Ghost Moon

by Karen Robards

  Butterflies floated over the garden, looking like fluttering blossoms themselves, and a pair of glossy-winged blackbirds perched on the edge of the fence, watching a third peck at the rich black earth below.

  Sara’s going to love all this, Olivia thought again, and then turned back toward the house to see if her daughter was awake yet. Sara did not usually sleep past eight o’clock, even on weekends, but yesterday had been physically and emotionally exhausting for both of them.

  At the back of the house, the driveway widened into a paved area that could, in a pinch, provide parking for as many as twenty cars. It also served as a basketball and shuffleboard court. Seth was walking across the pavement toward the stone carriage house that had been converted into a four-car garage at its far end. He had changed into loose khaki slacks and a dark green polo shirt, and was busy talking into a cell phone that he held pressed to his ear.

  They saw each other at the same time. Olivia paused, loath to encounter him again so soon, but he didn’t so much as check his stride, even as his gaze slid over her. Neither acknowledged the other by so much as a wave.

  If it had not been for the diamond watch in her pocket, Olivia would have given him a wide berth. As it was, she thought crossly, she might as well go on and hand the thing over and get done with it. As Chloe’s father and Mallory’s fiancé, Seth was the person to whom it should be given.

  She started walking toward the carriage house just as he closed the phone and slid it into a pocket. Reaching down to grasp the handle of one of the four separate garage doors, he paid no attention to her approach.

  ‘‘Seth, wait a minute!’’ she called, when the heavy metal door had rattled to its apex and he headed into the shadowy depths of the garage.

  He stopped just inside the garage and turned to look at her as she came past the edge of the building toward him.

  ‘‘What?’’ The question was faintly impatient. His hand rested lightly on the trunk of his car, a dark-colored Jaguar.

  Olivia moved out of the bright sunlight into the relative darkness near where he stood, and blinked. Until she felt the skin around her eyes relax, she had not realized how she had been squinting. Even so early in the morning, the Louisiana sun was blinding.

  ‘‘I—I need to give you something.’’ Not having expected to see him so soon, she had not really thought out what she was going to say. Consequently, she stumbled over her words a little.

  ‘‘What?’’ The impatience was more pronounced as he met her gaze. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw that he had shaved. His eyes were still bloodshot, though, and he looked tired and irritable.

  ‘‘This.’’ Olivia reached into her pocket and drew forth the watch, which she held out to him. It sparkled even in the dim light.

  ‘‘Mallory’s watch.’’ His tone changed to one of surprise. He took it from her and looked down at it as it lay across his fingers, then glanced up at her sharply. ‘‘Where did you get this?’’

  Here was the tricky part. ‘‘I found it outside.’’ Which had the merit of being the literal, if not the whole, truth.

  His eyes narrowed at her. ‘‘It was on top of the bureau in my bedroom not more than an hour ago. Mallory left it in the car last night.’’

  ‘‘So what are you implying?’’ Olivia bristled at the accusation she thought she discerned in the words. The sound of running footsteps distracted her, and both she and Seth looked around to try to identify the source.

  ‘‘Daddy, wait!’’ Twin ponytails flying, wearing short white shorts and a navy-and-white striped T-shirt and carrying a tennis racket, Chloe darted across the pavement into the garage, where she came to an abrupt stop, her gaze swinging from her father to Olivia and back. After that single hard glance, she ignored Olivia to address Seth. ‘‘Where are you going? You promised to take me over to Katie’s so we could play tennis this morning!’’

  The impatience in Seth’s face lessened only slightly as he looked at his daughter. ‘‘Chloe, I can’t. I—’’

  ‘‘Where did you get that?’’ Chloe interrupted, her voice suddenly shrill as she spied the watch that lay across Seth’s hand. Her gaze, narrowed with suspicion, shot immediately to Olivia. ‘‘Did you give it to him? What did you tell him? Did you make up some big lie about me?’’

  Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘‘No, of course not. I—’’

  ‘‘Watch your manners, young lady!’’ Seth’s voice was low and furious.

