Take It to the Grave Part 3 of 6

by Zoe Carter

  “Sarah? Sarah, are you even listening to me?”

  “He’s my stepbrother. I would have told you, but I didn’t realize he was still in the picture. I had no idea my mother was in touch with him.” With all of those feelings and memories bubbling up to the surface, I don’t trust myself to say his name out loud again, especially in front of her. “I haven’t spoken to him in forever. Not since we were kids.”

  “It seems you haven’t spoken to quite a few people. How could you not have told your mother about Elliot? I understand mothers and daughters can have their differences, but he’s her grandchild.” The child in question waves a dimpled hand at her, but she’s in no mood to be charmed. “And Warwick—why didn’t you tell her you were married? I always assumed she wasn’t at the wedding because she couldn’t attend, for whatever reason. And now I find she wasn’t invited. Please explain, because I must admit I’m confused.”

  I can just imagine telling Mother about my marriage to Warwick. Alice would have been so proud.

  “How did you meet him, honey?”

  “Well, Mom, he was my best client and I was getting a little tired of having the shit beat out of me all the time, so it seemed like a good idea. Oh, and by the way, I’m an escort. Sorry I didn’t mention it before.”

  “It’s complicated. There’s a lot of history between us.”

  Eleanor straightens, lifting her chin. “This party may not mean anything to you, but it’s extremely important to me. Elliot is my only grandchild, and I’m not going to let you ruin his big day. If there are any other surprises coming, I want to know about them—now.”

  My face burns as if she’d hit me. “And I’m his mother. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  Without waiting for an answer, I clutch Elliot to my chest and stalk across the lawn, returning to my guests. I hear conversation and ice clinking as I round the house. Everyone’s moved to the patio, and Emily and Bridget are both fawning over my stepbrother. Bridget is blushing like a schoolgirl. I wonder what I missed.

  “Your brother is quite the character,” Edward says, raising a glass of iced tea in my direction.

  “Stepbrother,” I correct without thinking. Both Caleb and Warwick stare at me. My husband gives me a death glare. For a second I wish I’d stayed with Eleanor.

  “Your gardens are gorgeous,” my mom says. Her color is high, her face flushed and happy. My transgressions have apparently been forgotten. “And this house—everything is so lovely. I have no idea how you manage it—and with a new baby, too.”

  Before it can sink in that my mother is praising me, appreciating me at last, Eleanor cuts through our chatter like a machete. “Sarah has plenty of help. These days it’s all she can do to take care of Elliot, and sometimes she can’t even handle that.”

  Maisey pales. I can’t bear to see Caleb’s reaction, but I don’t miss my mother’s. Alice’s eyes narrow into slits.

  Uh-oh.

  “I find that extremely hard to believe...Ellen, is it?”

  My mother-in-law huffs, drawing herself up to her full height. “Eleanor.”

  “Well, Eleanor, Sarah took care of the entire family after her father died. She cleaned, she cooked, she made sure Maisey got to school and she prevented me from sticking my head in the oven—more than once.” Mother pauses to make sure everyone is paying attention to her. “Sarah has always done the work of ten, so if she has some help now, good for her. She deserves it.”

  In the silence that follows, Maisey catches my eye. Wow, she mouths. Wow is right.

  “Sarah’s nickname was The Little Mother,” Caleb adds, no doubt trying to lighten the poisonous atmosphere. “Her dad always used to call her that.”

  Mom’s face falls, and once again it’s time to change the subject—fast. “Are you two hungry? Because Bridget here makes the best waffles in the world. You’re in for a treat.” Hurrying over to Bridget, I whisper in her ear. “Put a shot of something in my mom’s iced tea. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it’s strong.”

  She nods, disappearing into the house while Emily distributes more water and iced tea to our guests. It’s positively broiling out, and no one turns her away. Soon everyone is chatting again, and even Eleanor appears mollified. She takes the seat next to her husband and Edward kisses her forehead. She leans against him in a rare display of affection. Crisis averted. Finally I can exhale, smoothing Elliot’s hair and kissing him on the head. He shrieks with joy. If it weren’t for my son, I think I’d go mad.

