by Pat Esden
I wrestled free from my blankets, swung my legs off the bed, and sat up. Then, out of habit, I grabbed my phone from the bedside stand. Checking it wasn’t part of my plan, but if I didn’t look to see if I’d gotten any messages it would drive me nuts until I did.
I smiled at a text from Selena.
You’re the best! With the GIF of kittens doing the mamba.
There was an e-mail from Dad’s lawyer. Bastard. I wanted to delete it unread, but I gave it a quick scan. He said I didn’t have to worry about anything. Our house in Vermont was safely closed up. He was taking care of the bills as prearranged. Yeah, right. I didn’t have to ask where the money had suddenly come from. Grandfather. But it was a relief at the same time.
I bit down on my bottom lip, enjoying a tingle of anticipation before opening the next e-mail. It was from Nastja Domashevich. She had done my admission interview when I’d applied to Sotheby’s summer program. With her gruff Russian accent and large stature, she’d come across as tough. But once we got talking, we’d totally clicked. She’d congratulated me when I got accepted and sounded sad when I’d decided to withdraw. In fact, she’d been so supportive that I’d opened up and told her about Dad’s condition. But I hadn’t expected to hear from her again.
My pulse jumped as I read the e-mail. Because my recommendations and test scores had been so strong and since I’d withdrawn because of an unforeseeable hardship, Sotheby’s was extending an offer for me to attend any of their fall short courses without going through the readmission process. Hot damn!
And, the offer stood for next year’s London summer programs as well.
Attached was a list of courses that still had openings, their deadlines—the first of which was next week—and their costs. The courses weren’t anywhere near as expensive as going to college full-time, but I was broke. Then again, Grandfather wasn’t.
Another thought wriggled into my head and my stomach sank. The poison ring. If Sotheby’s found out that I’d sold a forgery, they’d drop the offer for sure. Grandfather had said he’d look into it, but that wasn’t the same as guaranteeing he’d fix it. I needed to talk to him again, tell him how important this was. Maybe I could even ask if he’d loan me some money.
I set the phone down and scrubbed my hands over my face. Was I crazy? I couldn’t trust the family. The last thing I needed was to get even more indebted to Grandfather. Stupid. Totally stupid.
Besides, there was a way for me to do this on my own. I didn’t have much money, but I had enough for a bus ticket. I could go to New Orleans. The woman who owned the bed and breakfast where Dad and I stayed had said she’d hire me if I was ever looking. I could help take care of her twins, chamber-maid for her, and get a second job at an auction house. If I scrimped, I could easily make enough money to attend the London summer program next year. I could apply for a scholarship as well. The only problem was—I sighed—I couldn’t do that or anything yet, not as long as Dad was sick. He wouldn’t desert me and I wouldn’t do it to him, either.
The sinking feeling in my stomach grew heavier as the horrible truth I’d kept locked away bubbled to the surface. Dad might never get better. And, in all honesty, he wouldn’t have wanted me at Moonhill to start with. According to Chase, if I didn’t leave, I could end up like my mother. Dead.
My mind went back to the plan I’d come up with in my sleep. If everything went as I hoped this morning, then I’d soon know if Dad was getting help or not. That would give me the ammunition I needed to confront Grandfather and Kate. Once that was done, I’d have a clearer idea of Dad’s situation and could put some more serious thought into classes and when to leave Moonhill.
With that decision firmly in mind, I sent a reply to Nastja. Fantastic. I was thrilled. I’d get back to her before the deadline. I didn’t specify which one. With my whole heart, I hoped it would be soon. No. I was going to do my best to make sure it was.
In record time, I bathed and did my morning bathroom rituals. I pulled my damp hair into a casual ponytail, then put on my good jeans, a loose white blouse, and my vintage charm bracelets. No bright red this morning. What I had planned called for a more subdued appearance.
After I tore off a finger-size strip of toilet paper, I headed for the hallway. Up until now, it had felt like I was trapped inside a game where I didn’t know the rules or even how to win or drop out, nothing, except if I lost, my dad might get stuck here forever. That, however, was about to change. It was time to add a few of my rules to their game.
I dampened the end of my finger with my tongue and used the moisture to stick the toilet paper to the doorjamb. Then I shut the door. If anyone opened it while I was gone, the paper would be on the floor when I returned.
Satisfied that my silent alarm system would work, I loped to the back stairs and tiptoed down them. Once I got across the terrace, I strolled toward the garage. Hopefully, if someone saw me from a window, they’d think I was simply taking a walk before breakfast.
Yeah, the rule was: breakfast at eight. But no one ever said I had to be there.
That part of my plan went without a hitch. And a few minutes later, I was behind the wheel of Dad’s Mercedes, its engine whispering elegantly as I drove away from the house. If I had things figured right, I’d be back in less than an hour.
Light fog shifted through the fields and threaded over the top of the crescent-shaped hill. The drive was a lot less spooky by daylight than it had been when we arrived at night.
As I reached the peak of the hill, I glanced north, through the shielding trees to the family graveyard. The early morning sun splattered the mausoleum’s roof with red. Between the ornate gravestones and monuments, black sheep raised their heads to watch me pass.
