A Family of Strangers

by Emilie Richards

  I watched her walk away, and despite wishing differently, I knew that my special relationship to Wendy might be taking a hard hit in the near future.

  * * *

  By the time I arrived, Holly and Noelle were ready to go. Maybe Bismarck was happier to see me than they were, but they were happy enough. I admired the newly decorated Christmas tree, gave the elder Graceys hugs, and shepherded the girls and the dog to my car before Mom could recite another list of things to do for them in the coming week.

  “I thought Mommy might come home with you,” Noelle said, as I pulled away from the house.

  She sounded so forlorn I had to clear my throat. “No, sweetie. She’s still away.”

  “She needs to come home.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Holly said.

  “Holly, Noelle’s entitled to her feelings,” I said.

  “So am I!”

  I wondered if taking Holly aside when we got home would turn up new reasons for her anger. A certain amount seemed reasonable, possibly even healthy, but Holly was moving well beyond that.

  I asked them about the cookies they’d baked with my mother. I hadn’t yet checked out the tin she’d sent home with us. Neither of them answered.

  I continued trying to find a way to lighten the mood. “How did Bismarck do?”

  “He’s limping,” Noelle said.

  “Is he?”

  “She just said he was,” Holly said.

  “Indeed she did.” I thought of an idea that would be good for Biz and me, since it might channel Holly’s energy in a better direction. “I’ll tell you what, let’s eat, and then maybe we can take Bismarck to Teo’s to see if something’s wrong. You can see where all the dogs live. Sound good?”

  A grunt from the backseat was answer enough.

  Inspired, I called Teo from the car and he said it was fine to stop by, so I offered to come right away and bring dinner. Twenty minutes later the girls and I were at Confidence K-9s.

  Teo met us out front, accompanied by a little blond girl Holly’s size. She was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and unlike every stitch my nieces owned, her clothes didn’t match.

  “Meet Fiona,” Teo said, “Janice and Harry’s daughter. I’m babysitting while they do some shopping.”

  Fiona said a shy hello, then she asked the girls if they wanted to see her house and pet beagle. They were off like a shot.

  Teo was dressed like Fiona, only his clothes were cleaner. “I paid her so I could get you alone.”

  “They’ll be okay?”

  “We’ll walk over in a minute. I thought we’d head to my place. I have a table and silverware.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. Strictly grocery store deli food.”

  “Manna from heaven.” He went to the rear door of my car where Bismarck was still sitting between the two booster seats. He gave a command, and Bismarck gingerly stepped down to the floor and even more gingerly to the ground.

  Teo stood back and called him. Bismarck was indeed limping. Teo scrambled to the ground and examined his old friend. The longer the examination took, the worse I felt. I hadn’t been at my parents’ house to supervise, and I shouldn’t have trusted anyone else to make sure he was okay.

  “I don’t think it’s serious,” Teo said at last. He pushed away from the ground and got to his feet, gracefully enough, but with effort. “I think he pulled a muscle. I’ll give you some meds for the inflammation. Just make sure he takes it easy for the next week or so. He’s not a young dude anymore. If the limping gets worse, I’ll take him to the vet for an X-ray.”

  “I was gone for the weekend, and he was at my mother’s house with the girls.”

  He pulled a treat out of his pocket and held it out for Bismarck. “And somehow you still had time to slip in a visit to Seabank’s most notorious biker bar.”

  I jammed my hands in my pockets. “How did you know that?”

  “Bad news travels fast.” When I didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Remember Jim, the kennel tech I introduced you to? Well, he remembered you, and he happened to be there Friday night.”

  I had planned to tell Teo about my escapade, a decision I’d made on my trip home. So now I did, leaving out nothing. “And don’t tell me I should have taken you with me,” I finished. “If you’d been there, no guy would have talked to me.”

  “You didn’t have to invite me, Ryan. You’re a big girl. But it would have been nice to know where you were heading, in case you disappeared, like your sister.”

  The fight went out of me. “We’re revisiting old issues, aren’t we?”

  “No. But when you put your life in danger after you’ve already involved me, it would be nice to know where you are. You see the difference between that and me timing your trips to the grocery store, right?”

  I saw his point, but I had to make sure he was able to live with what I’d learned. “I’m not telling the sheriff’s office I saw the guy who attacked me. For one thing, it’ll be my word against his. But whatever the circumstances, this guy knows Wendy. And I don’t want to draw attention to her disappearance. Can you live with that?”

  “For now.”

  “Well, there’s more, if you want to hear it.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I plowed into my talks with Sophie and Sebastian, ending with my grocery store coffee date.

  He let me finish before he spoke. “You’re having trouble with this, and that makes sense. You’re starting from zero, and now you have to get up to speed again before you make progress.”

  “I’ve told myself to take Wendy’s story at face value, that if she’s been lying, she’s only trying to protect our family. Now?” I stopped, shaking my head.

  “Do you trust me?”