  “Hi, Sarah.” Caleb pulls a chair up to mine, thwarting any chance of escape.

  I should have known I couldn’t avoid him forever. I take the opportunity to get a closer look at him. He hasn’t aged much. He still looks like the same boy who deserted me when I was a teenager.

  There are so many things I want to ask him. Where have you been? Why did you leave us? Why did you buy Mom a house? But the sight of him, sitting near enough that I can smell his cologne, renders me speechless.

  “Hey, big guy. How are you doing?” He addresses Elliot, who blows a spit bubble in response. “Quite the conversationalist, I see.” Caleb grins at me. “He’s beautiful.”

  His tone is casual, but his eyes are anything but. Warwick is most likely watching us, but I’m transfixed by the look Caleb is giving me, unable to move. What is he thinking? Why did he come? Does he still feel anything for me? Elliot chirps, making us both laugh.

  “Thank you.” I hope he can’t tell what effect he has on me, how disconcerted I am. Why is he here? Why now, after all these years?

  “He gets his looks from his mom.” He leans over to kiss my cheek. “You’re absolutely glowing, Sarah. I’ve never seen you look more lovely. Motherhood agrees with you. Warwick is a lucky man.”

  Lowering my head to hide my flushed face, I concentrate on bouncing Elliot in my arms. It’s been so long since anyone complimented my appearance. To think I was embarrassed to have Caleb see me.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along. Alice mentioned the invitation, and I wanted to see my crazy sisters again. Besides, if I hadn’t come, I’d never have met the big guy here.” He tweaks Elliot’s toe, earning a squeal.

  “Of course not, don’t be silly. The more, the merrier.” As we smile at each other, it’s like no time has passed. He’s the same Caleb, the one I could always talk to. Before we’d become lovers, he’d been my best friend. “I’m glad you could come.”

  “Me, too. It’s great to see you.” He moves in to hug me, and Elliot lets loose with another squeal, kicking him in the chest. Caleb tickles his tiny foot. “Oh, you’re the bodyguard, eh? And I thought you were just a baby. My mistake.”

  I smirk. “No one sees him coming.”

  Caleb bursts out laughing. “He sure fooled me.” The naked admiration in his eyes makes me blush again.

  Careful. This is the man who hurt you. Who led you on and then broke your heart. Don’t let yourself get sucked in.

  I scan the veranda for Warwick, and find him sitting in the corner. Maisey is telling him one of her stories, but it’s obvious he’s not listening. His eyes bore into mine, and there’s something dangerous in them.

  I’ve seen that look before.

  He’s going to make me pay.

  Maisey

  I trudged down the path toward the beach, fanning myself with a straw hat Sarah had loaned me. Eleanor had reluctantly postponed the picnic due to my family’s arrival. I’d had a full day and night to adjust to the appearance of my mother and stepbrother, and I thought I was coping quite well, thank you.

  I skipped down a step, lagging a little behind Warwick and Sarah, who was pushing Elliot’s stroller as usual. I’d offered to look after the stroller, just to give Sarah a break, but she’d declined, saying she didn’t mind. Then Eleanor Taylor-Cox had said something about how pushing and pul
ling that small weight might help tone her arms, so I left the subject alone, quietly horrified that my sincere attempt to make things easier for my sister had resulted in providing her in-laws a further opportunity to body-shame her.

  We were all going on a picnic. I know, that’s supposed to sound lighthearted and fun, right? Edward and Eleanor were present, as were Caleb and Alice, along with some other friends who’d arrived for the christening and were staying in town. Some of them were reasonably nice. Most of them were snooty, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I’d see them often once the christening was over.

  I eyed my sister as she walked in front of me. Honestly, I don’t know what the Taylor-Coxes were going on about. Sure, my sister might be a little more curvaceous than I remembered, but she was a mother, and I thought she looked beautiful. I’d always thought my sister was beautiful, but there was something about her now, some inner light, especially when she looked at her son, that was arresting. So she was carrying a couple of extra pounds—she wasn’t plump, she wasn’t overweight, she was obviously exercising up a storm. Again, my sister was gorgeous, with a hunk of a husband, a beautiful baby boy, who was now cooing in his stroller, and a home that had a pathway to their own private beach. Life was good for her.

