. He said his name was Mike, but I don’t know for sure. He is often leaning against the shed on the dock with his hat down over his eyes when I’m there,”
“I know who you are talking about,” said Paul, “I think his name is Mike Fitzgerald. Nobody likes him. I tried to talk to him once and about all I got was a name. I heard people say he’s price gouging customers with the problems in the bay and all the sand this year. He’s rakin’ in the cash because of other peoples misfortunes.”
Alex stood close to Meg like he was afraid she would get away. “What did he say, Meg?” he asked.
What was she going to say? Now that she called Sam to help her, she couldn’t lie to him. “Well, he said he knew who I was and he wanted me to pay him. I don’t know, I think he mistook me for someone else, but I was still scared. He threatened me and said he would be back later. He thinks he can blackmail me and plans on bringing me an account number to send the money to.”
“What do you mean he thought he knew who you were?” Alex asked.
The old house creaked in the wind as the silence hung heavily in the room. Paul cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “It’s all right, Meg, we all know you’re a Stanford. We always have. We don’t know why you want to hide it, but I’m sure you have your reasons. We don’t care what your name is. We just want to be good neighbors.”
Meg’s heart caught in her throat and she coughed to prevent the flood of tears, but they still welled up in her eyes. These people were her friends. They didn’t judge her. They never even asked what her last name was and she never wondered why.
“Stanford. Nice name. I guess I never even asked before. Is that a bad name around here or something?” Alex asked.
Sam and Paul both tried to stifle a laugh and then Sam said, “Not bad, they just own the whole damned place. I mean the whole island and everything in it. I write a check every month to the landlord for rent to the Stanford Corporation,” Sam said.
“Stanford Corporation? Like the philanthropy bunch?” Alex looked quizzically at Meg.
“We do fund philanthropy projects,” Meg said shyly, “but I haven’t been involved in that for years. I gave it over to Jon to handle.”
Alex opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. “We really need to talk,” he said.
“What can we do, Meg?” Sam asked as he looked around. “I have to get back to the restaurant, but I could come back later. Do you think everything is okay?”
“Probably, Sam.” Meg looked around. “There’s not much to do tonight
, but I want to get a lock on the door tomorrow.”
“I’ll stay with her tonight.” Alex put his arm around her and nodded to the other men. “She’ll be okay.”
Sam hesitated a moment. “All right, but if you need anything, call again,” Sam went out the door with Paul in tow and they walked back through the garden and up the hill to the road. Even though Alex was new to the island, he was sure Meg was in good hands.
Chapter 18
After Sam and Paul left, Meg poured two glasses of iced tea and sat them on the table, then looked at Alex.
“How about something a little stronger?” She pulled the Johnnie Walker from the cabinet and poured two more glasses.
“I think the time might be right.” Alex grinned.
He clinked his glass against hers. As she sipped, he downed the golden liquid without a word. Then, poured another.
“Do you mind?” He poured without waiting for an answer. “A little liquid courage. I think I owe you an explanation about what I call the Chauncey Factor.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Alex,” Meg began. “I called you tonight.”
“Yes, I think I do. I was mad about Jon checking up on me. I guess if I was a son of a single mother who lived alone on an island, I’d be careful too. And he is in a position to find out more than most.” He breathed deeply and then continued. “Let me just start by saying, I didn’t do it. She was a spoiled little rich girl.” He stopped, realizing what he just said, and looked at Meg. She was staring at him over her glass of scotch.
He cleared his throat. “Can we sit down?”
“Of course.” She led him to the worn couch in the tiny living room. They sat side-by-side on the small sofa with its back to the window of the porch.
“One more time. I’m not trying to be rude. There’s rich and then there’s rich. I know now that you and your family have lots of money. I come from a different background. I worked my way through college and had student loans when I came out the other end. But, even though you went to school differently, you and Chauncey are nothing alike. She thought the world should bow down to her whims and I was one of those whims. She tried on more than one occasion to seduce me and when I refused, she retaliated with a sexual assault charge. Of course it went to trial and after she lost, her father had the records sealed. She was of age, so it wasn’t a juvenile record, but he had friends that could still get it sealed. Anyway, I was acquitted, but afterward the school decided I was a liability and let me go. That’s when I decided to paint for a while and see where it led me. It led me here. I knew about the available grant money, because I helped students get grants. I didn’t know until today that the grant had anything to do with you or your family.”
Meg stared at the man in front of her a long time. He was the first friend she had made on the island—well, maybe that wasn’t true. She found out tonight she had more friends than she realized—but she felt he was a good friend, and was unwilling to let him go. She wanted to believe him.
“I’m surprised that Jon didn’t do a background check before he gave out the grant.”
“He probably did. I used my mother’s maiden name—Simmons—for the grant. I was afraid all the publicity about the trial might keep me from getting it. I was born to a single mother and my name was legally Simmons. I was never adopted by her husband—my stepfather—but I took his name. I’ve used the name Wallace all these years. I know it wasn’t actually the truth, but I am not sure I was thinking straight when I applied for the grant. I was still running scared. That grant has given me a second chance.” He paused and breathed deeply. “I’ll pay the money back if you want me to.”
“No, of course not,” she replied.
