by Blythe Baker
Holly nudged me in the arm, and I realized I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t responded.
“Hi,” I finally said, the single syllable feeling inadequate.
“You are Ms. Lane, correct?” Robert Baines said, walking across the room, his hand extended.
I nodded and grabbed his hand, slightly put off by how dry and cold it was.
“And this is…” I hesitated, realizing I didn’t know Mrs. Harris’ first name. “Mrs. Harris. And this is—”
“Holly.” Holly reached around me, and gave Mr. Baines a firm, quick handshake.
Robert tipped his head to both of them. “Mrs. Harris. Holly.”
He then turned and began introducing everyone in the room, but I almost immediately tuned him out, focusing instead on the wall of glass that looked out on a rolling landscape twice as big as the lawn in the front, but just as unnaturally green. It was a far cry from the natural grasses and sandy beaches I’d come to accept as the island’s only landscaping options.
“I believe you are already well acquainted with Mr. Levey,” Robert said.
My head snapped away from the windows and focused on the interior of the room, scanning the faces until I saw him. Leaning against the back wall, a drink twirling coolly in his hand. Daniel.
I hadn’t seen him since we’d broken up, and I was annoyed to see he hadn’t aged horribly or gained a significant amount of weight in the months we’d been apart. He was still trim and dark and dimpled. It was disgusting.
I nodded, words failing me.
“Lovely to see you again, Piper,” Daniel said, smiling a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Suddenly, I was extremely glad I’d worn my revenge dress. I wanted Daniel to look at me and be riddled with stomach churning regrets.
“Such a cold greeting for two people who were once so close,” Robert Baines said, a smug smile on his face.
So that answered that question. Clearly he knew Daniel and I used to date, and clearly he had no issue bringing it up.
Upon seeing my face flush the same shade of red as my dress, Robert placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, perhaps that wasn’t public knowledge. I never know how to approach workplace romances. I’m a bit too old-fashioned for such things.”
I laughed off his remark, unsure what else to do.
“Dad, don’t torture your guests,” a dark-haired woman standing next to the fire said. She had the same round face as Robert Baines, but where he was tall and foreboding, she was short and squat. She reminded me of the lawn gnomes my parents collected in the front garden, except without a pointy hat.
“I am hardly torturing Ms. Lane,” Robert said, scoffing at his daughter. “This is my daughter, Julia. She lives with her mother, but her trust fund becomes void unless she spends at least one month every year with me. As you can imagine, we are quite close.”
The father and daughter shared a pointed look with one another, and I would have sworn the room’s temperature dropped several degrees. Their relationship was chilly to say the least. The exchange made me want to call my own dad and thank him for being someone I could always moderately tolerate, even in my rebellious teenage years.
Robert directed Holly, Mrs. Harris, and me to a love seat near the fire, and then shifted his focus to the guests sitting on the L-shaped leather sofa. “This is Ward and Shanda. They are doctors,” he said, and then leaned in to whisper to me, though it was still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “The only two doctors on the entire island, I hear, so it’s best to remain on their good side.”
“We’ve actually met,” Ward said, his thin lips tightening into a small smile and lifting a flat palm in a stiff wave.
Robert lifted a finger into the air. “Ahh, yes, of course. You and Shanda would have been the ones to examine the body that so unfortunately turned up on Ms. Lane’s private beach a few weeks ago, correct?”
Both Ward and Shanda simply nodded.
“Were either of you very involved with the investigation?” he asked.
“Not beyond the initial exam of the body,” Shanda said.
Robert nodded. “Probably best. I’m sure they found a medical examiner on the mainland to do the official autopsy.”
Though he hadn’t said anything exactly rude, the tone in which he’d spoken suggested he’d meant it as an insult. Much as I had, Shanda and Ward merely smiled and nodded, surely hoping Robert Baines would move on to denigrating one of his other guests. Robert did not disappoint.
