Just a Wish Away

by Barbara Freethy

"You're crazy. This is ridiculous, absolute and utter nonsense."

  His tone grew angrier with each word. Alexa's stomach ache increased, the fury in her father's voice reminding her of all those fights she'd overheard when she was a little girl, when she used to pull the covers over her head so she wouldn't have to listen to him yell or hear her mother crying.

  As much as she wanted to duck under the covers right now, she couldn't do that. She needed to stand up to him. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just asking questions, and you're getting defensive. It makes me think you have something to hide."

  "I don't recognize you any more," he said with a disgusted shake of his head.

  "I wish I didn't recognize you," she returned, feeling overwhelmingly sad. "You always yelled so you wouldn't have to lie. I realize that now. All those fights you and Mom had. You never answered her. You just yelled at her for asking the questions. But I'm not her. I'm not afraid you're going to leave me, because you already did."

  His face paled. "I had no idea you hated me so much."

  "I wish I did hate you. That would make it easier. But instead I've spent the last fifteen years wishing you'd love me the way you did when I was a little girl. We used to go to Nini's on Sundays for breakfast. I felt so special then." Moisture filled her eyes, and she was angry with herself for still feeling the pain, but she couldn't deny it. "It was our time together. I didn't know that the last time we had pancakes there would be the last time I would ever have breakfast with you. I loved you then, and God help me, I still love you now. But you hurt me. And I really hope you don't do the same thing to your other children, because it feels awful." She let out a breath, feeling strangely lighter having said so many of the things she'd always wanted to say.

  "I'm sorry, Alexa. I really am."

  "I hope you are," she said. "I hope you change."

  He stared back at her. "Maybe I should go."

  "That's usually what you do." She was disappointed that he wasn't even going to try to convince her she was wrong. But then how could he? She wasn't wrong about anything, and he knew it.

  "Now you sound like your mother," he told her.

  "Did you ever love her?" she asked.

  "More than I can say," he said with a heavy sigh.

  "Really? Then what happened?"

  "We weren't right for each other. We wanted different things. I couldn't make her happy. She couldn't make me happy. I know you got caught in the crossfire, Alexa. I didn't handle things as well as I should have. I realize that now."

  At least he'd admitted that much.

  He stared at her for a long moment. "I knew Shayla Cummings. I was at the Wellbourne house when she celebrated a birthday. It might have been my lighter you saw. But she was just a friend."

  "That's it?" she asked.

  "I don't want to talk about this with you. You're my daughter. It's not right."

  "She was a beautiful young woman and a lot of men wanted her. It's hard to believe you didn't."

  "Even if I did, Shayla had her eyes on someone else."

  "Who?"

  "She was cagey about it. I thought it was Jack Wellbourne, but then Daniel Stone was hanging around, so it could have been him. She didn't want to tell me. She said it made her sad to talk about it."

  "Do you think Shayla's death was an accident?"

  He didn't answer for a long moment. "I don't honestly know. She used to swim in the early mornings, because she thought she'd gained some weight and she didn't want the paparazzi to catch her in a bikini and point out that not only was she a flop as an actress, she was also getting fat."

  "She wasn't wearing a swimsuit when she was found."

  "Well, I don't know about that. Maybe she had on a cover-up. Like I said, she was worried about her weight gain."

  Alexa wondered about that. In the newspaper photos she'd seen of Shayla, she'd been quite thin, but then models and actresses had a different standard for skinny.

  "Shayla had a lot of problems in her life," her father added. "It's possible that depression got the best of her."

  "Now you're saying it was suicide?"

  "I'm saying I don't know."

  "Did you ever talk to the police about her death?"

  "No, we were back in Seattle when she died. And your mother and I were in the midst of the divorce. I barely knew what was going on here."

  "I'm surprised no one called you. Did no one know of your friendship with Shayla?"

  "I wasn't broadcasting it," he said, shifting his feet somewhat awkwardly.

  "What about Aunt Phoebe?"

  "God, no! My sister is a big talker. I would never tell her anything. And there was nothing to tell. But I can see the suspicion in your eyes now, and I figured that's the same look I'd get from anyone else. Look, I don't believe there's any connection between Shayla's death and the delivery of these boxes. You always had a big imagination. I guess you didn't grow out of it." He paused. "I'll leave you to do the inventory." He moved toward the front door, then turned back and said. "Would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow before I leave?"

  She was shocked at the unexpected question and also surprised that she didn't immediately say yes. Some self-protective mechanism inside her head was making her question if she really wanted to go back to Nini's with her dad. She'd been reliving a lot of her past since she'd returned to Sand Harbor; did she want to revisit that old memory?

  "You used to squeal a big yes, with a huge smile on your face when I invited you to breakfast," her dad said, a sad note in his voice.

  "I will meet you," she said quietly. "But not at Nini's. Let's go to Hannah's Bagel House."

  "All right. Eight o'clock? Is that too early? I need to get back to Seattle by noon to catch my plane."

  "It's fine."

  "Do you have the photo with my lighter in it?" he asked.

  "No, Braden has the pictures."

  "Braden? That kid you used to hang around with?"

