Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel)

by Anna Sullivan

  “Get out.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going through that stubborn, contrary brain of yours.”

  “I’m thinking about getting my gun.”

  “Bullshit. You’re thinking about taking matters into your own hands.”

  She froze with her foot on the first stair riser, looked at him.

  “That’s some imagination you have there, Mr. Keegan.”

  “Stay out of this, Maggie. Don’t do anything rash.”

  She turned, looked him dead in the eye. “Because I’m a pathetic, self-destructive female scorned by the man she loves?”

  “Because you want me gone.”

  “You’re not wrong there.”

  “No, I’m the one who was wrong.” His gaze lifted to hers, held. “What I said about you and your father.”

  “Your opinion changed so easily, Keegan?” she said, and oddly enough, with sarcasm she wasn’t just playing at. It felt good to know she was already coming back, at least a little, to herself.

  “I had a life before you showed up. I’ll have a life after you’re gone. A good one,” she added, even if the way she looked at the world had changed—for the better, she decided. Dex had shown her that she had a capacity for love. He’d opened up the possibilities for her—even if she wasn’t up to thanking him for it quite yet.

  “You’re right in the damn middle of this now, Maggie, no matter if either of us is happy about it.”

  “I gave you a solution. You refuse to take it.”

  “Jesus, are you pissed enough at me to put your life on the line over something you don’t even want?”

  “Who says I don’t want it? Who wouldn’t want big piles of money? Isn’t that why you lied to everyone in the first place? We’re all a bunch of greedy lowlifes who’d do anything to get their hands on part of the Stanhope fortune, right? Any mainlander could tell you that.”

  “They’d be wrong, at least where you’re concerned. If you were willing to take a handout, you’d be toeing Daddy’s line. You built this place with nothing but your own blood, sweat, and tears—if you’d ever give anyone the satisfaction of shedding one, that is.”

  He was wrong, Maggie thought, she was on the edge right now. Her only defense, her only weapon, was anger, and she was holding on tight to the ragged end of hers. “At the risk of being repetitive,” she said mockingly, “I’ll tell you again. Get out.”

  “This is my case.”

  “But it’s my life.”

  “And I’m not allowed to be involved anymore.”

  “By your own choice.”

  “Jesus, Maggie, give me one damn minute to think here.” Dex paced a little away, running a hand back through his hair like he did when he was working his way through some frustration.

  Maggie could understand, but she wasn’t inclined to sympathize. Thinking wasn’t the problem. Feeling was, and if she’d allowed herself a little more time to let her brain talk her heart off the ledge, she might not be in this predicament.

  And that, she thought with a slight smile, was bullshit. Telling Dex she loved him was non-negotiable. If not today, she’d have told him before he left Windfall. She’d always been a risk-taker because without risk there was no reward. And no loss. But better, she decided, to lose before she loved Dex Keegan any more than she already did.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Dex. Everything’s been said that requires saying.”

  “Not if you’re going to do something stupid.”

  She laughed. It was easier than she’d thought it would be. But then, she was laughing at herself. “I try not to be stupid more than once every twenty-four hours or so. I think I’ve met my quota for today.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Emmett Finley picked up a package of Oreos, offered it to Maggie for the third time in the ten minutes since she’d arrived at his ramshackle old house on the edge of town.

  Maggie dipped in, took one to placate him. She didn’t eat it, didn’t have the stomach for it. She hadn’t had much of a stomach for anything the last couple of days. She wished she didn’t have a heart anymore.

  Having Dex throw her love back in her face, having him tell her she was damaged, incapable of understanding that emotion… She couldn’t put the pain of it into words. She wished she could stop feeling it, but she knew it would take a lot of time to get over him. Distance would have helped, but distance was something she couldn’t have on an island the size of a postage stamp. Unless Dex solved his case and got the hell gone.

  Which was what had brought her to her uncle Emmett’s house on a brisk fall morning, with the sky as dull and gray as her mood.