  ‘‘Whatever she told you, it’s not true!’’ Gripping the tennis racket in both hands and holding it in front of her body like a shield, Chloe looked appealingly at her father. With her wide blue eyes and the long blond ponytails streaming over her shoulders, she was the picture of childish innocence. ‘‘Are you going to believe her or me?’’

  ‘‘Chloe . . .’’ Before Seth could continue, Chloe’s lower lip trembled.

  ‘‘You’re going to believe her, aren’t you? You always believe everything everyone else says about me! I hate you!’’ she choked out. Bursting into noisy tears, she ran from the garage, still clutching the tennis racket and shooting Olivia a venomous glance as she bolted past.

  For a moment afterward there was silence as the two adults gazed after the departing child. Then Seth looked at Olivia.

  ‘‘I apologize for my daughter,’’ he said heavily. His face was flushed dark with anger or embarrassment, or some combination of the two, and his eyes were hard. ‘‘She’ll apologize for herself later.’’

  ‘‘It’s all right.’’ Olivia felt a spurt of sympathy for both Seth and Chloe. Obviously theirs was not an easy relationship. ‘‘My theory is you haven’t really put in your time as a parent unless your child embarrasses you thoroughly at least once a month.’’

  Seth’s gaze moved over her face. His lips compressed into a thin line as he closed his fist around the watch in his hand. ‘‘My ex-wife spoiled Chloe rotten. Then she married again, and apparently her new husband didn’t want a stepdaughter as part of the deal. So she sent Chloe back to me, as if the child were no more than a pet she’d grown tired of. It hurt Chloe badly.’’

  ‘‘Your mother told me.’’

  ‘‘I figured she would.’’ Seth’s expression changed, grew wry. ‘‘Now, suppose you tell me what Chloe obviously thinks you’ve already told me. Where did you really find the watch?’’

  Olivia stood silent for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, thinking the matter over. ‘‘I’d rather not say,’’ she said finally. ‘‘I think you should ask Chloe.’’

  ‘‘Livvy . . .’’ He broke off at the stubborn expression on her face, and shook his head impatiently, shoving the watch into his pocket. ‘‘I don’t have time for this right now. I have to be at the hospital at nine thirty to talk to Big John’s doctors. I’ll deal with Chloe—and you’’—he shot her a dark look—‘‘later.’’

  He opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later the engine turned over with a purr and a burst of exhaust. Olivia moved out of the way, into the sunlight and toward the edge of the pavement. The Jaguar backed out of its bay, maneuvered around so that it was facing the driveway, rolled forward a dozen feet, and then came to a sudden stop. It was, Olivia saw as it wheeled into the light, gunmetal gray with a cream interior. The engine died, the car door opened, and Seth got out, looking grim.

  ‘‘Damn it to hell and back.’’ He slammed the door with considerable force. His gaze met Olivia’s. ‘‘Did you see where she went?’’

  ‘‘Toward the front yard,’’ Olivia offered.

  Seth swore again, pinned Olivia with an evil look, and headed toward the front yard. Watching him go, Olivia had to smile. Having Seth stomp off in a temper brought back memories. Years ago, she had been the object of his wrath more often than she cared to remember.

  He had called her Livvy, as he used to when she was a child. That he could use the nickname gave her hope that perhaps he was ready to forgive and forget. It would be nice to be on fri
endly terms with Seth again. As a little girl, she had thought her big stepcousin hung the moon. Even when she was older, for all she had butted heads with him at every turn, somewhere underneath it all she had still admired, respected, and, yes, loved him.

  Now they were both adults, divorced, with daughters the same age. For the first time in their lives, they were on more or less equal footing. Except, of course, that Seth was rich, successful, and sure of his place in the world. While she . . .

  Another car pulled into the parking area next to the Jag. This was a white Mazda Miata, a sporty two-seater convertible with the hood down. Mallory, sunglasses in place and a white silk scarf tied around her blond head, was driving. Olivia spared an envious glance for the car. She possessed an ancient Mercury Cougar with more than one hundred thousand miles on the odometer and bad tires. It had not been up to the trip from Houston, which was how she and Sara had ended up on the bus. But if she’d had her druthers, she would have chosen a car just like Mallory’s.

  ‘‘Hi!’’ Mallory waved and got out of the car, removing her sunglasses and pulling off her scarf at the same time.

