by Karen Harper
Lexi surprised Claire by putting in, “We’re all sorry about our other names, but you have to use the pretend one.”
“That’s right,” Claire said and everyone else chimed in.
“So,” Julia said, “that takes care of everyone’s temporary occupations, and we’ll see how things go.”
Nick said, “You’ve done a lot of preliminary work, and we can’t thank you enough for the hospitality and the house.”
“I never placed and hosted this many clients before, such a big—well, family. I really want to get you out to see the rural, more hidden parts of the island before the first snow hits. They say what they call the polar vortex will be harsh this year, and here we are almost in Canada.”
She’d mentioned hidden parts of the island. Claire wondered again if there were other WITSEC witnesses—clients—secreted here. Rob Patterson had been right. This location was a great setup for privacy and lack of access, especially with winter coming.
“And now I have a surprise,” Julia said. “That is, another one. I’ve asked my daughter, Liz, who, yes, does know what I do here besides running a riding stable, to join us. She should be outside in the hall, and just wait until you hear what she designs and makes for a living, a very good one at that. Excuse me for a minute, as I asked her to wait until I brought her in. Meggie, you’ve been so good, and I’ll bet you’re hungry.”
“Well, I had four pancakes, but Lily didn’t like them because she wants to go home to Florida.”
Darn, Claire thought. That talk with Lexi had to happen soon. Julia had been right about trouble with daughters no matter their age, and she couldn’t wait to meet her girl Liz.
But as Julia went out into the hall, before the door closed, Claire overheard her say, “Wade, why are you here? I asked you to stay away from her.”
A woman’s voice said, “I don’t know how he got in, but I really don’t think it’s a problem if we’re careful, so—”
The door to the hall closed behind Julia, but Claire was sitting close to it. She could still hear their voices raised until the others started talking. So she got up and pretended to stretch, standing near the door. Nick knew what she was doing and frowned, but everyone else seemed oblivious.
Julia said, “Wade, shouldn’t you be at work? That’s a good job in the jewelry store.”
“I am at work. I only saw Liz coming in here after I delivered a silver and Petoskey stone ring to that guy Liz says has been bugging your father. Kirkpatrick’s staying here. Want me to give him a hint to keep away, to fly back out of this Northern paradise?”
“And tip your tough-man hand? You—and Liz too—both know the rules, and they don’t include romantic fraternization, to put it nicely. Please, or you’ll have to be transferred, Wade.”
“Or if Liz leaves like she wants, that will solve the problem here, so maybe I can get transferred back to Manhattan if you finally let her go.”
“Don’t try being clever. I have guests, the new renters for my father’s property on Main Street, so I have to go back in. Liz, let’s go.”
Claire just managed to sit down when Julia came back in with a beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed young woman. She might be in her early twenties but looked younger. And the way she was dressed: when she took her floor-length cloak off, Claire saw she wore a long black skirt and loose-sleeved white blouse laced up the front, but it was her embroidered, beaded, lavender, wasp-waisted velvet corset worn over those garments that made Claire gasp and Jace clear his throat.
Everyone stopped talking except Lexi, who cried, “Mommy, I told you this is a castle, because that’s the princess!”
14
Sometimes Jace thought he was dreaming and wished he’d wake up. But no, he’d actually ridden a bicycle to his first day working in a small airport owned by a state park and surrounded by a forest in the boondocks of Michigan!
And his new job: not sitting in his officer’s uniform in the copilot seat of a huge, international jet but wearing jeans and a lime-green vest, stuck on the ground holding up two orange batons to bring in a small prop plane. They’d even called him a signalman when they’d given him the protocols and training this morning, not an aircraft marshaller. It sounded to him like he was working at some old train depot.
Still, he told himself, as he brought his first plane in solo to a gate, it got him out of the house where he had to watch Lexi and Claire with Nick. And, yeah, he supposed this gig would help him keep an eye on strangers coming in, especially when the lakes iced over and most of the supplies and visitors were brought in by air. He’d been told that once the ice was strong enough, islanders and visitors on snowmobiles went back and forth to the Upper Peninsula’s closest city, St. Ignace, on what they called an ice bridge.
He brought the Beechcraft Baron in with the universal hand signals he’d seen so many times from the elevated cockpit. It was a piece of cake without the busy gates, ground tugs, baggage trains, food trucks and airstairs he’d had to deal with for years.
After the two passengers deplaned with their suitcases and the pilot taxied off to a parking area, Jace paced, waiting for the next plane. At least his earphones weren’t just useful to mute noise but for info from the tower. And all this for a little less than thirty dollars per hour salary when he was used to big bucks. The September through May hours were 7:30 to 5:30, and there were only two single-engine planes based here, but he’d love to take one of them up to see the island from the air, to just soar and escape all this.
He needed a diversion and, evidently, Julia Collister wasn’t willing to fill the bill. He’d asked her about her family and she’d said no husband, just her father and daughter. Still, he loved a challenge and she was that, so he didn’t plan to give up on her. Besides, he could tell it annoyed Claire and Nick.
He looked around the tarmac again. Yeah, what a place, with no fuel available and Great Lakes Air the only regularly scheduled planes.
