“Kellan, do you want something to read?” Susan asked. “We have plenty of books on the shelf.”
Kellan didn’t answer. This apparent habit of his, to ignore questions, poured gasoline over Susan’s already-present anger.
“Cool. Well, just don’t get in anyone’s way, I guess.” Her voice was heavy with snark.
Around five-thirty, Lola and Christine both arrived at the house. Both had been pre-warned about the Kellan Situation, and Christine had armed herself with pizza, bags of chips, and a two-liter of soda. A few minutes later, both Zach and Tommy arrived, and they decided to set up another table outside on the back porch to allow for the large family to gather. Just as the pizza boxes were opened, Amanda entered the house. Again, she grumbled to Susan that she couldn’t believe they missed another wedding dress appointment. She then turned a sharp gaze toward Kellan, who sat swiping his thumb across his phone screen in a bored manner.
“If only he knew.” Amanda clucked.
“Shh. Don’t worry about it,” Susan returned.
Audrey bucked up from the couch a few minutes later. She rubbed her eyes, then fled up the stairs to check on Max, who’d apparently slept right along with her. Ten minutes later, she had him propped up against her as she eased through the growing crowd of Sheridan family members. Max buzzed his lips playfully and blinked those big, beautiful blue eyes. Kellan glanced up at him and then turned his eyes toward Audrey.
“How old are you?” he demanded of Audrey, insinuating she was too young to be a mom.
Audrey wasn’t exactly the kind of person you messed with. She could take it and give it.
“Twenty. And I’m guessing by the acne on your chin that you’re around fifteen?”
Kellan’s face flushed crimson, then almost turned to stone at her retort. He returned his gaze to his phone and muttered words nobody could hear. Audrey caught Susan’s eye and said, “Who’s the teenage dirtbag?”
“Come on, everyone. Let’s go outside,” Susan said. There was brewing chaos, and the eye of the storm seemed to be Kellan Frampton. She was suddenly reminded of Chuck, Scott’s brother, who now served many years in prison for stealing from many island residents, including the Sunrise Cove.
Kellan arrived at the table last. He grunted as he slipped into the last seat, there between Tommy and Amanda. Amanda glowered as he sat. She took a small bite of pizza and looked on the verge of saying exactly what was on her mind. Others at the table, however, sprung into easy conversation. Lola talked about the article she was now in the midst of writing, which discussed the new Hesson House, a mansion-turned-boutique hotel, slated to open on the coast over by Edgartown in July.
“You should see the way Olivia Hesson is transforming that place,” Lola said. “You can feel the history in every room, but it also has this really unique, modern flair. I fell in love with it.”
Zach and Christine were bubbling with excitement with everything they discussed. It would be a huge year for them, as they planned to take over care of Baby Max in the fall and then welcome a baby of their own.
“Zach needs a whole lot more practice on the diaper thing,” Audrey said as Max cooed in his little baby carrier near the door. “Last time, I swear you asked where the duct tape was to secure it.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “That is a gross exaggeration. Yes, I needed to do a re-do that time, but I think there was a design flaw on that particular diaper.”
“Oh, sure. Just like a man to blame his failure on someone else,” Audrey teased.
Kellan groaned and leaned back, dropping his slice of pizza back on the plate. All eyes turned toward him, the stranger at the table.
“Is something wrong?” Susan finally asked.
Kellan rolled his eyes. “I just don’t know why we have to talk about this stupid baby stuff. And also, this pizza is disgusting. Is this really the best the island can do? Because it’s even worse than what we had the other night.”
Christine’s jaw dropped. Lola placed her napkin over her mouth, seemingly to hide her laughter. Susan’s rage returned in a flash.
But it was Wes who spoke first.
“Excuse me, young man, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave the table if you’re going to be this rude and disrespectful.”
All eyes turned to Wes. He glared at Kellan with an infinite amount of stoicism. Kellan furrowed his brow and jumped up from the table, as Wes added, “You will not talk to anyone in this house with such lack of respect again. Do you understand me?”