My foot retreated from the gas pedal. What had happened up there so many years ago, the day my mother died? It had to have been something awful for the family to have hidden it from Dad.
I looked back at the driveway ahead, my hands trembling as I eased on the gas. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and then another. I’d be at the gate in a second. If Chase came out to let me through, I needed to look relaxed.
His cottage came into view, then his parked truck, then the fence’s spear-embellished top.
“Hell yeah,” I muttered. The gate was open and no one was around!
Every inch of my body wanted to punch the gas and squeal through the gateway, but I resisted the urge and maintained a painfully slow speed.
However, when I reached the main road, I let out a whoop and drummed my hands on the steering wheel. I’d escaped and no one was the wiser. Selena had said the gate was unlocked at sunrise, but I didn’t expect it to be this easy. Also, it appeared Kate and Chase hadn’t lied about him not being around first thing in the morning. Clearly he wasn’t.
I hadn’t gone more than fifty yards down the road when the black sedan I’d seen parked near the garage yesterday approached me in the other lane. Its turn signal began to flash, indicating it was going to Moonhill. Damn it. If it was Kate or Grandfather, there was no way they wouldn’t recognize Dad’s car.
As the sedan zipped past, I stole a look at the driver. The priest. I narrowed my eyes. Why was he going to Moonhill again, and so early in the morning? Dad. It couldn’t have anything to do with him, could it?
My shoulder muscles tightened and the urge to turn the car around raced through me. I clenched the steering wheel harder. I had to stay focused. Untangle one set of truths and lies before I moved on to the next. I couldn’t fall into the trap of playing by their rules. I had to do the unexpected. That’s what Dad would do.
Ten minutes later, I sped into Port St. Claire. I stopped at the mini-mart I’d noticed the other night, went inside, and came out with directions to Dr. Jerome’s office and an iced latte.
I set the latte into Dad’s makeshift cup holder, then double-checked the directions on my phone. It was hard to believe that my luck had continued to be so perfect. Not only was Dr. Jerome’s office just a block away from the mini-mart, I c
ould see it from where I sat—a modern two-story building overlooking the harbor.
With butterflies in my stomach, I got out of the car and hurried down the sidewalk toward the building. It would have been quicker to park in front of his office instead of walking. But if someone from Moonhill happened to drive by and spotted Dad’s Mercedes, they’d have known I was up to something for sure. At least the mini-mart parking lot wasn’t quite as obvious. Maybe.
When I got to the office and went inside, a middle-age woman sitting on the other side of the reception window looked up and smiled. “May I help you?”
I pulled my shoulders back. “I’m Stephanie Freemont. I’d like to speak with Dr. Jerome for a moment. I believe my father, James Freemont, saw him yesterday.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Freemont?”
Unable to breathe, I nodded. Hopefully, I wouldn’t run into some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality issue.
She punched some keys on her computer. “Are you sure it was yesterday?”
“Yes. It was an early appointment, before eight.”
“Let me check with the doctor.” She got up from her chair and vanished into another room.
I shifted from one foot to the other and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.
The woman reappeared. “I’ve spoken with the doctor. I’m afraid your father isn’t one of his patients. You probably should double-check the doctor’s name with your father.”
“That’s strange.” I shrugged. “Well, thanks anyway.”
I dashed out of the office, my head down as I fast-walked back to the Mercedes and collapsed into the driver’s seat. I didn’t know whether to smile at my success or cry because this meant all my fears were founded. Dad wasn’t getting professional help, and I was the only one who could do something about it. Kate and Grandfather had lied.
I picked up my iced latte and held it against the side of my face, letting its frostiness steal some of the heat from my skin. As tears began to burn in my eyes, I took a long breath and another. I couldn’t fall apart. I had to stay strong.
Once the worst of the jitteriness subsided, I started the car and backed out of the parking space. At least, I’d made this trip without anyone spotting me.
That thought had barely left my mind when the steering wheel jerked hard to the left and a flump-flump noise came from the Mercedes’s rear end. I pulled back into the parking space and got out. Damn, a flat tire. Just what I needed.
I weighed my options. I could phone a garage to come fix it, but that would take a while, and I didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary. I could fix it myself. Or—I grinned—the mini-mart most likely sold cans of Fix-A-Flat. It was a temporary solution, but it would keep the tire inflated long enough to put some distance between me and Dr. Jerome’s.
Feeling a million times better, I thumped the side of the car with my knuckles, a celebratory fist bump of sorts. Maybe it was my jubilation at having found a solution to my tire dilemma or for having discovered the truth behind my dad’s treatment, but I was so lost in thoughts that when a pickup truck pulled up next to me, it took me a full minute to realize who was behind the wheel.
Shit.
Chase’s head poked out the window. “Trouble?”
Before I could respond, he hopped out and strode over. “Got a spare?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
For a moment our eyes locked, his lips parted as if drawing in a sharp breath, and—despite my suspicion that he might have seen me leave Moonhill and not so much found as followed me—memories of my daydream rushed back and I flushed.
“Well?” He folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t get the jack out if you don’t open the trunk.”
“Oh—sorry.” I opened it and he went to work.
