“Please, Cassandra. I have a right to know.”
It’s true. But even still, the words stick in my throat like drying cement. “Murder,” I whisper. “It said murder.”
The frightened look on his face crushes me.
“It doesn’t matter what it says.”
He gives a bitter, mirthless laugh. “How can it not matter?”
“Because it’s not going to happen,” I insist. “You’re not destined to die this young. I refuse to believe that. I’ve given this a lot of thought. Maybe what’s destined is that I was meant to meet you on this beach. I was meant to find that article. Maybe that’s why I can see you. Because I’m supposed to save you.”
He processes the thought wordlessly.
“See? Then everything makes sense,” I say. “This summer, before I met you, I was lost. I knew something was missing in my life, but I had no idea what. Now I know. I came to this awful house so that I could meet you and save your life.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Lawrence says carefully.
“It’s the only explanation that fits! But even if it wasn’t true…even if fate had nothing to do with it, I’m here now and I can save you.”
He sets a hand on my cheek, his eyes intense. “You really think so?”
I press my hand over his. “I do.” I sound more confident than I feel, but I want to give Lawrence hope. We both need that.
He’s silent.
“You don’t have to believe me just yet,” I say softly. “But will you at least let me try?’
“I suppose I can’t stop you.”
“Not really, no.”
The corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile. “I think you might be a little crazy, Cassandra.”
“A little?”
He laughs. “Okay, a lot.”
“That’s more like it.”
Chapter 18
Lawrence
It’s Saturday morning. I’m supposed to die on the fifth. I have seven days to live.
The thought strikes me the moment I open my eyes. What a way to wake up! Though frankly, I’m amazed I slept at all. I’d given up lying in bed at around one in the morning to sit out on my balcony, listening to the waves.
I’ve already run through the gamut of emotions—fear, sorrow, rage, disbelief, despair, punctuated with fierce stabs of hope. I have to trust that Cassandra can do what she thinks she can. This “Internet” they have in her time can give her vital information. And in this case, information is everything. We have the advantage of her being able to find out exactly what will happen to me before it occurs. That fact alone makes me think I might just have a chance. A chance to beat this. I dress quickly, eager to see Cassandra.
Ned is having breakfast on the deck with Aunt Eloise, who came to check in on her poor, lonely bachelor brother. It’s warm and brilliantly bright outside. The wind carries the scent of sea and grass. I breathe it in, and it takes everything in me not to run out there right now. But Cassandra and I have agreed to be extra cautious to keep from arousing any suspicion.
Ned glances up from his paper as I sit. We’ve been on frosty terms ever since New York, though I can see he’s trying his best to gloss over it. Eloise daintily pecks at her grapefruit, gabbing about what she’ll wear to the party that Ned’s throwing here next Saturday night. My attention jolts at her words. One week. That’s the night I’m supposed to die.
“Oh!” Aunt Eloise says. “Morning, Lonnie, you dear boy.”
“Good morning.” I smile, quickly nodding to her. “Lovely to see you, Aunt. Now, what’s this I hear about a party?”
Eloise beams. “Hasn’t Ned told you? It’s a big gala for your uncle’s business. Some big mortgage, right, Ned?”
“A merger,” Ned says with a chuckle. “You remember me telling you about it, Lon. We’ve finally sorted things out with Cooper Enterprises.”
“Swell,” I say, my mind spinning over this news. A party on Saturday night. I’m certain that’s where it will happen. Someone at the party means to kill me. Unfortunately this opens up the list of possible suspects dramatically.
“Any fun plans today, Lonnie?” Eloise asks, sipping her tea. “Meeting up with your friend Charles? Or maybe our dear Fay?”
Ned’s gaze flickers up, but when I meet it, he looks back at his paper.
“I’m not sure,” I say, pouring myself some coffee.
“You should. She’s been missing you, you know.” Eloise smiles. “A charming girl, that Fay. And after all, Lonnie, it’s not every day you get to meet a real New Yorker.”