He was glad to get word of another aircraft approaching to stop his thoughts. This one was a Cessna Mustang, an aircraft he’d flown briefly, years ago. He brought the plane in and started back inside for his lunch break, walking behind the man who’d emerged from the plane. The guy was well dressed in a black overcoat and gray slacks, totally out of place around here, and he wore fancy, tooled Western boots. Silver-haired and muscular, he strode with a purpose, almost strutted. When Jace got info through his headphones he was to lead the Cessna to a parking place in the hangar, he went into action again, walking backward most of the way while moving the orange batons.
When he headed back toward the terminal, he saw the passenger from the plane standing and smoking at the edge of the tarmac by the terminal. Yeah, he sniffed it before he saw it. The guy was smoking a strong-smelling cigar.
“You spend a lot of time near the planes even when they’re not coming or going?” the man asked, expelling a plume of heavy smoke. He had a broad face, dark bushy eyebrows and a narrow mouth.
“Guilty as charged.”
“I was hoping to fly my Hawker biz jet in from Cheboygan, but they said short runway here, so I had to lease this smaller one. I came on the regular flight a few days earlier but just went back to check on my plane and rented this one with the pilot to wait here for me. I’ll make it worth your while if you’d keep an eye on this prop plane and give me an idea of a reasonable place for the rent-a-pilot to stay in town. I’m at the Grand, but he doesn’t need all that. An econo place will do.”
“We’re not allowed to recommend lodgings,” Jace said, to cover the fact he had no clue about a place to stay but the Grand. “Inside, though, they could help you.”
Another plume of smoke went skyward. “Well, then, when you’re here, just keep an eye on the plane for me. Call my cell if there’s any problem with or question about it.”
Jace could tell the guy was used to giving orders. He
extended a card to Jace, which he glanced at but didn’t pocket.
“Sure,” Jace said. “So—Las Vegas, and you’re here?”
“Business. And if you’d like to make some extra money, tell me how to reach you. I may well be buying a lot of things here in the near future and will need someone to help me transport and load them.”
“Against the rules again, so—”
“The rules are for those who need them. The rest of us rise above. Forget it, then,” he said, grabbing the card back from Jace. He stooped and rubbed the lit end of the cigar carefully on the tarmac between them. Then, with Jace still glaring at him, he took a flat cigar case—made of tooled leather that matched his boots—out of his inner coat pocket and put the unsmoked half of the cigar carefully in it. The inside of the box had one word, COHIBA.
“Big bucks a pop,” he said, “even if I have a source. Didn’t get where I am wasting money or time.”
As the man went inside, Jace didn’t budge. He didn’t care if the guy complained about him even on his first day at work. He guessed someone like that would rub most people the wrong way around here. The guy reminded him of Clayton Ames, not in looks but in manner, and that bastard could have his tentacles out anywhere.
So he’d just remember what he’d scanned on the card in case the guy was obnoxious again. He didn’t catch the cell phone or fax number, but he’d sure remember the name VERN KIRKPATRICK, LAS VEGAS WILD WEST MUSEUM AND SHOW.
* * *
Claire was aching to go up into the attic to access the widow’s walk and see the view from there, but Nick didn’t need to climb all those steps yet. Nor did she want to do it without him or go alone. And she didn’t want Lexi to know how to get up there, because who knew what her imaginary friend, Lily, might do. So she’d spent much of the morning talking to Lexi in an attempt to comfort and assure her and to insist on a plan to get rid of Lily.
They sat on the sofa in the parlor because the TV on the wall in what they were calling the family room seemed to distract Lexi, even when it wasn’t on, almost as if she was seeing a show on the blank screen there.
“Good behavior like we talked about is worth some rewards,” Claire said when the child was getting antsy after about a quarter of an hour. But she wanted to summarize things they’d gone over, to comfort her more and give her hope. And she was yet to actually deal with Lily.
“Mommy, I already let Shark-Killer stay here to guard the house instead of go to lunch at the grand castle.”
“And I appreciated your cooperation on that. I know we have had a hard time these last months, but this will be a great vacation for us here, and there is nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
“I hear some lady crying at night. At first I was scared it was you.”
Claire sucked in a quick breath. Her heartbeat kicked up.
“No, no, sweetheart. That’s just the wind. I heard it too. We’ll get used to it. Maybe we can get some earplugs. But I want you to promise me that Lily will not come around anymore. If you really want to see Julia’s horses and maybe take riding lessons on one of her ponies, all that will be for you, not for Lily. She is not good for you or for us, so you have to send her away.”
Lexi thrust out her lower lip and snatched up the stuffed animal to hug it hard. “How is she going to get off this island? On that ferry? And then how will she get home?”
So much, Claire thought, for behavior modification or rationality. But it hadn’t worked for her to use the approach that Lily wasn’t real when she was real to a frightened, uprooted little girl.
“We’ll get her help to get home. Where does she live?” Claire asked.
Lexi sighed in exasperation. “In our old house in Naples, where we should be. The big boat a friend gave us for a while wasn’t really our home.”
