The coffeemaker on the counter hissed and sputtered, firing the last few drops of freshly brewed java into the waiting carafe. That sounds so loud, Regan thought. You’d never even hear it during the summer, when the house was overflowing with Jack’s brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and assorted family friends—there was so much activity. Conversation filled the air. Someone was always attempting to tell a story or a joke without interruption. Few were successful. The days were filled with swimming and waterskiing and firing up the grill. In the evenings, everyone would gather on the big deck to watch the sunset. Thirty-nine steps down from the deck was the beach where Jack and his brothers often anchored the powerboat that they’d brought over from its spot at the marina. What a difference, Regan mused. Except for the wind and the rain and the creaking of the house and the coffeepot, this place is so quiet!
Regan poured coffee into a mug, then reached for the refrigerator door and pulled it open. She grabbed the container of skim milk that Skip the caretaker had stocked for them. Jack’s mother was in regular contact with him. A few days ago she asked him to bring in milk and juice and butter and bread when he did his weekly check on the house. Just enough for Regan and Jack to have breakfast on their first morning. The coffee smells great, Regan thought. I can’t wait to sit in the den with this cup and watch the storm. She poured the milk into the mug and stared in horror as it curdled. What? How can that be? She checked the expiration date. The milk had expired two weeks ago. Did he bring this from home? Regan wondered as she woefully poured her coffee down the sink.
Jack, freshly showered, appeared in the kitchen. “I’ll run up to the market and get the papers,” he said.
Regan turned to him and smiled. He looked so handsome. Jack was six foot two, with hazel eyes and sandy hair. He was wearing jeans and a windbreaker. “Put milk on your list.”
“I thought Skip brought in milk for us.”
“He did. Only trouble is, he managed to produce a container that expired two weeks ago.”
Jack laughed. “That kid is unbelievable. I don’t know why my mother doesn’t fire him.”
“That’ll never happen,” Regan said. “His little-boy-lost quality has made your mother feel very maternal and protective of him.”
Jack shook his head, leaned down to give Regan a kiss, and put his arms around her. “I’ll pick up some muffins. I’m not trusting that anything he bought for us is edible.” He hugged Regan tight. “It’s so great to be here alone with you. No work to distract us.”
Jack was head of the NYPD Major Case Squad. Regan was a private investigator. They had both been busy with cases that thankfully wrapped up in the past few days.
“It is going to be a wonderful weekend,” Regan said as Jack released her. “I’ll jump in the shower and look forward to your return.”
Jack laughed. “What you really want is for me to hurry back with the milk so you can have your first cup of coffee.”
“You know me so well,” Regan murmured as Jack headed for the front door.
In the downstairs master bathroom, Regan turned on the shower. The hot water felt so good on her shoulders and back. A few minutes later she pulled a pair of jeans and a sweater out of her suitcase on the bedroom floor. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone in this house, she thought. So why don’t I feel alone? She dressed, brushed her dark hair, then started to apply makeup to her pale skin. With her blue eyes, she fell into the category of “Black Irish.”
It might not be sunny outside, but I need more light, Regan thought. She stepped over to the window, fumbled for the cord, then gave it a yank. The curtains flew open.
A man in a yellow hooded slicker had his nose pressed against the glass.
Regan screamed.
It was Skip. He stumbled back. “Sorry!” he yelled.
Regan couldn’t hear the rest of what he was saying. She turned the handle of the window, which opened out.
“Sorry!” Skip yelled again through the roaring wind. “I was just checking the drainpipes.”
I’ll bet, Regan thought. “You startled me,” she said, her heart beating wildly.
“I didn’t mean to. This storm caused a lot of damage on the Cape. I’d like to come in and check all the windows and the basement. Make sure there are no leaks or anything.” He smiled up at Regan. Curls of brown hair escaped from the hood of his rain gear.
His face was the picture of innocence, but Regan felt unnerved. “Okay,” she said, wanting to ask him how he managed to buy expired milk.