Ned shuts his newspaper abruptly, and I set the coffeepot down with a clink.
“What are you talking about, Eloise?” Ned says. “Fay’s the Cartwrights’ only daughter. Her family is from here in Crest Harbor.”
Aunt Eloise munches her jam-covered toast, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so. Gladys Harper’s sister’s husband works with Jeffery Duncan, and he says that Fay is staying with his family for the summer. Up from New York for the summer. Says he thought everyone knew that. He says Fay was born and raised on the Lower East Side. A real New York girl from a New York family.”
Ned scoffs loudly. “Well, I think Gladys Harper’s sister’s husband is full of bushwa.”
“Why, Ned!” Eloise says, appalled.
He frowns. “My apologies, Eloise.” He then folds his paper and stands. “It seems I have a rather low tolerance for idle gossip this morning.”
He starts inside but then turns me a look. “Lon. Can I have a moment?”
I’m still so baffled by this allegation about Fay that I follow him without protest. Is Aunt Eloise simply spouting tall tales of the society hags? Or is this girl I’m supposed to marry even more of a stranger to me than I’d realized?
Ned leads me into his office and sits at his desk with a deep frown.
“It’s rubbish, Lon. If I can teach you one lesson, it’s to never listen to old gossips. They spin so many stories that they lose track of what’s true and what’s a lie.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Fay did seem pretty comfortable when she visited me in Manhattan.”
“She’s a comfortable kind of girl,” Ned says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I’m glad someone was on that trip.”
Ned drums his fingers on the papers on his desk. He seems to be searching for the right words. “Listen, Lon. I’ve been meaning to apologize about the way I acted that night. I’m not your father, though I love you like a son.”
This admission warms me a little.
“I’d just had a rough time, you see,” he continues. “Bad business trip.”
I immediately think about the argument I overheard in his hotel room. Not to mention the headlights I saw in front of the house at two in the morning. Then I hear Cassandra’s voice: “murder.” My pulse jumps. This could be my chance to get the vital information I need.
“Any trouble, Uncle Ned?”
He rubs his forehead but then forces a smile. “No, son. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You can tell me,” I say. “It might be important. More important than you know.”
Ned frowns a little at my cryptic statement. I lean forward across the desk. “Is there someone in New York who might want to hurt you?”
“What’s all this about?” Ned says, his face going red. “You’ve been watching too many talkies, Lon.”
He’s not going to give me anything. Maybe he wants to keep me out of it. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting me. How wrong he is. I’m about to press harder when I notice the papers on his desk. They’re stamped with past-due notices in angry red ink. Ned spots my gaze and flips a file folder shut, covering the papers. He stuffs the stack in his desk drawer, and I catch a glimpse of the name at the top of the file: Cooper Enterprises.
“At any rate,”
Ned says, trying to act casual. “I suppose I should be off. Have a few things to finalize for that merger.”
“The merger with Cooper Enterprises,” I say, trying to meet his eye.
He won’t look at me. “That’s the one, Lonnie.” He stands, brushing off his suit coat. “You know, I’m having drinks tonight with Jerome Smith, the big cheese over at Cooper. You ought to join us. It’ll be a good learning experience for you to see how business works.”
I think of Cassandra anxiously waiting for me on the beach. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to, Ned.”
“Oh nonsense. What plans could you have? You’re not going down to that beach again, are you?”
Tension snaps me like a whip. “I…”
But Ned seems to have made the comment glibly. He pats me on the shoulder as he breezes out of the office. “We’ll be in the library just after supper. I’ll expect you to be there.”
• • •
“You need to go.” Cassandra is calmly resolute. It’s rather endearing to see the change that’s come over her since she decided to fight my fate. She reminds me of a lady detective in one of the dime novels I used to devour as a kid. No stone can be left unturned, no clue deemed trivial.
“I want to be with you tonight,” I tell her, brushing my fingers through her soft hair.