  "That's the one."

  "Why does he have the photographs?"

  "He's helping me investigate." She noted the look of annoyance in her father's eyes. If he was as innocent as he proclaimed himself to be, why did he care about an old picture of a birthday cake and a lighter that might or might not be his?

  "Maybe you could get them back," her dad suggested. "I'd like to take a look."

  "I'll see if I can."

  "All right. Tomorrow, then."

  "Tomorrow," she echoed.

  As her father left, she wondered what he was going to do with the rest of the evening. Did he still have friends in Sand Harbor? He hadn't mentioned where he was staying either. She suddenly realized there were a few more questions she could have asked him -- like why he was staying the night at all, if he needed to be back in Seattle by noon on Friday. He'd already checked in on his sister. What other reason could he have for hanging around until tomorrow?

  Chapter Ten

  Braden entered the realty office where his sister Carey worked. It was the biggest of three realty companies in Sand Harbor. Carey was one of four associates in the firm. She had received her license six months earlier and was already reaping the benefit of the new developments going up on the outskirts of town.

  The receptionist waved him down the hall. Carey was working in the smaller second office on the left. His younger sister took after their fair-haired mother with the same blonde hair, round face and warm smile. Like their mom, Carey was also a hard worker. She'd been working since she was fifteen and loved to make money. She'd told him that love, marriage and family were on the back burner until she'd met her career goals. Maybe she'd learned something from the disaster of his young marriage.

  When he entered her office, she looked up from her desk in surprise. "What's wrong?" she asked warily.

  "Nothing. Everything's fine."

  "Everything can't be fine if you're here. You haven't left your apartment in weeks, nor have you returned any one of my phone calls in the last ten days," she pointed out.
>
  Because her phone calls usually had to do with getting him out of his apartment. "Sorry about that," he muttered. "But here I am."

  She tilted her head to one side, giving him a thoughtful look. "You seem different."

  "I didn't come here to talk about me," he said quickly.

  "But we need to talk about you. I'm worried."

  "You don't have to be. I'm the big brother. It's my job to worry about you, not the other way around."

  "That's not the way our family works."

  She was right about that. They'd become a very tight unit after his father died – actually, even before his dad had been killed, because it had always been his mom, his brother and his sister. And he'd been the oldest, the one who made sure everyone else was okay.

  "I have a question for you," he said, taking a seat in front of her desk.

  "What's up?"

  "I'm trying to find out who handled the rentals on the Wellbourne estate."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's your question for me?"

  "Why? What did you think I was going to ask?"

  "I don't know. Something more personal -- like, what do you think I should do with the rest of my life? Because I actually have an answer for you."

  "What's that?"

  "Real estate. This town is booming. It wouldn't take you long to take the classes and we could be partners together. When Matt graduates from law school, we could bring him in on some deal. Make it a family business. It could be great."

  He smiled at the enthusiasm in her eyes. "You've thought about this."

  "For a long time. The best thing is you'll be safe, and I won't have to worry about the phone ringing in the middle of the night or two men in uniform walking up to our door." Her eyes watered. "I used to dream about that happening, Braden. In my mind, I'd see those guys coming up to the house when Dad was killed, and then I'd think they were coming for you."

  He frowned, feeling bad that he'd put her through that. "I never wanted you to worry."

  "How could I not? I knew that the worst could happen, because it had already happened once. So…" She cleared her throat. "Back to real estate. We could open our own company and called it C&B Realty."

  "You get top billing? I'm the oldest."

  "I have the most experience."

  "Then you should have your own company."

  Her mouth turned down. "Can't you agree to think about it?"

  "There's nothing to think about. I'm not interested in real estate."

  "It's not a bad job. You can make good money."

  "I don't want to sell houses, Carey."

  "I guess it would be a little dull when you're used to action."

  "I appreciate the thought, really. Now, can we get back to my question? Do you know which company in town handled the rentals for the Wellbournes?"

  "Yes, it was us. Mark Bellingham, the owner, was good friends with Jack Wellbourne. In fact, I think Mr. Wellbourne might have actually helped Mark open this company. I know they worked together on several development deals as well."

  "That's great. Would you have access to files from fifteen years ago?"

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, giving him the same stubborn look she'd given him as a little girl when he'd asked her to do something she didn't want to do. "I need more information about why you're asking."

  "I want to find out who rented the Wellbourne house to Shayla Cummings fifteen years ago. It would have been in August or July. I don't know if she was there the whole summer."

  "Braden, what are you getting involved in?"

  "It's a long story. Can you just help me out here, Carey, without giving me the third degree?"

  "I suppose I should be glad you're interested in something," she grumbled.

  "Exactly. I'm out of the apartment just like you wanted."

  "I wanted you to find something fun to do with your time, maybe have drinks with friends, or go for a bike ride with me."

  "Well, that may happen at some point. Right now I'm interested in this."

  "Okay, fine." She opened up the computer. "Mark recently had an intern update our file system. I think it goes back that far." She punched in some dates. "Let's see."

  He got up and moved around the desk so he could look at the screen.

  "It looks like the house was rented for the month of August by Daniel Stone," she said.

