Amelia shook her head and started toward the door. “Yeah, thanks. I get it. I just meant—”
“Oh, no. I know what you meant. You meant that you didn’t want to laugh at Jimmy and your joke of a relationship.” Amelia whipped around, ready to start a fight, but Megan held her hands up in apology. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That was harsh. True, but harsh.”
“No, I understand, actually. All of you hate Jimmy. Even Dobi hates Jimmy. I’m embarrassed now that I left the poor guy with him. But... ”
“Oh, here we go. More excuses. Amelia, girl. Own it. If you’re going to stay with him, then stop apologizing for him. Stop giving credit to our feelings and start giving credit to yours. Yes, we don't like him. We think you should end it. But if you won't end it, then at least stand up for him. Fight for him. Make us like him."
Taken aback that Megan was, in some bizarre way, validating Jimmy (or, at least, Amelia’s stick-to-itiveness with Jimmy), Amelia cracked a grin. “I think I know where this is coming from,” she answered as they left Clara’s house and headed to Megan’s SUV.
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“Your dirty little secret,” Amelia replied, pinning Megan with a meaningful look.
Megan shook her head. “I don’t have any dirty secrets. I’m honest as they come.”
“Okay, then spill. What are you doing with the dating app?”
Megan shook her black hair back off her shoulders and pointed her key fob at the vehicle. But Amelia wasn’t going to take a beep for an answer. She didn’t get in on the passenger side. Instead, she stood in front of the SUV with her arms crossed.
Hesitating at the driver’s side door, Megan cocked her head. “Nothing. That’s what.”
With that, the raven-haired Hannigan hopped in the front seat and revved the engine.
Amelia wasn’t intimidated by this menacing show of force. Yet, she believed Megan. Her sisters might be imperfect and oddball. But they were honest.
Which, by all accounts, set them apart from their mother.
The late, great Nora Hannigan. Queen of the Country Club. Mother of Girls. Manipulator Extraordinaire.
That was Nora. But that was not her daughters.
***
They pulled up outside the family law offices, and Megan threw the SUV into park.
“I really don’t think we’re going to make any headway without Kate. She’s the executor,” Amelia protested as she chewed on a hangnail.
Megan shrugged. “We’ll try. If we get nowhere, then I’ll send Kate an emergency text.”
With that, they headed in together, Megan in front, pumping her arms purposefully into the quaint building as Amelia strode behind.
“Oh, it’s the Hannigan sisters,” the secretary cooed from her perch down below a tall reception desk.
Megan answered first. “Stevenson. Megan Stevenson.”
Sharon made a face at Megan’s correction. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“She’ll be back to Hannigan soon, anyway,” Amelia added helpfully, but Megan threw her a look. “What?” Amelia asked her sister before stage-whispering to the secretary, “She’s getting a divorce.”
“Now that’s a darn shame.” The woman stood behind the desk and wrung her hands in front of her ample bosom. “I’m terribly sorry to hear it. Divorce is worse than death, they say. I wouldn’t know. My Harry and I have been together since the war.”
Amelia stifled a giggle. Whatever war that woman could possibly be talking about made no sense. And even if it did, using war as a context for the birth of a marriage felt morbid, at best.
She cut in, trying to divert the conversation appropriately. “Ma’am, we’re hoping to see Mr. Matuszewski.”
Michael Matuszewski wasn’t originally from Birch Harbor. His family, however, was. Amelia wondered why he’d come to Birch Harbor at all. Was Detroit overrun with lawyers? Did this guy spend every weekend at the lake? Amelia wondered quite a lot about him.
“Ladies, hello.” His familiar, warm voice boomed at the edge of the hallway. Amelia and Megan looked up.
“Hi,” Megan said, waving a rigid hand.
Amelia smiled. “Hi, Michael.” She could have sworn his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than was appropriate, for their particular circumstances or any, really. Between veritable strangers, a lingering look was almost always indecent. What mattered was whether it was welcome.
