by Jean Stone
“Okay. But that isn’t what you’ve been hiding.”
Eyeing her empty glass, she decided she should have reconsidered when Kevin offered her more. “Kevin, I know you like Taylor, but you don’t know much about her.” She paused. “Do you?”
“I know she went to Berklee and played the cello with the symphony, which is pretty funny because she doesn’t seem the type, does she?”
Annie shook her head. “No. But is that all you know? I mean, about her major life things? Personal stuff?”
He frowned. “I know she came back to the Vineyard when her father got sick. But that’s about it. Then again, I haven’t shared with her the fact that my wife is still alive. Does she have a spouse stashed away, too?”
“Not that I know of. But, Kevin, she does have a child. A son. Jonas.”
* * *
When they’d finished hashing out the story behind the story—the older brother of Dana Flanagan whose name Claire could not remember, the capsized boat, the rumored pregnancy, and Taylor’s exit to Boston, Kevin put his hands on his head and cried, “People! They’re all a little crazy, aren’t they?”
“You need to include us in that proclamation,” Annie replied. “Our family has had its share of secrets, too.”
“Yeah,” he said with a half laugh. “My father left when I was four, but I still don’t know why. All Mom said was, ‘Grown-ups sometimes do that; it isn’t about you.’ Well, I never saw the guy again or even got a birthday card, so I guessed early on that it had something to do with me.”
“And I haven’t pressed Donna about my birth father,” Annie said. “But people are entitled to privacy. Especially if they think it will hurt the ones they love.”
“Okay, but forget about us. What was Taylor’s motivation to give up her baby to them? Of all people?”
“More than likely, it was money. Or blackmail. Maybe Roger threatened to have her arrested for killing his son, whose body, by the way, was never found. Maybe he felt they deserved to have Jonas because he was all they had left of their son. If they didn’t press charges, they might have had enough influence so the accident wasn’t investigated—or maybe they simply led Taylor to believe that. It was over twenty years ago. Who knows how things worked then? But it does seem plausible, doesn’t it?”
Kevin nodded. “It also seems plausible that Taylor got a bucket of cash. And still does.”
“Well, by not rocking the boat—no pun intended—at least she’s been able to see her son every summer.” The light inside the cottage turned a soft end-of-the-day shade of melon. “And if Roger and Nicole have threatened to tell Jonas the truth, they’d be wasting their time, because Jonas already knows.”
Kevin stood up and looked out the window onto the front porch. “And Taylor doesn’t know he knows.”
“Right.”
“We need to talk to her, don’t we?”
“We do. I think it would be best for everyone if we can resolve this before going back to the police.”
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Kevin typed a text. A few seconds later his alert sounded. He glanced back at the screen. “Come on,” he said to Annie. “Let’s go to Taylor’s and get this over with.”
Chapter 28
“Mother has gone to bed,” Taylor said when she greeted them outside. “We can stay out here or go in. It’s up to you.” Her hair was in a ponytail, held together by twine again; it made her face look severe.
“Here’s fine,” Kevin said and leaned against his truck.
Annie stepped around the vehicle and stood next to him. “We’ve been trying to help Fiona Littlefield,” she said, “and your name came up.”
Taylor shifted; her body stiffened. “What about me?”
“Nicole Flanagan had you deliver a honey cake to the Littlefields’ house. She told you to leave it in the kitchen.”
Leveling her gaze on Annie, Taylor said, “True.”
“Can you tell us why you did that?”
Aside from the blinders she’d worn when she’d been married to Mark, Annie was usually good at deciphering body language. But whether it was due to the shadows cast by the sun as it began to dip toward the horizon, or concern for the growing feelings her brother had clearly developed for Taylor, she couldn’t tell if the woman’s rigid stance was caused by a guilty conscience that she’d participated in Fiona’s mishap or by her need to protect her secret about Jonas.
“Fiona always liked honey cake,” was the wooden reply. “It was no big deal.”