“Well, something wonderful happened the other day. I was going to tell you about it, but then I acted like a child and stormed out. I have a buyer for my painting of the ocean I showed you. The one painted in your vegetable juice. This purchaser has a gallery on the mainland and wants me to paint more for a show. It might end up getting my name out and my work seen by a lot of people. Anyway, I could stand to make some money and then I could pay the grant back if you want.”
“Like I said, I don’t want the money back, and I’m thrilled to know that your art is going places.”
He sighed and seemed to relax. “Me too. It’s been a long time coming.” He picked up her hand. It felt as natural as if they had been together for years.
“So what did this Mike character think he could blackmail you about? Your name?” Alex asked.
“Well, for one thing, he said...” Meg cleared her throat and tried not to cry. “He said that my father had my fiancé killed. I know that is a lie. Evan died at sea. There was a storm the day he went out and he never came back. It happens to fishermen. I had just told Evan I was pregnant and we were planning a wedding. My father was very upset, so we decided we would elope. He went out alone that day because he needed the money. His partner was sick, but he thought the fishing would be good just prior to the storm. I asked him not to go, but he insisted. He was alone on the boat. I don’t know how anyone could have killed him unless they found him out on the ocean. Anyway, my father was angry, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t have Evan killed, I’m sure of that.”
“So the heiress was going to run off with the fisherman, huh?”
“Well, when you put it that way! I was planning on marrying the love of my life. We would have made a good life together and raised Jon. But, things got in the way. My father was a hard man. He wanted everything his way, including me and my mother. When I rebelled, he wasn’t happy. I was his princess, but I think getting away from here and going to college changed me. He wanted me to be a shipper like him. I wanted other things in life and he disagreed. I know now what it is like to be a parent. Kids don’t always turn out like you planned, but they’re yours anyway.”
“Did Jon turn out like you planned?”
“Well, sometimes I think he did. I also think he has a lot of my father in him. After Evan died and it became obvious that I was pregnant, my family moved back to Corpus Christi and away from the tiny island where everyone thought they knew our business. Mom didn’t live long enough to see the grandson that I hoped she would learn to love. All she could see was the shame. Times were different then, and my family ran in Corpus Christi’s society circles where daughters didn’t have children outside of marriage. Dad closed his little office in the harbor and opened a much larger one on the mainland. It soon became apparent that he owned much more than he let anyone know about, even Mom. He died when Jon was ten and then we inherited it all. I made sure that Jon had everything he needed and the best education money could buy. I always planned to come back to the island once Jon was raised, and I ended up staying on the mainland longer than I should have. The friends I thought I had all along, I found were not really my friends at all. So, when I did move here, I sort of became a hermit. I really didn’t plan it that way, I was just running from my past to a place that I loved. You don’t know how surprised I was this evening to find out that I had friends on this island. That’s the good thing about a small community, people look after each other, even when they know your dubious past.”
“Meg, you don’t have a dubious past. You just hide out because you think you don’t belong. You do.” Alex pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. “No one these days thinks twice about single mothers. I know things have changed in the last thirty years, but the people of Corpus Christi society are still just people. There are good and bad like everywhere else.”
He was holding her fingers near his lips and caressing them. She found she didn’t mind. The old feelings of running away when someone got too close were somewhere packed away in the back of her brain. She reached up and touched his hand and he looked at her face and smiled. Something inside her opened up and accepted his smile. Something she had not felt for a long time. Maybe it was passion, maybe it was friendship, or maybe it was just a connection with another human being. She had a feeling of letti
ng go of the worries of everyday life when he kissed her gently on the mouth the first time. He sat back looking at her and smiled, pushing the hair from around her face. The second kiss was more urgent, but she didn’t pull away, she allowed it to engulf her as she sighed and relaxed, exhaling. Could she have actually found a soul mate again? Twice in one lifetime? Or was she just starved for affection and would take anything that was offered after all these years? She found she didn’t care as he unbuttoned her blouse and kissed her neck.
Chapter 19
Mike Fitzgerald sat at his desk in the efficiency apartment he had finally rented in Corpus Christi. Some nights he stayed on the tug, but tonight he felt like going home. So, he paid a local guy with a boat to take him to the mainland after the ferry had quit running for the night. He felt like a weight had been lifted and good days were right around the corner. He would get Meg to pay for his silence and then when he had enough money, he would leave the island without a word to anyone. An offshore account could be set up and payments could be made forever to a fake name and address. No one cared in the Bahamas. Offshore accounts had become common business practice these days.
On the old computer he bought used, he printed out the paperwork from the account online and placed it in the folder. Then he wrote the account and bank number on a slip of paper he would put in the envelope for Meg. She didn’t need all the particulars—she could just have the deposit set up for him. No need to get greedy, she might involve the authorities. Five thousand a month should do it. Sixty thousand a year tax free could be a comfortable living, especially in the Caribbean. Maybe he would find some little fishing village where he was king. He could put the boat to work for him too. Tugs were needed everywhere.
He scrawled her name across the envelope as he took another swig from the cheap rum bottle and then lay down on the filthy sheets of the single bed and drifted off. But, not before setting an alarm so he could meet the guy with the boat to take him back to the island before dawn.
Secrets of Sandhill Island Page 8
