The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

Reid took off his sunglasses. “Safely delivered.” His look held all the things the grown-ups would have said to each other if Lily wasn’t present.

  “Thank goodness,” his mother said. Then she held out a hand to Cady, smiling. “Hi. I’m Karen.”

  “I’m Cady. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh! An accent. Very charming.” She shot Reid a glance that Cady couldn’t not see. “And how do you two know each other?”

  Cady held her breath, waiting to see how he would introduce her. “Mom,” he said. “Can we at least get her through the door?”

  “That’s okay,” Cady said. “I’m kind of a hanger-on with Flashpoint.”

  “She adds a bit of class,” Reid said. It seemed to Cady that his voice was only half-joking.

  “You’ll have your work cut out for you after yesterday’s disaster.” Karen gave her a wry smile. “Come in. I hope you like pancakes.”

  Lily ran ahead, yelling out for her Poppa. They followed her into an airy, tiled entranceway, then down a few stairs into a huge living room. It was decorated in pale neutrals, but the cushions, accessories and artwork were all in bright, uplifting colors. On the opposite side was an entire wall of windows, looking out onto a spectacular view of green, tree-clad hills. Behind its unassuming frontage, the house was a stunner.

  “This is so beautiful,” Cady said.

  Karen glowed. “Thank you. It’s been a labor of love, over many years.” She adjusted a white potted orchid sitting on a low metal table, turning it just a smidge, then another, until she was satisfied.

  “That’s a gorgeous table,” Cady said. It had a geometric lattice top that shone in the light, and delicate tapering legs with a fine grainy texture.

  Karen smiled. “You have a good eye. That’s my favorite piece of furniture. It’s by a local artist. A one-off. Pewter, cast in sand down at Stinson Beach.”

  “Wow. Reid’s sand sculpture, and this…there’s a lot of art going on at the beach round here,” Cady said. “Seems very Californian.”

  Karen and Reid smiled at each other.

  “Yeah, we’re just a bunch of hippies at heart,” Karen said, laughing. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

  Cady looked at Reid. “Do we have time?” She didn’t want to be rude, but this wasn’t getting them any closer to finding Shelby.

  He nodded. “We do. Go on. You’ll probably like it.”

  “Probably!” said his mother. “Cheeky. Never have boys,” she added to Cady.

  Cady was glad no reply seemed expected to that. Reid just laughed and made his excuses, saying he had some things to check, and Cady set off with Karen on the tour. The house stepped down in three levels, curving around the contour of the land. Each level looked out on a slightly different vista of hills, trees and valleys. As they went from room to room, Karen told her that the house had originally belonged to her parents.

  “They bought it new,” she said. “There are years of family history here. It felt strange doing some of the redecorating, as though I was painting over our own stories.”

  “But you’ve done a wonderful job.” And she had—it was elegant but still homely, the kind of place you could host a fabulous party, or just put your feet up and watch TV.

  They went through the kitchen, where Lily was already supervising pancake making, and Karen introduced her to Paul, otherwise known as Poppa. He gave her a wave and a warm smile with his hello, then carried on stirring as per Lily’s instructions.

  When they came into the last room, on the last curve of the house, Cady gasped. From this angle, they had a view right to the water, with a glimpse of the city in the distance.

  “This really is amazing.”

  “I know,” Karen said. “You can see why we’ll never leave.”

  “No, I wouldn’t either.”

  They stood for a moment in comfortable silence, absorbed in the view. Then Karen said, “I’d better go and see if Paul needs rescuing from our mini Gordon Ramsay in there. Would you like to go get Reid? Lily will be mad if he doesn’t eat pancakes with her.”

  Cady laughed. “Okay.”

  Karen went over and opened French doors on the other side of the room. “The cottage is at the end of the garden.”

  “Thanks. See you in a minute, then.”

  She nodded, and Cady stepped outside. She could see the cottage, tucked amongst trees where the garden angled into a point against the slope. It looked older than the house, a tiny inhabitant of the hills from another era. She crossed the grass, passing a trampoline, a playhouse, and a swing. Lily must have fun on her weeks here. She wondered again about Jody, and what the other weeks were like for Lily.

  She came to the front of the cottage, where a well-established wisteria made a roof over a long wooden archway. It wasn’t flowering at this time of year, but the leafy canopy formed a whispery green tunnel.

  She knocked tentatively on the half-open door, and it swung further open. “Hello?”

  She could hear Reid’s voice somewhere inside, so she stepped in. This little hideaway was decorated in a totally different style from the main house. The bottom halves of the walls were paneled in rich wood, and the top halves were painted warm red and hung with countless pictures. Lots of them looked like they could be art from a school-age Reid, and maybe a pre-school Lily. Mismatched sofas and chairs were gathered around a fireplace, instead of a television. Bookshelves took up the whole of the far wall, stuffed with hardbacks, paperbacks, magazines, and all manner of trinkets and mementos. There was no sea view, but to her left, large windows looked out to hills in the distance. It was the kind of place you could just sink into, and never leave. Cady wanted nothing more than to collapse onto a sofa, pull one of the throw rugs over her head, and not come out until everything was over. Until Shelby was safely found, and Flashpoint was back on track, and no one was sick, and she knew what the hell she was doing with her life.

