“Alec arrived just in time,” the lady said. “But I’m worried about my angels.”
Alec put his hand on her shoulder. “I had Zach load them in the back of the SUV.”
She patted his hand. “Oh, Alec, did you really? You’re a darling young man. Could you bring them in?”
“I’ll get them.” He glanced at Libby and motioned for her to follow him. At the entry, he stopped and folded his arms across his chest. “The lady is Pearl Chilton. Your aunt.”
Her pulse kicked. “My father’s sister?”
He nodded. “She’s a sweetheart. I think you’ll love her.”
He was still staring at her with a wary expression. “Did you tell her I was here?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I thought I’d leave that up to you.”
“Who’s the older gentleman? I thought they were married.”
“Her neighbor, Thomas Carter. Their houses were both flooded. He was at her house when I got there. Pearl still works as the town postmistress. She’s done that for thirty years.”
“She’s been looking in on my brother and sister since my father died, correct?”
He nodded. “She should have been at your dad’s house in town, but she was at her cottage trying to get her angels.”
“Angels?”
“Collectible angels. The living room is stuffed with them.”
“I can help you bring them in.”
“I can handle it. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He opened the door and stepped into the driving rain.
Thunder boomed overhead, and Libby shut her eyes against the brilliant flash of lightning. She slammed the door, then took a deep breath and went back to the parlor. Pearl had taken her long hair out of its bun, and the salt-and-pepper tresses lay drying on her shoulders and down onto her huge bosom. Barely five feet tall, she was round as an egg except for the shapely legs revealed by her skirt.
Pearl seemed to realize Libby was staring at her. “Is something wrong, young lady? I have a smudge on my nose?”
Family. She had an aunt, siblings, probably cousins here. Libby couldn’t take it all in. If only she knew Nicole was all right, the moment would be perfect.
She shook her head. “I . . . I’m sorry for staring.” She walked nearer to the fireplace where Pearl sat combing out her hair. “I’m Libby. Libby Holladay.”
Pearl put the comb down. Her gaze searched Libby’s face as she heaved herself out of the chair. “Ray’s Libby?”
Libby’s throat locked, and she nodded.
“Oh, my dear,” Pearl said softly. She held out her arms.
Libby leaned forward and was enfolded in soft arms and an immense hug that smelled of lavender and mint. It was all she could do not to break down. Had her father ever held her like this? Once the fervency of Pearl’s embrace lessened, Libby pulled away and swiped the back of her hand across her damp eyes.
Pearl’s faded green eyes studied Libby’s face. “I see your father in you,” she said. “You have his dark eyes. I wish he were still alive to see you. Not raising you was his greatest sorrow in life.”
Libby couldn’t stop the tears that welled then. “I never knew he cared,” she choked out. “My mother said he didn’t.”
Pearl pressed her lips together. “I don’t like to speak ill of anyone, but your mother was determined to be free.”
Libby sank onto the rug by Pearl’s feet and struggled to keep her expression neutral. Just listening didn’t mean she was betraying her mother’s memory. There were two sides to every story.
Pearl settled back on the chair. Clasping her knees to her chest, Libby watched her aunt’s face in the firelight. “What was he like, my father?”
Pearl smiled. “Generous as the day is long. He was always helping other people. I think that’s why God blessed him so with material things. He knew Ray would let them run through his hands to other people.”
“I—I hear my siblings are not too pleased to learn about me.”
Pearl’s lips flattened. “Oh, they always knew about you. Ray never made a secret of it. He spoiled them too much though, and they think the world owes them a living. This will be good for them.”
Libby’s growing impression of her siblings wasn’t flattering. How long before she met them? The wind rattled the door. Did her aunt realize that Nicole was her friend? “I’m here to find my business partner, Nicole.”
Pearl gasped. “The girl who was taken—she’s your friend?”
The compassion in her aunt’s voice nearly broke Libby’s composure. She nodded and swallowed hard. “I saw them take her on the beach cam.”
“Oh, my dear girl.” Her aunt leaned over and hugged her again. “I’ve been praying for that young woman. Somehow, I think she’s all right.”
“You do?”
Pearl nodded. “When I pray, I have a sense of peace. You’re going to find her.”
“I hope so. It’s so scary.”
Pearl pursed her lips. “What about your mother? Where is she now?”
Libby shook her head. “She’s gone. She died a year ago.”
Pearl’s lips flattened. “She was always a bit of a hippie. I imagine you took care of her—made sure she ate and took care of the house. You have that competent air about you.”
Her aunt was perceptive. Libby nodded. “Mom always had a childlike way about her, but she was a good mother. Our house was always fun.” Until it was time to move on to the next town. “I got a job in a museum when I was sixteen. That’s where I learned to love history. I got a scholarship to college and got to follow my dream.”
“What are you doing these days?”
“Nicole and I restore historic houses, then sell them. I love preserving part of the past.”
Pearl stared at her. “Your father would have been proud of you. I wish he’d gotten to meet you.”
Libby was forming a picture of her father that was very different from all she’d been told. But which was right?