“And certainly,” Robert said, gesturing towards the corner of the room nearest the windows and the sliding glass door that opened to the patio, “you’ve heard of the island’s resident artist, Mason Adams.”
“Yes,” I said. “We’ve met several times.”
Mason silently tipped his head towards me, a lock of his dark brown hair falling forward onto his brow. He reached up with a paint-splattered hand to brush it back.
I hadn’t seen him since the night Martin Little had attacked me, and I couldn’t fathom what may have possessed him to not only leave his studio, but come to Robert Baines’ party. Nothing about Mason gave the impression that he was the kind of person who enjoyed social gatherings, and unlike some of the other guests here—myself included—whose businesses could potentially benefit from Baines’ recognition, Mason already had a steady clientele on the mainland. Last I’d heard, he had been commissioned to paint a giant mural for a new park in downtown Houston.
“Have you seen his work?” Robert asked, continuing on without waiting for my response. “I hear it is wonderful, though I can’t seem to convince him to show it to me. Perhaps he is a little shy? As you can tell by my décor, I fancy myself an amateur art critic. However, I’ve promised Mr. Adams I will say nothing to discredit his landscape paintings. Not everyone can paint like the Renaissance painters, after all.”
“My studio door is always open,” Mason said in reply, his voice tense. “I welcome criticism.”
Robert laughed. “All artists say that until they are actually faced with it. No, I meant what I said. I will keep my comments positive.”
“How kind of you,” Mason said. His words came out in a sneer, and unlike everyone else, he didn’t seem capable of dismissing Robert’s comments or ignoring them. He openly glared at the man, and I worried for a second that he would lunge across the room at him. Of course, the idea also kind of thrilled me. There was nothing I’d love to see more than Robert Baines getting knocked off his high horse.
Robert’s commentary continued as he introduced Jimmy, the owner of Jimmy’s Daily Catch, the seafood restaurant that sat on Main Street sandwiched between an empty store front and the island’s only law office. He joked about Jimmy’s loose definition of the word “daily,” and made mention of a fear of food poisoning.
The subtle jabs and snide comments continued until every guest had been equally embarrassed, only stopping once when the caterer came in carrying a tray of lobster puffs and other hors d oeuvres.
“Everyone, you have to try this man’s food. Samuel is a wizard in the kitchen. Seriously, if you ever need a caterer, Samuel De la Cruz is your man,” Robert said.
Samuel smiled and continued moving throughout the room silently, ensuring every guest took something from his platter. When he was finished, he bowed slightly to Robert, and dismissed himself, disappearing down the hallway.
Robert hadn’t been lying. The lobster puff was amazing, and I was usually not a fan of shellfish. While Jimmy had taken to studying his lobster puff, passing it back and forth between his hands as if touching it enough times would give him the ability to recreate it, I was wishing I’d been a bit more bold and grabbed two like Holly had. I hadn’t wanted to look too eager about the food, though, especially in front of Daniel. For some reason, even though we hadn’t been together for months, I still wanted to impress him, and ferociously shoveling appetizers in my mouth wasn’t my best look.
I still couldn’t quite believe I was sitting i
n the same room as Daniel. Houston was a massive city, so even if I’d stayed there, my chance of running into him was incredibly unlikely. So, when I’d decided to relocate to the tiny microcosm of Sunrise Island, I was certain I’d shifted the risk of a chance encounter from unlikely to impossible. However, the more I thought about it, the more I had to wonder whether it was a chance encounter after all. Robert Baines didn’t seem especially fond of any of his guests—his own daughter included. There was every possibility that I hadn’t been invited to the party because of my emerging talent in the bed and breakfast scene, but rather because I was the one person Robert knew would make Daniel uncomfortable. Now the question was why Robert would want to make Daniel uncomfortable in the first place.
“This guy is a real piece of work,” Holly whispered in my ear, making me jump. I’d been so deep in thought I’d almost forgotten she was sitting next to me.
“That’s an understatement,” I said.
“I’m going to go try and talk with him,” Holly said, rising from the love seat and smoothing down the back of her dress.