  Ahead of me, Sarah swerved to avoid a rock, and Warwick pulled her back toward him. For the first time I noticed how my brother-in-law’s fingers dug into my sister’s arm. The skin bulged slightly as his grip tightened. Sarah glanced up at him briefly, then ducked her head.

  I frowned. My sister seemed...cowed. I blinked, uncomfortable at the thought. My sister, the one who’d clutched my hand and told me not to worry, who’d always seemed so brave in the face of whatever nightmare was heading our way, was subdued. Concern tightened my lips.

  No, I didn’t want to be concerned about my sister. I was too busy wallowing in jealousy and self-pity, thank you. Still, Warwick’s grip didn’t lighten, and my sister’s head didn’t rise up to meet his gaze. Cold worry coiled in my gut. Something was wrong. I shouldn’t be the one agonizing over whatever hell was going on with my sister. It should be the other way around. I was the kid sister, the one without a permanent job, who flitted from one country to another. She was always coming to my rescue. But now, I wanted to go rescue her. All was not right with the world, and I didn’t like it, not one bit. When all was not right, I got worried. I got scared. And then I’d turn to Lucy.

  I glanced behind me, and I smiled when I saw the silver fox himself, Edward, treading down the path behind me. Yes, he was eyeing my legs, and probably my ass, too. So the family resemblance extended past the physical. Lucy made me add a little swing to my hips.

  “Have you been out playing tennis again, Edward?” I asked, and it was Lucy’s throaty, flirty little voice that emerged.

  “No.” Edward chuckled. “But maybe I should have,” he said, patting his stomach.

  “Oh, come on, you’re in great shape,” Lucy crooned, and Edward damn near preened. I winked, then hurried up to Warwick and Sarah, inserting myself between them so that Warwick was forced to relinquish his grip on my sister. I curled my arm around his, and gazed up at him, Lucy’s coquettish smile on my lips.

  “Tell me, Warwick dearest, about your job. You must be so good it at.”

  Warwick arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Well, of course! You could have been a movie star, what with those gorgeous baby blues...but you’ve obviously been very smart with your work—I mean, look at this place,” Lucy purred, gesturing back to the house and then to the sea.

  “Oh, well, sure, I work hard, but I also play hard.”

  Lucy giggled. “Of course, because all work and no play would make Warwick a dull boy, and you certainly are not dull.” Lucy tapped him playfully on the arm. “So come on, tell me, what do you do?”

  And just like that, Warwick started to tell me about his work. I asked—or rather, Lucy did, because she’s so much better at this than I am—appropriate questions when there was a lull, but really, the man needed no encouragement to talk about himself. I nodded, trying to look interested when he started talking about funds management and investment portfolios, but got slightly distracted when Alice stumbled on the path in front of us as she leaned over to smell a flower, although she didn’t spill a drop of the drink she was carrying.

  Caleb caught her, though, and my mother’s laugh tinkled in the breeze as he threaded her arm through his, and they walked on, stopping occasionally to sniff or admire a flower, watch a butterfly, chase a lizard...I don’t know. It seemed my mother was wearing her invisible rose-colored glasses, and was pausing in wide-eyed wonder at pretty much everything. Including an interesting shell pattern on the ground that I didn’t have the heart to tell her was seagull poop.

  Caleb, as always, was the perfect gentleman, pausing alongside her to admire seagull poop as though it was perfectly normal and fascinating. His limp was a little more noticeable on the uneven track down to the beach. I noticed Warwick’s talking had ceased.

  Lucy battered her eyelashes at him. “But how do you manage to stay in such good shape?”

  And damned if he didn’t preen just like his father. Warwick started to talk again.

  We continued along the path, sand beginning to creep into my sandals the closer we got to the beach. I looked down at my toes, then slid my gaze across to my sister.

