by Amy Saunders
There it was. The point. And Belinda wasn't crazy about it. "I guess that would be me."
"And that would be you."
Belinda groaned.
"Listen you," Victoria said firmly. "You're not done for. Not even close. Just stand back for a minute and imagine how you would see what happened at the cocktail party."
Belinda huffed. "Yes, but I would give him a chance to explain."
"So you're telling me that if you saw Kori mouth attack Bennett and then found a key card in Bennett's pocket that belonged to Kori, you would totally shrug it off."
"I said I would give him a chance to explain, not that I wouldn't be upset."
Victoria looked at her pointedly. "Kind of like you are now."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're upset, but you haven't given him a chance to explain his side of the story."
"What's to explain?" Belinda flung her hands up. "I know what his deal is. He assumes I solicited Sawyer's kiss and won't believe me when I say it's not true!"
"Are you sure that's all there is to this? You're not in his head any more than he is in yours, and you know he has issues because of that Alexis woman."
Belinda tried to think of a reply, but her mind went blank. Before they even got off the ground they'd hit obstacles because of Bennett's bad experience with one Alexa Dupuis. She hadn't really considered that might be part of the problem now.
"Just think about it," Victoria said. "It's up to you. You can let this go and that's the end of it. But he did just pull over to talk to you, even if he was crabby, so I advise you to think calmly and carefully before you do."
Belinda and Victoria finished their gelatos, more subdued than before. Belinda had a lot to think about. Meeting Bennett almost made her forget about her permits and the notebook at the Sykes' house. And she'd completely forgotten about Finnegan digging up info for her until he called on her way home.
She had to fake enthusiasm since she had asked for his help. It seemed she was bound for a lot of that as long as she and Bennett were on the outs.
"So I got a name for that number you were curious about," he said. It sounded like he was talking out of the side of his mouth. "It's that Sawyer Gallen person."
Belinda felt disappointed. She was hoping for someone more exciting than that. Someone that would be the answer to all of her questions. Of course, it did confirm that Belinda didn't dream the whole Brooke/Sawyer make out session outside the cocktail party. "Thank you, Finn."
She didn't sound particularly thankful.
"Uh, forgive me if I sound perturbed," Finnegan said after seconds of nothing ticked by, "but you don't seem thrilled."
She came to the four-way stop leading to her house. On one of the corners, on the grass, sat a cardboard box like you'd find holding tomatoes. A handwritten sign was attached to a stake dug into the ground. It simply read, "Kittens."
"Finn, I'll have to call you back."
"O–" Belinda hung up before he got the word out, pulled over in a safe spot and jogged back.
She peeked into the box and sure enough a bundle of fuzzballs mewed up at her. What kind of jerk left a box of kittens on the side of the road? She glanced around suspiciously, hoping that none of them had crawled out. At least there'd been a sign so she hadn't passed it without a second thought. Without thinking too hard about it, Belinda yanked up the stake and heaved the box up, crossing back to her car. They all mewed and looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Don't worry babies," she said soothingly. "Everything's going to be okay."
Belinda had no idea how to take care of a box of kittens. They'd never had pets. It was too much fuss for her parents, and they liked to travel without strings attached. But she couldn't just leave them on the side of the road.
Bennett flashed through her mind. His grandmother—and father at times—had cats. He'd grown up with them and liked them. Maybe he could help. Now if only they weren't in a huge, disaster-filled fight.
Belinda brought the box into the carriage house, chewing on her bottom lip. She felt like she'd just brought a stranger's newborn baby into the house. Did they need to eat? What did they eat? Could they eat? With milk as her only direct connection to kitten food, Belinda scrapped around for a shallow bowl and poured a little in, setting it on the kitchen tile, and dragged the box over. One of the furballs clawed at the side of the box, uneasily holding himself upright. His other siblings still clumped together in a corner. They looked awfully young, but Belinda didn't know much about that either. Being that he (or she—Belinda hadn't peeked) was the adventurous one of the litter, she hesitantly picked him up and dropped him by the bowl.