I wished her good luck, and then turned to Mrs. Harris for the first time. Since arriving, she hadn’t said a single word, and from the outside, she seemed almost normal, if a little quiet. If I hadn’t known her, I would have thought she was simply a shy old woman.
“Do you need anything, Mrs. Harris?” I asked, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Some water or a snack?”
The old woman turned to me and grabbed my arm with a grip stronger than she should have been capable of, her eyes wide and clear, as gray as the ocean during a storm. I winced.
“The winds have shifted. It won’t be long now,” she said, her voice loud enough that I worried someone would hear.
Shanda and Ward were deep in conversation with Jimmy, about what I couldn’t imagine. Daniel was putting on the charm with Robert Baines’s daughter, Julia, in the corner, one hand pressed against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. I hated how charming he was, even from a distance. He oozed confidence. No matter what I thought of him now, he was handsome. Clearly, Julia thought so, as well. She twirled a strand of her long brown hair in her nervous fingers, and stared up at him with doe eyes. It made me sick.
Annoyed, I looked to the opposite corner, and jumped when I noticed Mason Adams. He was staring at me, one eyebrow raised in judgment. Or, at least, it felt like judgment. It could have just been a random facial expression, but it felt almost as if he had been reading my mind. As if he knew all of the conflicting feelings I was having about Daniel. Embarrassed, I turned back to Mrs. Harris. She still had a firm grip on my arm, but her eyes had gone glassy and unfocused.
I wanted to ask her what she’d meant when she’d said it wouldn’t be long now, but I also really didn’t want to know. If I’d learned anything from my time with Mrs. Harris, it was that sometimes it was best to just ignore her. Besides, I had enough to worry about without trying to decode her creepy and frequent predictions.
Her hand slipped from my arm and landed with a thud on the couch, practically lifeless.
“Maybe you should go and lie down,” I suggested, excited by the prospect of getting rid of her, if only for a few minutes. “I think I saw a couch in the next room over.”
Mrs. Harris didn’t respond, as I’d anticipated she wouldn’t, so I took that to mean she was fine with my suggestion. Grabbing her loosely at the elbow I helped her to her feet, and like an infant, limp and helpless, she followed me.
The hallway was dim, and every inch of available wall space was filled with tables covered in small sculptures and vases, each one likely worth more than everything I’d ever owned added together, and bookshelves stuffed with dusty leather books.
Sandwiched between an oil painting of a wooden ship on choppy seas and a bronze bust of a horse head was an open door that looked in on a small office. Compared to the rest of the house, this room was almost bare, a clean wooden desk sitting in the middle of the room, bare bookshelves behind it, and a small leather couch pushed up against the back wall. It looked like a deserted psychiatrist’s office, which felt incredibly well suited for Mrs. Harris. I helped her sit on the couch, and she almost immediately laid down, resting her head on the armrest.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked, feeling bad for having brought her along with me at all. My own guilt turned once again to anger at Holly Belden for forcing me to come here.
Mrs. Harris closed her eyes, so I slipped quietly out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me.
“Why did you bring the old woman with you?”
I yelped, startled by the voice over my shoulder, and turned to see Daniel looking down at me.
“You scared me,” I said.
He didn’t say anything, just continued staring at me, waiting for an answer.
I sighed. “It’s a long story, but I couldn’t leave her at home alone. She is a bit…unstable.”
“Wait, you live with her?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
I knew what he was thinking. He thought I lived with Mrs. Harris. He thought that, after our break up, I’d moved in with an elderly woman, leaving behind my friends and family in Houston. He thought that our break up had broken me, that I was now sad and pitiable.
“She lives with me,” I corrected, barely hiding the snarl in my voice. “I bought a bed and breakfast on the island—I’m fixing it up, and it will reopen in the next few weeks—and Mrs. Harris lives in the attic.”
“You’re going to open a bed and breakfast?” the disbelief in his voice was plain.