Kellan grumbled and stepped toward the door. Once inside the house, he slammed it shut, then stomped up the stairs. A few minutes after, there was the sound of a stereo, probably the one in Christine’s old bedroom. Nirvana cranked too loud.
“Well, at least he appreciates my old music collection,” Christine said with an awkward smile.
“Idiot,” Amanda murmured.
“He’s just a kid,” Zach affirmed.
“Yes, but he’s not our kid,” Lola said.
“He will be soon enough.” Susan heaved a sigh and turned her eyes out toward the water. She had no idea what to do about this. The kid had nowhere else to go, but he was certainly a thorn in her backside.
Chapter Seven
Scott arrived to pick Kellan up just after eight. Susan stood off to the side of the driveway with her arms crossed over her chest as Kellan leaped into Scott’s truck. Scott looked at Susan with guilt marring his face. He knew he’d messed up.
“I’m so sorry about today, Susan,” he said. He reached for her elbow and held it tenderly. “I really wish I could have been there.”
Susan gave a half-hearted shrug. “He seems really unhappy here.”
“He seems just really unhappy everywhere,” Scott returned sadly. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t talk to me.”
“Do you think therapy is an option?”
“He is resistant to the idea. And his mom hates when I bring it up,” Scott said. “But I think it’s one of the only ways forward.”
Susan allowed silence to brew between them.
“I just hope you know that I love you. And I want everything to go the way we planned,” Scott said.
“I love you, too.”
Scott pressed a kiss onto her lips. He then jumped back toward his truck and eased it back down the driveway. Susan lifted a hand to wave goodbye, but neither Scott nor Kellan noticed. She shuddered with fear. She hated that she was suddenly reminded of the anxiety she had felt when she’d learned Richard was cheating on her with Penelope, the secretary. How foolish she’d felt.
Back inside, Lola appeared from the kitchen and handed her a glass of wine. Susan dropped her shoulders forward. “I guess you could tell I needed this?”
“Ha. We all did after that kid stormed in here with all that attitude.”
“I don’t like him,” Audrey said from the couch.
“Audrey, you don’t like anyone,” Amanda returned with a funny smile.
“True. But especially him. He’s got this ‘I’m so troubled, woe is me,’ vibe, which I can’t stand. I remember kids like him in high school. They were such outcasts because they wanted to be outcasts,” Audrey said.
“I mean, he is really troubled. And he’s Scott’s son. So I think we have to have a little more understanding. The world makes fun of him and tears him apart. Probably, he’s just built up a lot of boundaries and walls,” Susan tried.
Christine sat on the floor near Audrey’s feet. She pressed her palms together and nodded; her eyes were far away. “I can only speak about how it was for me, being a kind of outcast back in high school. It was not easy, and you think everyone is out to get you.”
“But did anything help? Anything that anyone did?” Susan asked.
Christine shook her head. “Honestly, it took me decades to figure out how to get out of that mode.”
“Ugh. It’s going to be a long road, isn’t it?” Susan said.
Nobody knew how to respond. Susan admitted she was beat; she brought
her glass of wine upstairs with her, where she changed into a pair of flannel pajamas and collapsed on the bed. It had now been nearly an entire week since she and Scott had shared a bed. How she craved the warmth of his body and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She loved the thump-thump of his heartbeat when she pressed her ear against him. And when he awoke, sometimes he told her the events of his dreams in a manner that reminded her of an excited young man and not a man in his mid-forties.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Susan called one of Lola’s friends, the journalist who had worked on the Marcie Shean case in Boston. Gretchen Conners was a fast-talking journalist from the Midwest who had arrived in Boston ten years previous and taken the newspaper world by storm. When she greeted Susan, she said immediately, “Why don’t you tell that little sister of yours to come on back to Boston? Journalism has fallen behind without her here. She was one of my biggest rivals, you know.”
Susan grinned into the phone. “I can imagine that, actually. She’s quite a spitfire.”
