“I guess the waiter the other day pushed all the wrong buttons, too, huh? Lot of difficult people in this world, I guess. I’ve never heard such hatred come out of someone’s mouth.” She shook her head as if she were trying to shake the words back out of her ears. Maggie looked at Hector and then flung herself at Ryan, who wrapped his arms protectively around her and pulled her close. It wasn’t clear who was more surprised: Van, Ryan, or Hector. Ryan hid his shock well, remaining stone faced, but both Hector and Van looked gob-smacked.
“Hector, Peggy is going to catch a ride back with us,” said Ryan. “Maybe you should talk later. Van, Peggy, please go wait for me in the car. Hector and I have some business to discuss. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.” He handed his keys to Van as she pried the shaken Peggy loose from him, put her arm around her, and walked her toward Ryan’s car.
“Baby, we’ll talk later,” Hector called after her, his face flushed scarlet.
She made no attempt to acknowledge him.
*
When Van and Peggy were safely at the car and out of earshot Hector turned on Ryan.
“Straight to you—she went straight to you,” he said, incredulous. How long’s that been fucking going on, you son of a bitch? Not content to mess up just one woman’s life at a time? You could’ve had anything you wanted: the company, my father … and now Maggie? I should have guessed you’d turn her against me. Don’t you respect anything?” He started toward the parking lot.
Ryan stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path down the steps. The two men met eye to glaring eye, with a hostility that would have terrified the women if they had been close enough to witness it.
“Stay away from all three of us,” Ryan said through gritted teeth.
“Better make a will, Thomas,” Hector replied. “She’s the one thing in my life I won’t lose. I may not be able to fight the old man, but you, you’re a different story.” He moved past Ryan but made no attempt to head in the direction of the women. Down the steps he went, into his car, and out of the parking lot like a demon on fire.
Ryan breathed a silent sigh of relief as he tried to slow his racing heart. He had expected blows. He knew better than to take Hector lightly, especially where Peggy was concerned. Ryan’s newfound sense of security evaporated. Obviously, Peggy was here to complete research on the deed for HYA, and the search was still ongoing. Hector Senior hadn’t pulled in any of his dogs. None of them was safe.
The women hurried back across the parking lot. Peggy grabbed Ryan by the shirtsleeve and buried her tear-stained face against his chest.
“I’m sorry, Peggy,” he said, his mind in a whirl, trying to determine whether he could trust her. “It’s okay. He’s gone.” She continued to sob, getting his shirt all wet. “I’m surprised to see you. How long have you been in town?”
“Not long,” said Peggy, hedging.
Ryan looked over her head to give a reassuring look to Van, who stood dumbstruck, overwhelmed by the whole situation. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee and talk. Is that okay with you, Van?” Ryan asked, trying to get her to focus on him. She shifted her eyes toward him and nodded. Her expression gave nothing away, and that worried him almost as much as his former business associates did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KEEPING FRIENDS CLOSE
Not a word was said as the three drove to the diner in Nevis. Ryan was thoughtful, Van livid, and Peggy collected. Peggy sat in the backseat and made no further attempt to approach or touch Ryan.
“Are you working on a project with Hector?” Ryan asked as soon as they were seated.
“No. Hector’s working in New York. I’m on my own.”
“So you aren’t involved in researching the land deal for Nevis?”
“I don’t know anything about a land deal,” she lied. “Ellen Kenzie and I are here researching genealogy. HYA didn’t say what it was for.” Peggy hated lying, but Hector had said Van was a threat. “It’s confidential information …”
“You can speak freely in front of Van,” Ryan interjected. “She knows everything.”
“No, Ryan, I’m not. I’ve been tracing wills here in Nevis. I wasn’t given a—”
“Margaret, Peggy, Maggie, or whatever the hell your name is in this moment, what’s your relationship to Hector?” Van asked. “What kind of wills?”