  Hard on the heels of a broken heart, she’d been hit square in the face with the possibility she might be the long lost Stanhope descendant. It hadn’t sunk in then, when she’d been numb and angry. She felt the weight of it now, a weight in her stomach and on her heart. Family connections had never played a positive role in her life. The Stanhopes, with their wealth, their history, their position, would almost certainly expect her to live up to their image. Maggie had no intention of living according to anyone’s rules but her own.

  Emmett Finley was her great uncle, and the only family she had who might be able to help her confirm her ancestry one way or the other. He’d have been no more than eight years old when Eugenia Stanhope went missing, but eight was old enough to understand what was going on around him. If he could remember it.

  Thankfully, he was too deep into one of his stories to notice her nerves. As it was a story she’d heard countless times, she was free to search her mind for a way to ask him, to ask an uncle she loved, if he’d had a hand in concealing the kidnapping of a helpless baby.

  She didn’t want to distress Emmett, but she had to discover the truth. She would, Maggie decided, even as she heard a knock on Emmett’s front door. Finding Dex Keegan on the other side of that door worked wonders for her emotional upheaval, paring the conflict raging inside her down to a fine point of white-hot anger.

  She stepped back, met his eyes as he walked by her. She’d given Dex everything she had to give; he wasn’t getting anything but her indifference from now on.

  “Never thought I’d see the day you’d back away from a fight,” he said.

  She shrugged. “It’s worth it as long as it gets me closer to the day you’ll be gone.” And because she’d forced herself to hold his dark, challenging gaze, she saw the flash of anger. So, she’d won a battle after all, she mused, allowing herself to feel the satisfaction of victory without acknowledging there’d been hurt in his eyes, as well.

  “Two visitors in one day,” Emmett said, oblivious to the tension. He offered Dex the Oreo bag.

  Dex took one, held it much as Maggie had. But he wasn’t having any problem getting to the point. He hunkered down by Emmett’s chair, waited until he had the old man’s attention. “What do you know about the kidnapping of Eugenia Stanhope?”

  Emmett gasped, mild curiosity shifting to shock as his face drained white.

  Maggie took the hand that groped for hers, sank down on the arm of his easy chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She leaned close, murmuring reassurances until she felt the pulse under her fingers start to quiet.

  Then she seared Dex with a look. “Jesus, Keegan, why don’t you just punch him in the face?”

  “You want me gone, there’s a price.”

  “So you use an old man to make me pay it? Whatever’s between us, I wouldn’t have believed it of you.”

  Dex shot to his feet, every bit as furious. When he spoke, though, his voice was even, coldly even. And he didn’t speak to her. “I’m sorry I upset you, Mr. Finley.”

  “Emmett,” he corrected. “I like you, boy, but I don’t know nothing about the Stanhope girl.”

  “Then I can’t protect Maggie.”

  “Maggie?” Emmett’s hand tightened on hers. “What’s he on about? Somebody after you, child?”

  “No—”

  “Yes,” Dex said over he
r. He hunkered down by Emmett’s chair again, laid his hand on Emmett’s other wrist. “I came here to find out what happened to Eugenia Stanhope. I think you may know.”

  “Don’t,” Emmett said stubbornly.

  “Don’t or won’t?”

  “Amounts to the same thing, boy.”

  “Even if your silence puts Maggie in danger?”

  Emmett’s face folded into belligerent lines. But he looked up, and Maggie saw the hint of doubt in his eyes, the shadow of an old, sad secret. And God help her, she used it.

  “You know I can take care of myself, Uncle Emmett. Don’t you think it’s time to let Eugenia rest in peace?”

  Dex started to speak. She cut him off with one warning glare.

  “You and Aunt Jane were so good to me when I moved back here.”

  Emmett smiled fondly. “She used to show up at our place at all hours,” he said to Dex. “Nancy was my niece, family, but she was a poor judge of character. Latched onto that Solomon character the minute he stepped foot on the island. She got what she wanted, but she should have spent less time blaming you for putting her back here, and more time being a real mother.”