  I trusted him completely, but I didn’t trust that he had Wendy’s best interests in mind. When I didn’t answer, he folded his arms. “You’re going to have to decide, Ryan. Because, like I said, you’ve involved me already. I’m not risking my life or my dog’s life again by not being up to speed. Either you tell me everything you learn, so I can help, or you tell me nothing. We can call this relationship quits now, and you can leave Biz right here, with no hard feelings. Or you can take your chances with both of us.”

  “Can’t we spend time together, even if I don’t share everything?”

  “This thing with Wendy is too big a part of your life to shut me out. We can partner on this, and see where that leads. Or you can be completely on your own. I’m not going to push. You choose.”

  “She’s my sister,” I said, for the third time that weekend. And maybe three really is a charm, because this time as the words escaped, I realized that sisterhood was no excuse.

  I stepped closer and rested my fingertips on his arm. My hands felt like ice, but his skin was warm and pliant. “She’s my sister, but you’re the one who can help me get to the bottom of whatever’s going on. No more secrets. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “Let’s get the girls and eat. I’m starving.”

  The drama seemed to be finished, and I was grateful. “I brought chicken and a couple of salads. Nothing exciting.”

  “The company’s not half bad.” He draped an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me close.

  I looked up at him, deciding. Then I rose on tiptoe and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly. “The company’s stellar,” I said at last.

  We walked to Janice and Harry’s house together, his hip brushing mine and my heart thumping in time to our footsteps.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I woke up on Monday morning resolved to unmask the real Wendy Gracey Wainwright. If I couldn’t do it face-to-face, maybe I could get a clearer picture from people who had known her. My Wendy was thoughtful and caring. The picture Ella had painted was much darker, but I recognized some of it. Wendy was determined to succeed, and had been from the time she was a small child, but at what price? If
somebody got in her way, would she use any means to stop them? And what might that say about Vítor Calvo’s death in Santa Fe?

  I couldn’t ask my parents if their older daughter was ruthless and destructive. In so many ways they had built their lives around Wendy’s perfection. But was that the real story?

  After breakfast I went upstairs to shoo my nieces into the car and found Holly sitting on her bed, cell phone to her ear.

  “Daddy, we miss you. Can’t you come home?”

  I stopped in the doorway. Noelle was cuddled next to her sister, tears streaking her cheeks.

  Holly was pleading now. “But we miss you, and it’s Christmas!”

  Galvanized, I moved across the room. “Let me talk to him when you’re done.”

  I let her finish the conversation, which moved from begging to resignation. At last Holly thrust the phone in my direction. “Bryce?” I asked.

  Reception was less than perfect, but I heard his voice between crackles. “Ryan? Is that you? Holly said you were there.”

  “Yes, will you hold on a minute? Please don’t hang up.”

  I told the girls to get in the car, and for once, they didn’t argue. Both were sadly subdued. When they were out of earshot, I put the phone back up to my ear.

  “Bryce, what’s going on?”

  More crackling. “Where is Wendy?”

  By now I could teach a course on the art of half-truths. “She ran into difficulties while she was away for work, but she should be back soon. I told her I’d watch the girls in the meantime. She didn’t want Mom and Dad to cope with them right now. You know my dad had heart surgery?”

  “How’s he doing?”

  Bryce hadn’t called my parents. My mother had used national security to explain his uncharacteristic disinterest, but I wondered if sneaking around the ocean, polishing nukes, was a real excuse, or if Bryce had purposely avoided them.

  “He’s recovering,” I said. “Slowly but surely.”

  “I’m glad. I like your parents.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if you and my sister like each other. I heard the message you left on the house phone. If I’m going to stay here and take care of your girls, I’d like to know what’s going on.”

  “I’m surprised Wendy hasn’t told you. We’re getting a divorce. It’s been in the works for a while, although she’s suddenly dragging her feet.”

  If my parents had known about a divorce, I was sure I would know by now, too. Had Wendy hoped the problems would blow over? Worse, was she afraid to explain what had happened?

  I asked the one question no polite person would, but after all, I’m a journalist. “Why?”

  “That’s our business.”

  “Not anymore. I’m taking up the slack while you do your job, which makes it pretty hard to do my own, by the way. At the very least, I need more information, so I can figure out how to deal with the girls when they find out.”

  “Let’s just say your sister has plans for her life that don’t include me,” he said after a long silence.

  “What kind of plans?”

  “That’s all I intend to say.”

  “Do her plans include her daughters?”

  Silence again, then a barely audible sigh. “That’s negotiable.”

  “Negotiable? With money?”

  “I have to go. I’m only in port temporarily.”

  “I need to be able to reach you if something happens here, Bryce. You may have an important job, but you’re their father, and Wendy’s almost impossible to get hold of right now.”

  He didn’t ask why. He didn’t even seem surprised, as if whatever inexplicable actions Wendy took these days didn’t matter. “You can email me.” He rattled off an address that was just short enough to remember.

  “I’ll send you my cell number and email address,” I said. “Please stay in touch.”

  “Take care of my girls. And thank you.” He disconnected.

  I grabbed what I needed for the day and found my nieces in the car. I hoped the Mrs. Englishes had something fun planned.

