“Your mother. Your mother is a lying little slut.”
Zoe stepped toward the open door, her fists clenched unconsciously in an effort not to strike out. “Be a horrible old woman if you must, but do not drag my mother into it. She was a well-loved, well-respected member of my family and the community. She helped others. Cared about others.
“If she ever did anything wrong, it was getting involved with your son. But I really can’t complain, can I, because I’m here and I have my mother and him to thank for that. And I have—” She stopped. Better not to drag Eve into this. She would have to deal with Hannah and Lee long after Zoe had gone. “And I have perfectly good grandparents back in Long Island. I don’t need you.”
And she’d have to go back there. There was no place for her here. The idea shocked her, leaving her fumbling for a split second. Of course she’d have to leave. She’d always meant to leave. She couldn’t stay. Why would she even want to stay?
Because she had a sister. Nieces.
Hannah shook an arthritic fist at Zoe’s nose. “Show me this letter.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Ha.”
“Eve has it. My mother sent it to Floret and Henry. Ask them. I saw it for the first time three days ago.”
“Floret and Henry.” She spit out the names. “I might have suspected they put you up to this.”
And Zoe had finally had enough. “What is wrong with you? Why are you so mean? My mother sent me here. I didn’t even know about Henry or Floret or you or Eve or my father until then.”
Hannah’s eyes flashed, but Zoe was on a roll and she didn’t let up.
“I’m sorry you’re unhappy, but that’s not my responsibility. If you and my ‘alleged’”—she let the word slither out—“father—alleged by my mother, by the way—choose to be bitter and angry about something that happened before I was born, if you want to drag everyone in your family down with you, it’s not my problem. Go be miserable, but you’ll do it without me. Good day. I’m done.”
This time it was both fists. Hannah was like a caricature of an evil witch from a fairy tale. Only the beauty-parlor hair and pants suit kept her rooted in reality. And made her dangerous. “What do you want?” she demanded.
“Nothing from you.”
“Money? Is that it? How much?”
“I don’t want your money.” I wanted your love.
“Name it. What will it take to get rid of you?”
Zoe stepped back and turned away, all hope for a relationship, acceptance, love evaporating in a flash of pain.
“Don’t you walk away from me, girl.”
“She’ll do as she pleases, Hannah.”
Both Zoe’s and Hannah’s head snapped toward the new voice.
David Merrick stood at the hood of the Cadillac. “You’re done here. Turn this bucket around and go home.”
“I’ll go where I damn well please,” Hannah spat back.
“But not today.” David walked slowly around the car to her door. Shut it, barely missing her outstretched hand.
Zoe swore she could hear the theme song from The Magnificent Seven in her head.
The Cadillac screeched as Hannah threw it into reverse, then sped off toward the street.
“Are you okay?”
Zoe nodded, though her legs were shaking almost too much to hold her weight. “Thanks. You rode in just like the cavalry.”
“Hmm, I was going back to the house and saw the Caddy.”
“She aimed for me,” Zoe managed.
David grasped her arm. Turned it around to see a patch of broken skin. “Looks like she scored a bull’s-eye.”
Zoe nodded. She so didn’t want to cry.
“Can you walk?”
“Of course.” She hoped.
“Come back to the house. Floret’s good with stuff like this.”
“I just want to go home. Back to the inn. Back to Long Island. I should never have come here. I just want—”
“To come with me.”
He put his arm around her waist. Lightly, more as moral support than physical aid, but she was suddenly grateful for it.
It was an excruciatingly long walk back to the house. By the time she climbed the stairs, with David’s help, one knee had started to swell, her shoulder ached, and her skin burned in several places.
“What happened?” Floret asked as David steered Zoe past her and toward the kitchen. “Was it the beach steps?”
“No,” said David. “Hannah Gordon just tried to run her down. The woman should have her license revoked. I’m calling the police.”
“No,” said Floret and Zoe at the same time.
“We should file a report. She’s a menace.”
“She’s a sick old woman,” said Henry, coming in from the parlor. He was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses, Zoe noted. It made him seem so normal that she wanted to hug him.
“A dangerous, hateful old bag,” David said.
Something akin to a whimper escaped Zoe’s lips. She sucked it back in.
Floret took her other side and she felt a calming warmth spread through her.
They sat her down at the kitchen table, and Floret went to get salve for her wounds. As soon as she withdrew her touch, Zoe felt cold. But Henry was there with a soft throw blanket, which he draped over her shoulders.
She smiled up at him and saw the understanding in his eyes. Her grandmother had just tried to run over her. Had she meant to hurt her? Or had she just meant to scare her and being old had misjudged the distance?
Did it matter? The old woman wished her ill, wanted her to leave, had no intention of accepting her as her granddaughter. Well, like she’d told Hannah, she already had grandparents who loved her. That should be enough.
Floret returned with a basket of jars and powders and several fresh flowers. She rinsed a cloth in water and sat down next to Zoe to dab at her abrasions.
Zoe braced herself, waiting for the pain, but it didn’t come. Floret’s touch was like a breath, like a flutter of butterfly wings.
And while Floret worked, Zoe found herself not wincing but putting those words in her head to a vague but familiar melody.