  His pulse leapt as he followed her gaze to the name on the rental agreement. "Daniel Stone? Why would he rent the house? His parents had their own beach house."

  She shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Did anyone else rent it that summer?"

  She scrolled through several more screens. "It looks like it wasn't rented through this office for the six months prior. But that's not unusual. Summer is when most of the rentals occur."

  "What about the previous summer?"

  She flipped back to another screen. And there was the name he wanted to see… Shayla Cummings. She'd rented the house for three weeks the previous July in her own name. Why had she come back the next summer and rented under Daniel Stone's name? Had the two of them had a relationship?

  "Shayla Cummings is that actress who died on the beach, right?" Carey asked.

  "Yes."

  Carey gave him another speculative look. "Now, do I get an explanation?"

  "I'm helping Drew investigate the break-in at the antique store. It might tie to the Wellbournes."

  A gleam came into her eyes. "I heard that Phoebe's niece is back in town. Have you seen her?"

  "Yes."

  "Now, I get it," she said with a gleeful smile.

  He frowned. "You don't get anything."

  "She's the reason you're out of the apartment."

  "It was Drew who asked for my help."

  "Well, whoever it was, I'm glad to see you out and about. I'm so mad at Kinley, and I don't think it's fair that she's still in your house while you're living in that horrible apartment."

  "It was my choice, and the place is not that bad." He appreciated his sister's support, but he wanted to keep his divorce between him and Kinley. "It's for the best," he added, realizing as the words came out of his mouth that he actually meant them. "We both need to move on."

  "Are you moving on?"

  "I'm trying a little harder now," he admitted.

  Relief flashed in her eyes. "I'm very happy to hear that. So, what are you doing for dinner tonight?"

  "I don't know," he said slowly, thinking about Alexa, wondering whether or not he wanted to meet up with her again.

  "We could go out, maybe call Mom to join us," Carey suggested. "Or I could cook."

  "You cook?" he asked doubtfully.

  "Well, I could order pizza. Or Mom would cook. She's been stacking up casseroles in the freezer ever since you ordered her to stop dropping off food at your apartment."

  "I didn't order her to stop."

  Carey rolled her eyes.

  "Fine, we'll do dinner. Call Mom and tell her to meet us at Rocco's at six. I'll buy."

  "Really?" A hopeful smile spread across her face.

  "Yes. I'll see you there."

  "I'm glad we're doing this, Braden. It's been too long."

  "Yeah, it has," he said. "Thanks for the info."

  "I hope it helped."

  "Well, it gave me something else to think about."

  * * *

  Alexa had just finished going through the last of the Wellbourne boxes when Braden walked into the antique shop a little after five.

  "Hi," she said warily, not sure what mood she'd find him in after the way he'd left her earlier.

  "Hey," he returned, glancing at the stack of items on the counter. "Looks like you're making progress."

  "Some. I haven't found anything that looks extremely valuable or in any way scandalous or damaging. But at least there will be a little less work for my aunt when she returns."

  "Did you see her this afternoon?"

  "Yes."

  "How was she?"
<
br />   Apparently, they weren't going to talk about the kiss they'd shared earlier. That was fine with her. "She's getting better by the minute. She still doesn't remember anything about that night. A lot of her friends were there, including the Chief of Police, who assured me he would not rest until he found out who had hurt Phoebe. I think he's in love with my aunt."

  "I got that impression, too."

  "When did you talk to him?" she asked with surprise.

  "Probably shortly after you did. I asked him about Shayla's drowning. He didn't tell me anything we didn't already know."

  "Did you ask him about my father?"

  He met her gaze. "I did, and he quickly shut me down. He said I should be careful I didn't do anything to hurt you or your aunt."

  "That's not exactly saying he's sure my father is completely innocent."

  "I know. It's possible he didn't want to bring your dad into it, but then again I don't think he would have looked the other way if he felt a crime had occurred. He's loyal to your aunt, but he's a good cop."

  "Speaking of my father," she said. "My dad showed up at the hospital."

  "How was that?"

  "Weird. I saw him a year ago for about ten minutes. Before that, we'd gone five years without seeing each other. Anyway, he spoke briefly to Phoebe and then he showed up here. That's what I found to be really strange."

  "Why? Maybe he wanted to talk to you."

  "He seemed more interested in the boxes than talking to me. In fact, he was going through them when I walked in. He said Evie let him in, but she wasn't here when I got here."

  "Are you still thinking he was involved with Shayla?"

  "I don't think it. I know it. I asked him, Braden."

  "What did he say?"

  "At first he denied it. We got into a heated discussion about the divorce, and I don't know what came over me. All the bottled up feelings I had about him just came pouring out. I asked him why he hadn't fought for me, why he'd divorced me as well as my mother."

  Braden gave a low whistle. "That was brave."

  "Or stupid. He hedged the way he always did, made up rationalizations, but it didn't matter what he said. Because it wasn't really about him, it was about me. I needed to say what I'd always wanted to say."

  "I'm impressed," he said with a glint of admiration in his eyes. "It's not easy to confront a parent, especially someone like your dad."