  ‘‘Hi,’’ Olivia answered with a smile.

  Mallory walked toward her. She was wearing a cute little tennis outfit with a tiny pleated skirt that left her long, tanned legs bare. Olivia felt a pang of envy for the outfit, too.

  ‘‘Have you seen Seth, or Chloe? I’m supposed to take Chloe to a friend’s house to play tennis. Seth said he had to be in Baton Rouge at nine thirty.’’ She glanced at her wrist, then shook her head. ‘‘Drat, I keep forgetting I’m not wearing my watch. Anyway, have you seen either of them?’’

  Lightning fast, Olivia processed a whole jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Her first instinct was to protect Seth and Chloe from intrusion from an outsider at this delicate moment. She had to remind herself that this woman was going to be Seth’s wife and Chloe’s stepmother, and thus was not an outsider after all. ‘‘I think they’re in the front yard.’’

  Mallory frowned. ‘‘Why on earth . . .?’’ Then she brightened. ‘‘Here they come.’’

  Olivia looked around to discover that Seth and Chloe were indeed approaching around the side of the house. Seth had his hand on Chloe’s shoulder. He was grim-faced, while Chloe, still clutching her tennis racket, looked sullen.

  Watching them, Mallory sighed, then, summoning a smile, waved cheerily.

  Seth waved back. Chloe didn’t. If anything, she just looked more sullen.

  ‘‘Honestly, that child,’’ Mallory muttered under her breath, then shot a quick look at Olivia to see if she’d been overheard. Her gaze on Seth and Chloe, Olivia pretended to be deaf.

  Seth marched Chloe right up to Olivia. A paternal squeeze of the child’s shoulder prompted a barely audible ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ and a lightning glance brimful of dislike.

  ‘‘That’s all right,’’ Olivia said gently, wincing inside at Seth’s handling of the situation. Forcing an apology out of an obviously reluctant child would only serve to make her more rebellious, in Olivia’s opinion.

  Mallory’s eyebrows lifted in delicate inquiry as she looked from Chloe to Olivia, then shot a quick glance at Seth. His expression was forbidding. Mallory, having the good sense not to comment on the exchange, instead addressed Chloe a shade too heartily: ‘‘Your dad asked me to take you over to Katie’s. I called her mother, and we decided that we’re going to play tennis, too. Maybe we can work in a doubles match, you know, kind of a mother-daughter thing. Wouldn’t that be fun?’’

  Chloe scowled, and Olivia held her breath, waiting for what, on the strength of her brief acquaintance with Chloe, she was already sure would be an ear-shattering outburst. But something—Seth’s warning hand on her shoulder, probably—kept it from coming.

  ‘‘Yeah, fun,’’ Chloe said.

  The sarcasm was unmistakable, and all the adults present chose to ignore it. Olivia could see their point: Sarcasm beat a tantrum hands down.

  ‘‘Well, let’s go, then.’’ Mallory smiled at Chloe, a mere stretching of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, then smiled at Seth more genuinely. ‘‘Don’t worry about us.’’

  ‘‘I won’t.’’ His expression relaxed a little as he exchanged glances with Mallory. He squeezed Chloe’s shoulder once more before releasing it. ‘‘Behave.’’ His tone was a warning.

  Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of the Miata, and Mallory and Seth walked around to the driver’s side. Seth opened the door for Mallory, who rested a hand on his shoulder and kissed him lightly on the mouth before settling into her seat.

  ‘‘Bye, darling,’’ she said, smiling up at him as Seth closed her door. Olivia’s glance slid almost involuntarily to Chloe. The child’s scowl had turned ferocious.

  Once again, Olivia held her breath waiting for the outburst that did not come. Mallory put the key in the ignition, then looked up at Seth, who was stepping away from the car.

  ‘‘Oh, darling, would you mind fetching my watch for me before we go? I’m absolutely lost without it.’’

  Seth flicked a glance at Chloe, who was staring stonily through the windshield and appeared not to have heard the question.

  ‘‘I just happened to have it on me.’’ Seth reached into his pocket and withdrew the watch, which he handed to Mallory.

