Chesapeake Bay Saga 1-4

by Nora Roberts

  “Hey, he could’ve tossed you back anytime. You were nothing to him, just like I was nothing.”

  “Yeah, some people are just stupid, weak, natural marks, believing a promise made to a ten-year-old boy needs to be kept. The same type who think that same kid deserves a shot at a decent life, a home, a family. He’d have given you the same, if you’d wanted it.”

  “You think I wanted to be stuck in some backwater bum-fuck town, paying homage to an old man who picks up strays?” She gulped her gin. “That’s your scene, not mine. And you got it, so what’re you bitching about? And if you want to keep it, you’ll pay. Just like you’ve always paid. You got the down payment?”

  “How much you figure you’ve gotten from me over the years, Gloria? Between what you bled out of Ray, what you’ve been bleeding out of me? Must be a couple hundred thousand, at least. Of course, you never got anything out of my brothers. You tried—the usual lies, threats, intimidation—but they didn’t bleed so easy. You do better with old men and kids.”

  She smirked. “They’d’ve paid if I’d wanted them to pay. I had better things to do. Bigger fish to fry. You wanna fry your own fish now, keep that fancy art career you’ve got going from getting screwed up, wanna keep sticking it to the senator’s granddaughter, you pay for it.”

  “So you said. Let me get the terms clear. I pay you, one million dollars starting with the ten-thousand-dollar down payment tonight—”

  “In cash.”

  “Right, in cash, or you’ll go to the press, to Dru’s family, and spin another web of lies about how you were used and abused by the Quinns, starting with Ray. You’ll smear them and me and Dru along with it. The poor, desperate woman, girl really, struggling to raise a child on her own, begging for help only to be forced to give up the child.”

  “Has a nice ring. Lifetime Movie of the Week.”

  “No mention in there of the tricks you turned while that child was in the next room—or the men you let touch him. No mention of the drugs, the booze, the beatings.”

  “Bring out the violins.” She leaned in, very close. “You were a pain in the ass. You’re lucky I kept you around as long as I did.” And lowered her voice. “You’re lucky I didn’t sell you to one of my johns. Some would’ve paid top dollar.”

  “You would have, sooner or later.”

  She shrugged. “Had to get something out of you, didn’t I?”

  “You’ve been tapping me for money since I was fourteen. I’ve paid you to protect my family, myself. Mostly I’ve paid you because the peace of mind was worth a hell of a lot more than the money. I’ve let you blackmail me.”

  “I want what’s due me.” She snatched the third drink. “I’m making you a deal here. One lump-sum payment and you keep your nice, boring life. Screw with me, and you’ll lose it all.”

  “A million dollars or you’ll do whatever you can to hurt my family, ruin my career and destroy my relationship with Dru.”

  “In a nutshell. Pay up.”

  He nudged his beer aside, met her eyes. “Not now, not ever again.”

  She grabbed his shirt in her fist, yanked his face close to hers. “You don’t want to fuck with me.”

  “Oh yeah, I do. I have.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a mini recorder. “Everything we’ve said is on here. Might be a problem in court, if I decide to go to the cops.”

  When she grabbed for it, he cuffed her wrist with his hand. “Speaking of cops, they’ll be interested to know you jumped bail down in Fort Worth. Solicitation and possession. You go public and some hard-ass skip tracer is going to be really happy to scoop you up and haul you back to Texas.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “Truer words,” he said mildly. “But you go right ahead and try to sell your version of things. I figure anybody who wants to write a story about all this will be really interested in this informal interview.”

  “I want my money.” She shrieked it, tossed what was left in her glass in his face.

  The quartet playing pool looked over. The biggest of them tapped his cue against his palm as he sized Seth up.

  She leaped off the stool, and fury had her practically in tears. “He stole my money.”

  The four men started forward. Seth rose from the stool.

  And his brothers walked in, ranged themselves beside him.

  “That seems to even things up.” Cam tucked his thumbs in his front pockets and gave Gloria a fierce grimace. “Been a while.”

