Gilly quietly pulled the guest bedroom door shut and joined Gramps and Skip in the kitchen. Gramps nodded at the steaming cup of tea waiting for her on the kitchen table. She sat down, took a sip, the heat soothing as the tea slid down her throat.
“Gramps, do we have to report what just happened?” Gilly asked in a soft voice, breaking the silence with the question the men had been pondering.
“I don’t think so,” Gramps replied continuing to stare out the window at the water. Clouds had moved in and the sparkling water had turned to a dull gray. “What do you say, Skip?”
“You’ve got a window with a hole in it and bad cracks. It has to be replaced. You’re bound to be asked by a window guy what happened. In normal conversation, the question would be asked not really caring about the answer—passing the time of day as he replaces the window. You could say anything—you accidentally hit it with a hammer fixing the gutter on the roof.”
“Trouble is, we don’t know what Helen’s state of mind will be after she calms down,” Gilly said. “Mr. Churchill will probably call her doctor … ask for a prescription for sleeping pills. Seems like we should tell someone in case she’s totally snapped.”
“You’re right,” Gramps said. “I’ll call Detective Kracker over in Bremerton. Not so much asking him to do something, but just to get the incident on the record.”
“Good. Now, I have to get going,” Gilly said taking her cup to the sink.
“How about a walk on the beach? Settle the nerves before you leave?” Skip asked.
“Okay. Nice change of subject. You can tell me how your run went this afternoon.”
“And, missy, I’ve started a new exposé … more of a novel. People and places are changed to protect the innocent,” he said laughing.
“Intriguing.” Gilly smiled at him. “Robyn’s still sleeping. We won’t be gone long, Gramps.”
Even though clouds covered the sun it was still over ninety. A slight breeze off the water tempered the oppressive humidity somewhat. The tide was out leaving packed sand mixed with small stones and cracked empty clam shells. They still had to navigate around the slimy green kelp with the odor of the vegetation baking in the sun.
“So, mystery man, what’s this new exposé about?”
“You’ll recognize the storyline—a double blackmail.”
Gilly stopped walking and glowered at Skip. He didn’t realize she had stopped, his head down, hands jammed into the pockets of his running shorts. He turned to see why she wasn’t beside him. Grinning, he asked her, “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, not much. Maybe a lot. This double blackmail wouldn’t have anything to do with a pregnant girl and a married man would it?”
She said the words in an even tone but her arms were locked over her chest, and eyes sharpened. He saw trouble brewing.
“Kinda. But the story starts long before the girl and the man met, a foreigner who was hell bent on seducing the young woman. It starts with a New Yorker stealing her designs, and follows with his vendetta against the girl, sending her red satin hearts with a steel spike through—
“Stop right there.”
Trouble had boiled over and was about to hit him in the face.
“Hey, I told you names, places—
Gilly cut him off.
“Yes, I get it … names, places, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera will be changed to protect the innocent, I believe was the way you put it. Bullshit! How dare you tell my story for the world to read, ponder, dissect. A very painful, very very painful time in my life, a time I’m still trying to work through.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Skip said holding his palms up to ward off her words.
“Hurt me? You bet it hurts … me, my family, my baby girl when she grows up. It’s my story to tell if I choose. Not yours.” Gilly turned on her heel, sneakers slapping down on the sharp stones, marching back to the ladder and rickety stairs.
Skip ran after her. “Come on, Gilly. The bad part is behind you. You’ve moved on. You have a business—which, by the way, in case you haven’t noticed, takes all of your time.”
She whirled around, hands on her hips, her green eyes sending daggers in his direction. “How do you know what’s behind me and what’s in front of me? And, I’ll do what I want, what I have to do with my time. That’s what your doing isn’t it? What you want—running a marathon, writing exposés, exposés of your friends’ personal lives!
“Well, maybe we both need a little balance in our lives. There’s more to life than work, you know. You’re a pigheaded redhead. Maybe someday you’ll figure out what’s important.”
“Believe me, I’m working on it.” She took the ladder then the stairs in a blast of furry, ran into the house, gathered her things, and then put Robyn in the car.