“I’m not surprised it went flat,” he said, wriggling the tire off. “There’s no tread left. Your father should replace them more often.”
I gave the tire a closer look and a prickle of embarrassment went up my neck. He wasn’t lying. The insides of the tire showed through the rubber. “It’s my fault. Honestly, I never thought to check them.”
Chase heaved the tire into the back of his truck. “I’ll ask Tibbs to put on some new ones.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He hauled out the spare and put it on the hub, then went to work tightening the lug nuts, his arm muscles flexing, the defined cords of his neck and shoulders getting into the action as well. He really was the definition of mouthwatering hotness.
Then, as I glanced at the equally bald but not in the least bit soft front tire, a suspicion began whispering in the back of my mind. Just because a tire was crap didn’t mean something sharp, like a knife, couldn’t have helped it go flat. But why would Chase or Kate or anyone want to delay me? Unless delaying me wasn’t their intention. Maybe they just wanted me to know that I’d been caught at Dr. Jerome’s—hence Chase’s convenient appearance.
As if he sensed my train of thought, Chase shot a look over his shoulder. “Just so we’re clear, I owe your family a lot. But that doesn’t mean everything I do is on their say-so.”
“Ah—what are you talking about?”
He stabbed at the tire with his fingers, then turned away and went back to work.
Puzzled, I replayed the gesture in my mind. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
I opened my mouth to ask, but the rigid set of his jaw told me he was done talking. Try as I might, I suspected the only thing quizzing him would accomplish was a slowdown of the tire-changing progress and that was something I didn’t want. What I needed was to stay focused and get back to Moonhill as soon as possible and talk to Dad. There was a one-in-a-million chance that a good night’s sleep could have left him more lucid than usual. If he was, then he might be able to recall what had happened yesterday morning when he was supposedly at the doctor’s.
It didn’t take long for Chase to finish tightening the last lug nut and put the jack away. After the trunk lid was closed, I rested my hand on his arm and smiled. No matter what he had or hadn’t done, I was grateful for his help.
“Seriously, thanks for doing this. I owe you one,” I said.
His lips curved into a smile that touched his eyes. “There is something you could do for me.”
“Yeah, like what?” The flutters inside me gave a hopeful kick, and a thought slipped into my mind. Maybe he was going to ask me out.
“What did you find in the water?”
“Huh?” I said, then I realized it was same question he’d asked yesterday.
“Was it a starfish? An earring?”
“Why do you care?” I asked, suspicion making my voice sharp.
He folded his arms across his chest, staring at me while he waited.
Finally, I threw my hands up in surrender. For the life of me, I couldn’t see how a tiny bit of glass could have any importance. But perhaps I could learn something from his reaction. “A piece of sea glass with a hole in one end. That’s it.”
“Thanks,” he said, then he swaggered to his truck.
Blinking, I watched him get in and put on his seatbelt. Okay, so that was the most unreadable reaction ever. I really shouldn’t have said anything to him. Damn hormones.
CHAPTER 10
Don’t ever underestimate your opponent.
—James William Freemont
All the way back to Moonhill, I tried to think why a piece of sea glass could be so important, but I didn’t come up with anything sensible. To top it off, Chase and the sea glass and even how they might relate to my mother’s death weren’t things I needed to focus on right now. Dad wasn’t getting the care he needed. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a reason why the family wouldn’t want him to get help. One thing was for sure, by not taking Dad to the doctor, Kate had violated the custody agreement and given me a legal foothold.
I tapped the brakes, slowing to a snail’s pace as we went around a curve, and then another. Chase didn’t strike me as a guy who’d drive li
ke a terrified grandma, but that was exactly what he was doing. And, the longer I followed him, the more I began to believe he was doing it on purpose rather than from a lack of skill.
Finally, we crept up the driveway and went through the gate. To my surprise, Chase didn’t turn off at his cottage. He kept puttering along ahead of me all the way to the house, where he parked next to the priest’s sedan.
I zinged the Mercedes into the garage and leapt out.
“Annie!” Zachary dashed from the depths of the garage with a struggling tiger-striped kitten clutched against his chest. He let go of it and snatched my hand. “I was looking for you. Mom and Selena went to Bar Harbor shopping. They wanted to take you, but you weren’t around.”
I would have fought against his grip, but he was dragging me out of the garage and toward the house and I’d planned on going that way anyhow.
As we passed Chase’s vacant truck, I glanced around. He’d already vanished and it didn’t shock me. I’d figured he’d take off to warn Kate and Grandfather that I was back, if he hadn’t already called and told them. Maybe he had the hots for me, but he hadn’t minced words about his devotion to the family.
My gaze landed on the priest’s car and an uneasy feeling wriggled inside me. The priest had been here yesterday when Dad was supposedly at the doctor’s, and here he was again. I had a hard time believing he and Kate were simply socializing.
Zachary tugged me harder. “The Professor’s waiting in the workroom. He got out some artifacts to show you.”
“Ah—I really don’t have time right now. How about if I stop by later?”
He stuck out his bottom lip in a very Selena-like pout. “Laura left a bunch of chocolate chip muffins in the library, but the Professor won’t let me have any until you get there.”