  “You bastards. You’re all fucking bastards. I want what’s mine.”

  “We’ve got nothing of yours.” Ethan spoke quietly. “We never did.”

  “I take anything from her?” Seth asked the bartender.

  “Nope.” He continued to wipe the bar. “You want trouble, take it outside.”

  Phillip scanned the faces of the four men. “You want trouble?”

  The big man tapped his cue twice more. “Bob says he didn’t take nothing, he didn’t take nothing. None of my never mind.”

  “How about you, Gloria? You want trouble?” Phillip asked her.

  Before she could speak, the door opened. The women came in.

  “Goddamn it,” Cam muttered under his breath. “Should’ve figured it.”

  Dru walked directly to Seth, slid her hand into his. “Hello again, Gloria. It’s funny, my mother doesn’t remember you at all. She isn’t the least bit interested in you. But my grandfather is.” She took a piece of paper out of her pocket. “This is the number to his office on the Hill. He’ll be happy to speak to you if you’d like to call him.”

  Gloria slapped the paper from Dru’s fingers, then retreated quickly when Seth stepped forward.

  “I’ll make you sorry for this.” She shoved through them, pausing briefly to snarl at Sybill.

  “You shouldn’t have come back, Gloria,” Sybill told her. “You should’ve cut your losses.”

  “Bitch. I’ll make you sorry. I’ll make you all sorry.” With one last bitter glance, she shoved through the door.

  “You were supposed to stay home,” Seth told her.

  “No, I wasn’t.” Dru touched his cheek.

  NINETEEN

  THE HOUSE AND the yard were crowded with people. Crabs were steaming, and a half dozen picnic tables were loaded with food.

  The Quinns’ annual Fourth of July celebration was well under way.

  Seth pulled a beer from the keg, grabbed some shade, and took a break from the conversations to sketch.

  His world, he thought. Friends, family, slow Shore voices and squealing kids. The smells of spiced crabs, of beer, of talcum powder and grass. Of the water.

  A couple of kids were out in a Sunfish with a bright yellow sail. Ethan’s dog was splashing in the shallows with Aubrey—old times.

  He heard Anna’s laugh and the cheerful clink of horseshoes.

  Independence Day, he thought. He would remember this one for the rest of his life.

  “We’ve been doing this here since before you were born,” Stella said from beside him.

  The pencil squirted out of Seth’s fingers. No dream this time, he thought in a kind of breathless wonder. He was sitting in the warm, dappled shade, surrounded by people and noise.

  And talking to a ghost.

  “I wasn’t sure you were speaking to me.”

  “Nearly made a mess of it, and that ticked me off. But you figured things out in the end.”

  She was wearing the old khaki hat, a red shirt and baggy blue shorts. Without any real thought, Seth picked up the pencil, turned the page in his book and began to draw her as she looked, sitting contentedly in the shade.

  “Part of me was always scared of her, no matter what. But that’s gone now.”

  “Good. Stay that way, because she’ll always cause trouble. My God, look at Crawford. How’d he get so old? Time just goes by, no matter what the hell you do. Some things you let go. Some things are worth repeating. Like this party, year after year after year.”

  He continued to sketch,
but his throat had tightened. “You’re not coming back again, are you?”

  “No, honey. I’m not coming back again.”

  She touched him, and he would never forget the sensation of her hand on his knee. “Time to look forward, Seth. You don’t want to ever forget what’s behind you, but you’ve got to look ahead. Look at my boys.” She let out a long sigh as she gazed over at Cam, and Ethan, and Phillip. “All grown up, with families of their own. I’m glad I told them that I loved them, that I was proud of them, while I was still breathing.”

  She smiled now, patted Seth’s knee. “Glad I got a chance to tell you I love you. And I’m proud of you.”

  “Grandma—”

  “Make a good life for yourself or I’m going to be ticked off at you again. Here comes your girl,” she said, and was gone.