“So Nicole just gave you a call in the midst of her daughter’s wedding celebration and asked you to deliver a honey cake to her next-door neighbor?”
“Something like that.”
Annie sighed and glanced over at Kevin, who seemed happy to leave the questioning to her. Maybe he didn’t want to admit he felt duped by Taylor, or uneasy because he’d been duping her, too, by not being forthcoming about his wife. People! he had exclaimed. They’re all a little bit crazy, aren’t they?
“Taylor,” she said, lowering her voice, “did you know the honey cake contained tainted honey? That it was why Fiona became ill and had the seizure?”
A mystified expression washed over the woman’s face.
“What?”
“The honey was poisonous, most likely from the nectar of mountain laurel. It slipped past the beekeeper and wound up in the cake.”
“Seriously?” Her shoulders dropped; she appeared more accessible, which Annie interpreted as a good sign.
“You didn’t know?” Kevin asked.
“Christ, of course I didn’t know! You think I’d knowingly give anyone something poisonous?”
Neither Annie nor Kevin replied.
“If I was going to poison anyone,” she added, “it damn well would be Mother.”
Annie flinched.
“Not because I hate her. But because she’s only eighty-three but can’t do a damn thing except take her pain meds and try to get from the bed to the bathroom without falling on her ass.” She shook her head. “She’d never ask me to do it, but I know she wouldn’t stop me. Put her out of her damn misery, you know? But I can’t. I have a hard enough time shooting vermin. As for Fiona Littlefield, that girl never did anything to me. Why the hell would I want to kill her?”
Annie remained quiet, trying to temper the moment.Then she said, “It’s rare that a human dies from poisoned honey. Animals, yes. Humans, not often. But they can get very sick, like Fiona did. And I suppose if the body is compromised by other issues, death might occur. Fiona might have been more susceptible because she’s so tiny.” Annie had made that part up, but wanted to placate Taylor. Annie felt the woman had been dealt enough blows in her life.
In the distance, the evening crickets had begun to chirp; a bat screeched from within the small forest of trees, a sign that it was starting its nocturnal rounds. Bats were one more species that had frightened Annie in the city, but which she’d come to terms with on Chappaquiddick. After all, it had been their home long before it became hers.
“Well,” Taylor said, “I’m sorry about that. But I had no way of knowing the cake would make her sick. I was only doing Nicole a favor because she was under the gun, trying to keep the kitchen cleared for the caterer, who was already hustling hors d’oeuvres and champagne.”
“So it was after the ceremony?”
“Yes.”
“Were you a wedding guest?”
Taylor hesitated, then said, “No. It wasn’t exactly my crowd, you know?”
Annie couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her to have her son raised by people who weren’t “exactly her crowd.” “Taylor,” she said, “would it surprise you to know that Nicole knew it was poisonous? That she intentionally wanted to make Fiona sick?”
“What?” Taylor asked, though Annie knew perfectly well she had heard her.
“Nicole wanted to make Fiona sick,” Kevin chimed in. “It must have been before she talked to you that she arranged for Roger’s friend to convince C
olin to leave the island. We don’t know how she did that, or why he agreed. But we do think she also might have hoped that, because Colin disappeared, Fiona would assume he’d been the one who’d tried to kill her. Which was exactly what ended up happening.”
Then Annie chimed in. “We also don’t know whether or not Roger was in on any of this or if Nicole acted alone. But that’s up to the police to figure out.”
“Sorry,” Taylor interrupted, “but I don’t believe this. It’s true they’re not the most warmhearted people on the planet, but I don’t think either one of them would stoop this low.”
Then Annie told her about Myrna on the boat, and that Nicole had been there. “It’s not as if she planned it in advance, but she sure seized the opportunity. We figure that after Colin went down to the freight deck when the ferry was about to dock, she went back to the trash bin and retrieved the cake that Myrna hadn’t touched. We have no idea if Nicole knew exactly how sick Fiona would get. But again, that’s for the police to determine.”
