by Mary Frame
In the first envelope, the thinner of the two, there’s a birth certificate for an Andrea Winchester. The parents are listed as Mary and John Winchester. The birthdate is January fifth, thirteen years ago.
I put it to the side and open up the second, thicker envelope. Court documents. Some kind of trust. I scan the pages of legal jargon until I reach the name of the beneficiary. Andrea Winchester. I flip to the back of the documents, searching for a list of items held in trust. It’s pages and pages of bank accounts, properties, vehicles . . . Skimming back through the document, I find a section stating that the money and items listed will become available to Andrea Winchester when she reaches her majority, age eighteen.
As the voices and laughter at Jared’s filter through the forest, my heart beats a fast tattoo in my chest. I can’t push for more time. What I’ve found is enough for now. It has to be. Hurriedly, I stuff the items back in the safe and then carry it back to their car. I place it back in the exact spot I found it and then shut the trunk.
Racing back to the bike, only one thought thumps through my mind.
Paige isn’t my sister.
Chapter Twenty
When I get home, Paige is in the living room, curled up on the couch. The TV is on but the volume is low. I immediately want to go to her, but I have to check out something first.
I call out a greeting to let her know I’m back, and then I jog upstairs to the office.
There’s some important research to be done.
Thirty minutes later, I sit back in the chair. I have what I need. It was easy to find. John Winchester was part of a very large, very wealthy family. He married Mary Turner and they had a daughter, Andrea. They left Andrea at home for the first time with a babysitter to fly to New York City for a dinner and a show, their first date since the baby was born, the article states. They never returned home—they both died in a plane crash on the way back. It was a small private plane. Andrea was only a few months old. By all accounts, they were a loving couple and their death a tragic accident.
There’s a black-and-white picture of an attractive and well-dressed couple. Very old money, given the clothes and jewels.
It was all over the news after they died, coming from such a prominent family. Also briefly mentioned was how all of their assets were tied up in trust for their infant daughter.
There were other articles, more numerous than the ones about John and Mary’s death. Only a couple weeks after they died, someone kidnapped Andrea Winchester. The family mounted an extensive search, but she was never found.
Updates come in a few a year, articles from local papers with pictures of what Andrea might look like today.
She looks like Paige.
I dig up more information on the rest of the Winchester family. John and Mary had a few siblings, some with kids of their own. The pictures I find online are of happy, smiling families. There are articles about charity work as well as their continued search for Andrea. Not much else, but it’s enough.
Paige has a family. A real family. One that doesn’t lie, cheat, or steal for a living. A family that could take care of her better than I have.
A little voice in my head quakes at the thought. But they don’t know her. Not like I do.
My eyes water and I shut them against the implications of everything I know and everything I have to do.
Keep Paige safe.
I trudge back down the stairs. What does the future hold? Do I really have any control over any of it?
“Hey.” I sit on the couch next to her. “What are you doing?”
“Just hanging out.” She’s in her pajamas, some new ones covered in a rainbow zebra print. I bought them a few weeks ago, when Tabby and I were in Roseburg. When I saw them, I had to get them, despite our lack of funds. It was worth a few extra readings past closing for the next week to pay for them. She’s always had a weakness for zebra anything, and she squealed at the soft, luxurious feel of the fabric.
Her hair is braided back from her face and she looks so incredibly young. Too young. I can’t tell her about everything I’ve found. I don’t even know where to start. I’ve barely been able to process the information myself. I will tell her, but not yet.
With everything that’s been going on, I’ve barely seen her. I’ve been so focused on protecting her and taking down the parents that I haven’t been able to spend time just talking with her.
“Are you okay?”
She shrugs.
“It’s going to be all right, Paige. I promise.”
“You can’t know that.”
But with this new information, I finally have a glimmer of hope. Maybe it will be all right. For Paige. She isn’t their daughter. Which means they don’t have a legal right to her, and maybe I can protect her. I don’t quite know how they did it. How did they find her? How did they take her? I could swear Mother had a pregnant belly before Paige was born. I was only seven or eight, but I remember her being pregnant. Did they fake the whole thing to steal this orphan with a trust fund? And now they need her to cash out when she turns eighteen? Is that why they’re protective of her and trying to use me to pay off whoever is after them? So they can get access to her trust fund in five years? Talk about a long con.
Although it’s not like it’s been hard for them to raise another child. They had me as a babysitter, after all.
I watch her while she watches TV. Her dark hair is like mine, except hers is darker. I always thought we had matching noses, but now that I’m really looking, hers ticks up slightly at the end. We both have full mouths, but my bottom lip is slightly smaller than the top, whereas hers are both wide and full.
Did I always just see what I wanted to see?
“Do you remember the time I took you to the mall when we were living in Illinois?”
It was one of the smallest towns we lived in. It was the one place where we could walk to the shopping center when our parents weren’t around to stop us.
One corner of her mouth ticks up. I’ve told her this story before.
“We were walking along, and I stepped on a fruit loop someone had dropped on the ground. You looked over at me and whispered, ‘You’re a cereal killer.’ ”
We laugh.
“You were so clever. Even at five.”
