“What if you had known I’d taken the gun? Back then, I mean? Or… or even now? What if you had known? Would it… would it change things between us?”
“If I had known then that you took it—or even if I had learned later on—I wouldn’t have said a thing,” he answered. His hand crept across the table toward hers until it rested on top. His fingers curled around Amelia’s.
Her eyes flashed up. “Why not?”
“It would have ruined my chances.”
“Your chances of what?” She grinned, and her heart raced. There was no question in Amelia’s mind that she loved and adored Michael. And maybe, just maybe, he would overlook her stupid past and continue to love her, too.
“It would have ruined my chances of whatever we’re moving toward here.”
His face fell dark, and Amelia frowned. She didn’t know if he was talking about her dad or the gun or the lighthouse or what.
Suddenly, Michael pulled his hand from hers and shot up from the table. “This is insane,” he murmured, striding away and leaving her there, confused.
He rummaged in a drawer on the inside of the kitchen bar, and Amelia’s gaze turned back to the gun. A stupid symbol of all the bad choices she’d made in her life. Her impulsivity. Her inability to say no when she ought to say no and yes when she ought to say yes. A perfect representation of how she had many chances in life to make a good decision but instead, couldn’t stop for one moment to think. To do the right thing. The good thing. The thing that would make her happy in the end.
“What’s insane? What are we ‘moving toward here?’” she asked, her heart still pounding in her chest. What was he looking for?
Michael’s face froze, his eyes catching on something in the drawer he’d pulled out. He closed it abruptly. He looked up, and a slow smile spread across his face. “I want to talk to you about something important.”
Chapter 26—Megan
Kate had organized an urgent sister meeting at the Inn for Monday afternoon.
But once Monday was in full motion, each of the women was too busy for a meeting. They texted a bit over the course of the week—Amelia revealed that she had cleared the air with Michael and the gun (but otherwise kept mum).
Kate thought she was making real progress with Vivi and had some interesting news about a recent guest.
And Clara and Jake were on their way to date number three. No signs of slowing down, either, she’d written in one particularly adorable message.
And so, despite the busyness of the changing seasons, Megan felt good. She and Brian agreed they’d made the right choice to move to Birch Harbor, to stick together, to start the house project and to continue on with the matchmaking business. All in all, things were looking up for the Hannigans and the Stevensons alike.
Later that week, once the contractor broke ground on their new house, Megan and Brian had begun to stitch together their plans for Love at the Lake. Vendors were booked. The event space secured, of course.
Now, she and Brian were at the field, overseeing the construction team as they poured the foundation. The next thing to do was to promote the event and draw up a list of potential and confirmed attendees. This was Megan’s favorite part because with the information she’d garnered from applications, she could pair people off ahead of the event. This would allow her to float around and herd the right people together, like a little matchmaking shepherdess.
They were just two applicants down the list, however, when her phone rang.
Megan frowned at the unknown number on the caller ID. Construction played like white noise in the near distance.
She pressed a finger to her opposite ear. “Yes, this is Megan Stevenson.”
“Mrs. Stevenson,” the pinched voice on the line went on, “This is Mrs. Adamski at Birch Harbor High. We need you to come into the school. There’s been an… incident.
There was no panic like a mother-summoned-to-school-to-deal-with-an-incident panic.
Brian drove, quiet and calm. Serious, but unwilling to speculate.
As they drove, Megan tapped out a quick message to her sisters, desperate for someone else’s reassurance. Their replies of support came at once. Kate reminded her that surely it was no big deal. Amelia responded with a quick memory of the time she got in trouble for pantsing the lead in Guys and Dolls.
Clara didn’t answer.
Megan sent a second, private message to her.
Principal called. Incident with Sarah… Do you know anything??? Are you still in class? Can you check on her??
They pulled into the visitor parking lot before Megan ever got a response, and as soon as she looked up from her phone, she saw why.