When Floret had finished covering Zoe with herbal salves and lotions, she plied her with herbal tea and lemon-blueberry tea cakes. “You just keep using these and you’ll be right as rain in a couple of days. David will drive you back to the inn.”
Zoe wanted to say no. But just getting out of the chair changed her mind.
She turned to the door just in time to see Mel standing in the doorway. I’m sorry, Mel mouthed, before she quickly slipped out of sight.
By the time Zoe made it to the door she was already feeling better. She even managed to get down the steps without too much discomfort. Still, she was thankful when David opened the door to the dilapidated old station wagon that Zoe had mistaken for a wreck on her previous visits.
Even Dulcie kept her distance until David got Zoe stowed in the front seat. He handed her the care package Floret had packed and went around to the driver’s side. Only then did Dulcie stick her nose through the window, though Zoe wasn’t sure if it was really a show of sympathy or curiosity about what was in the package.
The engine started on the first try; the station wagon was loud but solid as David slowly drove toward the street, navigating the potholes, frowning at each one as if it were a personal affront.
“Why don’t you have the potholes filled?” Zoe asked. “It can’t be that expensive.”
“It’s complicated.”
She gave him a look.
“Really. The first half of the drive is a right-of-way owned by the Kellys, but they let Wind Chime House use it. The second half runs perpendicular; it’s an easement used by the town for sewers and power lines and stuff.”
“Then shouldn’t the town fill them?”
“They should, they could, but they won’t.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Two words. Your grandmother.”
<
br /> “Not my grandmother,” Zoe said. “I’m disowning her.”
He looked over to her and flashed a grin.
“Well, wouldn’t you?” Zoe frowned. “But what does she have to do with it?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, she owns half the town. And she definitely has some of the local politicians in her pocket.”
“She won’t let them pave the right-of-way to Wind Chime House?”
“That’s about it.”
“She’s crazy.”
“Nah, just mean. You’ve probably been told all about the feud.”
“Everybody mentions it. No one seems to know what it’s about.”
“Not even the participants, if you ask me.”
“Then why not call a truce?”
“In Henry’s words, ‘filthy lucre.’”
“Hannah wants the Wind Chime property?”
“That goes without saying. Haven’t you noticed that the emptiest people depend the most on external acquisitions?”
Zoe gave him an appraising look. It was almost worth getting sideswiped to get one more glimpse of the inner workings of David Merrick.
Is that why he was content to live in an old house with an old couple, raising his nephew while acting as a handyman instead of being off photographing the world? Was David Merrick’s inner life filled with wonderful things? Like an old yellow pail.
And butterfly wings.
He pulled the station wagon into the circular drive of the inn and stopped at the front door.
“Give me your cell phone.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone. I’m entering my cell in case you need anything.”
“Planning on coming to the rescue again?”
“No. I’ll get Henry to. But Eli and I have the only phones at Wind Chime. He never actually talks, just texts. So, call mine.”
“Thanks.”
He keyed in his number, handed the phone back, and got out of the car.
“Hey, Dave, whatcha doing here?” asked the valet.
“Got a delivery. I’ll be right back.” He came around the car where Zoe had opened the door and was about to slide onto the ground. He steadied her elbow.
“I can make it from here. Thanks.”
He ignored her and escorted her up the steps. Stopped at the reception desk. “Hey, Carly, where’s Eve?”
“In her quarters, I think. Is there a problem?” Carly asked, immediately concerned. “Oh, dear. What happened? Did you have a fall?”
Zoe had been in Carly’s exact position before and knew that for all the sympathy she was showing, the back of her mind had raced forward to “lawsuit.”
“I’m fine. It happened off-site. I’ll just go up to my room.”
“Call Eve and tell her we’re coming.” David trundled Zoe down the hall and out the side door. He knew exactly where Eve lived.
“I don’t want to upset Eve. She has enough on her plate right now.” Zoe tried to pull away, but too late. Eve opened the door.
“Oh my God. What happened? Bring her inside.”
“I’m okay,” Zoe said. “Just an accident.”
“Hannah aimed the Cadillac at her,” David said, still steering Zoe by the arm and depositing her in the overstuffed chair. “The old bag could have killed her.”
“David!” Zoe warned, frowning at him. “It was just an accident.”
“Bullshit.” He turned to Eve. “When is this going to stop? It was one thing when she was just making everyone’s lives miserable. Harassing Henry and Floret. Screwing up your business dealings. But now she’s bullying the Kellys and sending your father to threaten my nephew and your daughter. Today she injured her own granddaughter. It was no accident. When are you people going to make her stop? When somebody gets killed?”
“Mel” escaped involuntarily from Eve’s lips.
“She’s with Floret,” Zoe said.
“Thank God.”
“Yeah, sure.” David turned back to the door and stalked out.
“Thanks,” Zoe called as the door closed behind him. She looked at Eve. “He seems pretty angry.”
Eve nodded and bent over Zoe, checking her injuries.
“Floret precedes you,” Zoe said, trying to make light of the fact she was beginning to hurt.
“I see,” Eve said, studying the contents of the basket Zoe still held.