“I’ll check the other drainpipes then come on in,” Skip said, waving his hands. “You can’t be too careful, you know.”
“No you can’t,” Regan agreed as she cranked the window shut. Jack’s mother had joked that the minute Skip came into the house he never stopped talking. Months of living alone up here in the wintertime took its toll. When he finally got an audience, he never let them go. Well, Regan thought, her heart still racing, I’m sure Jack can handle it. I wish he were here right now.
The sound of the front door opening flooded her with relief. “Regan?” Jack called.
Thank God, Regan thought as she raced out of the bedroom and down the hall. “Jack, I’m so glad you’re back!”
When she got to the living room, she stopped short. The two gossipy women who lived in the house three doors down were standing with Jack. Regan couldn’t think of their names but knew that they were sisters. They were like a double dose of Mrs. Kravitz, the quintessential nosy neighbor on the old TV series Bewitched.
“Gee, you two are like newlyweds,” one of them cackled. “Look at the way you run and greet your husband when he only was gone a few minutes buying the newspaper.”
“Jack tells us it’s your first anniversary,” the other chimed in. “The way you act, it seems more like you got married yesterday.”
Regan managed a smile. “I was just worried with him being out in this storm. I understand it’s done quite a bit of damage.”
“Oh, you’re right about that, Regan,” the taller sister said. “A huge branch snapped off the big tree in our yard and came crashing through our front window. What a mess! We flagged Jack down when he was coming back from the market. He pulled the branch out of the way, then covered the hole with plastic. There’s glass all over our living room. We asked if we could stay at your place until things are back to normal. Ginny and I both feel as if we’re coming down with colds as it is. Now our house is a drafty mess. You don’t mind, do you? Jack’s mother has been such a dear to us over the years.”
I don’t believe this, Regan thought. This can’t be happening. All our weekend plans. “Of course I don’t mind,” she finally croaked, stealing a glance at Jack, who raised his eyebrows in despair. He looked as if he were about to go through the floor.
“You’re so kind, Regan. Thank you. There’s nothing like neighbors you can call on in a time of need.” She sniffed the air. “That coffee smells great to me. Did you make that yourself, Regan?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup. But I only take it with skim milk. Doctor’s orders.”
“We’ve got plenty of skim milk,” Jack said, holding up the grocery bag as they headed to the kitchen.
“Wonderful. Ginny and I want to hear all about your married bliss. But first I’d like to use your phone. I was trying to reach the window company from our house but had no luck. Something tells me it’s going to take a good bit of time before we’re back to normal.”
Jack turned to Regan and mouthed one word: Bermuda.
It was the only other place they had considered going for their anniversary.
2
In Regan’s childhood home in Summit, New Jersey, her parents, Nora and Luke, were just finishing breakfast. Luke, the owner of three funeral homes, was about to head to work. Nora, a well-known suspense writer, would then go up to her third floor office to work on her latest novel.
“I can’t believe it was this very weekend last year that Regan and Jack
got married,” Nora said wistfully as she folded the newspaper. “I wish we could do that day all over again.”
“Just as long as they don’t send us the bill,” Luke muttered as he pushed his chair back from the kitchen table.
“No father was prouder than you walking his daughter down the aisle.”
“True,” Luke responded. “But if I want to relive that day, I’ll go to the videotape.” He stood, his six-foot-five-inch lanky frame encased in a dark suit, white shirt, and subdued tie. With his silver hair and handsome face, he looked quite distinguished.
Nora glanced out the window at the driving rain. “We were blessed with a beautiful sunny day last year. Anyone getting married this weekend better not have their heart set on outdoor photos.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of grooms out there right now wringing their hands at the thought of no pictures in the garden.”