  She was a little more relaxed, a little more at ease. She lifted her face up to the sun, squeezing her eyes closed for just the briefest of moments, a small smile curling her mouth, then she opened her eyes and focused on...Caleb. My sister glanced down at her son in the stroller, maneuvered it over a branch and then looked up again. At Caleb.

  Lucy kept Warwick distracted as my sister kept eyeing the man who was the only thing between my mother walking upright or face-planting in the sand.

  Trudging across the sand was a bit of hard work, and Warwick helped Sarah by lifting the front of the stroller, but we finally found a spot that Eleanor Taylor-Cox deemed suitable for our picnic, in the lee of a sand hill.

  Patrick and Bridget (because what beach picnic is complete without the servants) laid out the blankets, and we sat as they started to pull out the prepared food from the coolers and baskets. I—or rather, Lucy—nodded and waved to some of the other guests. It seemed a little awkward for a few moments, and the conversation lulled as people settled themselves and stared at each other.

  I tilted my head back, holding the borrowed straw hat to my head, closed my eyes and inhaled. “Oh, this is so heavenly,” Lucy stated. “It smells so much better than rotting fish and dirty water.” I cracked open my eyes, and realized I’d caught nearly everyone’s attention, and smiled. Lucy loved this sort of thing. I started to regale them with the story of when I’d fallen into a river in India, and there were so many shudders and groans and pained chuckles, but by the end of it, everyone was laughing. I loved it. Lucy had the knack of entertaining, and she relished the attention.

  I started telling the story about the Greek police, and I watched absently as Elliot gurgled happily on the rug.

  “And then the authorities got involved and suddenly—”

  Alice squealed softly, cuddling him close. “Just like my Frankie,” she said, rubbing her nose against his.

  I stopped talking. For a moment I just stared at my mother, until I saw that everyone was looking at me. Their expressions were a mix of anticipation and confusion, but I couldn’t catch my train of thought. Lucy left me to scramble, disappearing in a puff of shock, and I tried to recover the conversation, but all I could focus on was Alice.

  My mother held Elliot up, smiling at him. “So like my Frankie,” she murmured. Again. And again. I wanted to cover my ears; I wanted to scream at her to stop, to shut up.

  Eleanor sighed, her mouth pulling into a prim little point. “Frankie? Will Frankie be joining us as well for the chri
stening?” I could hear the cool, haughty tone, like a diamond cutting glass, as though waiting for another inconvenient appearance from Sarah’s family.

  Alice smiled sadly and shook her head. “No,” my mother said. “Frankie died.”

  My jaw slackened. Absolute silence rippled throughout the group, my ears ringing with it. Eleanor’s mouth gaped open and closed like one of those dying fish in India, and her cheeks reddened.

  “I—I didn’t know... Sarah never mentioned...” The haughty social matriarch stumbled over her faux paus, and darted a quick glare at my sister as though it was her fault for not telling her every dirty little secret in our family. A movement caught my eye, and Warwick had turned to look questioningly at my sister, his surprise evident.

  God, we need to stop this, Lucy whispered.

  Lucy was back, over her shock. This was horrible, a train wreck of cosmic proportions. I needed to shut my mother up, stop her from taking us down that bad acid trip.

  Shut her up, Maisey, Lucy warned.

  “Why don’t I mix us some cocktails?” My voice was strident in its chirpiness, but the whole vibe of the group had lowered, and even I heard how clumsy and out of place my query was.

  Eleanor quickly recovered her composure, and leaned over to place her hand on Alice’s knee. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  Alice cradled Elliot in her lap, and he squirmed. Alice placed him back in the stroller. “I am. I’m so surprised Sarah didn’t tell you about our Frankie. He was such a lovely little brother.” Sarah reached down and picked Elliot up.

  I stared in horror as my mother repositioned herself, leaning to one side.

  Tell her to stop, Maisey, Lucy pleaded.

  I shook my head. How?

  “He was such a perfect angel,” Alice said quietly, a sad little smile on her face as she gazed around at the group of people she’d only met that morning, for crying out loud. “He was so good, such a content little baby.”