  His heart wrenched in his chest. And Dru sat down beside him. “Want company?” she asked.

  “As long as it’s you.”

  “So many people.” She leaned back on her elbows. “It makes me think Saint Chris must look like a ghost town right now.”

  “Just about everyone swings by, at least for a while. It whittles down by nightfall, and the rest of us stay here and watch the fireworks.”

  Some things you let go, he remembered. Some are worth repeating.

  “I love you, Drusilla. Just thought that was worth repeating.”

  She angled her head, studied the odd little smile on his face. “You can repeat it whenever you like. And if you come home with me afterward, we can make our own fireworks.”

  “That’s a date.”

  She sat up again, examined his drawing. “That’s wonderful. Such a strong face—and a friendly one.” She glanced around for the model. “Where is she? I don’t remember seeing her.”

  “She’s not here anymore.” He took a last look at the sketch, then gently closed the book. “Wanna go for a swim?”

  “It’s hot enough, but I didn’t think to bring a suit.”

  “Really?” Grinning, he stood up, pulled her to her feet. “But you can swim, right?”

  “Of course I can swim.” As soon as the words were out, she recognized the gleam in his eye. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Too late.” He scooped her up.

  “Don’t—” She wiggled, shoved, then began to panic as he jogged toward the dock. “This isn’t funny.”

  “It will be. Don’t forget to hold your breath.”

  He ran straight down the dock and off the end.

  “IT’S a Quinn thing,” Anna said as she handed Dru a dry shirt. “I can’t explain it. They’re always doing that.”

  “I lost a shoe.”

  “They’ll probably find it.”

  Dru sat on the bed. “Men are so strange.”

  “We just have to remember that in some areas, they’re really just five years old. These sandals ought to fit you well enough.” She offered them.

  “Thanks. Oh, they’re fabulous.”

  “I love shoes. I lust for shoes.”

  “With me it’s earrings. I have no power against them.”

  “I like you very much.”

  Dru stopped admiring the sandals and looked up. “Thank you. I like you very much, too.”

  “It’s a bonus. I would have made room for any woman Seth loved. All of us would. So you’re a very nice bonus. I wanted to tell you.”

  “I . . . I don’t have experience with families like yours.”

  “Who does?” With a laugh, Anna sat on the bed beside her.

  “Mine isn’t generous. I’m going to try to talk to my parents again. Seeing what Seth’s been through, what he faced down last night, made me realize I have to try. But whatever understanding we reach, we’ll never be like yours. They won’t welcome him the way you’re welcoming me.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” She wrapped an arm around Dru’s shoulders. “He has a way of winning people over.”

  “Certainly worked with me. I love him.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “It’s terrifying how much.”

  “I know the feeling. It’ll be dark soon.” Anna gave Dru a quick squeeze. “Let’s go get a glass of wine and get a good spot to watch the show.”

  When she stepped outside, Seth met her with one very soggy canvas slide and a sheepish grin. “Found it.”

  She snatched it, set it beside the back door where she’d put its mate. “You’re a baboon.”

  “Mrs. Monroe brought homemade peach ice cream.” He brought his hand out, with a double-scoop cone in it, from behind his back.

  “Hmm.” She sniffed, but she took the cone.

  “Want to sit on the grass with me and watch fireworks?”

  She took a long lick. “Maybe.”

  “Gonna let me kiss you when nobody’s looking?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Gonna share that ice cream?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  WHILE Seth was trying to cadge his share of a peach ice cream cone, and excited children were bouncing in anticipation of that first explosion of light and color in the night sky, Gloria DeLauter pulled into the parking lot of Boats by Quinn.

  She jerked to a halt and sat stewing in the messy juices of her fury laced with a pint of gin.

  They’d pay. All of them would pay. Bastards. Thought they could scare her off, gang up on her the way they had and go back to their stupid house and laugh about it.

  They’d see who laughed when she was finished with them.