“You’re impossible.” Nora laughed as she started to clear the plates from the table. Standing next to Luke, she seemed absolutely petite. Five foot three inches tall, she had blond hair and fair skin that gave her a patrician look. Regan had inherited her height and coloring from Luke’s side of the family. “I suppose Regan and Jack made it safely to the Cape.”
“I’m sure we would have heard if they ran into any problems.” Luke leaned down to give his wife a kiss. “Don’t call them.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Nora protested. “I just hope this storm doesn’t cause problems with FedEx.”
Luke looked puzzled. “Why your sudden interest in the well-being of FedEx?”
“I forgot to give Regan the top layer of her wedding cake when she and Jack were here the other night.”
“Her wedding cake? Isn’t it stale by now?”
“Hopefully not. It’s been in the freezer in the basement for the last year. There’s an old tradition that says if a couple eats a slice of their wedding cake on their first anniversary, it will bring them good luck and is an omen for a long life.”
“I don’t recall us having wedding cake on our first anniversary.”
“There wasn’t any left. Your relatives polished off every last crumb at our reception.”
“What?”
“A table of your cousins asked for seconds. Their waiter was young and inexperienced. He took it upon himself to cut up the extra cake that had been set aside for us to bring home.”
“I like the sound of that guy,” Luke said decisively, “someone who aims to please.” He paused, his face baffled. “I just can’t believe you never told me.”
Nora batted her eyes. “I wasn’t going to let anything ruin that day for us . . .”
Luke grinned. “Funny how times change. I’m certainly glad you’ve gotten over holding back about my relatives.”
“I guess I have,” Nora agreed. “And we’ve made it this far even though we didn’t have wedding cake on our first anniversary. But I wasn’t taking any chances for Regan and Jack. Yesterday, I FedExed the cake to Cape Cod.”
Luke reached for his coat. “Let’s hope the driver doesn’t have a sweet tooth.”
3
It wasn’t long before Regan was able to figure out the names of their unexpected guests, the Brewer sisters. The older one was Fran, the younger Ginny. They both appeared to be in their sixties.
Fran was tall and thin, with big round glasses and wavy shoulder-length graying hair. Ginny, who did more talking than listening, was rounder, with frosted hair and wide brown eyes. She wore more makeup than Fran, but their outfits were similar—khaki pants, long-sleeved crewneck sweaters and all-weather shoes.
The minute they set foot in the kitchen, Fran had grabbed the cordless phone off the counter and started dialing. The window company’s line was still busy. It took numerous tries before someone answered and promptly put Fran on hold.
“Wait!” she cried fruitlessly. “Darn it! It could take forever to talk to someone. I don’t know how long that plastic is going to protect our living room if this wind and pelting rain keeps up. I need to get the window guys over here on the double.” She leaned against the butcher-block counter and sighed.
“And what about getting rid of those branches that are all over the yard?” Ginny blurted as she slathered butter on the blueberry muffin that Jack had bought for Regan. She looked happy as a clam in her seat at the kitchen table. As Regan hungrily eyed her muffin, she tried to push away the thought that at this moment she and Jack could be enjoying room service in Bermuda.
“It’s one big shame about our tree,” Fran pronounced. “It’ll be a heartbreaker if we have to cut it down. But first things first. We have to somehow take care of the window, then worry about everything else.”
Ginny took a bite of the muffin. “Delicious,” she pronounced, patting her mouth with a napkin. “Jack, your mother keeps a lovely home here. Just lovely. It’s all so comfortable and inviting and”—she paused and rolled her eyes—“unlike the present state of our home, warm and toasty.”
“Thank you,” Jack answered.
Regan could tell he was doing his best to be cordial. I think he’s as shocked as I am that our weekend plans went down the drain so fast. I wonder if we could make an excuse and go back to New York. Ginny had already mentioned that Jack’s mother had let them stay here for a few days when their boiler blew last winter. Or maybe we could go to Boston for the weekend. Heck, maybe we could find a no-tell motel somewhere between here and the Sagamore Bridge. Anywhere but here.