“But I wouldn’t say no to some ibuprofen and a glass of wine.”
Eve left and returned moments later with a glass, a bottle of Chardonnay, and a bottle of pain relievers.
“Tell me everything that happened. If you feel up to it.”
“Sure. I’ve had worse snowboard wipeouts.”
Eve sat on the couch facing Zoe. “Did she really try to hit you?”
“I think she just had an adrenaline rush, thought she’d scare me, and got too close. She’s old. How’s her eyesight?”
Eve sprang to her feet. “Her eyesight is fine. She had cataract surgery years ago. She sees better than I do. This has got to stop. We’ve all been making excuses for her for too long. She’s tearing my family apart and now she’s tried to hurt you.”
She could have broken my fingers. The thought startled Zoe. She hadn’t played the piano in months. Not even when she returned home and the baby grand sat idle.
That was a part of her past life, music, at least it had been until two nights ago when she had sat in on an old James Taylor cover that she’d learned long after his heyday. And that one little song, her fingers on the keys of a funky bar piano, had given her a draught of promise. A sense of coming home.
For a moment . . . but that couldn’t happen. It was doomed to go dormant again.
“Is your hand hurting?”
Zoe realized she’d been flexing her scraped fingers. “Not much, mainly just annoying.”
“Was Mel okay? We had a fight. She pushed all my buttons and I slapped her. I never hit people. I don’t understand how I could do such a thing.”
Zoe did. “Sometimes we all need a wake-up call.”
Eve sighed. “Not like that. What did she say? I thought she was running away. I imagined the worst. Oh God. I even thought—I slapped her. Slapped my daughter. I’ve never done that in my life.” She stood up. “I’ll go tell her I’m sorry.”
Zoe sucked in breath. “Not my business but . . . I think you should give her some space. Take it from someone who’s been there recently. Your mother isn’t always the person who will listen without prejudice. It’s why strangers tell their life stories to bartenders.” Why David Merrick had told her about his yellow beach pail?
“She hates me.”
“No. Yesterday she actually blamed me for coming here.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Perhaps, but it all seems to be coming to a head since my arrival. But mainly she thinks everyone is against her and Eli. With everyone making their opinion known about the two of them, and pushing her in different directions, it’s a bit overwhelming.”
Eve looked up, bit her lip, clearly torn. Zoe felt a rush of embarrassment. Who the hell was she to waltz into town and start handing out advice?
Because, she reminded herself, you deal with strangers in groups every day. She was good at it. Stupid, really, that even though she was currently unemployed, she was still herding relative strangers. Ha. Relative strangers. Strange relatives.
Yep. She had plenty of both. She took a sip of wine. Except these particular ones might stay in her life past the next weekend, the next rock concert, the next music award. And she wanted to get this right.
“You’re right,” Eve said. “Floret, for all her hippie, free-love ways, wouldn’t help them to elope.”
“Do you ever talk to David Merrick about the Mel-Eli situation?” Zoe asked.
Eve shrugged. “He doesn’t really share his thoughts too much. He’s only there because of Eli. And even so, he’s gone for big chunks of time on assignments. I don’t think he ever feels comfortable here, doesn’t really
get close to people beyond Floret and Henry, which is odd since he was raised in a commune.
“I always think of him as the Wind Chime bouncer. He protects Henry and Floret though they’re perfectly able to help themselves. He’s loyal. I know he wants Eli to go to school. He feels responsible for his future.
“He was only twenty-seven or -eight when he was called home to raise his nephew. I remember that day like it was yesterday. He showed up at Wind Chime in that old station wagon filled with kid stuff and Eli. He was devastated over his brother’s death—he and Andy were inseparable growing up. And David didn’t know anything about children.”
“So he brought Eli to Wind Chime House,” Zoe said.
Eve looked shocked. “Of course. Where else would he go?”
Zoe didn’t know.
“He takes his responsibility to Eli very seriously. He’s worried about Eli giving up too soon. I worry the same for Mel. I just hope we’re not all putting too much pressure on them.”
Zoe thought it was very likely they were.
Eve stood. “Mel didn’t tell me about Dad threatening her and Eli. I went to see him when I left you. And told him to back off. I told him about the—” She broke off, realizing she hadn’t told Zoe about the letters yet. And they were sitting on the table between them. “I didn’t mention you.”
“No problem. He’s made it perfectly clear how he feels about me. I’ll be gone soon enough and you guys can get back to normal.”
“I was hoping you’d stay for a while.”
“I do have to get a job.”
“Want to play piano in a great little bar I know?”
Chapter 20
David was pissed as hell, and as somebody had said in some movie once, he wasn’t going to take it anymore. He’d intended to go straight back to Wind Chime House. Let this thing play out the way all things Hannah played out, slow and painful. The town had been under her thumb for decades, and he doubted if anything would change until she died.
Most days he could do the peace-love thing. The turn-the-other-cheek thing. But there were some days when enough was enough. Today was one of those. He drove through town, forcing himself to keep to the annoyingly slow speed limit. If some old broad in a big car could deliberately run down a visitor, what was the point?
A Beach Wish Page 23