“You were practically my age.” She smiles. “But I kept calling you Mom.”
I chuckle at that. “I got some weird looks from people that day.”
“You were basically my mom.” Paige shrugs. “You still are.”
“I know,” I say softly.
It doesn’t matter to me if Paige isn’t my real sister. She’s mine in every other way.
We sit there and watch TV together in silence, except I’m not watching whatever’s happening on the screen. I’m thinking.
I’ve already decided how to save her. And the town. But it means giving up everything. And in order to pull it off, I have to make sure Paige is safe until everything can be brought to light, which means she has to be away from here. If my suspicions are correct and the parents are conning me so they can keep Paige and her trust fund while trying to pay off their big-shot attorney buddy who also sells people on the side, she’s not safe here.
I turn to face her.
Making a deal with a teenage girl is like swimming with sharks. Minus the cage.
“You’re not going to like this, but I need to hide you somewhere safe.”
~*~
The day of the gala is bright and sunny. Thunderbolts and storm clouds would be more appropriate, though, something to match the anxiety building in my stomach. After the gala, I’m staying the night with Jared and that’s when everything is going to change.
I’m going to tell him the truth.
It’s not going to be easy. As a matter of fact, it’s going to suck. He’s probably going to have to arrest me, and I’m going to let him. He’s already promised me once that he’ll take care of Paige, and if I give him the information about who Paige really is, he’s going to make sure th
e parents can’t take her.
At least, that’s my hope.
But I’ve got to get through the day and the gala first. I have to give my parents what they want in order to placate them, then drop the bomb on Jared before they can get away.
The morning goes by quickly, mostly because I spend it driving. I borrow Mr. Bingel’s 1979 Buick. I take Paige to the only place I can think of where she’ll be safe and looked after and no one will find her until I tell them where she is. More hopes.
We leave early and I don’t get back into town until the afternoon.
When I pull the car into Mr. Bingel’s driveway, Tabby is waiting for me.
“Where have you been? We’ve got plans, sister!”
I dodge her question by asking her about dinner the night before and pray she’s too distracted to ask about Paige, but if she does, I’ll just keep up with the sickness excuse.
We head to Eleanor’s house to get ready.
On the way there, Tabby relays what happened at Jared’s during dinner the night before, all the finalized plans for the gala and how they’ve gotten a bunch more people to donate their time and services for the silent auction. Each donor will get up on stage and talk about their prize donation, giving them a chance to also advertise their businesses. It means I’ll have to get up on stage and talk about the shop as well.
Eleanor’s house is as neat and tidy as the last time I was here, when Jared and I questioned her about the Castle Cove Bandit. It feels like a lifetime ago.
Her bathroom is organized with colored bins hanging on the wall for different products, one color for hand towels, one color for regular towels, and another for loofahs. There’s a metal file box attached to the side of the sink for hair dryers and curlers and plant pots that have been repurposed to hold makeup brushes.
Tabby gazes around the room in wonder when we walk in. “It’s like a Pinterest mom threw up in here.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Eleanor says.
“You wouldn’t. What are you wearing? Show me, show me.”
When Eleanor pulls out a long-sleeved black velvet dress, Tabby makes a face. “Who died and made you buy this?”
“What do you mean? This is elegant.” Eleanor holds it up against her body and faces me. “What do you think, Ruby?”
“I think it is very elegant . . . for a funeral.”
“See?” Tabby pulls it away and tosses it on the bed. “Don’t you have anything else?”
We spend way too much time going through Eleanor’s closet.
“Everything you own is black or gray. Are you depressed?” Tabby throws yet another black dress down onto the bed.
“I like dark clothes. They make you look slim, plus they don’t stain,” Eleanor says.
“Ugh. You are the worst. Wait, what’s this?” From the very back recesses of the closet, Tabby pulls out a dark blue dress. The top is a tank-style V-neck and the bottom is a fluffy, sparkly skirt that falls just above the knee.
“Why wouldn’t you wear this?” Tabby shakes the garment in Eleanor’s direction.
Eleanor bites her lip. “I forgot I had it. I bought it years ago and I’ve never worn it.”
“This is what you are wearing. It’s dark, but not ‘I think someone might die today’ dark.” She presses it into Eleanor’s arms. “Try it on. I’ll start on Ruby’s makeup.”
We go into the bathroom while Eleanor gets changed and Tabby works on my eye shadow, chattering the whole time about the gala and Ben and how she really needs to get Eleanor to redo her wardrobe to be less school marmish.
It’s hard for me to focus because I keep thinking about what’s going to happen at the end of the night.
Will Tabby hate me when the truth comes out?
Eleanor comes back into the bathroom with the dress on and Tabby squeals. “Dude. You look hot.”
“Troy is going to love you in that,” I add from my position on the stool in front of the mirror.
“We’re not thinking about that.” Tabby grimaces. “But yes, you’re hot like a curry.”
We spend the next couple of hours doing each other’s makeup and hair and Tabby and I get our dresses on.
She’s wearing a deep-pink strapless number with sparkly white heels. I opt for a simple black sheath dress. Black seems appropriate for this occasion, since someone will be dying tonight. By tomorrow, the Ruby everyone knows and loves will no longer exist.