“She says she’s found happiness on Martha’s Vineyard, whatever happiness is,” Gretchen said. “Anyway, she also told me that you have a very famous client.”
“Yes. Sad to say, that famous client isn’t catching any springtime sunshine here on the Vineyard considering she’s on house arrest.”
“Yes. Well. How can I help you? The trial begins soon, so I assume I’ll be seeing you quite a bit out here.”
“I would love any insights you have, considering you’ve been following the case from the start,” Susan said. “In regard to the boyfriend. I can’t get a good read on his social life.”
“You know, I interviewed a few people at this burger place he worked at. They were some real shady characters. Not many of them were willing to give me much information,” Gretchen said. “They don’t tend to trust journalists, you know. Can’t understand why.” She snorted into the phone.
“I’m guessing they don’t have much trust for lawyers, either,” Susan returned.
“Especially since you’re trying to prove the apparent accused didn’t do it,” Gretchen said. “And from what I can tell, anyone affiliated with the boyfriend isn’t too keen on our girl Marcie.”
Susan and Gretchen spoke for a number of minutes. Gretchen gave a few references, including information about where to find this burger place, then said she would send over all of her notes. Susan thanked her and then checked the time. She had arranged to meet Marcie again in a half-hour. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she hustled to her car. She thought about bringing Marcie something from the outside world — something she couldn’t get for herself, as she was under house arrest. As she had extra time, she stopped over at the Frosted Delights bakery, where she purchased a maple-glazed donut from a smiling Jennifer Conrad.
“Hope you’re doing good these days, Susan! You look healthy as ever,” Jennifer said.
Obviously, it was common knowledge that Susan had had that bout of cancer. Sometimes, Susan wished the island wasn’t so gossip-centric. Back in Newark, there had been other things to care about than other people’s business.
Still, it was cozy, knowing so many islanders looked out for you.
By noon, Susan found herself again in Marcie Shean’s bedroom. She placed two donuts on a small table off to the side. “I thought maybe you’d like a snack.” She tried on a smile, which soon fell flat when Marcie didn’t return it.
“My appetite is a bit weird these days,” Marcie told her. Her cheekbones protruded from her porcelain skin as she folded her arms over her chest.
“Understandable.” Susan cranked open her folder to find a number of questions, which she planned to ask Marcie. As she reached for a pen, her eyes found a photograph on the far desk, which showed Marcie and her dead boyfriend — much younger, much happier, and much more alive. Susan pointed her pen at it and asked, “When was that?”
Marcie turned and blinked at the photo. Susan looked for some sense of alarm or sadness or fear, but instead, the girl just said, “He came to the island about five years ago. We went to the Round-the-Island Sailing Competition. He was in love with the boats. He talked about getting rich and having one of our own.”
Susan furrowed her brow. It was mesmerizing listening to this girl discuss the man who no longer lived. It was as though she spoke about someone she had met a long time ago and hadn’t caught up with lately.
Maybe she’d created a boundary in her mind to protect herself from sadness. It was difficult to say. Susan, too, had created similar boundaries after she had left the island. Her mother’s death had nearly destroyed her.
That moment, there was a crashing sound from downstairs. Susan bolted toward the door and opened it as the sound of a screaming Mr. Shean billowed over the staircase.
“YOU IDIOT! WHERE DID YOU PUT THE REMOTE?”
Susan’s heart raced. She yanked herself around to find Marcie, who hadn’t fidgeted at all with the sound.
“He gets angry,” Marcie said with a shrug.
“Did he throw something?”
“Maybe. Probably the coffee table. He’s done it before. If you look closely, one of the legs is connected with duct tape.”
Susan shivered. “He’s never hit you or your brother, has he?”
“No. It’s mostly just verbal. And it’s not like I can blame him right now. Our family is under a lot of stress.” Marcie shrugged as she lifted her hand toward one of the donuts. Slowly, she ripped off a very small piece and then placed it delicately on her tongue.