“You could sound a little less shocked,” I said, brushing past him, heading for the main party room. As much as I didn’t want to mingle with Robert Baines’ other guests, I definitely didn’t want to be alone with Daniel anymore.
He grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit surprised. I had no idea you had such an entrepreneurial spirit.”
“I had no idea you and Robert Baines were so close,” I said, hoping to shift the subject away from myself.
“I could say the same about you,” he said, not taking the bait.
I decided to be candid. “I was blackmailed into coming here.”
He hesitated, clearly trying to decide whether I was being serious. After a few seconds, he let go of my arm, his eyes darting nervously towards the floor. “That makes two of us.”
I knew Daniel’s presence at the party was suspect, but I hadn’t considered that Baines would go as far as blackmailing him.
“How is he blackmailing you? Did he threaten your job or something? Can he even do that?” Robert was the president of the Dallas branch, but Daniel worked in Houston. Did Robert Baines have that kind of reach within the company?
“I don’t work at the bank anymore,” he said.
My mouth fell open involuntarily. Daniel’s job had been everything to him. It wasn’t that he particularly loved being a branch manager, but he had dreams of rising up through the ranks. This desire was part of the reason he’d had no issue firing me when corporate asked him to, despite the fact that he was my boyfriend at the time. His work would always come first in his life, which was why I couldn’t imagine the circumstances that would have had to transpire in order for him to leave his job at the bank.
“I quit,” he clarified before I could ask. “I wasn’t fired or anything. I was just looking for…something different.”
“So, is Baines promising you a job? Is that why you came here tonight? Because you have to know that he can’t be trusted. Whatever he is promising you, it’s going to come with a string attached.”
Daniel held up a hand to stop me, his eyes darting nervously towards the sitting room door, clearly afraid someone may have overheard us. “Forget I said anything.”
“Daniel,” I started, but he ducked back into the sitting room before I could finish.
Filled with more questions than answers, I followed him, sulking over to the corner, hoping to blend in to the background until Holly had all the info
rmation she needed and I would be free to go home.
Then, an ear-splitting crack ripped through the house, the walls feeling as if they would fall down with the force of it, and the already dim lights went out, sending the house into blackness.
Chapter 8
“Alright, alright, give me a minute to figure this out,” Robert Baines said, his voice breaking through the chatter of his anxious guests. “New houses always come with a few kinks to work out.”
A voice at the back of the room, nearest to the windows, spoke up. “I don’t think it’s just your house. The entire island has gone dark.”
Immediately, everyone in the room, myself included, moved towards the windows. And sure enough, the world had been cast into darkness. It was a tad apocalyptic looking. Though Sunrise Island wasn’t the most technologically advanced place, I had never seen it look so desolate before. The lights in the nearby houses were no longer visible, and the few streetlights that the island did have were no longer working.
“What caused it?” another guest asked. I didn’t immediately recognize the voice, and my eyes hadn’t adjusted enough to the darkness for me to see her face.
“Lightning, maybe?” the first voice said. “It looks like a storm is rolling in.”
As if on cue, lightning cracked across the sky, briefly illuminating the entire island as if it were the middle of the day before casting it back into shadow. An enormous boom of thunder followed a second or two later.
“That sounds close. Maybe we should get home before the storm arrives,” Shanda suggested.
“No, that’s not a great idea,” Robert Baines said. “If the power is out on the entire island then it’s too dangerous to be out on the roads. Besides, I have a kitchen filled with warm food and plenty of candles and flashlights. You’re safer here than out there. Trust me.”
Trust me. I couldn’t fathom a world in which I would ever trust Robert Baines. However, he had a strong argument. I’d lived in Houston for most of my life, and I dreaded driving every time it would rain, which was often. I didn’t hate driving in the rain because I couldn’t handle it, but because no one else could. Despite the fact that it rained almost every afternoon all summer, people still acted as if they were navigating a dangerous swamp. I could only imagine what driving on Sunrise Island during a blackout would be like.