“I’m sorry, Van. I’m Margaret Douglas,” Peggy said, reaching across the table, but Van drew her hand back and put it in her lap. “Most people call me Peggy. Hector is the only one who has ever called me Maggie. It always made me feel special when he said that.” She sniffed, and her eyes welled up, but they didn’t overflow. “Ryan and I—we’ve worked together off and on for years. I do freelance work for HYA,” Peggy said without elaborating. “I had no idea you knew Ryan.”
“What kind of wills are you researching,” Ryan asked, repeating Van’s unanswered question.
Peggy kept her eyes down to avoid his intense gaze. “Ellen and I developed a list of prominent Nevis citizens. She was working on their trees, and I’ve been reviewing wills. Honest, Ryan, that’s all I know.”
“And where is Ellen?”
“She left yesterday. I’m heading home tomorrow.”
“Did your work benefit from any of the genealogical information that Van gave you?”
“No. Like I told Van, the information dead-ended. I did pass it all on to Ellen, though.”
“Great,” said Van, rolling her eyes.
Ryan was silent but continued to stare thoughtfully at Peggy.
“What’s going on?” Peggy said. “Tell me. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. And, Ryan, I’m sorry I grabbed you and cried all over your shirt. What Hector said was shocking, and you were the first thing I saw. I don’t mean to cause any trouble between you and Van, or with you and Hector. I’m really making a mess of things here. I should go.” She rose to leave, but Van caught her by the sleeve.
“No, Peggy,” Van said, shaking her head as she looked directly at Ryan. “Please sit back down. We need to finish. You shouldn’t go wandering around by yourself right now, either. I don’t trust Hector.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t hurt me. But I’ve never seen him that mad before. I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger.” She turned to Ryan. “Have you ever seen him behave like that before?”
“There has almost never been a time when I haven’t seen him acting like an ass. He’s a twisted person whom everyone else has to deal with daily. Hector struggles to be different from his father, but his bitterness makes him just like him: cold, calculating, vengeful.” You’ve been his only redeeming feature. You’re good for him, Peggy, but in the long run, he’s not good for you.”
Peggy changed the subject. “You’ve changed, Ryan, from when I first met you. I thought you were insufferable. But now you’re entirely different.”
Ryan and Van exchanged a look but said nothing. Peggy’s eyes began to redden again. “I’ve always thought there was no one like him. If it weren’t for his father, we’d probably be married by now.”
“Ryan, he really worries me,” said Van. “I saw the look on Hector’s face when Peggy ran to you. He’s never going to forgive you for that. You’re going to be constantly looking over your shoulder.”
“I am concerned about Hector,” Ryan confessed. “But I’ve always had to watch my back with him. It’s nothing new.” He settled back in the booth. “One of my main concerns now is that he leave you and Peggy alone. Peggy, what do you want to do now? How can I help you?”
Peggy looked gratefully at Ryan. “Thanks, you’ve done enough. I’m afraid to have you any more involved. I just want to steer clear of Hector right now.”
“I don’t want you going back to where you were staying. Hector knows where it is, right? There’s no way he won’t be waiting for you. Van, could she stay with you tonight?”
“Absolutely. “We need to stick together.”
As they left the diner, Ryan leaned in to Van and whispered, �
�Don’t let her out of your sight. She’s lying through her teeth. We need to find out how much she really knows and what she’s passed on to others.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DIGGING UP DETAILS
Van reluctantly left Peggy to settle into the small upstairs bedroom in the pickle boat house. What was she supposed to do with her? If not for Ryan, Van would sooner have sent her packing. She had little tolerance for dishonesty and collusion. Peggy, on the other hand, sighed with relief as Van retreated to the other side of the house. Van’s body language made her feelings loud and clear.
When Peggy finally came looking for Van she found her sitting in the window seat, daydreaming. She hesitated to intrude on her reverie. Van looked fragile—perfectly still, with her hands folded gently in her lap and her hair tossed behind her shoulders.
“Van,” Peggy whispered. No response. “Vanessa,” she repeated, and this time Van turned at the sound of her name. “I need to talk to you, to apologize.” She paused. “I, ah, it’s, ah … about our friendship. I don’t deserve it. I’ve been false to you.”