  She followed the sound of Reid’s voice, and found him in a side room, on the phone. He was talking in the kind of blokey, abbreviated manner that guys use with each other when they’re being extra manly. “Yep, sure…Damn, I know…yeah, true, true.”

  The room was obviously his. It was big enough to have an office space set up in one corner, where he stood by a computer. In the center of the room was a king-size bed, and at its foot a big picture window looked out over the garden. The garden he could see as he lay in that very same bed, talking to her late at night about…she felt a hot flush race to her cheeks. Oh, the things she’d almost said and done. The racy, uninhibited things, that only the new Cady would have done. Then again, maybe the old Cady would have too, under the intoxicating influence of Reid. And the truth was, she didn’t know if she was pleased or sorry that she hadn’t had the chance.

  Right then, he saw her there, and raised one eyebrow, still listening on the phone.

  “Pancakes,” she mouthed, pointing in the direction of the house.

  He nodded and held up one finger, so she made a relieved exit, pulling the door to behind her. For a moment she hovered in the main room, settling her imagination, not sure whether to wait or go back up. She had just decided to go, when he opened the door again.

  “Sorry,” he said, tucking the phone in his pocket. “Come in. I just had to make sure of our timing.”

  “That’s okay.” She followed him back in and waited while he shut down the computer, trying not to look at the bed and imagine him in it, doing whatever he was doing as she was on the other end of the line. Damn, why had she come in here?

  Then she suddenly clicked that he hadn’t been talking on his iPhone. “Your phone…you have two?”

  “Sharp observation,” he said, noncommittal.

  “Why do you?”

  “If we’re going to do this, you have to let some things be.” He paused. “Is Shelby the kind of person who can keep her cool, and use good judgment in a delicate situation?”

  Cady thought about their last conversation, and all the times Shelby had blow
n her top over various upsets. She’d always been temperamental, but since the diagnosis Cady could see why she might tend to extra combustibility.

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “She had some bad news, and she’s not feeling the greatest.”

  “What bad news?”

  Did she want to go there? “She…I just found out she tested positive for Wodarski-Ebner.”

  “The disease your mom had? The autoimmune thing?”

  “Mm.” She looked away.

  He stepped around into her line of sight, so that she couldn’t avoid his words. “You think you’ll have it too.”

  She’d always been good at putting on a brave face, but the truth was there to see underneath, if you cared to look.

  “Yes. I mean, the odds are…” She swallowed, pressing her lips together to stop all the things swirling in her head from escaping. None of it was helpful right now. Or ever, really. “Look, I just want to find her. We should get on with it.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “Don’t assume the worst until it’s right there in front of you. Then you can smack it in the face.”

  She laughed, despite herself. “That’s your best advice?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “And you were supposed to bring your check book this time, remember?”

  The reference to that night on the bus brought her up short. That embarrassing night, when she’d spilled her life story and he’d listened so patiently, and then she’d lurched at him in the dark, only to be turned down flat. I just can’t. Because of her, or because of Jody, or Lily, or some other secret that he was inexplicably keeping? This lovely cottage, his delightful family, their gorgeous house, an innocuous-sounding career in sand sculpture…what needed to be kept secret out of all that? The jarring note was what she’d seen him do at the flash mob riot, and his mateyness with the three weasels. Some people lived other lives very efficiently, getting a thrill from walking on the dark side while others held the fort of children and responsibility. Maybe he was one of them. Maybe the teasing games he loved to play with her were just a part of that.

  “Who are you, anyway?” she said abruptly. “Why all the secrecy?”

  He kept hold of her hand. “I told you—if you want help, you need to let some things be. Do you trust me?”

  She thought for a moment, her fingers warm in his grasp. The man she saw with Lily didn’t seem like a game player. He seemed like someone steady and true. But the man she’d seen smashing a rioter into a storefront window was dodgy enough to be the fully certified fourth weasel. The one thing she knew was that she had to find Shelby, and she wasn’t going to sit around waiting for the police if she could do something. She sighed. “I have to trust you. But why are you even helping me?”

  He pulled her closer. “Does there have to be a why?” His voice was low, implication and possibility suddenly heavy in the air.

  “Yes,” she said, her heart starting to beat faster. “No.” Oh hell, was this all it took? She felt like she was teetering next to the bed. If she leaned barely a degree or two to the side she’d tumble onto it, taking him with her and leaving the last of her British propriety in a heap on the floor. She cleared her throat. “Please, can we get going?”

  “Yes. We have a pancake obligation to meet and a sister to find. Come on.”

  He let her go and stepped back so that she could go first, and she left the room, silently berating herself for getting lustfully sidetracked when she should only be thinking about finding Shelby. Shame on her, seriously. But she couldn’t resist one last look over her shoulder at the bed. One thing definitely didn’t need a why. Given the right time and place, she knew her answer would be a racy, uninhibited, no-reason-needed yes.