  Maggie swallowed away the tightness in her throat. “She just wanted to be loved, Uncle Emmett. I don’t think I ever really understood that before.”

  “You loved her. I loved her. It should have been enough.”

  “Yes,” Maggie said. She had people who loved her, and it would be enough. But not today. As long as she had to be faced with Dex Keegan, she knew the ache in her chest, the tears that constantly threatened, would be with her as well. And she’d feel this huge, consuming yearning for something she knew she could never have.

  Yes, she understood her mother, at long last. It did neither of them any good.

  There was, however, one wrong she could right. “Tell me what happened on the night of October 16, 1931,” she said to her great uncle, and when he remained silent, she prompted, “Your father was running illegal alcohol from the ships docked off shore, wasn’t he?”

  Emmett’s jaw bunched.

  “It’s important, Uncle Emmett. You know I’d never upset you this way if it wasn’t necessary.”

  Emmett shoved unsteadily to his feet, and for a second Maggie thought they’d be leaving none the wiser. Then he sank back into his chair and began to talk.

  “Things were always tight when I was a kid, Maggie, before this got to be such a blessed tourist attraction.” He said it with equal parts pride and disgust, and made Maggie smile. “Windfall Island has always been a place where necessity dictates. When Prohibition became law more than one Windfaller started running booze in from the big ships, always in crews, as it took more than one pair of hands to make quick work of the runs before the Coast Guard caught on. My da partnered most times with Norris, Meeker, and Gifford, but others floated in and out of the group.”

  “What about that night?” Dex prompted.

  “Let him tell it his way,” Maggie said, giving her uncle’s hand an encouraging squeeze. If his mind went sideways, they’d just have to wait until the next time he was lucid to get the rest of the details. Pushing would only make him clam up. “Take your time, Uncle Emmett.”

  “We’re out of time,” Dex said, although he had the good sense to keep his tone calm and reasonable. “Forgive me, Mr. Finley—Emmett—but waiting could mean we never get the truth.”

  Emmett snorted. “Because my mind is blinking on and off like a faulty lightbulb?”

  Maggie made a sound of denial, and he used his other hand to pat her wrist. “Don’t think I don’t know, child. Sometimes.” Emmett smiled wryly. “The blessing of it is, a lot of the time I don’t realize I’m a rambling old fool.”

  “You’re not a fool, Uncle Emmett, just old. I’ll take you to the mainland—”

  “Been to the doctor, and I’m taking the pills he gave me.”

  Maggie gripped his hand, held on tight, her heart aching.

  “I’m near ninety years old, Maggie. Body’s about give out, no reason why my mind shouldn’t be showing its age.” He settled back into his chair, took a deep breath and let it out heavily.

  “October 16, 1931,” he began, smiling as he visited the past by choice instead of wandering there in confusion. “Like I said, my da used to work with a crew running booze in from the ships parked at what they called the Rum Line. Was three miles at the beginning of Prohibition, government moved it to twelve.” He grinned, winked at Maggie. “They thought it would stop folks like us, but what’s a little hardship to a Windfaller? Hell, we even had dealings with Bill McCoy—the real McCoy, he was called, and that’s where the saying comes from, for not watering down his liquor like most of the others did to stretch supplies and pad profits.

  “Norris and Gifford went out to the big ships that night. They were the usual pair. Hank Gifford—”

  “Giff.”

  “That’s right,” Emmett said to Dex. “He used to like to chase the ladies, gold band on his finger notwithstanding.”

  “Another quality the current generation seems to have inherited,” Maggie put in, pleased that it brought a smile to her uncle’s face.

  “Can’t blame a man for chasing after you,” he said fondly. “Just their bad luck you’re so picky.”

  “I guess I’m comparing every man I meet to you. I thought I found one who measured up, but I rushed to judgment.”

  Emmett slid a look in Dex’s direction. “Maybe you should take it a little slower next time, child.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Dex muttered.

  “Next time?” Maggie shook her head. “Go on with your story, Uncle Emmett.”