He seemed to know what it was and started lapping up the milk. Encouraged, Belinda wrangled his three siblings, nearly dropping one when she (Belinda started randomly choosing their genders) scratched her in fear. They were not as inclined to leave the safety of the box, but Belinda made sure they ate too at the expense of her hands. They looked to be in decent shape for abandoned kittens, but Belinda needed more confirmation than that, wracking her brain on who to contact for help.
While the kittens ate, Belinda stared at two different hardwood floor samples that her mother was trying to choose between. Her father thought they both looked exactly alike so Belinda was brought into the discussion. Staring at them now, Belinda thought she agreed with her father, but that would not go over well. So after putting the kittens back in the box, she took the samples outside to get a better look at them in the sunlight. But her mind kept drifting to the Sykes' smackdown, the elusive Riley, and...Bennett.
Kyle swaggered into the yard with a backpack slung over one shoulder and dropped it by Sea Stud.
Belinda held up the hardwood floor samples. "Which one do you like?"
"They look exactly the same." Kyle unzipped his backpack and pulled out an extension cord.
Belinda sighed. Even in the direct light, she had to agree. "Well, I need to just pick one then because that answer will be unacceptable."
Kyle grinned. "Flip a coin."
"She'll know."
"Yep."
"Why are you never any help with these things? We have a week to move everything we own into the carriage house, you shrug and eat your ice cream. We have a hole in the house, you shrug and go back to watching TV. We have parents demanding an answer about hardwood floor samples, you shrug and plug in your extension cord. Could you pretend to be interested once in a while?"
"Why? I save my energy for things that really count. Like you nearly dying. Now that is a problem worth worrying about. So why should I get all worked up over tile samples when you're doing a perfectly good job of it?"
"Hardwood samples. And you know this is me being mildly worked up. Majorly worked up is when I see the hole in the kitchen."
"Which I put tarp over."
Belinda shrugged. Did he want a pat on the head for that? Honestly. "The bigger question is what to do with it."
"What did Mom and Dad say?"
Belinda screwed up her mouth. She preferred to ignore that inevitability until it became, well, inevitable.
"You haven't told them?" Kyle laughed. "I'm impressed."
"It's not for lack of trying...just lack of courage." Belinda stared off at the house. "What would you think of a small addition on the kitchen for a breakfast nook?"
Kyle arched his eyebrows. "You thinking of just making the executive decision?"
"I can't get in touch with them, only their voicemail. I'm too tired for more drama, so, yes, I am. Victoria suggested it first, and then the contractor threw out a similar idea. Plus, we have another situation." Belinda glanced at the scratches on her hand. "I found a litter of abandoned kittens on the side of the road today and I brought them home."
Kyle caressed the hull of the sailboat, squinting back at her. "What?"
"Yeah, I know." Belinda hung her hands at her sides. "But I couldn't just leave them there."
Kyle frowned. "Do you know how to take care of them?"
"No." She smiled. "So...the breakfast nook?"
"Sounds good to me." He patted the side of his boat.
Belinda nodded and left him to his work, holding out the samples as she marched back to the carriage house to escape the noise and make sure she didn't lose one of the kittens when she'd just found them. Belinda squinted hard, trying to see even a minor difference in the samples. The one on the right looked good, she thought. Yes, definitely the one on the right.
Chapter 13
Early the next day, Belinda was in the middle of taking care of her new project, because she didn't have nearly enough going on already. The kittens. They'd passed inspection at the vet, and now Belinda needed supplies to keep them alive.
She walked into Posh Pets and into the middle of a tense conversation between Mr. Sykes and someone on the phone. She tiptoed forward, thinking it might be best to come back later. She had hoped to get advice on what to get, but forgot Mr. Sykes had been manning the boutique.
Mr. Sykes sighed dramatically and hung up.
"Yes?" he said brusquely. "How can I help you?"