Amelia decided it was.
“I was expecting Kate this morning. Are you here waiting for her?”
Megan glanced back at Amelia, and they turned to him together, Megan taking the lead. “Yes and no. Kate sent us ahead of her to reopen the conversation.”
“Come on back. I expected as much.” He waved them toward his office, more casually than the day before. Now, despite the early hour, Michael wore his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was a little less gelled and a little messier. Still, however, he radiated power and control. Two things Amelia had never known a man to possess. After all, she was reared by a strong woman. Their dad had left the picture before Amelia even got to high school.
“Clara,” he began, once they were seated orderly around his desk.
Amelia frowned and glanced at Megan. “Pardon?” she asked.
“You’re going to contest on Clara’s behalf, I presume?”
“Yes,” Megan answered this time, her posture rigid and voice assured. “We’d like to discuss rearranging some things based on the fact that she was entirely left out. And, well, she was Nora’s daughter, I mean.”
Michael arched an eyebrow but answered evenly. “Sure. I understand. With Kate’s blessing, we can move to arrange the proper paperwork in contest against the terms of the estate. Is she on her way, or...?”
Megan and Amelia looked at each other. “She will be, yes,” Amelia replied as Megan pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped away on a text message.
“Should we come back?” Amelia asked, her eyes on Michael now, studying his features, his sharp, lawyerly jaw. His deep gray eyes. He looked like a lawyer. But not, maybe, a small-town lawyer.
“No, no. I am free this morning. Other than an afternoon meeting with the town council, I’m all yours.” There it was. Amelia was positive. He was examining her just as she was examining him. She suddenly felt aware of her crow’s feet. Her bare face and flat hair. Digging in her purse for her lip gloss would be an obvious maneuver. One only an insecure woman would enact.
Her heart thudded in her chest as Megan fumbled with the phone just inches away, but Amelia reached into the deepest recesses of everything she knew about acting and pulled out the confidence of a starlet. A top-billed actress. A Lady Macbeth, even.
“Michael, tell me. What brought you to Birch Harbor originally?” She pricked up the corner of her lip and dipped her chin only just, glaring through her naked, dark eyelashes.
He faltered a bit, and Amelia felt good. Better than she’d ever felt with Jimmy. “My family,” he answered, anchoring his jaw in his hand on top of his desk. She had his full attention.
Amelia’s eyes fell on the lower half of his face. The stubble and full lips. White teeth. “Your parents... or?”
“Yes. This practice was my grandfather’s, actually. My dad moved away and never looked back. But, well, I was curious, and I love the history of the place.”
He was about to carry on, and Amelia was entirely enraptured, but Megan broke in.
“Amelia,” she said, her voice ice cold. “Kate wrote back. She can’t come. She, um—” Megan flicked her eyes up at Michael before staring hard at her sister. “We need to go. Now.”
Chapter 20—Nora
April 4, 1992
The doctor just left.
The girls are fine. That’s as much as I’ll say there.
As for Wendell, well... Wendell is... accepting. He’s accepting, though I don’t know why. I feel angry. Everything was perfect before. Now this. I could punch a hole in the wall, I could. Where was I?
It’s like a recurr
ing dream, but the faces are different.
It’s my fault. I had control and lost it. I let it slip through my fingertips. I was distracted, admittedly. All the work. And all the play. Wendell is mad at me, probably. He should be. I deserve it. IT. Now it’s become a monster. I can’t allow that. It is not an it. Oh! He? She?
Wendell says leave “it” alone. Let go and let God! He’s fine with embracing the natural course of events. He loves me. He loves the girls. To him, there’s nothing more. No reason for a big, bad change. But he has not been down this road before. Not like me.
Lord, Your will is what got us here. I hate to even write this, but I can’t bear it, Lord. You’ve slapped me in the face. It’s unacceptable. Unsustainable. Unfair. Un-everything, Lord.
And yet, I trust You.
Besides! I’m Nora Hannigan, and You made me a planner, and so I have a plan.