Van shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
Peggy slid into the little chair next to Van. “I haven’t been helping you. You and Ryan have been incredibly kind to me. I can’t handle this anymore. I’ve been unfair and deceitful. Even tonight I didn’t level with you. I haven’t had any plans to help you. Your interests are competing with HYA’s interests. They’re paying me to trace the descendants of Jeremiah Harwell—the whole tree, not just Nevis wills. When you came to me that day in the courthouse, working on the same family tree, I was floored. It was like winning the lottery. Your tree was so much more complete than what I had yet come up with, and all of it with citations. You can’t believe the amount of time you saved me.” She laughed. “All I had to do was retrace and verify. I’m so ashamed.”
Van sighed. Ryan was right. Peggy was just one more dishonest person. She shuddered to think what kind of damage Peggy had done—or could still do—to Nevis. “I really opened up to you,” she said. “I trusted you. You’ve been friends with Ryan for years. Why would you do that?”
“That first night, I had every intention of helping you. But then I met Hector for dinner, and he convinced me that your research was working against the interests of HYA—and, by extension, against Hector and me. I agreed to befriend you with empty promises of helping you trace your family line. I know that was wrong,” she said, wringing her hands. “Every time you confided in me and I responded like a friend I felt guilty. The responses were genuine, but the underlying intent wasn’t. I’ve let my feelings for Hector color the kind of person I am: a false friend and a liar. Ryan was right last night: Hector isn’t good for me—and I haven’t been good for you.”
Van abruptly stood up, all her fear bubbling over into anger. “Get out. Now, before I do something I regret.”
“I understand,” said Peggy. “I knew you wouldn’t want me here when I told you the truth. I’m still packed, and someone’s coming to pick me up. I’ll just go get my bags and be out of your way.”
As Peggy headed up the stairs Van got her phone out of her purse. She hit speed dial for Ryan and walked out onto the deck to calm herself. “You were right, Ryan. She just spilled her guts.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Keep her talking. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry. I just told her to get out.”
Ryan let loose with a string of profanity. “Van, why the hell … ! Run her down, for God’s sake! This might be our only peek at HYA’s hand.”
But Van was too late. Her stomach tightened as she caught a glimpse of Peggy’s ride disappearing down the street, leaving her alone with Ryan’s oaths still ringing in her ears. She had let her anger screw up everything. There was nothing to do now but wait for Ryan. His frustration and disappointment in her wouldn’t even come close to what she was already feeling. As she entered the kitchen her eye was immediately drawn to an envelope propped up against the vase in the center of the table. It was addressed “Van” in beautiful, strong script. With her heart thumping like a trip-hammer, Van sat down in the window seat and pulled out the carefully folded sheets of paper. The inner page, written in the same strong script, read:
Dear Van,
Again, I’m very sorry for the pain and betrayal you are feeling over my unforgivable behavior. Unfortunately, we don’t get redos in life, do we? I would if I could. Enclosed you will find copies of the research that I finished on the Harwell line. I’m sure you will be pleased to see the connection between you and the Harwells, although maybe not quite in the way that you were expecting.
I could find no evidence that Jeremiah Harwell had any direct descendants. From early court documents, it appears that Jeremiah’s wife, Abigail, gave birth to a son, William, after his death, but failed to establish in court that Jeremiah was the father. Whether this makes a statement about her social reputation in general, I do not know. Being unmarried with a child of questionable birth, she faced the scorn of the town and quickly married a man named Alexander Hill to limit the damage to her reputation. Who the actual father was remains unclear. Regardless, the child carried the last name Harwell. By court decree, he was not recognized as legitimate offspring of Jeremiah or entitled to inherit any of his estate. Thus ends the direct line of Jeremiah Harwell, without apparent issue. Citations are enclosed.