NINE
The wind howled and Libby paced through the night. With every rattle of the storm against the windowpane in her bedroom, she prayed for Nicole, then for herself and the siblings she had yet to meet. Where was Nicole riding out the storm? Was she hurt? Would her siblings like her when they got to know her? The questions battered her.
The clock said it should be daybreak, but the black clouds outside blocked the sunrise. She might as well get up. The bedroom door creaked when she opened it, but she doubted the sound would carry above the pounding of the rain against the house. She slipped down the hall to the back stairway that led down to the kitchen. The house shuddered, and she grabbed the doorjamb, then felt along the wall for the switch. The bulb in the stairwell was dim, but its comforting glow lit the rubber-covered stairs.
In the kitchen she fixed some tea, then carried the hot mug to the parlor, where she curled on the sofa with just one light on to push back the dark. The storm still raged outside, but she felt safe and snug surrounded by the possessions of her father.
A shadow loomed in the hall, then Alec spoke her name. “You okay?”
She set her tea on the coffee table. “Did I wake you?”
He shook his head and stepped into the room. “I wasn’t sleeping. You had the same idea as me.” He held up a Pepsi. “Only mine was easier.”
Once he was settled into the armchair, she leaned her head back against the sofa. “I know you’re wondering if I did something to Nicole,” she said. “I didn’t.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Your cousin thinks I did. And you’re acting differently now. Wary.”
He took a gulp of his soda. “You have to admit it looks bad.”
“I agree.” She held his gaze. At least he wasn’t afraid to look at her. “I care about Nicole. That’s why I’m here. Will you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“Okay, I can do that much.”
She exhaled when his expression went from cold to lukewarm. “Good.” Better to move on to another
topic. “I like Pearl.”
He wiped the moisture from the soda can. “I knew you would. She’s an institution in town. Everyone loves her, even though she knows everyone else’s business.”
“I noticed that. She already knew my life story.”
“She won’t repeat it either.”
“I didn’t think she would.” Libby paused, uncertain how much he knew. “She said my mother was adamant about no contact. My father didn’t want it that way.”
“I’m sure that’s true. Ray loved his kids. Sometimes to a fault.”
“Did he ever speak of me?” She held her breath, hoping to hear some small snippet of her father’s love for her.
He shook his head. “Not to me.”
Libby picked up an enameled egg from the table and rolled it in her palms. “According to Pearl, my siblings knew about me. She said my father made no secret of my existence.”
“Pearl would know.”
She put down the egg and pressed her hand against her forehead. “So much coming at me so fast. I just want to find Nicole, but there’s all this other information clamoring to be absorbed. I can’t even think.”
“You saw the cam late in the afternoon?”
She nodded. “I came right away, but I couldn’t find a boat to bring me across the sound until yesterday morning.”
“What did you do all night?”
“I sat on the pier. I paced the dock and prayed.”
He smiled. “So you’re a believer too.”
She glanced at him, surprised at the approval in his voice. “Not a very good one. I make it to church about once a month. Maybe that’s why this has happened. God is punishing me.”
“Forget that idea. Bad things happen even to good people. Life is hard. God never said it wouldn’t be. And he’s with us in the hard times.”
“I feel very alone,” she admitted.
“I know Tom will do all he can to find her.”
“I might believe that if he will look somewhere other than at me.” She finally spoke her greatest fear. “What if they dumped her at sea and she’s fighting the waves out there?” He didn’t have to answer that. If that was Nicole’s fate, she’d be dead by now.
“There’s no reason to think that.”
She stared at him, caught by a certain tone in his voice. Almost a hesitancy. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
There was a long silence before he spoke. “Mr. McEwan said he saw two men go past his little island in a boat. He mentioned a sleeping woman.”
She sprang to her feet. “Nicole! Did he see Nicole?”
He held up his hand. “We don’t know that. I’m going to take a run out there in my boat though. Once the storm subsides.”
“Can I come?”
“If you like.”
She bit her lip. “Everyone thinks she’s dead. I can sense it. I just can’t believe that. We have to find her.” She willed him to agree with her, but he looked down at his hands.
He rose from the armchair. “I think I’ll call into the office and see if I’m needed.”
It was clear that he thought Nicole was dead.
The storm had finally died. Though it was still early, Libby took her mug of tea to the porch. The jute necklace was warm at her neck. She touched it, then opened the notebook her father left. What would Jesus have done yesterday? She grimaced when she realized money had been her first thought when Alec brought in people escaping the storm. Jesus would have been concerned about people, not money. She wrote down yesterday’s date and jotted down how she’d failed. Today she would try to do better. She closed the notebook and tucked it into the cloth bag at her feet, then went down the steps to the beach.
Debris littered the lawn, but the old house had withstood the blow like the proud matriarch she was. Libby studied the stately lines of the house. It was so beautiful. Someone would pay handsomely to own this. She walked down the sloping sand. The boardwalk and cam where Nicole had been taken were about a mile down the beach. This stretch of sand seemed to go on forever. Did she dare walk along the shore alone?