It was a good thing she knew the situation well enough to not be completely offended, because right then and there, he would have lost her business. Forever. But from the look on Mr. Sykes' face, Belinda didn't think he was even remotely concerned with luring in new customers.
Instead of feeling flustered like she did at the runway show when he showed up, Belinda walked forward calmly and set her purse on the counter. He looked up at her from the paper he was reading in surprise. Maybe he assumed she'd just walk out. Or hoped.
"I have a box of kittens," she said. "Four of them. I'm told their British Shorthairs. In any case, I rescued them from abandonment on the side of the road, but I've never had pets and frankly, I don't know what they need exactly. Can you help?"
She truly expected him to interrupt her in the middle—or start—of all that, but he listened and slowly straightened up from his bent double position at the counter. "Can't get rid of you, can I?" Mr. Sykes said more normally.
So normally, in fact, that it took Belinda a second to respond. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard him speak that way. "I could say the same of you."
He gave her a wry smile, aligned his papers with a smack on the counter, and stood up from his stool. "I think I underestimated you, Ms. Kittridge. But then again, I underestimate most people." He shuffled out from behind the counter. "This way." He led her a few feet to what looked like litter boxes. Belinda followed, glad she wouldn't have to waste time leaving Portside for supplies.
"How's Felicia?" he asked while gathering a few basics in his arms as they crisscrossed the shop.
"Um...she's good." Belinda was afraid to touch that subject, so she opted for the vaguest possible answer. Anyway, she hadn't seen Mrs. Sykes since crashing their fight.
"I know you have a very definite impression of me, Ms. Kittridge. But I'm not all I seem to be."
She really didn't expect conversation deeper than, let's say, what type of kitten food to buy. But people were full of surprises. "Then what are you?" she said. Perhaps a dangerous question, but one too tempting to resist.
"Frustrated, Ms. Kittridge. Very frustrated."
Well, that she could see from the way he'd reacted at the show and cocktail party. Of course, she would have used a stronger adjective.
"I know what's whispered in the clubs about how I am about the money." He set the first pile of products down on the counter. "Specially what's gone around with the divorce. But very few understand that I trusted Felicia. I always did."
Belinda felt the awkwardness coming. Was he going to spill all their dirty laundry to her? Now? In the pet boutique over the kitty litter?
"I bet you think we're getting divorced because she had an affair." Mr. Sykes faced her, which made all of it worse. "Isn't that the rumor?"
Belinda searched for words, debating if she should clue him in that the rumors said he had cheated. But he wasn't waiting for an answer.
"It's not true," he said definitively. "Surprising, maybe, to you—and the rest of Portside. But we did make sense together once upon a time." He brought her to the next stage in necessities—food. She guessed providing a place for them to poop was more important. "I doubt you know this, but we were both art majors."
Belinda's eyes widened. She studied Mr. Sykes with his seemingly hard-nosed business tactics, and tried to picture him with a paintbrush in his hand or coaxing clay to life on a potter's wheel.
"We were just out of college and living in a studio in Providence," he continued. "Both working, but hardly at our dream jobs yet. Anyway, we spent a lot of time down here one summer just goofing off at the beach, eating ice cream, buying unflattering souvenir T-shirts." Belinda smiled. "I think we were sitting on the grass below that church eating fudge, and one of us remarked how many people had their dogs with them in town. I don't know exactly what got us started, but we were just thinking how cool it would be to sell specialty pet products here."
He shrugged. "It was just a notion, but we kept talking about how we could design our own products. One thing led to another, and within a couple of years, we opened the doors to Posh Pets."
Belinda forgot about the cat food, trying to reconcile these new images of the Sykes with the ones she already had.
Mr. Sykes set the new pile of stuff next to the other one and leaned his weight against the counter. "My point is there's something you need to know, Ms. Kittridge, because it may affect you directly." He sighed wearily. "The divorce is only part of the problem right now."