Arizona, where Roberta lives. She’s my sister. She’ll help. I haven’t spoken with her yet, because Wendell won’t go. I’m not sure he’ll want us to go, either. He says if I go and take the girls then he’ll stay with his parents. It feels like a threat, but it’s not. He refuses to be alone, of course. He hates to be alone. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t mind this little surprise, this little intrusion. The more the merrier. It’s something Wendell says.
I would say it, too, if I hadn’t already been down this dark and deathly road. I would say it if it were true! But these things never turn out merrily. You know it as well as I do. That’s why it’s a commandment, right, Lord? That’s why you punished me before.
But I can’t stay. Not now. I might come back. If things fall into place, I might come back and resume this life, if Wendell won’t mind if I change the story. I have to change the story.
But if I don’t change the story, what will I do? Or what if Roberta won’t have us? Should we even be traveling? That’s a question for the doctor.
Maybe I’ll buy another place. Something away from town, inland. A farm or something. Or, I could go to Arizona, after all. I could do both! My God, we have the money now. I could do both! Wendell won’t mind a new project. He loves it. He loves us. He wants us to be happy. No, he probably doesn’t care about the shame, but I care. I care for us.
Chapter 21—Megan
Sweeping Amelia out of the office and into the sunny Michigan morning, Megan spoke in hushed tones.
“Kate opened the letter. And that’s why she’s with Matt.”
Amelia’s eyes grew wide. “What was in the letter? How do you know?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure. But why else would she skip the meeting? I think it’s obviously about Clara. And, that’s where we are going. Kate said to meet her at Matt’s house.”
Shaking her head, Amelia spit a few curses. “Why couldn’t Mom just add Clara to the will? What was the problem with that?”
“I don’t know,” Megan replied. “Hopefully we’re about to find out.”
***
Heading to Matt’s house was no easy task. He lived on Heirloom Island, a tiny chunk of land that floated southeast of town, adjacent to Heirloom Cove. They’d first have to go to the ferry, then sit there and grow nauseous for the next half an hour until spilling onto shore amid smells of the ferryman’s sweat-slicked sunscreen and the flapping fumes of a variety of lake birds. The Birch Harbor Ferry wasn’t known for its glamour. It could probably use a makeover, Megan thought to herself.
But as she sat there, next to Amelia, chewing on her thumbnail and imagining the sort of news that Kate was unwilling to reveal on the phone or via text—the sort of news that demanded they take a damn ferry, Megan thought of something else.
There were a ton of people in town. For May, the number seemed significant. Tourists by the droves. Cute bikini-clad girls and handsome tanned guys vying for attention from each other. Some in groups laughing, some paired off, canoodling in the far corners of the boat. It was fascinating. Megan felt like she was a fly on the wall of The Bachelor on location at Lake Huron, Michigan.
Once the ferry docked, Megan and Amelia hung back, waiting for the crowd to thin before them.
Amelia gripped Megan’s hand. “Should we have called Clara?”
“No,” Megan answered, firm. “Let’s wait to see what Kate says. Maybe something good happened.” Megan wasn’t usually the optimistic type, but who knew? Kate and Matt out on the island instead of holed up in that mahogany and leather office? Maybe something good had happened.
They strode along the deck and up to the parking lot, where Kate said she’d meet them. Sure enough, the figure of a slender woman stood erect at the crest of the slight hill, her hand casting a shadow over her face so as to ease the reflection of the sun from off the water.
Kate waved, her fingers flashing up in a lackluster cascade. “Hey,” she said once they were close. “Matt’s house is just up the shore.” She pointed back toward a pretty Victorian.
“Wow,” Megan replied. “I didn’t know he lived on the island.”
“Moved here a few years back. After his divorce.”
Megan and Amelia raised their eyebrows to one another before following Kate on foot less than a mile to his home. Kate didn’t turn around, preferring instead to walk quietly in front of them.