  Thirty-Four

  After a pancake stack each, Cady and Reid said goodbyes all round and headed back into the city. Lily had made Cady promise to come back and tell her all about ‘Princess Catherine’, who she was convinced must be a great friend. Cady didn’t point out that Catherine was a duchess—like Lily, she imagined her as a princess anyway. Lily was less interested in Prince William, although she conceded that being able to fly a helicopter was pretty cool, if only to take his princess to the nearest American Girl doll store. She had her eye on a new outfit for Violet that she was sure Catherine would like too.

  “She’s such a poppet,” Cady told Reid, as they drove down the hill away from the house.

  “She knows what she likes,” he said, smiling.

  “That’s a good thing. Strength of character.”

  “She likes you,” he added.

  She felt a rush of pleasure. That was quite the endorsement. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

  “You both have good taste.”

  “That’s a sweet thing to say.”

  “I’m a sweet guy, didn’t my mom tell you?”

  She snorted. “Okay, enough with the diversionary tactics. Now you need to tell me what’s happening.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you what I can.” His tone made it obvious that she might not get every answer she wanted, but she launched in.

  “Fine. First of all, what’s the story with the weasels?”

  He looked sideways at her. “You mean Isaac and co?”

  “Yeah. The three new guys. Where did they pop up from?”

  “Kyle.”

  She waited. “You don’t know anything else about them?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He checked the intersection and made a left turn.

  “Okay.” She sighed. “How about you just tell me what you already know you’re going to, instead of me going through a hundred and one questions and getting blanked on a hundred of them?”

  “Good thinking, 99.” He shot her a grin.

  “I like your casting. But if this was a spy story, I would have shot you by now. Kneecaps at least. Come on.”

  He laughed. “Okay.” Then his tone changed to serious. “I think I know where Shelby is, and Kyle too. It’s getting her out that’ll be the tricky part.”

  “Why? Where are they?”

  He paused. “Background first. Our Kyle is a real trust fund kid.”

  “I knew that. Trying to use the money to build his own thing. It’s an unorthodox kind of thing, but he could make it something amazing if he does it right.”

  “Right. And word is, his dad got sick of the unorthodox place his funds were going. He’s not on board with social media and online movements and power to the people. He’s wanted Kyle to get a proper job for years. And before you came along, he gave Kyle an ultimatum.”

  “You mean, conform or…the money stops?”

  He nodded.

  “That makes sense. The sudden need for sponsorship. And…” She stopped.

  “What?”

  She sighed. “When Shelby and I came back, and we were talking to Kyle about ideas, he was suddenly super-interested in her when she mentioned the inheritance.” She screwed up her nose. “I thought maybe I was imagining it, but…”

  “But you weren’t.” He glanced across at her. “And those ideas? I know that ‘Home’ flash mob was your idea. Why did you let him take credit?”

  This again? “Like I said already, it’s not about me. Let it go.” She looked pointedly out the window, watching San Francisco pass by, no clue where they were going. “Are we there yet?”

  He ignored the question, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at a red light. “Why are you so attached to them, anyway? There are plenty of off-beat, half-baked movements in California. Why Flashpoint?”

  She really didn’t want to recall the nights she’d spent sitting up in bed, looking at Flashpoint updates online while she listened for her mother’s inevitable call. Dreaming of what she’d do if things were different. Imagining some other, sun-drenched, life. Well, she was here, but obviously it hadn’t turned out quite the way she’d imagined. So she sidestepped the question.

  “Half-baked? Jeez, disparaging much? You’re one of them.” Something sank in as she looked
at him. “Or not.”

  He put his foot on the accelerator. “Listen. Here’s what you need to know. Kyle needed money for Flashpoint, and he needed money to pay for his drug habit, which you might or might not know about. He got into deep water, and repercussions came calling, like he knew they would in the end. He’ll be facing some hard questions about now.”

  So what she’d seen in Kyle’s bathroom wasn’t a one-off. “And what’s the deal with you and the weasels?”

  “Need to know basis,” he replied curtly.

  “Well, I need to know why they took Shelby too.”

  He relented a little. “The inheritance maybe, if they know about it. Or for extra leverage with Kyle. But that’d only work if he cares about her at all, not just her money.”

  “That seems kind of unlikely. Oh, shit. On top of everything, she’ll be heartbroken.”

  There was silence as they let this fact settle. Then something occurred to Cady. “Where do the environmentalists fit in?”

  “I don’t know if they do. They were probably just the inevitable result of Kyle being an idiot, getting into bed with an agricultural chemical company. And it gave your weasels their chance to make a move, in the chaos.”

  “They’re not my weasels, they’re yours!” She’d cross the road to avoid those three. “What about the bus, then? Was that them, or the eco-protestors?”

  He shrugged, turning into a side street. “I don’t know. It could be either of them making a point. I’m sorry all your things are gone.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Things can be replaced, people can’t. What happens now?”

  “I’m going to convince them to let her go—I hope.” He pulled into a parking garage and stopped in a space near the exit. “I think I have enough cred with them.”

  The image of him flinging the rioter into the storefront window was still vivid in her mind. “Cred? It looked to me like you were fully one of them.”

  “I’m not.” He undid his seatbelt and turned to face her, taking off his sunglasses. She did the same, and waited, but as usual he was giving nothing away.