Standing in front of the building was the principal—and Clara.
Megan glanced at Brian, who squeezed her hand and murmured some vague reassurance that didn’t stick.
“Mrs. Stevenson, Mr. Stevenson,” Mrs. Adamski greeted.
Clara pressed her mouth into a line, and her eyes narrowed on Megan.
Once inside, all four adults shuffled into the principal’s office. Megan, Brian, and Clara each took a seat in soft-cushioned chairs around the desk. A nameless secretary ushered Sarah in.
Megan tried to communicate wordlessly with her daughter. It sort of worked. Sarah made the face she made when Brian accused her of eating the last cinnamon roll or when a friend called her out for being a bore. A quasi-defensive, wholly innocent expression. Indifferent, even. But now wasn’t the time to cop an attitude or act apathetic.
The principal seated herself, laced her fingers on top of her desk, and let out a sigh.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson, the reason we’re here is because of an accusation made regarding Sarah.” She gestured smoothly across to the dark-haired teenager, slumped in a chair with no seat cushion. An extra metal folding chair. Dug out of the janitor’s closet, no doubt. Perhaps Mrs. Adamski wasn’t used to reprimanding big families.
Megan glanced at Clara, whose gaze remained rigidly forward.
“Go ahead,” Brian replied, his voice calm but his knee bouncing out of the woman’s view.
Out of the corner of her eye, Megan caught Sarah cross her arms over her chest.
“Another student here has indicated a growing concern over Sarah’s extracurricular activities.”
“Extracurricular activities?” Megan scoffed. “What extracurriculars? She helps her aunt some days after school but mostly hangs out at home.”
Thoughts of the past weekend—the beach party—came to mind, but Megan buttoned her lips.
“And which aunt would that be?” the woman asked, lowering her chin and peering at Megan over the rim of her glasses.
Did it really matter? Megan wondered.
“My sister Amelia.” Her eyes slid to Clara again, who still remained frozen. Her irritation growing, Megan added, “Why is Clara here, anyway? Clara?”
Clara turned her head and frowned at Megan but said nothing.
“Sarah,” the principal went on. “Would you care to detail the situation?”
Sarah’s arms slid down, and her face crumpled. “It’s not true,” she declared through gritted teeth.
“What isn’t true?” Megan demanded, now looking at the principal. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Adamski, but can you please cut to the chase? You’ve got us scared.”
“Yes,” Brian agreed. “What has Sarah been accused of?”
Mrs. Adamski cleared her throat. “There’s concern amongst the student population that your daughter is… dating an older man.”
“Older man?” Brian’s voice filled with alarm, and he leaned onto the desk, his head whipping to Sarah.
Megan’s heart plunged into her stomach and bounced back up into her throat. The conversation she had with Sarah just a week before crawled back into her brain. It was Vivi. Vivi was the one who was into older men.
Not Sarah.
Certain there was a mistake, Megan looked from her sister to the principal and then to Sarah. “What does any of this have to do with sch
ool?”
At last, Clara’s austere posture broke. Her shoulders sagged forward, and her head turned one degree to Megan. Megan thought she detected a quick, subtle shake of the head. But Clara’s eyes darted back to her boss, and she folded in on herself again.
Megan turned her gaze to Mrs. Adamski, frowning at the woman’s inability to form a reply quickly enough. “Is this ‘man’ a…”
Brian cut in, stealing Megan’s thought, “Teacher?”
“No,” Sarah hissed from her corner.
Mrs. Adamski’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. No, no. I’m sorry for alluding to as much.” She let out another sigh, unclasped and re-clasped her hands. “Let me begin again.”
Megan and Brian exchanged a look, but Sarah just shook her head.
“This morning, a student from Miss Hannigan—er, Clara’s first hour asked to come make a report.”
Clara finally turned to face Megan full-on, her face broken, “I had no idea what she was going to say, Megan, I swear.”