Once there, Megan noticed Matt, pacing his front porch, one hand pushed through his hair, the other gripping a cell phone against his head.
“Is everything okay?” Megan asked, a feeling of alarm clenching her gut.
Kate stopped at the front lawn and waited for them to catch up before answering. “Yes and no. Everyone is fine. But there’s been... a revelation.”
“And Matt is in on this?” Amelia asked, hooking a finger toward him.
Nodding solemnly, Kate let out a sigh. “Yep. Now you two will be. I had to come to him first. I hope... I hope you’ll understand.”
Megan didn’t, really. Her sisters were her blood. Not this local islander single dad who’d written off the Hannigans just as soon as they’d returned to Birch Harbor after their extended desert vacation.
At least, that was Megan’s thirteen-year-old impression of things at the time.
The women strode to the porch, joining Matt as he thanked the person on the other end of the line before hanging up. “Hi, Megan. Amelia.” He nodded his head to each in turn, and they said hello back.
“What’s going on?” Amelia asked. Kate pressed her palms to her eyes and shook her head.
Matt stepped to her and set a hand on her shoulder awkwardly. Megan would have cringed at the gesture, if the situation didn’t seem so dire.
“Let’s go inside,” he suggested, waving a hand back through a yawning front door.
They filed in and each found a spot at an industrial-style kitchen table—all wood and metal and screws beneath the rustic knotty top.
The next words out of Kate’s mouth stunned Megan into silence.
“We can’t contest the will.”
Chapter 22—Kate
1992
The news had rocked the family. Their father had fallen quiet. Their mother turned to ice. Kate had no idea what her parents’ private conversation consisted of.
All she knew is what happened next, a drawn-out succession of events. The last-minute road trip after a hushed phone call with their family doctor. The summer in Arizona with Aunt Roberta. A girls’ summer, their mom had called it. That much proved true.
And of course, before all of that, the breakup with Matt: a tear-stained conversation where they went back and forth and back and forth, both pleading and pushing and blaming. Teen angst at its finest.
But none of that was the worst thing that happened that summer.
The worst thing was losing their dad. It made for a second secret. They returned home, the new baby having fussed and pooped and spat up the whole, long journey back, and he was gone.
At the time, Kate and her sisters believed their mother. They believed that he just... left, that the events of the summer pushed him over the edge.
Upon their return, there were meetings—important ones. She remembered that part as well as anything else. Nora had visited the Actons. The Actons had been in touch with authorities. Everyone settled on a loose agreement: that Wendell Acton took off. Nora eventually painted him a deadbeat, but Kate never felt the woman had believed that. It didn’t make sense, for one, that Nora Hannigan would marry a deadbeat, and, for two, that Nora Hannigan believed her husband had, all of a sudden, turned into a deadbeat. Whatever happened to Wendell Acton rested deep in the heart of Birch Harbor lore. And there it would stay.
Kate never did decide if her father’s fate was related to their vacation. She didn’t think her mother capable of—or interested in—anything insidious. But the timing was too odd. Or, too perfect. He wasn’t that mad. Not to Kate or anyone else.
After the whole thing, the Actons dismissed Nora and her daughters entirely. Holing up in their house, the old, antiquated Birch Harbor lighthouse on the lake, like recluses, until their dying days years later. Kate suspected that her grandparents held her mom accountable. Even Kate sort of held her mom accountable. Amelia and Megan cast blame, too.
But, with time, the town forgot about it. Accepting that some men just leave. And, Wendell Acton was one such man.
Yet, there was a hole in the theory, a detail the investigators and the family didn’t piece together then and maybe never would.
It wasn’t just Wendell who went missing, it was some of his belongings, too.
Things the Hannigans wouldn’t know were missing until years later, when Kate was rummaging around in the basement of the house on the harbor, laying claim to the treasures left to her by their late mother’s estate. An estate so finely tuned, that no one had questioned its flaws. Its inaccuracies.
Kate never would find her father’s wristwatch.
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