  They owed her. She beat the heel of her hand on the steering wheel as rage choked her.

  She was going to make that son of a bitch she’d given birth to sorry. She’d make all of them sorry.

  She shoved out of the car, stumbling as the gin spun in her head. She weaved her way to the trunk. God! She loved being high. People who went through life sober and straight were the assholes. World was fucking full of assholes, she thought as she stabbed her key at the trunk lock.

  You need to get into a program, Gloria.

  That’s what they told her. Her worthless mother, her spineless stepfather, her tight-assed sister. The sainted sucker Ray Quinn had tried that with her, too.

  It was all bullshit.

  On the fourth try, she managed to get the key in the lock. She lifted the trunk, then hooted with delight as she dragged out the two cans of gasoline.

  “We’re gonna have some motherfucking fireworks, all right.”

  She stumbled again, stepped right out of one of her shoes but was too drunk to notice. Limping now, she carted the cans to the door, then straightened up, caught her breath.

  It took her a while to uncap the first can, and as she fought with it she cursed the gawky kid at the gas station who’d filled them for her.

  Just another asshole in a world of assholes.

  But her good humor returned when she splashed gasoline on the doors and the sharp, dangerous smell of it stung the air.

  “Stick your wood boats up your ass. Fucking Quinns.”

  She splashed it on the brick, on glass, on the pretty barberry bushes Anna had planted along the foundation. When one can was empty, she started on the second.

  It was a thrill to heave it, still half full, through the front window. She danced in the dark to the sound of breaking glass.

  Then she hobbled back to the trunk and retrieved the two bottles she’d filled with gas earlier and plugged with rags. “Molotov cocktail.” She giggled, swayed. “I got a double for you bastards.”

  She fumbled out her lighter and flicked. And was smiling when she set the flame to the rag.

  It caught faster than she’d expected, burned the tips of her fingers. On a little shriek, she heaved it toward the window, shattered it on brick.

  “Shit!” Flames leaped along the bushes, ate down to the ground and crept toward the doors. But she wanted more.

  She edged closer and, with the heat soaking her face, lit the second rag. Her aim was better this time, and she heard the boom of glass and flame as the bottle crashed on th
e floor inside the building.

  “Kiss my ass!” She screamed it and gave herself the pleasure of watching the fire sprint before she ran to her car.

  THE rocket exploded across the sky in a fountain of gold against black. With Dru nestled between his legs, his arms around her waist, Seth felt almost stupidly content.

  “I really missed this when I was overseas,” he told her. “Sitting in the backyard on the Fourth of July and watching the sky go crazy.” He turned his lips to the nape of her neck. “Do I still get the fireworks later?”

  “Probably. In fact, if you play your cards right, I might let you . . .”

  She trailed off, glancing over as Seth did at the sound of raised voices. He was on his feet, pulling Dru to hers even as Cam raced toward them.

  “Boatyard’s on fire.”

  THE fire department was already fighting the blaze. The doors and windows were gone, and the brick around them blackened. Seth stood, hands fisted, as water pumped through the openings and smoke billowed out.

  He thought of the work inside that old brick barn. The sweat and the blood that went into it, the sheer determination and family pride.

  Then he bent down and picked up the high-heeled backless shoe at his feet. “It’s hers. Stay with Anna and the rest,” he told Dru, and went to his brothers.

  “COUPLE of kids heard the explosion and saw the car drive away.” Cam rubbed his hands over eyes that stung from smoke. “Not much doubt it was arson since she left the gas cans behind. They got the make and model of her car, and a description. She won’t get far.”

  “She’ll see this as payback,” Seth said. “Fuck with me, I’ll fuck with you more.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s got a surprise coming. This time she’s going to jail.”

  “She messed us up real good first.”

  “We’re insured.” Cam stared at the blackened brick, the trampled bushes, the stream of smoke still belching out of the broken door.

  The pain in his heart was a physical stab. “We put this place together once, we can do it again. And if you’re planning on taking any guilt trips—”