He paused, so Belinda thought of something to add. He seemed to want prompting. "You're having financial troubles, too? At least, that's what I've gathered." She thought he was going to inform her that he wasn't paying for anything to do with the show, the cocktail party, or pool party, in which case, she needed to leave immediately to go home and have a stroke.
"My wife, Ms. Kittridge, has been embezzling money from our business." His voice held no emotion. Like it had all drained out a long time ago.
Belinda's jaw dropped. Well, figuratively speaking. "Get out." Not the most appropriate or mature response on record, but it's what she felt.
He nodded sadly. "If you want to know why I'm divorcing her, that's the reason."
"But...she...I don't understand."
"Neither do I." He folded his arms. "I know people think I keep her on a short financial leash, but I trusted Felicia with everything. I didn't hide any of the finances or block her from taking what she wanted. She knew the passwords. It was all right there."
Belinda worked to wrap her head around that. "So...how will this directly affect me?" Fear clutched her insides. She wasn't sure how much more bad news she could physically handle.
"Based on what my accountant came up with, I suspect that she has also embezzled from the fundraiser...since she started it."
Now Belinda's jaw did actually drop.
"If that turns out to be true," he continued, "it may come out eventually and it's likely to affect you as well." Mr. Sykes held his hands up. "I'm just warning you to be prepared. I'd talk to Carmichael to be on the safe side."
Her head spun. "Can I just...sit for a minute." It wasn't a question as she felt her way to the stool behind the counter, dropping onto it. It screeched as the feet slid back on the tile. Was this actually happening? Along with everything else?
"Why has she done this?" Belinda said after she'd sort of caught her breath. "Even if you did keep her on a short leash, so what? She has more than a lot of people. And stealing from these fundraisers..." She shook her head. "Not cool."
"I don't have an answer to your question," Mr. Sykes said. "She's not the type to gamble. She's not even a compulsive shopper." His shoulders slumped. "I think it's just a rush for her. After digging around to when it started, I only found one parallel."
Belinda tilted her head curiously. What would drive a fairly sane looking woman to embezzle—from a fundraiser?
"Sawyer Gallen," Mr. Sykes said shortly. "It started after they met."
So hence the explosion at the cocktail party. "You think they're partners?" The conversation she overheard between Mrs. Sykes and Sawyer made more sense in that light. But Sawyer had told her she was on her own. So was he not a part of the embezzling? Or was that conversation related to something else entirely?
Mr. Sykes raised his very flat, very bushy eyebrows that sat low over his eyes. "I don't know because Felicia won't be straight with me. And I'm done trying to figure it out on my own."
Belinda bit her lip. The question on her mind was risky... "Do you know a Riley Cole by any chance?" she said as innocently as possible. Like she'd never seen that name written in, let's say, a super secret notebook hidden in his liquor cabinet.
"Yes," Mr. Sykes replied without hesitation. "Unfortunately, she worked for us once." Mental check that Riley was a woman.
"Oh. Why...why unfortunately?"
"She was poking into protected files."
Yet another unexpected response. She pictured a woman hacking into their computer system. "On purpose? It wasn't just a mistake?"
Mr. Sykes' eyes glittered. "It was no mistake. But it did lead me to discover the money missing from our accounts. I thought she might be embezzling." He shook his head. "But then I realized it went back before we hired Riley."
That was odd. Unless this Riley woman suspected the embezzling to begin with and that's why she hacked into their files. "Why did she hack in then?"
"No clue." He sounded unconcerned. But he did have other pressing matters to face.
"What happened to her?"
"After we fired her? I have no idea." He placed a few toy mice on top of the kitten food bag. "Will that be all?"
Belinda blinked, glancing at the piles in front of her. Apparently, chatting time was over, and she'd nearly forgotten why she came in. She started to answer in the affirmative when her eyes caught sight of something pink and animal-printy in the store window display. If she was going down, she might as well have some fun with her kitties. "What's that in the window?"