“Who was the student?” Megan asked, her eyes moving to Sarah.
“That’s irrelevant,” Mrs. Adamski returned.
Megan couldn’t refrain from huffing, but Brian shot her a severe look.
“What did the student say?” he asked calmly, resting his hand on Megan’s knee, although his was the one that continued to bounce.
Mrs. Adamski opened her hands. “The student expressed her concern that one of her classmates was getting ‘in over her head’—is the phrase she used—with a gentleman many years Sarah’s senior.”
“Who is this man?” Brian asked, releasing Megan’s knee and leaning closer to the desk, his face stone.
“The reporting student wouldn’t say,” Mrs. Adamski went on. “But she did suggest he had ties to the school.”
“You said it wasn’t a teacher,” Megan pointed out. With Clara and Sarah entirely mute, she realized she had no option but to dig the truth from the uptight principal—a woman who appeared to demonstrate a minimal degree of common sense… or common courtesy.
“He’s not a teacher. But at the time, I didn’t have more information than that. I asked the reporting student to clarify, and she simply told me it was the father of another Birch Harbor High student.”
“A father?” Brian gasped and alarm replaced his solemn affect.
“When the girl wouldn’t give me more information, I opened an investigation.”
“Which is why I’m here,” Clara inserted, running her hands the length of her khaki capris. Megan saw them tremble, and she frowned.
“You know who it is, Clara?”
“Sarah isn’t saying anything,” Clara answered, lifting her hand uselessly toward the poor teenager.
“And neither is any other student here,” Mrs. Adamski added.
“I’m not saying anything,” Sarah finally declared, “Because there is nothing to say. I’m not sleeping with anyone. Or dating anyone. Not a teenager or a man or a dad.” Disgust colored her face, and Megan wanted to reach across the office and tug the girl into a tight hug, protect her from the horrors of a false allegation. An indecent one. To hear her own child use that phrase—sleeping with—was a moment that Megan would never forget. The crudeness. The undue loss of innocence. Anger rose up inside her.
“And you’ve given credence to this claim?” Brian asked. Megan could hear his accusation, sense him boiling like she was.
Mrs. Adamski and Clara must have sensed it, too. Clara answered first, “I don’t think it has much credit,” she admitted, a crook in her eyebrow.
“I just want to ensure that Sarah is safe,” Mrs. Adamski replied. “If there is no merit to this rumor, then I’ll be nothing short of relieved.”
“And you figured you’d disregard Sarah’s version of this story?” Megan asked, unable to hold back any longer. “And propel her into the spotlight amongst her peers? And teachers, for that matter? You allowed this lie to grow.”
Brian’s hand returned to her knee. “Mrs. Adamski, this is upsetting, as you can imagine. And we tend to trust our daughter. That she makes good decisions, namely, and that she is honest, too. If Sarah says it’s false, then should you not consider bringing the other student in here?”
“The troublemaker,” Megan added for clarification.
“I will handle this incident from all angles, I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson.”
“So, Sarah was never in trouble. You just wanted us here to know what students are saying about the new girl?” Megan couldn’t squash the bitterness in her words.
Mrs. Adamski held up well to it, though, pressing her hands on the table and reiterating that the only thing she wished to achieve was to ascertain whether Sarah was safe, and if there was anything Megan or Brian would like to do in terms of protection while at school.
“If she’s not in danger of some predatory older man, then that’s not the protection I’m interested in,” Brian answered.
“But what about the fallout?” Megan asked.
“Fallout?” The woman adjusted her glasses and leaned away.
“If there is a student at this school spreading some lie about Sarah dating a classmate’s father… I fear Sarah will have bigger repercussions than if the rumor were partly true.”
“Megan,” Brian hissed.
“Okay, fine,” she answered. “Certainly, I hope that the rumor isn’t true for Sarah’s sake. But I also hope that the rumor spreading is dealt with, too.” Her eyes flew to Clara. “Clara? Is this going to be a problem in first period? Should the girls be separated?”