More crickets chirped as the sky began to morph from soft melon to deep purple.
“But she used me,” Taylor said. “She set me up as the one who’d make sure Fiona saw the cake. What a sucker I’ve become.”
Her comment did not require confirmation.
“Look,” Taylor said. “I know I’m not always likable. Earl often reminds me of that. But we all have our reasons for being who we are, don’t we?”
“Yup,” Kevin replied.
She looked up at the darkening sky, not at them. “For almost twenty-three years, the Flanagans have pretty much owned me. Their grandson, Jonas, is my boy. His father was their son, Derek; he died one day when we were sailing. I don’t think they ever believed it was an accident. But so help me God, it was. He slipped. He fell overboard. Unfortunately, I was pregnant. Nicole pulled some emotional blackmail shit on me: She said if I didn’t follow her instructions she’d make sure I was arrested and convicted of Derek’s death. Roger went along with her conniving bullshit.
“As for me, I couldn’t imagine being accused of Derek’s death. We really loved each other. In fact, that’s why I go see Jaws every Fourth of July. I like to watch it on the big screen. Derek was an extra in the movie. He was only five, but, God, he was cute even back then.” She paused; her face contorted, as if she were about to cry.
Annie reached out and touched her shoulder. “Oh, Taylor. I am so sorry.”
Taylor shrugged off Annie’s touch and continued talking. “They shuttled me off island to Boston, so the neighbors wouldn’t find out I was pregnant. When Jonas was born, I agreed to let them adopt him. What else could I do?
“For starters, I was younger than Jonas is now. I had no way to support myself, let alone a baby. Nicole offered money. For my parents and for me. ‘In perpetuity,’ Nicole said. I remember I had to look that up to find out it meant ‘forever.’ I was, after all, the daughter of a fisherman, you know? Not one of their kind. A common story, the island girl with the rich summer kid. What would you call that in one of your books, Annie?”
“A cliché,” Annie replied. She decided not to ask if the Flanagans still supported Taylor and her mother. That was a private matter between them, not suited for island gossip.
“Anyway,” Taylor said, “my only consolation is that Jonas has had a decent enough life and a good education. Plus, I get to see him every summer. And he’s never known that I’m his mother.”
Silence wrapped around them.
Then Kevin said, “Taylor? Jonas knows.”
Chapter 29
Annie and Kevin had a late supper, a salad she fabricated out of various greens, leftover rotisserie chicken, cranberries, and pecans. They had agreed to leave Taylor alone with her thoughts, alone with her decision about whether or not she’d go to Jonas and tell him he was right about her. A child should know its mother, Annie mused, her thoughts drifting toward Donna. Just as a mother should know her child.
Then again, she also knew that circumstances didn’t mean those things were always in everyone’s best interest.
As they nibbled on brownies that Annie had moved straight from the freezer to the microwave, Kevin said, “I guess if I plan to stick around, I should come clean to her about my wife.”
“That’s up to you,” Annie said. “Secrets aren’t always a bad thing. Though it does seem that, sooner or later, they manage to come out of hiding.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I’ll remember that. But I don’t think it’s up to us to tell the cops about Taylor and Jonas.”
“Agreed. That should be her decision.”
“We can just say she was helping the Flanagans out, which isn’t a lie.”
“True.”
“When do you want to go to the police station?”
“Tomorrow is the tour. I think this can wait another day, don’t you? It’s not as if anyone will go anywhere, not even Nicole. For starters, anyone with a car knows they need advance ferry reservations to leave the Vineyard in July.”
“So we’ll wait till Friday. Are you going to tell John first?”
John. Was it possible that Annie had almost forgotten about him? That she’d gone through an entire day without having him cross her mind, not even once? She wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign. “I don’t know. Should I?”