“Later,” she says. “This is more important.”
“More important than spending my final week with you?”
“We’ve spent all day together. Besides, you’ll have a lot more than a week if we take this seriously.” She presses her lips to mine in a swift but wine-sweet kiss. “You do some digging tonight. Get me information I can use, and I’ll be here on the beach, waiting for you.”
I don’t argue. The girl has me completely besotted. I head back inside to freshen up in my room. Looking in the little, round mirror on my wall as I comb my hair, I think about her, about the softness of her skin, fragrant as a rose petal. Like music, the first lines of a poem drift into my mind. My gaze falls to the blank sheets of paper on my desk. They’re serving dinner downstairs, but a few lines can’t hurt. I need to get this down.
I’m just scratching off the final lines of the poem when a knock raps at my door. I sit up with a start. The dim light from my window betrays a later hour. Who knows how long I’ve been writing? Ned’s certainly wondering where I am.
“Coming,” I call out as I jump up from my desk and straighten my tie.
Walking down to the library, I rebuke myself. Ned’s bound to become suspicious of that beach with me going there so much. I have to be more careful. The last thing we need is for him to start paying attention to what I’m up to. And what if he really investigated those suspicions? It could be a disaster. At the polished wooden doors to the library, I resolve to be my usual, chipper self tonight. But when I step into the room, the sight I’m greeted with throws me for a loop.
I expected Ned and this Jerome Smith character, but the library is nearly full. At least a dozen men stand scattered about, sipping brandy and smoking Ned’s best Cuban cigars. I don’t know these men. They aren’t Ned’s usual crowd. These aren’t upper-crust Crest Harbor men. They do seem to have money. Their sharp, tailored suits proclaim that much. But something about them makes me think they know their way around the rougher streets.
“Here he is!” Ned’s voice booms across the room. “Lonnie, come on over here.”
I force a polite smile as I head over to him, but my eyes dart from one face to another. In the corners of the room, I notice four men who have the unmistakable air of bodyguards. They’re big and stone-faced and watching every move I make. My throat tightens.
Am I being paranoid? Has knowing that I will be murdered in a week made my brain turn everyone into a murderer?
Ned passes me a brandy, which I happily tip back. The warm, spicy drink sizzles through me, calming my nerves a bit.
“Lon, I want you to meet Kip Hawkins.” Ned slaps his hand on the shoulder of the slight man beside him and gives me an overly jovial smile. “Jerome Smith couldn’t make it. Had some business. You know how it goes.”
I nod, though I can’t help but feel the significance of this apparent slight, and it puts me all the more on edge.
Kip Hawkins extends his hand with an oily smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Lon here is the one I was telling you about,” Ned says, beaming. “Has quite the promising career ahead. Top of his class at prep school. And star of the basketball team too!”
“My uncle likes to exaggerate,” I say, forcing a smile.
Ned laughs. “Nonsense! Bright kid, our Lon. With a bright future. College and law school, and once he’s done with that, it’s straight to the top firm in New York. Business law. Just like his old man.”
Kip Hawkins nods and smiles. “Excellent. Maybe you can teach your uncle a thing or two.”
Ned laughs loudly—too loudly—at the comment. “Ain’t that the truth? Yes, sir, this kid’s a champ. And a real catch with the ladies. Good thing too, because, boy, did he get himself a prize gal. Isn’t that right, Fay?”
I frown, but follow Ned’s outstretched hand. At his gesture, a crowd of three men near the fireplace glance over at us and then part. Fay is perched on one of the big, burgundy armchairs, talking quite closely with a big, muscular fellow in his twenties with black hair and olive skin. Italian, I think. When the men around them move, her eyes snap to me.
Fay always looks beautiful, but tonight she’s dressed to kill in a tight, red gown that cuts low on the top and rides high up her slender legs. She takes a casual puff from a long, slim cigarette holder. The smoke curls like a white snake from her scarlet-red lips. With a little smile, she hands the cigarette holder to the muscular fellow she was speaking with. He doesn’t take his eyes off her.