  ‘‘Thanks.’’ Mallory fastened the watch around her wrist. ‘‘I was so relieved when you called last night to say you found it. I should never have taken it off in the car.’’

  Seth’s expression changed subtly. ‘‘No,’’ he agreed with a glimmering smile, and the way he said it made Olivia wonder what else Mallory had taken off in the car.

  ‘‘Can we go, please?’’ Chloe’s tone was hostile, and Seth’s smile disappeared. Mallory glanced at Chloe, her lips tightening.

  ‘‘Behave,’’ Seth said again to his daughter, and stepped away from the car.

  With a wave from Mallory, the Miata revved to life and headed down the driveway.

  Seth looked after them for a moment. When the Miata was out of sight he glanced at Olivia.

  ‘‘I’ve got to go,’’ he said. ‘‘I’ll see you later.’’

  Then he, too, got into his car and drove off.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE JAGUAR ATE UP THE MILES BETWEEN LAANGELLE and Baton Rouge with no trouble at all. Which was only to be expected for a car with a monthly lease payment of almost seven hundred dollars, Seth reflected. Attracting wealthy buyers was the name of the game for someone like himself who built yachts for a living, and an image of success was necessary to attract wealthy buyers. But still, the money that he paid out for the car was money he didn’t have to spare.

  Only no one knew that, except himself and Big John and maybe a couple of loan officers down at the bank. And, if he had his way, no one else was going to find out. Unless Big John died. Then the cat would be out of the bag, because the estate would be probated and everyone would know that Archer Boatworks had teetered on the verge of bankruptcy for a long time.

  He didn’t expect Big John to die. His grandfather was a tough old coot. Too mean to die, his grandmother would have said if she were alive. Seth half smiled at the thought. Big John had been the opposite of warm and nurturing, but Seth loved the old curmudgeon nonetheless. From the time he was ten, when his father had died, Seth had looked to Big John as the closest thing to a father in his life. Big John, grouchy and acerbic as he was, had always come through for him.

  Now it was his turn to come through for the old man.

  A couple more years of hard work, paired with a little good luck, and he could turn the company situation around. Archer Boatworks would be soundly in the black again. The big commercial orders for barges that Big John had not wanted him to accept—they were yacht builders, the old man argued—were making the difference. There was money out there for barges. The money for fine luxury yachts seemed to have dried up.

  Big John was counting on him to save the company. Seth meant to do his best.
If the old man had listened to him earlier, things would never have gotten this bad. But no, Seth was always the ‘‘boy’’ who had a lot to learn in the old man’s eyes. And the old man was as stubborn as a mule in a corncrib. There had been no persuading him that things had to be done differently if Archer Boatworks was going to survive.

  The family, the house, the town and its people were all dependent on the Boatworks. If it went down, they went with it. His relatives lost a large chunk of their income. The estate, LaAngelle Plantation, which had been in the family for generations, would be taken by the bank because he’d had to use it as collateral for a loan to finance the building of the barges. One-fifth of the town worked for him directly, and the other fourfifths of the population owned or worked for businesses, like grocery stores and dress shops, that were dependent on the existence of the Boatworks for their survival. By his calculations, that was almost three thousand people whose lives and livelihoods he held in his hands. That huge burden of responsibility accounted for the eighty-hour weeks he put in, and his increasing inability to sleep nights.

  Jennifer hadn’t been able to take it. When they’d met, at a Mardi Gras party thrown by a multimillionaire whose one-hundred-twenty-foot yacht had been built by the Boatworks, she had thought he was a rich man, too, and a gentleman of comparative leisure. That was a large part of why she had married him, he figured out later. The truth had come as a shock to her, and she had hightailed it out of Dodge as soon as she found a better prospect.

  He didn’t miss her. Not now, not for years. Hell, he was glad she was gone. She’d been a high-maintenance luxury item that he didn’t need and couldn’t afford.

  But it humiliated him to remember that when she had left him—for another, richer man—and taken their daughter with her, he’d broken down and cried like a baby, then drank like a fish for weeks.

  It had been Big John who pulled him out of the abyss into which he was sinking. Big John who poured his Wild Turkey down the sink and slapped him upside the head and told him to shape up or get the hell out of the company.