Gramps hustled out the patio door, “Hey, sweetie, are you leaving?”
She hurried back to him, gave him a bear hug, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll call to let you know I’m back safely at the shop. Let me know how it goes with the window and what Detective Kracker says.” She pasted a smile on her face and left.
Darting out of the driveway, turning south on Hansville Road, she kept her foot down on the gas pedal, slapping the steering wheel. The ferry was still loading cars as she pulled into line, bumping over the ramp. The crewman signaled for her to start a new row and she curved to go down the outside lane to the front of the vessel. Turning the key in the ignition the engine stopped. Gilly leaned back in the seat exhaling a blast of air. The fight was gone. Her breathing back to normal. Checking Robyn in the rearview mirror, she saw her baby had fallen asleep.
Gilly opened the windows to feel the breeze off the water from the ferry churning its way to Seattle. First in line on the ferry was like being on a balcony of a cruise ship—the panorama of the water, the nearby islands looked close enough that you could almost reach out to the beaches and trees. What an awful day, she thought.
What in the world was Skip thinking—double blackmail? Dragging her personal life out into the open. Open? She hadn’t even come to grips with her life. It was sweeping her along—day to day, week to week, month to month. “I wonder if he asked Philip if he minded his story showing up in print?” she said, talking to Robyn in the mirror. “I wonder if he let Philip read the manuscript or was I the only one? It didn’t bother me when I read about Eleanor being a moneygrubber. It wasn’t my story. But to read that a stupid girl went to Paris and got pregnant, that would be awful. Same thing. Except … one is about me. Maybe Philip doesn’t know what’s in Skip’s exposé. Exposé —good word. My bad choices exposed.”
He called me pigheaded, Gilly thought. I wonder if any of my other friends think I’m pigheaded? Nicole? Gabby? Oh, I hope Maria doesn’t think I’m pigheaded. Have I been too assertive? Starting my business has been hard. I have to make decisions. They want me to make the hard choices, don’t they? Sounds like Edward had a horrible death. I’ll have to call DuBois. Find out. Helen blamed me and Gramps. His death wasn’t our fault. I refuse to take that one on. Edward did steal my designs; he had his hands on my throat. Gramps is a good shot, he could have killed Edward that day but instead he shot him in the foot to stop him. Edward made bad choices, but I feel sorry for Helen. She’s been so good to me over the years. Supportive. She didn’t mean what she did today.
Gilly sighed, thoughts continuing to run wild. What was it Skip said—a Frenchman hell bent on seducing the girl? Maxime did take advantage of me but there was more to it. That’s the problem with putting things in print—black and white. Life is not black and white. Take what I said to Skip in the hospital … I love you. Thank God he was asleep. What was I really saying? Love as in loving a friend? I was still drugged, just had a baby, alone. Did I mean love for a friend or love as in lover?
A horn let out a blast signaling their arrival at Pier 52. The ferry bumped against the pilings, the engines grinding in reverse, as it came to a stop.
Gilly turned the key in the car’s ignition and wa
ited for the crew to drop the chains so she could drive off. “I know, I’ll need to talk to Gramps.” She smiled thinking about her grandfather. He was a good listener, but more important, without saying anything, he had a way of setting her straight.
Chapter 25
───
THE DOOR INTO THE design studio burst open. Nicole scooted in, closed the door. She leaned back against it, breathing hard from running up the stairs. Her eyes were wide as if she had just seen a ghost.
“Gilly, you have a visitor.”
“Nicole, please ask Gabby to find out what she wants. I’m about to leave for Hansville.”
“It’s not a her. It’s a him.”
“Who is it?” Gilly asked, eyebrows raised.
“Maxime. Maxime Beaumont is downstairs. He just waltzed in. Asked for you. I can’t believe it. What do you want me to tell him?”
Gilly’s wide-eyed stare matched Nicole’s. He was certainly the last person she expected to walk into her shop. Had she missed a letter? A telephone message? He couldn’t be wondering if she’d received the baby clothes. She sent him a note immediately thanking him for Robyn’s gifts. That was all she said—thanks and signed her name. Maybe he was miffed she didn’t say more, go on and on how kind he was. No, he couldn’t have expected that.