“Why, hello, Lonnie,” she says, her voice more sultry than usual.
Ned laughs again and slaps Kip Hawkins on the back. “What did I tell you? Have you ever seen such a sweet little honey as that one?”
Fay rises fluidly from her chair. Without moving her gaze from mine, she glides across the room toward us. Every man here watches her. And how could they not? She positively oozes allure.
“Your nephew really is a cad,” she says to Ned, coming to his side and linking arms with him. “He’s been so busy studying lately. What’s a lonely girl like me to do?”
My face feels hot. Suddenly I wonder if this wasn’t Ned’s plan in inviting me here: to throw me in Fay’s arms again.
“Aw, Lon’s not studying,” Ned barks. “He’s been spending all his free time at that ugly, old beach. You’d think this one were training to be an Olympic champion backstroker or something.”
Fay’s eyebrow lifts slightly. “Interesting. He’s never mentioned a penchant for swimming before.”
I scramble for a reply, but Ned talks over me. “You ought to take her out there, Lon. Yes, that’s a swell idea. Go show Fay your beach.”
Taking Fay to the beach is, of course, out of the question. Not with Cassandra waiting there for me. I try my best to appear as relaxed as possible. “I don’t think so.”
“Aw, take her,” Ned says, his voice overly loud. He gives me a suggestive nudge in the ribs. “A little moonlight swim doesn’t sound too bad, eh, Lonnie?”
Fay smiles. “Of course, I couldn’t ruin my new dress, so I guess that means…”
Ned roars with laughter, and I decide I loathe him when he’s drunk. The other men laugh too, and Fay smiles, enjoying every ounce of their attention.
“I shouldn’t,” I say, taking a step away from Ned. “It would be rude to leave the guests.”
“Oh nonsense. We’re just a bunch of old men talking about drab things.”
I give him a pointed look. “I thought you said this would be a good learning experience for me.”
Ned’s smile fades
somewhat, and a glint of severity comes into his eyes. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Fay reaches out for my hand. “Do take me, Lon. I fancy a walk on the beach anyhow. All this cigar smoke is making me positively ill.”
“There now,” Ned says, the sharpness still in his face. “You take Fay out to get some fresh air.”
A tremor of panic crawls through me. How would I explain Cassandra, waiting on the beach for me in her strange, future clothes? And worse, how would I explain Fay to Cassandra?
Fay grabs my hand. “Oh, come on, Lawrence. Don’t be such a chump.”
Ned’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. He has the same look on his face that he did that night in New York. “Go on, son.”
Fay pulls me out the glass double doors and I go along. I have enough to worry about right now, and angering Ned seems imprudent. Besides, surely I can stall Fay before we get to the beach.
“It’s been ever so long since we were alone together,” Fay says, her grip tight on my hand. “One would almost think you’d stopped caring for me.”
I sigh. “Fay…”
She stops abruptly. Spinning around to face me, she puts her finger to my lips. “Don’t speak, darling. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”
Her arms latch around my neck. There’s something in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Almost as if she can tell that I noticed, the strangeness vanishes, and she gives me one of her sly smiles.
“Kiss me, you cad.”
Her lips come to mine, hot and urgent, and she presses her body against me. Fay’s always been a forward girl, but there’s definitely something different about her tonight. A force to her kiss. Almost like anger.
I grip her upper arms and peel her off me. “Stop.”
She’s breathing hard. “What is it?” I catch a steely glint in her eyes. “We need some privacy, don’t we?”
She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the path and the beach. Alarm flares inside my chest like a light. It would wound Cassandra deeply to see me like this. And with the way she’s acting tonight, Fay’s sure to make some kind of scene.
I forcefully halt, jerking Fay’s slender body toward mine with the inertia. She falls into my arms with a giggle.
Until We Meet Again Page 13