When we’re all ready and standing together in front of the mirror, admiring our reflections with Tabby in the middle, she links her arms with both of us.
“We are some hot bitches.”
~*~
The country club is decked out a lot more than the senior center was for mocktail night, which was the last time we got dressed up in all our finery.
Instead of chintzy streamers and a disco ball, there’s a string quartet playing classical music and tables covered in thick, white tablecloths. Fine china and champagne glasses make the room sparkle. It almost looks like a wedding.
I should probably enjoy it as much as I can since I won’t ever be having a wedding of my own. At least not with the one person I would want to experience such a thing with. Not that I want to get married right now or anything, I mean, I’m only twenty-one. But still. Any hope of a future with Jared will be ruined after tonight. And rightly so.
There is a dance floor, much bigger and made of what looks like real wood instead of linoleum.
Fortunately, there’s not much prep work to do. Everything has been handled quite well by the parents, who are dressed in their finest—Father in a dark, three-piece suit, Mother in a black dress that looks alarmingly like my own.
Figures.
After initial greetings, I avoid the parents as much as I can by helping Eleanor and Tabby sort through the order of announcements for each donation. We have the list of donors, and after dinner and dancing, Tabby will present each prize, give the donor a chance to talk about their business, and then announce the winner for each auction item. Tables set up in the back of the room hold clipboards for people to write their competing bids.
After dinner, Eleanor has made me responsible for watching the bidding tables to help if anyone has questions and to close out the bidding when auctioning is done. Plus to make sure no one cheats. With this crowd, you just never know. Although Tabby’s usually the cheater, so since she’s helping organize, we might be safe.
The items being offered up for auction vary from dinner for two at the Castle Cove Restaurant to salsa lessons with Mrs. Olsen. There’s a free surfing lesson at the pier, a free reading from Ruby (a.k.a. me), a free night’s stay at The Seaside Inn, and a free round of golf from the country club, amongst others.
The room fills up quickly with mostly elderly people, all in their sequined and shoulder-padded glory.
Mrs. Olsen has a new cat dress. Unlike the one she wore on mocktail night, this one has a sparkly cat on her chest, not on her butt. How many sequined cat dresses can there possibly be on this planet? Does she commission them?
I mingle with the crowd, making a point of avoiding the parents as I move through the room. I can’t avoid them forever. There are only a couple hours until my deadline and possible exposure. I have no more delaying tactics. Just give them what they want. Tell Jared. Focus on the plan.
I talk to Judge Ramsey and his wife for a minute, then listen to Mrs. Hale talk about her newest cake recipe, and even stand next to a sleeping Miss Viola—who probably isn’t really sleeping—just to bide my time.
But time is moving faster than a bullet heading straight for my heart. Before I know it, we’re all sitting down to eat at a large circular table, Jared, Tabby, Ben, Eleanor, Troy, the parents, and Mrs. Olsen.
Dinner is catered by Castle Cove Restaurant. I make sure to stay away from the fish.
Watching the parents smile and charm everyone at the table makes me want to gouge my own eyes out with a salad fork, but I manage to restrain myself.
If it were
n’t for the parents’ presence, it would be a great night. Jared is the same solicitous, affectionate, considerate date he always is, ratcheting up my guilt from steamy to boiling.
I do love him, even if I haven’t said so in so many words, and the realization makes my chest hurt.
After dinner, the string quartet leaves and a different, more lively band sets up. They sing various songs from slow eighties classics to current top forty hits.
I can’t enjoy the dancing yet because it’s my turn at the bidding tables. I spend an hour answering questions and keeping an eye on the clipboards while watching everyone dancing and enjoying themselves.
Tabby and Ben are scandalizing Mrs. Olsen by dancing way too close. She dances up to them with Mr. Godfrey and smacks Tabby on the arm with her matching sequined cat clutch. She and Tabby start arguing.
I chuckle.
Troy leads Eleanor in a bunch of tango-type moves, which doesn’t exactly jive with the Chuck Berry music that’s playing, but it is entertaining.
And then there’s Jared. Dancing with Mother.
My stomach turns and I look away.
At the opposite end of the room, a figure stands in a shadowed alcove. I can’t make out features from where I’m standing, but whoever it is has dark hair and a dark suit. All of the younger people are on the dance floor, so who is it?
The mystery man moves out from the alcove and then down an adjoining hall. I only get a glimpse of his face, but it’s familiar. I can’t quite place where I’ve seen him, though . . .
“Hey!” Eleanor pops up in front of me. “I’m here to relieve you.”
“Oh, hey, great. Thank you.”
“No, thank you for helping. You should go dance with Jared. He’s been sulking for the last hour.” She winks at me as we pass each other.
Where have I seen that guy before? I always remember faces.
I try to shove thoughts of the mystery man away so I can enjoy these last moments in Jared’s arms. Nine o’clock is now less than an hour away.
But my thoughts keep spinning. Even Jared can’t keep them away. I hope this works out. I’m counting on the fact that they can’t leave town until this farce is over, that they won’t be able to access Jared’s funds at least until morning.