“Well, tell him I was about to leave but I can spare a minute. Bring him to the studio. And, Nicole, leave the door open.”
“Sure. Okay.” Nicole turned, the clicking of her heels in her wake as she navigated the stairs.
Gilly felt her chest tighten. She reached to turn off her tablet, drew back her hand. It was shaking. This is ridiculous. Calm down. Breathe deep.
She felt his presence before he spoke. She slowly raised her eyes. He was standing in the doorway looking around the new studio, then his eyes moved to her, taking her in. “Every time I see you, you are more beautiful. But you are working too hard. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I didn’t know you were coming. I was about to leave for—
“Would you have seen me if I told you I was coming?”
“Probably not.”
“Ah, see.” He shook his head and smiled. “Where are you going that you have to leave this minute.”
“To Gramp’s. I left some things there last weekend. Mom and Dad are coming over for a quick lunch so they can see Robyn, and—
“Ah, a family visit. How wonderful. I will come with you, that way I can spend some time with our little girl.”
“Oh, no.” Gilly shook her head. “No, that would not be a good idea. My dad—
“Your dad will what? Punch me? I wouldn’t blame him.”
“He might,” Gilly flashed a quick smile.
“There. There’s a smile. Where’s Robyn?”
Gilly looked toward the door into her apartment. “Maria’s changing her, she—
The door opened and Maria stepped through holding Robyn. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t. Maria, this is Maxime Beaumont. Maxime, this is Maria Jackson, my friend.”
Maria was dumbfounded. Her jaw dropped as Maxime strode over to her, carefully lifting Robyn from her arms.
“No, I—
“It’s okay, Maria. Maxime seems to think he wants to meet my parents and Gramps. I told him it might not be pleasant but he wants to anyway. We should be back before dark.”
───
THE TRIP TO HANSVILLE was strained at first, then Gilly began to relax. A little. In the car Maxime turned in his seat so he could study her and gaze at Robyn strapped in her carrier in the back seat. They didn’t say much, but he made an occasional remark—enjoying the ferry cruise, the waters of Puget Sound, the Seattle skyline as it receded from view. He said many times how delightful Robyn was—so petite, her tiny hands, and red curls.
He was captivated by the towering pines lining Hansville Road, the occasional fields of produce, and the roadside stands where the lettuce, corn and tomatoes were sold as well as strawberries. Lots of strawberries.
Gilly stole a glance at him, smiled, quickly looked away. She had alerted her grandfather to the passenger she was bringing. He said he’d pass along the alert to her mom and dad—they were arriving any minute.
Gilly didn’t know what to expect when Maxime showed up at the house. As far as they were concerned Gilly had not had any communication with him since the day she walked out on him at the restaurant in Paris, when he told her he and his wife were reconciling. She hadn’t told them of his previous visit, or the presents he had sent to their baby. Their baby? When did she start thinking of her baby as theirs? She shook her head.
“What’s the matter, Gillianne? Are you worried about your parents? I promise you I will be a gentleman no matter what they say. Let me be sure of their names. Your mother is Anne, father’s Will, and your grandfather’s Clay.”
“That’s right. And yes, of course, I’m worried. This is crazy, Maxime. I should drop you off at that gas station. Pick you up on my way back.”
“But you won’t. You are a strong woman, and I bet you are a little intrigued about how this meeting will unfold.”
Again she shook her head, but this time with a small sly smile. He had her pegged. Well, whatever was going to transpire she would know in a few minutes. She turned down the long driveway, parking next to her parent’s car.
Maxime got out, opened her car door, then opened the back door. Releasing the seatbelt buckle he lifted the sleeping infant in her carrier out of the car. “May I carry her?”
Gilly nodded, yes. She wasn’t sure her legs were going to hold her up.