  By the time I dropped them off, I knew where I wanted to start my quest. I did a quick search on my cell phone and found a woman named Claire Durant listed as one of two assistant principals at Seabank High. She looked to be about Wendy’s age, an attractive African American woman with penetrating dark eyes. I wasn’t going to win a sleuthing award. The other possibility was an older white male.

  I decided not to call for an appointment. Instead I stopped and bought two lattes, one for me and one for my new best friend Claire.

  I hadn’t attended Seabank High, so the building was unfamiliar. After showing ID and explaining my reason for being there to the security guard, I found my way to the office. The high school opened later than my nieces’ school, so few students were milling about.

  The woman at the front desk looked like she’d lost all her illusions. She wasn’t impressed when I explained I hoped to see Claire before school began.

  “She’s probably getting organized for the day. Would you like to make an appointment?”

  I flashed my dimples. “I won’t take up much of her time. I’ll be in and out, I promise.”

  “Why do you want to see Mrs. Durant?”

  I played my trump card. “I’m a journalist, and I have some questions about a former student.”

  “I—” The secretary looked up, and then beyond me. “Mrs. Durant, this young lady would like to see you. Do you have time?”

  I turned and saw a more stunning version of the woman pictured on my cell phone. Claire Durant wore a red-and-black dress, with oblong gold hoops in her ears that set off a pixie haircut.

  I set the lattes on the counter and held out my hand. “I’m Ryan Gracey. You went to school with my sister, Wendy.”

  She stared at me a moment, not as if she were trying to place me, but more as if she were trying to absorb me. The sensation was an odd one, and I wondered what had triggered it.

  When she finally extended her hand, the handshake was the best kind, firm but not bruising. I grabbed one of the lattes and held it out to her. “I thought you might like one of these while we chat.”

  She smiled a little and took it. “What can I help you with?”

  “It’s a bit personal.”

  The smile died a fraction, and her gaze flicked to the clock to our right, then back. “I only have a few minutes.”

  “She’s a journalist,” the secretary warned.

  “I am,” I agreed, “but this is off the record.”

  “This way.” Claire Durant lifted a section of counter and ushered me into an office at one side of the reception area. I was happy when she closed the door.

  I had prepared a story, this time an all-out lie because I was feeling a little desperate. “Thanks for seeing me. You did go to school with Wendy, right?”

  She sat behind her desk and motioned me to the chair in front of it. “We were in drama club together, and probably a few classes.”

  “So you knew her pretty well?”

  Her smile was perfunctory, more of a placeholder than an expression of delight. “More or less.”

  “Did you know she’s living in Seabank again? Temporarily, at least. She’s working at Gracey Group, and she wanted to be closer to our parents.”

  “I think I heard she was back.”

  I was glad I wasn’t a tardy Seabank student, or one who’d been caught cheating on a test. I launched into my lie. “I want to have a surprise party for her. It’s been so long since she lived here, she’s kind of a fish out of water.” I realized that was a mistake. No one would ever describe my sister that way.

  Claire seemed to know that. “Has she made any attempt to find her old friends?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just home temporarily. But when I talk to her, she seems lonely.” That, too,
was out of character, so I hurried on. “She has little girls, so she’s not getting out a lot, and of course, the job. So I’m hoping I can gather a few old friends for a surprise party, and help her reestablish contacts.”

  “That’s an interesting approach.”

  “I was hoping you might be able to put me in touch with some of her high school friends. I don’t have her yearbook, so I’m fairly clueless. And besides, I don’t know who stayed in town and who didn’t.”

  Claire didn’t reply. I hoped she was forming a guest list for my counterfeit surprise party, but I was doubtful. “Can you help?” I prodded.

  She shook her head, and the hoops in her ears swayed gracefully. “Why are you really here, Ryan?”

  That took me by surprise. “I told you. I’d like to find some of her old friends.”

  “Her old boyfriends?”

  I had no idea where she was leading. “Not particularly.”

  “Do you have a personal reason for wanting to know who Wendy went out with in her senior year?”

  I tried to process this odd turn in our conversation. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Claire picked up a pen and tapped it on her desktop. “I don’t think this is anything I can be involved with.”

  “I’m sorry. I just thought you might know some people who’d like to see Wendy again.”

  “I don’t know who she was close to. She always had a lot of boyfriends.” She emphasized “lot.”

  “I don’t think I ever said boyfriends. She’s married.” Although not for long, if Bryce had his way.

  Claire tapped harder. “I’m afraid you came to the wrong place. Secrets aren’t easy to keep, but I do my best. You’d be surprised how many I know. High school can be a hotbed of intrigue.” She dropped the pen—or more accurately flung it to the desktop—and stood. Obviously we were finished. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  She started around her desk, to usher me out, then she paused, as if considering something. She went to the nearest wall and bent to search a crowded bookcase. Finally she pulled out a hardcover volume and thrust it at me.

  “You said you don’t have her yearbook. This might answer some questions then. One of our parents found this copy at a yard sale and bought it for me. It’s our class yearbook, Wendy’s and mine. I have my own copy at home. You can have this one.”