Then a figure caught her eye. A man strode along the beach with a clipboard in his hand. Strikingly handsome, he had almost-black hair and broad shoulders. Muscular legs extended from walking shorts. As he neared, she realized his eyes were a vivid blue. He put her in mind of a young Elvis Presley. The breeze lifted his dark hair from his forehead.
She lifted a smile in the man’s direction when she saw him looking at the inn and writing in his notebook. “Can I help you?”
He smiled and stopped about four feet from her. “I’m looking over the property for a client who is going to buy it.”
Her hackles went up. “Oh? I think you should make sure the owner wants to sell it.”
“Oh, it’s a done deal,” he assured her. “Are you a guest?”
“No, I’m Libby Holladay. The owner.”
His smile vanished. “That’s not possible. Mr. Brent Mitchell agreed to sell it to me.” His eyes narrowed. “What kind of scam is this?”
The proprietary way she felt about the house already was a shock. This was her house. “He was unaware until recently that I inherited the house, not him.”
He smiled, an obvious attempt to regain his composure. “Then I will direct my client’s interest to you.” He held out a card. “I’m Kenneth Poe. I have a client who would like to purchase this property.”
She couldn’t afford to reject his offer. “Why does your client want the property? It’s not really a moneymaking venture at the moment. Tourists have to rent a boat to get here. I had a hard time getting here myself.” She decided not to tell him about Nicole’s disappearance. It was none of his business.
He shifted his clipboard to the other hand. “I’m sure you see that the place is a monstrosity. It’s going to take a lot of money to fix it up. Better just to tear it down.”
She gasped. “Tear it down? You have to be joking.”
He held up his hand. “Look at the place. Rotting wood, peeling paint, outdated rooms and baths. It would be cheaper to bulldoze it and start over.”
“The mansion should be on the historic registry. It will be if I have my way. I’ve spent my life protecting historic property. I’d die before I saw this place bulldozed.”
His smile was entirely too smug. “Come now, Ms. Holladay. I think we can persuade you. My client is willing to pay you ten million dollars for this property.”
The blood drained from her head, and she felt dizzy. Ten million dollars. The amount was outside her comprehension. She could buy a house outright, two houses, one for her and one for her stepbrother, here in town if she wanted. She could get a new car before her old clunker died for good. The future stretched out in an enticing way. But to follow that path, she would have to sacrifice an important piece of history. Could she turn her back on her convictions?
She wetted her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that. I think you’ll see it our way. And my client might be persuaded to give you other incentives, such as a parcel elsewhere to build your own place. I’m sure we can come to an agreement. He’s very eager to have this property.”
Hope Beach would be just like the rest of the beach towns. There wouldn’t be anything unique about this little bit of paradise any longer. Libby couldn’t bear the thought, but she couldn’t afford to reject it out of hand either. Any other investor would have the same idea, and this one seemed eager to move now.
“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”
“The offer won’t be extended for long. If you don’t wish to sell, he’ll go after something else. I’d advise you to accept his offer before he loses interest. There are other properties he can purchase.”
She bit her lip. “Could I meet with him? See what his plans are?”
Poe shook his head. “I doubt he’d have the time. He would tell me to say take it or leave it.”
“I’ll let you know next week,” she said.
She w
atched him walk away and chewed her lip. What should she do? That was a lot of money.
What would Jesus do?
TEN
The expansive lawn had been meticulously groomed. The flower beds were in perfect condition for the garden party, and Lawrence smiled with satisfaction. His wife wouldn’t be able to complain that he hadn’t taken care of his duties as a host.
“How do I look, Daddy?” Katelyn twirled in a gauzy white dress.
His daughter might not be the most beautiful young woman he’d ever seen, but she was elegant and well bred. With her by his side, Poe could go far. Someone needed to be groomed to take over the Rooney businesses. Poe was the first man to come along who Lawrence felt might fill the ticket.
“Like a princess,” Lawrence said, kissing her cheek. “There’s someone I want you to meet today.”
A dimple appeared in her cheek. “Your amazing Kenneth Poe?” she said. “I saw a picture. He’s quite handsome.”
When she blushed, Katelyn was downright pretty. Lawrence hoped Poe could see her attractions. “There he is now,” Lawrence said, waving to Poe, who stood at the edge of the lawn looking around.
“Oh my,” Katelyn said. “H-He’s like Elvis.”
Like Elvis. Lawrence hid his amusement. The girl was already halfway in love. Poe acknowledged the wave with an answering smile and strode across the green carpet of grass with a confident air. Lawrence liked arrogance in a man. Poe had the strength to tame Katelyn. And he’d dressed nicely for the occasion. The suit he wore was an Armani, if Lawrence was any judge—and he was. Poe’s tie was silk, and he’d had a fresh haircut.
Lawrence put his arm around his daughter as Poe reached them. “You just flew in, Kenneth?”
He nodded. “My chopper landed an hour ago.”
Lawrence put his arm around Katelyn. “Kenneth, my boy, I’d like to introduce you to Katelyn. My one and only heir.” He put the emphasis on the last word.
Poe took her hand. “I’m honored to meet you, Ms. Rooney.”
“Call her Katelyn,” Lawrence ordered.
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