Gramps was the first out the patio door, then her mother who put her arm thru her father-in-laws for support, and then her father emerged, hands on his hips. Gramps had a smile on his face. Gilly thought if someone dropped in out of the sky they would see a happy couple bringing their baby to visit her happy grandparents. Wrong! Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Given the looks on their faces, Gilly introduced Maxime to her mother and grandfather first, relieving Maxime of the carrier. Gramps immediately stuck out his hand. The two men greeted each other with a strong grip.
Her mother gave a nod in his direction as she whispered, “Maxime.” Maxime in turn bowed his head to her, “Anne, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Then it was her father’s turn. “My father, Will. Maxime.”
Maxime smiled with a slight nod. “Nice to meet you, Will.”
Her father stood his ground. Hostility written on his face. No smile.
“Well, now that the pleasantries are over, how about a bite of lunch?” Gramps said. “Come on Maxime, you haven’t tasted anything with eggs until you’ve tried one of Anne’s quiches.”
Good old Gramps, Gilly thought. Always to my rescue.
Maxime stood to the side as everyone passed through the door, down the hall and gathered around the kitchen table. As with anyone who first gazed out the kitchen’s big picture window overlooking the sound, Maxime was no different. The warm weather and the sunshine provided an idyllic scene as a sailboat race passed by, their colorful spinnakers filled with wind pushing the small crafts through the sparkling blue water. On the far side, a tanker, high in the water, was skimming through the waves into Seattle to pick up cargo.
Nerves didn’t relax much but enough so conversation wasn’t too uncomfortable. However, it didn’t take long to finish off Anne’s quiche. Gilly excused herself to gather the items she had left at the Hansville house, and to feed Robyn, changing her for the trip back to Seattle.
Gramps stood up, pushed his chair back. “Maxime, how about a little tour of the garden?”
“Delighted to, Monsieur,” Maxime said easily with a smile.
“Ah ha. Monsieur … I like that.” With a twinkle in his eye, Gramps led the way to his den and the pictures above the wall-to-wall bookcases. He explained the various operations depicted at the Pope and Talbot lumber mill in Port Gamble where he had worked until
they closed. “The lumber business stalled and they let go all the workers. Those were bad times around here. Fortunately my wife and I, Betty, Gilly’s grandmother, had bought this place for our retirement and that’s exactly what I did. Retired.”
“Your work must have been physically demanding. Did Will work in the mill with you?”
“Yes, and he’s had a hard time of it. However, he is an excellent carpenter and electrician. If there’s work to be had, he’s the first to be called. He’s that good. Helped Gilly with the shop. Have you seen the shop?”
“Yes. Very sophisticated, yet warm, inviting … like your granddaughter.” Maxime looked into Gramps blue eyes. Nothing to fear there. A wonderful man trying to support his granddaughter, treading carefully in the wake of a stranger’s sudden appearance.
“Come on, son, let’s go outside.” They ambled up the strip of lawn in the backyard, picked a few raspberries. Maxime followed Gramp’s lead popping a juicy berry into his mouth. Gramps looked up, head turning sharply to his left. The road was on the other side of the dense thicket of blackberries. His eyes darted around the thicket, but nothing seemed amiss. He looked again, squinted, shrugged, and turned back to his guest, shoulders relaxing. Must have been his imagination.
“The view down over the bank is something you have to see.” They strolled down the stretch of lawn, around the house, to the front and the rickety stairs. “Down there is a deck. Before the stairs became wiggly, we’d have Bloody Marys down there with our Sunday breakfast. The Queen Betty we called her. Afraid it’s a bit in disrepair now. But at the time, Gilly would climb down the ladder and run into the surf of the incoming tide squealing at the top of her lungs, the waves freezing her toes.”
Maxime turned to Gramps. “Clay, I have hurt your granddaughter, I know that. I was a stupid man with the love of my life within reach. I want you to know I’m not here to hurt her, never again. I want to be part of our baby’s life … if she will let me.”
“I’m glad to hear that, son. She’s an exceptional young woman. Faced up to her pregnancy, a situation that no girl wants to find herself in. There was never the slightest thought of aborting, nor of parting with the child in an adoption. I don’t know if there’s a future for the two of you—she’s never indicated that was in the cards. On the contrary, I’m surprised she let you in the door.” Gramps chuckled.
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 51