Kevin laughed. “Depends on how you really feel about keeping secrets. But I’d bet that if you ever want a real relationship with him, or even if he never comes back, he’d want to know before you tell his buddies on the force. It’s a male thing. Ego, you know?”
They finished eating, then Kevin said good night and headed off to the On Time, toward John’s house, where Annie might have been living if she’d known more about the male ego.
After cleaning the kitchen and crawling into bed, she picked up her phone and stared at the screen. It was nearly ten thirty; did she dare call him that late? Did she dare call him at all? Kevin’s words echoed: If you ever want any kind of relationship with the guy . . .
If she called and he didn’t answer, she could leave a brief message so he’d know she had tried to tell him before she told Lincoln and whoever else would be on duty Friday morning.
If his ex-wife answered again, Annie would hang up.
Or if the woman screened his messages and deleted hers, Annie would see it as a sign.
Stop overthinking it, came Murphy’s sudden voice. You’re tired. Go to bed.
Annie laughed. She was, indeed, exhausted. And her news could wait until after the garden tour, couldn’t it?
She quickly convinced herself that Murphy was right. Besides, there would be plenty of time to tell John before his ego could suffer. And plenty of time for Annie to get properly braced for his declaration that he would not be coming home. Ever.
* * *
The alarm went off at six o’clock on Thursday morning.As Annie leaned over and shut it off, she realized she’d been dreaming about Taylor.
It felt strange that she now empathized with the woman she’d once thought of as her adversary. Maybe she would actually come to like her if Kevin stuck around, and if the couple spent more time together. It was true that they both deserved happiness, which also sounded like a cliché, but life sometimes was one, wasn’t it?
Thinking about that gave Annie a new mission, which propelled her up, out, and over to Edgartown by seven thirty.
Her first stop was halfway down South Water Street, where the garden tour was to begin.
Among the things Annie had learned about the island was that when it came to special events, people showed up in droves. And they showed up early. The line to the first stop already extended up South Water toward North, then spilled around Main Street at the bank on the corner. She couldn’t see how far up Main it went. As magical as the exciting turnout, countless blossoms perfumed the air, infusing the village with energy and joy.
The hours passed quickly: Annie moved from venue to venue, talking with the home owners and visitors; savori
ng the joyful energy that exuded from the lemonade-sipping, photo-snapping, high-chattering throngs; making certain all things were in order, which they were. The participants had been involved for several years, so they knew what to do and what to expect. Even Mrs. Atwater, whose hollyhocks had been leveled when Claire had landed in them, was cheerful and welcoming, her garden incredibly appearing no worse for the mishap.
As directed, the judges had scattered to peruse the entries independently. Annie caught up with Monsieur LeChance on the north side of town, where he was performing his judging tasks near the Harbor View Hotel. Despite the warm day, he looked especially proper in a navy blazer, white pants, and straw bowler.
“Good day, Annie,” he said as she approached. “A pleasant turnout, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. Much more than I expected.”
“The gardens are spectacular. We’ve had just the right amounts of rain and sun this year for horticultural perfection. Très magnifique.”
Then a group of women sidled their way around Annie. Monsieur LeChance spoke to each of them, asking if they were enjoying the tour and which gardens they’d found most appealing. He scribbled the opinions in a palm-sized notebook, smiling and nodding the whole time.
As soon as the ladies wandered off, Annie said, “I have a question, monsieur. But it’s not about the gardens.”
His eyes and mouth widened, transforming his already elongated face into an Al Hirschfeld caricature.
“It’s about your music.”
“Ah. My violin has captured your attention.”
“It has. And more than that, I have a friend who played the cello years ago. I don’t think she’s played for a long time, possibly because she doesn’t know of an ensemble she could join. Do you have any suggestions?”
“As it happens, I am in a quartet. Two violins, a flute, a clarinet. My goodness, a cello would be a nice addition.”
“Really?” Annie felt hopeful. “I thought you might know someone, but I never dreamed it would be this easy.”