“Fran and I just love the Cape,” Ginny continued. “We can’t believe we ended up here. Were we in shock three years ago when we found out our uncle had willed us his house!”
“My family never really knew him. He didn’t spend much time here, did he?” Jack asked.
“No. He rented the house forever. That man was a character. Always on the run. He bought the house about ten years ago to use as a vacation home. Wouldn’t you know, a month later he met his third wife whose lifelong dream was to live in Hawaii? He didn’t want to sell the house so he began renting it out. The newlyweds moved to Maui, where he bought another beautiful home. He’d made this woman’s dream come true, which made her happy for about five minutes. She turned out to be a nightmare. Within a year her next big desire was to get divorced. Once again Uncle Ned was thrilled to give her what she wanted. He even let her keep the house, which he’d paid for in cash. The day he signed the divorce papers, he got on a plane, wanting to put at least an ocean’s distance between them. By then he’d grown quite fond of receiving fat checks from his tenants at the Cape house, so he didn’t move here. He lived in Phoenix for a while, then Palm Beach. He had recently proposed to a woman who would become his fourth wife when he died in his sleep.”
“Uncle Ned was an eternal optimist,” Fran observed.
“And always so cheerful,” Ginny added. “At the time he died, Fran and I were both getting ready to retire. We had a town house in Pennsylvania and didn’t know where we wanted to spend our golden years. At first we thought the Cape might be too lonely in the wintertime. But we’re doing our best to get to know people . . .”
No doubt, Regan thought.
Ginny pointed in the direction of the last house on the block. “Did you know that besides Mrs. Hopkins, the woman renting the Carpenters’ place, we are the only people on this long lonely street in the dead of winter? Sad to say, our new neighbor is very unfriendly and doesn’t seem to be interested in our company at all. I don’t understand it. The day she moved in last November we brought over a homemade pie. Do you know she didn’t even have the courtesy to invite us in? And she obviously doesn’t believe in thank-you notes. Right, Fran?”
“I never saw one,” Fran answered, impatiently tapping her fingers on the counter.
“It’s not as if we hold it against her,” Ginny said in a saintly tone. “We still always wave when she drives by, but she barely acknowledges us.”
“Some people come up to the Cape to be alone,” Jack replied. “I’ve never met her.” He turne
d to Regan. “You said Skip is outside checking the drainpipes? Maybe I’ll go out and help him.”
He’d rather be outside in the driving rain than sit here with these two, Regan thought. “That’s what Skip said he was going to do,” she answered. “Who knows?”
Fran and Ginny glanced at each other. There was no doubt in Regan’s mind that their exchange was an expression of disapproval about Skip.
“What?” Regan asked lightly, the carton of expired milk and Skip’s appearance outside her window still fresh in her mind. “Do you two have something to tell us?”
“We should just mind our own business,” Fran said unconvincingly.
“If there’s something we should know . . .” Regan prodded.
Not surprisingly, Ginny pounced on the opportunity to gossip. “There is something you should know!” she declared, her eyes darting back and forth between Regan and Jack. “I always said that knowledge gives you power. And power gives you control. And control gives you—”
“Ginny!” Regan said with a laugh. “What should we know?”
Ginny cleared her throat. “Fran and I decided to take a walk on the beach a few weeks ago. It was the first day where you just felt spring was in the air. The only problem is that our stairs to the beach washed away in last year’s big storm. Jack, your mother is the doll of dolls. She said we could use your staircase anytime. It’s too much of an expense for us to fix ours on top of having to bring in more boulders to protect our land from all the erosion. Who thought a bunch of rocks could be so expensive? Anyway, Fran and I came down the road, walked by the side of the house here, looked into the den, and there he was, Mr. Caretaker himself, sleeping on the couch with the television on. Is that his job?” she asked with a giggle. “To watch television?”
“I don’t believe it’s in the job description,” Jack answered. “Maybe he was just taking a break.”
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