Her phone buzzed in her pocket, startling her.
“Hello?”
“It’s Chase.”
She licked her lips and watched a wave sputter onto sand and then rush back into the sea. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Great.”
The phone was quiet for a beat. “That’s good to hear.”
A wave rolled in, swallowing her feet. She bit back a yelp. “Was there something you needed?”
“Yes, actually. I left a satchel behind. It’s the smaller one—”
“Black leather, right.”
“You’ve seen it.”
“No, but I know the one. Anyway, I’ll check your room and put it aside for you.”
“Hm. I need you to send it.”
“Oh. Okay.” It wasn’t like she expected him to return to the beach house, but for some reason, she hadn’t not expected him to either. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”
“Great.”
She held the phone to her ear, one part of her life leaning into the calling of the sea while the other half stayed caught up in the mess of the past few weeks.
Chase said, “How were the books?”
“The books?”
“When I left the other day you were surrounded by Nancy Drew novels.”
“Oh. Yes. I’ve read four of them.”
“Already? Four of them?” She heard a bit of a smile in his voice. “I’m enjoying the picture of that.”
She was at a loss. Their past few conversations had been like riding a seesaw: high one minute, then down in the pit. What were they supposed to talk about, exactly? What was acceptable and what was out of the question?
Chase interrupted her musings. “Are you going to be able to handle the call with your family tonight? Without me?”
“Yes.” She didn’t have a choice. Did she?
“Grace?” She recognized concern in his voice. “What’s that sound?”
She leaned her ear hard to the side, bracing her phone against her shoulder. With her free hand, she zipped up her jacket. “It’s the wind,” she said, reacting to the morning’s sudden change of temperature. Noah was right. Wind’s supposed to come up soon …
“Sounds treacherous.”
She chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that. Not yet, anyway. Although one night last week we nearly lost our patio umbrella to the prevailing winds. I had to run around the place battening down the hatches.”
He whistled. “I’m glad to hear you had it all under control.”
Her smile dimmed. Is that what he thought? That everything had magically fallen together after he left? That his presence—or lack thereof—hadn’t been felt?
Of course he did. Because their relationship had been fake from the start.
Wind forced its way through the fabric of Grace’s coat and she shivered. With precision, Zeke changed directions, leapt over a pile of seaweed, and began to lead Grace back to the house. Even her puppy dog must have decided it was time to turn around.
A second voice could be heard on the other end of the line. Followed by a shuffling of voices back and forth. Judith?
The timbre of Chase’s voice changed from velvety to metallic. “Grace? I have to go. You’ll send the satchel?”
“Will do.”
Off the call now, she trudged up the sand toward the old beach house, thankful for the welcoming embrace of its saggy porch and warm insides. Because the instant his voice was no longer connected to hers, she knew.
Despite Chase’s reputation, despite every warning sign that shot up whenever she thought of him—which was far more often than it should have been—Grace had fallen for her boss. She hated admitting it, even to the privacy of her own mind, but she wanted him by her side. Now.
Only it was too late.
Chase leaned back, the satiny brush of Grace’s voice still in his ears. He tapped his pen hard on the desk once, twice, a third time, as if the action might drive all thought of her from his head.
Judith jutted her chin through the doorway. “You ready?”
He turned toward her. He’d asked her to come in on a Sunday and she’d agreed. After church, of course.
Judith stepped into the room, calendar in hand and a frown on her face. “What is it? More bad news?”
He shook his head and swiveled his chair around until he was staring at the wall. Then he shut his eyes tight, forcing himself to pull it together. He had work to do!
He swiveled back around and gestured for Judith to take a seat in front of the desk.
She adjusted her glasses. “You’re scaring me.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“I’ve never seen you so lost over a woman.” She quirked her head to one side. “She’s undone you, Chase.”
He tossed the pen onto his desk and planted his forearms on his desk. “Got your calendar and the audit?”
“You know I do.”
He stared at her and she at him.