  “It was a floating party, my da used to say. Music, gambling, booze flowing like water, women with their stockings rolled down. Floozies they were called back then. Always thought it was a shame my da wouldn’t let me go out and see for myself, but I had to be satisfied with hearing the stories.”

  “Your mother probably would have skinned him alive, you being all of eight years old.”

  “Nearer to nine, and precocious to boot,” he said with a grin. “Hank Gifford, now, he was the one telling the stories, more often than not. Ran into a girl that night—”

  “Sonja Hanson,” Dex murmured.

  “Never did hear her name,” Emmett said. “I’m not sure Gifford knew it, either, as Sam Norris—the elder Sam Norris—dragged him back to the boat once they’d made their deal. Weather was wicked that night. I remember that much, and crossing twelve miles of ocean when the Atlantic’s in a bitch of a mood is risky, even without the Coast Guard breathing down your neck.”

  He rested his head against the chair back, and for a second, Maggie thought he’d had enough for one day. Though she wanted to push for the rest of the story, she started to get to her feet.

  Emmett pulled her back down next to him. “My father took me with him that night as much to get me out of the house as for the extra pair of hands. My baby sister, your grandmother, Maggie, was bad sick with the measles. My mam had her hands full, and Da thought to get me out from under her feet.

  “We were unloading when we heard what sounded like a baby crying. The men, they all froze, kind of looking at one another, you know, like they didn’t believe their ears. So I went over to the boat, and there she was.”

  “Eugenia,” Dex said.

  Emmett hesitated, then sighed. “In for a penny, in for a pound, my old Mam used to say. The babe was wrapped in a blanket, finer than anything I ever saw, before that day or since. Had a big, curlicued S stitched on the pink satin edging, with an E and an A on either side of it. And there was a necklace around her throat, rubies, diamonds, though I didn’t know it then, and don’t know to this day what became of it, let alone if it was real or paste.”

  “Real.” Dex surged to his feet, pacing across the small room then back. “And an eight-month old baby wouldn’t have been wearing jewelry like that. Sonja never mentioned it. Neither did the Stanhopes.”

  When he looked o
ver at her, Maggie met his gaze. “They kept the necklace secret, and that makes it another way to track her.”

  He nodded, and she could feel the excitement pumping off him.

  Maggie could understand, at least a little, how he must be feeling. She’d only been on the hunt for Eugenia Stanhope for a few days, but she felt hope rising up inside her, making it a little hard to breathe.

  “Can you tell the rest of the story, Uncle Emmett, or are you too tired?”

  Emmett rested his head again, but mixed with the weariness on his face was what she thought might be relief.

  “You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a long time.”

  “I have,” he said, sitting forward again. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? Dex?”

  “It’ll have to come out, Mr. Finley.” Dex came back, knelt down in front of Emmett. “Her family has a right to know, don’t you think?”

  “They’ve never stopped looking for her, have they?” Emmett scrubbed age-gnarled hands over his face. “I didn’t think about that when I was a kid, and by the time I grew up, well, I guess I put it out of my mind, like I was told.”

  He looked at Maggie, said apologetically, “They were afraid, you see. Finding her in their boat while they were breaking the law, and then the Perdition blowing up that way. We’d’ve been blamed, Maggie. Bad enough these days, the way people look askance at us, but back then?” He shook his head. “Our men’d get hauled off to jail and nobody woulda give a rat’s ass about evidence or guilt.”

  “Nobody’s judging, Uncle Emmett.”

  “I understand the reasons it was kept quiet,” Dex added, “But that time has passed. Can you tell me what happened to the baby? One of the island families took her in, right?”

  “I’m sorry,” Emmett said. “She came home with me and Da, but I don’t know what happened after that.”

  Again Dex stood, paced.

  “You have to understand,” Emmett said, “The measles were running like a plague through the island. Every kid was either getting over the sickness or coming down with it. Half of them were hovering at death’s door, most of them babies too young and weak to fight off the disease. Wasn’t a day went by we didn’t hear of a loss.