“I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU THINK WE CAN LIVE LIKE THIS,” Mr. Shean continued to blare downstairs.
“It must be awful, being back in this house after so much time away,” Susan said softly. Against her better judgment, she returned the door to the latch and closed it.
“It’s not so bad,” Marcie said. “At least all the problems paying rent flew out the window with the arrest. Gosh, we were so broke for so long and we went to bed hungry all the time. He always said he could get us out of the hole we’d dug ourselves, but I wasn’t so sure. And now, I guess, he has his own hole to live in. And I have my own, too. Funny how that works, isn’t it? You can have every problem together and then suddenly, you’re strangers. One living, one dead.”
The girl’s words traveled in Susan’s brain as she drove back toward Oak Bluffs later that afternoon. It grew increasingly unclear to her whether or not she thought Marcie had murdered her boyfriend. In fact, her father’s clear violent tendencies hinted toward violence in the daughter, as well. These sorts of behaviors were passed down through families. She knew that well.
But she couldn’t give power to this thought. Not with the trial approaching. It barreled toward her.
Chapter Eight
The knock at Susan’s office door wasn’t Amanda’s. Amanda’s was loud, purposeful, the kind that demanded Susan’s immediate attention. This one was softer, delicate — yet urgent. And when Susan opened the door to find Scott Frampton before her, holding a bouquet of red roses, her smile was electric with shock and excitement. Why had she ever doubted him? He was her knight in shining armor. She had always known deep down that he would mend everything and ensure everything was all right. This was just his way.
“They’re beautiful,” she breathed as she nestled her nose between the petals.
Scott wore a pair of dark jeans and a dark button-down shirt. One of his large hands nestled against the base of her back as he led her into her office. Once inside, he shut the door closed and pressed her against the door to kiss her properly. It was the kind of kiss that left her woozy, her head spinning, and her knees loose. In those moments, she wasn’t a criminal defense lawyer or a soon-to-be evil stepmother; she was just Susie, the girl Scott had fallen in love with about thirty years before.
“To what do I owe the honor?” Susan asked as she grinned sheepishly.
Scott’s hand held the back of her head. His eyes glowed with love for her. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I�
�ve missed you, too.”
Scott heaved a sigh and stepped back. “I told Kellan that I plan to take you out for dinner tonight. A proper date. Are you up for that?”
Susan nodded. “Yes. Of course.” She paused, then added, “But if you want Kellan to come, it’s really okay.”
“No. I think we need some distance from each other. And if fifteen isn’t old enough to stay home alone, I don’t know what is.”
SUSAN DRESSED IN A little swanky black dress, which hit her knees and surged down her breasts beautifully. When she appeared downstairs at the Sheridan house to await Scott’s pick-up, Audrey wolf-whistled, and Aunt Kerry, who hovered over a big pot of seafood chowder, said, “Hubba, hubba.” Susan rolled her eyes.
“You girls are shameless,” she quipped.
“Sorry. Didn’t know I stepped into an episode of America’s Next Top Model,” Audrey said.
“Where are you off to?” Aunt Kerry asked. Her spoon clanked against the base of the pot as she stirred.
“Just dinner with Scott.”
“He has a lot to make up for, throwing this boy into the mix,” Aunt Kerry said.
Susan longed to insist that everything would be all right — that Kellan wouldn’t throw a wrench into her beautiful plans. But at the moment, she wasn’t so sure, and she didn’t want to seem foolish. She shrugged and said, “Whatever will be, will be, right?”
“Kind of the Sheridan motto at this point,” Audrey agreed, as Baby Max wrapped a hand around her finger and tugged hard.
Scott arrived at the Sheridan house a moment later. He hustled up the steps as Susan entered the warm May evening, and his eyes swelled at the sight of her beauty. When he stepped toward her, his cologne wafted over her, and something in her stomach tightened with excitement. His hand dropped to the base of her back as he stepped closer to her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just stay in?” Scott asked with a smile.
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