Judith said, “First, as suspected, no one was double charged. That was just something Kate was saying to current clients, mostly the ones she’d brought in anyway.”
“Except for Burns, Toft, and …”
Judith reviewed her notes. She looked up. “And Callaghan.”
Chase sat back, the squeak of his desk chair like a cranky toddler. He steepled his hands, concentrating.
Judith interrupted him. “Burns and Toft have both agreed to meet you this week. I’ve added them to your calendar. Callaghan hasn’t answered my calls.”
“Forget about him.”
Judith’s eyebrow shot up. He knew that look. She believed that he was wiping his hands of Callaghan’s case, walking away rather than dealing with it head on. He almost laughed.
“I’m having lunch with him on Thursday,” he said, finally.
“You’re kidding.”
“I don’t kid.”
“No, you certainly do not.”
He shot her a look. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.” She stood and stepped toward the door, stopping briefly. “I suppose you will be working late.”
“That’s the plan.”
Judith nodded, though her expression betrayed her concern—she always hated coming in on Monday to the list of things he’d left for her over the weekend. She left him in silence.
Truth was, he’d been working nonstop since he’d arrived back in the city. How he ever thought he could leave this office to stay at a beach house with his fake wife was beyond absurd.
She’s undone you.
Judith’s words buzzed around him like a gnat. He flicked them away and then hunkered down and managed to think of nothing other than righting Kate’s wrongs. Of working up cases that demanded his attention and of getting back on track with the doings—and undoings—in his office. He made five phone calls—left messages, mostly, approved Mick’s billing hours, and studied his calendar to make sure he knew all that would be coming up in the next few weeks.
Three hours later, Chase stretched his lean arms behind his head, then folded his hands and cradled his neck. Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling. Grace’s face, a tendril of wavy hair to frame it, stared back at him. He shut his eyes tightly, erasing the image.
A tinge of remorse sullied his mind. He’d abandoned her to face her siblings alone tonight. She indicated that she could handle it, of course, so why did it bother him so much?
A grumbling in his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten much all day. Abruptly, he shook off his momentary guilt and grabbed his keys. He’d get something to feed his hunger and then come back for another blitz of work.
His gaze froze on the set in his hand, reminding him of the key Grace had found … the one that led him to that treasure trove of books.
Chase shook his head slowly, remembering. Grace had read four of her mother’s old books. He hadn’t seen that coming. Not with her obsession to working and career building, and certainly not old children’s mysteries. Tom Clancy novels, maybe.
The more he thought about it, the more incredulous he became. What was that like? To have a mother who thought enough of you to share her books with you—even after she’d passed away? He couldn’t fathom it.
Thoughts of her continued to linger as he drove along the boulevard, its trees swaying, in search of a fast, grease-free dinner. He punched the “on” button of his radio, ready for a distraction from work—and from Grace.
Broadcaster: “We’re experiencing moderate winds this afternoon at 17-20 miles per hour …”
He pictured her on the front deck, her summer robe loose about her, her feet bare. She said she’d nearly lost patio furniture that night when the winds were far more than moderate along the coast.
He should have been there to help her.
Broadcaster: “There’s a small craft advisory in place tonight for coastal areas where wind speeds are expected to exceed 20 knots …”
Maybe he should call to check on … the house. He punched in her number, then hung up. They’d already conquered several awkward silences on the phone today. No sense climbing that mountain again.
Jake.
What if her brother decided to show up for tonight’s call? Why hadn’t that guy showed up yet? She said she could handle her siblings tonight, but could she? Or a better question, was that how he should have left things?
Chase rubbed his neck. He checked the clock. Sunday traffic was typically light. If he left now, he could get to the beach house in a couple of hours. He might not make it for the start of the call, but he’d get there soon after. Then what?
He’d make something up.
“And farther north, Sundowner winds promise to make tonight a white-knuckle ride …”
Chase’s jaw clicked fiercely, pain searing his cheek. He glanced over at the burger joint off the boulevard, noticing its drive-through line snaking into traffic, and suddenly lost his appetite.