Claire sighed. While they had lived on the borrowed yacht while solving the Mangrove Murder case, Lexi had not mentioned Lily, but had she been haunted by her alter ego then? Claire pulled Lexi, stuffed whale and all, onto her lap and held her tight. “I’ll be sure Lily gets back to Florida. But as for us, we will have a home someday, with real friends—just like Cousin Jilly is to you. But right now, we are kind of playing hide-and-seek.”
“More like tag, and we’re not it. Someone else is it, like that bad Mr. Ames people whisper about.”
Claire was shocked anew. The child was so perceptive, so easily damaged. “Yes, kind of like that. But we will all be safe and happy here,” she promised, kissing the top of her head and wishing so hard that she might, just possibly—please, God—be telling her the truth.
* * *
After promising Lexi they could visit Julia’s stables tomorrow, Claire left her in Nita’s care, learning more Spanish words. Gina went with Claire for a walk, leaving Heck, Nick and Julia in a planning meeting while Bronco kept an eye on things. Claire had learned yesterday at their hotel lunch where Liz Collister’s shop was, and they were going to drop in, though neither she nor Gina wanted to buy a corset, evidently the new rage for some women and a fashion statement for others. Who knew?
The men had been as much avid listeners as the women when Liz had shown off the one she was wearing and had talked about her hopes to “move off this island to the bigger island of Manhattan” to set herself up in a shop. Claire had noted well that Julia had been eager to praise Liz’s Island Corset Shoppe but was cold to the idea of one in New York City. It had also seemed to Claire, who had long made her career listening to and evaluating what people said and didn’t say, that there was tension on more than that between mother and daughter. Maybe about Liz’s beau, Wade?
Claire and Gina found the small shop wedged in between two larger ones on French Street not far from the ferry dock.
“Pretty close to the Market Street shops, yes, but you’d have to be looking for it,” Gina observed.
“In Northern Michigan, don’t you think you’d need to be looking for a corset shop to find it anywhere?”
Gina almost smiled. Claire had spent some time with her this morning too, privately in the parlor, just listening to the young woman talk about her misgivings at what she’d got herself into. Heck adored her and she cared for him, but once out of Cuba, she felt she was, as she put it, “still at sea.” And she kept worrying about her mother.
“Not one more hair on her head can turn white over me,” she’d said. “Losing Alfredito nearly killed her—and now this.”
“Despite your parents’ grief at your leaving, they want what is best for you. Once we get through this, we can get you into med school, hopefully, in Florida. If the US reconciles with Cuba, things will open up, and you can more easily visit.”
“And my father, he yelled at me and Berto, to marry right away, and he wants to, but I say not yet, not now.”
“You’re doing the right thing. I married much too fast—twice.”
Claire had reached out to grasp Gina’s hands. “I’m happy with Jack, but nothing’s been normal for us. And certainly it isn’t now.”
They’d sat like that in the parlor, silent for a few moments, but somehow that had been a huge building block for their friendship.
“Oh, her shop is upstairs!” Gina said now. “That Liz’s Island Corset Shoppe sign says stairs around the back. I hope we find her there.”
They did. Bent over a laptop screen on a worktable littered with beautiful things like leather and satin swatches in various colors, lace, crystal beads and gold cord trim.
“Oh, you came!” Liz cried, bouncing up to greet them. “Let me show you around, though it’s only this workroom, since I’ve been saving every dime for a couple of years. Manhattan rent is out of sight! But before Mother came back to the island, I had to work out of our house, listening to Granddad’s Western music and movie soundtracks over and over. Manhattan’s my dream, to move into a little shop there where the Kardashians c
an easily come for a fitting and not send things back and forth.”
“The Kardashians?” Claire gasped.
“Who are they?” Gina asked, and Claire tried to explain.
“And others they sent my way,” Liz interrupted in her exuberance. “The latest for them was an eight-hundred-dollar corset absolutely ablaze with hand-beaded Swarovski crystals! And another couple for undergarments you wouldn’t believe, though the way they are, they may show up in one of their selfies online or in People or Us magazines. Onward and upward, because, like I said, they’ve told others about my designs. Don’t think when you see gorgeous personalities on a red carpet for some movie or the Oscars that they have natural waists that small. Ten to one, it’s a corset.”
“Amazing,” Claire said as Liz showed them her designs and samples.
“It’s all online if you want to check, and I don’t do all the finishing work myself, though I do for my A-listers. I have three island women who sew for me too and usually take their work home.”
Liz stopped her stream of talk and stared off into space for a moment as if she was having a petit mal. Claire recalled Julia had done that too, so maybe it ran in the family.
“Well,” Liz said, as if snapping back to reality, “now that Mother’s back here to watch Granddad and I’ve built a business, I need to get out of this attic and off the island. My father wants me to come to Baltimore, but Manhattan would be better. Mother’s dead set against my plan, and we’ve had words about it.”
“I picked up on that,” Claire said. “So your father’s in Baltimore?”
“Right. Where he thinks not only I but Mother should be too. They’re divorced, but he still carries a torch for her. He comes here once in a while to see me—and her, but they’re hardly simpatico.”
Shades of Jace and me? Claire wondered, but she said, “So your mother came back not only to take care of your grandfather, but so you could have your dream and leave?”