“Now, now, Mrs. Stevenson, we didn’t even indicate whether the two girls were in the same class or—”
“I know my daughter’s schedule. And I also know who’s responsible for this. The whole story is becoming clearer by the minute, Mrs. Adamski, despite your lack of transparency. And, frankly, it gives me great pause in feeling confident about sending Sarah here every morning. Into a veritable lion’s den of mean girls. When I went to Birch Harbor—”
Again, Brian cut in. But this time, he didn’t water down Megan’s fiery reaction. Instead, he added a little fuel, “My wife and I have a sense of what’s going on. Surely, it was Viviana Fiorillo who came to make the report?”
Megan turned her attention to her husband, amazed at his perceptiveness. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he glanced at her.
“And Mercy Hennings, too?” Megan added.
“It has nothing to do with Mercy,” Clara interjected, her face shattering like glass.
Megan frowned at her sister, concerned by the overreaction playing out on her features. Was Mercy involved?
“I disagree,” Brian replied, his voice sharp as a knife.
“Brian,” Megan warned, her tone low.
At last, the principal visibly fretted. This is what happened when you made a mountain out of a molehill. This is what happened when you trusted an untrustworthy young person. Instead of the innocent new girl.
The principal of Birch Harbor High had effectively incited a family fight. One that Megan refused to lose, because there was no way in hell she would let her daughter’s senior year turn into some ridiculous small-town scandal.
But Brian turned to Clara instead of the fumbling school administrator. “I want to speak to him.”
“To whom?” Mrs. Adamski asked.
“To Jake Hennings.”
Chapter 27—Kate
Judith Carmichael returned to the Heirloom Inn on Monday to officially make her reservation.
After brief small talk, Kate brought her into the foyer and stepped behind the desk, reviewing her calendar aloud for Judith’s benefit.
Still uncomfortable and suspicious, of course, Kate’s finger trembled above each open date. There was little use in putting the woman off, and it ended up that Kate’s curiosity won out anyway.
Why did Judith Carmichael stop by twice?
Why did she want to stay at the Inn?
Comforted only by the fact that Judith, too, seemed nervous, Kate po
inted to a date.
“The first weekend in November?”
“That’ll be fine,” Judith replied, slipping a hand into her purse. “Do you take a deposit?”
Kate frowned. “Deposit? No, no. Just the reservation will be fine.” She paused a beat then measured what she said next. “I trust you.”
Judith offered a curt nod in response, but something flickered across her lips. A recognition, perhaps. Humility, even.
Kate penciled Judith into the guest log and walked her to the door as if everything was perfectly normal.
Matt arrived just as Judith was leaving, but he slipped away from Kate and Judith and into the parlor, his phone pressed to his ear and his face unreadable.
“I’ll see you Friday at or after four o’clock, then,” Kate said to Judith, as she walked the woman to the front porch.
Judith pressed her lips into a thin smile. “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Hannigan.” Then her eyes flitted up the height of the house, and she turned to leave.
Kate realized she forgot something. “Oh, by the way!” she called.
Judith spun on a heel, one eyebrow arched high on her forehead.
“Will it be just you, or will you bring Gene?”
“Just me,” Judith answered, her brow falling and her mouth an even line.
At that, Kate didn’t know whether to feel better or worse.
“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked Matt.
When she had returned inside, she found him shoving his phone back in his pocket and pacing the parlor.
The school had called. Vivi was in some kind of mix-up. Or trouble. The principal hadn’t been clear on the phone. All he knew was that he needed to meet in the front office.
Those kinds of vague invitations were always the worst. The conversations that began with Can we talk? The text messages that read Are you busy? The phone calls that hung in the air with nothing more ominous than a simple We need you to come to our office. Especially if it was the principal’s office. Especially when you were the parent.
But Kate wasn’t the parent, and this was decidedly not her business.
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