What is surprising is that your husband, Richard Hardy, is also of this Harwell line, through Jeremiah’s siblings. A younger sister, Bess Harwell, married Lemuel Hardy at the age of 14. She relocated with her husband to Northumberland County, Virginia, taking her brother, Coleman, with her. It is in her will that I found documentation that she inherited “worldly goods of her loving and goodly brother Jeremiah Harwell, late of Nevis, in the province of Maryland, to be conveyed, upon her death, to her brother Coleman Harwell,(alias Hardy), youngest brother to Jeremiah.” Young Coleman Harwell, being very young, takes the last name of his sister’s husband. Upon Bess’s death, he comes into his full inheritance under the last will and testament bequeathing Bess’s estate. Coleman Harwell Hardy’s line can be traced direct and intact from him and his wife, Elizabeth, of Virginia, down to your husband, Richard Hardy, also of Virginia. It appears that Richard may be the only living or dead direct descendant of these two individuals and would be the only descendant with a claim to any inheritable “goods or property,” should such exist. Again, all citations and copies are here, including copies of Bess Harwell Hardy’s will as well as the document establishing Lemuel Hardy as Coleman Harwell’s legal guardian.
I wouldn’t be so gauche as to presume at this time what your relationship with Richard would be—whether amicable or not. The best advice I can give you is to have Richard’s Y-DNA tested. Should a showdown with HYA ever occur, you can request exhumation of Jeremiah Harwell’s body from St John’s churchyard for the purpose of testing his Y-DNA. A match between the two Y-DNA samples would bolster the claim of your husband’s descendancy and right to inheritance.
I have some things to sort out in my life, in particular with Hector. When I have settled these matters, I will contact Ryan, if he will ever talk to me again. I can tell by the way you look at Ryan and talk about him that there is something deep and special about your relationship with him. It’s the same way Hector and I have looked at each other—that is, until now. If I find a chance to rectify any of the damage I have done, I’ll be in touch.
All my best, Van,
Peggy
Van’s flesh began to crawl. Richard was Jeremiah Harwell’s legitimate heir? Selling Nevis to HYA would be the perfect retaliation for her leaving him. Would she ever be able to sever their connection?
The slam of the front door broke her reverie. Her lecture had arrived. She shoved the letter back into the envelope.
“Where is she?”
“Ryan, she’s gone. I’m sorry. I tried to catch her. She was working against Nevis, researching Jeremiah Ha
rwell’s heirs. She used all the information that I gave her to complete her own charts, and I think she forwarded it all to HYA. She left me a letter and copies of all her charts. Here, read it.” She shoved the envelope at Ryan.
“No, I believe you.”
“You really need to read all of it.”
Ryan sat down next to her and started reading. Van watched as a brief smile slowly crossed his face. She wondered whether it was the passage where Peggy talked about how Van looked at Ryan. It brought a smile to her, too.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “How many other places has Hector poked his nose into? But,” he said, looking down at the paper again, “this is good, right? As Richard’s son, we can have my Y-DNA tested and not even involve Richard!” He looked at Van, and the smile slid off his face. “Why are you frowning?”
“You may be Richard’s son in spirit, but in case you’ve forgotten, your Y-chromosome DNA is one hundred percent Ryan Thomas, not James Hardy. It isn’t any good to us at all unless we dig the old you up, and I’m certainly not going to do that!” Van shuddered at the thought of disturbing her son’s grave. Even the idea of exhuming Jeremiah Harwell was too revolting to think about.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s more cut-and-dried than that. It’s not like you’re really digging me up. It’s just a body; I’m still here.” He smiled again. “So you really do believe I’m your son? That’s good,” he said, nodding. “I never really expected this level of validation from you.” He dropped the letter on the window seat and put his arm around her.
“As for Richard,” she said, “I don’t want him involved any more than he has to be. I don’t want to uncover a vindictive side to him. I’m terrified that HYA may have already contacted him.” She paused. “And that brings up something else I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. If you feel so strongly that you are Richard’s and my son, how should we break the news to Richard that you’re … well, whatever you want to call what you are: reincarnated, reborn, redeposited, remade.” She laughed at the absurdity of it. “We need to decide the best way to tell him.”
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