Chase switched on his blinker, changed lanes, and steered his Range Rover onto the freeway onramp headed north.
Twelve
“Honeymoon over?” Lacy mewed. Her sister reclined on her couch nursing a glass of Pinot Noir, a point she’d made from the start of their call. “It’s the healthiest wine,” she had said.
Maggie nearly clucked in response. “Zero wine is the healthiest, but whatever.”
“Not at all,” Grace said, breaking in. “He’s a busy guy. Had some things to take care of at work, and well, you can’t expect a sought-after lawyer to take a whole month off for his honeymoon, now can you?”
Bella smiled. “You are so lucky, Grace.”
So far only her sisters had shown their faces on the screen, and though she had a mile-long list waiting for her brother, she rather appreciated not having to be on the receiving end of the third degree from him.
Grace continued, “Did you all get the list I emailed you? The biggest items will require us all to expend some elbow grease, but we should also repair some things—and outright replace others.”
“Like those horrid appliances,” Lacy said.
“Right,” said Grace. “They work okay, so maybe we could sell them. To get top-dollar for the house, though, we should replace them.”
Bella sighed.
“What’s wrong with that?” Maggie said, clearly aggravated.
“They’re such lovely vintage pieces that I hate to see them go.”
Lacy spat out a laugh. “Vintage is a euphemism for old, ugly, decrepit …”
“Stop it,” Grace said. “Now, do any of you have questions while we’re all here. Well, while most of us are here?”
“Yeah, has that nosy Wren been around lately?” Lacy said.
“She’s a nice old woman,” Maggie countered. “What’s wrong with you these days, Lace? So grouchy.”
“Why don’t you ask Jake? He seemed to have some problem with her at the funeral. Couldn’t get it out of him what the problem was, but man, was he piqued.”
“To answer your question, yes, she’s come around here and there. Wren’s been very kind, bringing me flowers and lemonade, that sort of thing.” She paused, noting the distinct aroma of cigar smoke breezing in through an open window. Grace laughed.
“What’s funny?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, it’s just … well, she likes to smoke cigars on her porch sometimes.”
“Well, that’s a picture,” Lacy said, swirling that wine in her glass. “Are they Cubans?”
“How in the world would I know that?” Grace said, with another laugh.
An enormous rumble filled the air.
Maggie shrank back, her eyes wide. “What was that?”
Grace peered out the window. She had already made sure that the porch umbrella was closed and all the rest of the furniture secured. All looked good.
But wait. She opened the window more, listening, her eyes scanning past their property. She spotted a table toppled over on Wren’s porch, its four legs sticking out above the railing.
Grace stepped back in front of her computer screen. “The wind’s kicked up and I think some of Wren’s furniture needs to be secured. I better go over.”
Lacy scoffed, but Maggie nodded. “You go on ahead. We’ll hold the fort here and discuss your list until you get back.
Grace grabbed her coat and dashed outside, just as one of Wren’s plastic Adirondack chairs cartwheeled down her stairs toward the beach. The wind sprayed her face with sand, but she tackled the chair and carried it back up the steps, stacking it on top of another. She did the same with two more chairs, then she closed up the umbrella—shocked that it hadn’t toppled previously— and picked up several small plants in lightweight buckets.
The distinct smell of cigar smoke lit her sinuses. She sneezed. Her neighbor’s house was dark, but she called out for her anyway. “Wren?” Nothing.
She pressed her lips together. There was certainly nothing wrong with Wren wanting to pass the time with the taste of a stogie, but the winds were howling something fierce now. The scent of that cigar was strong enough to suggest that Wren, for some crazy reason, was outside.
A flash of a memory came to life in her mind. Wren’s house had a deck outside on the second floor—she remembered sneaking up there with Daisy, Wren’s daughter, and dropping handfuls of sand on boys who hid beneath it. Quickly, Grace dashed down the porch’s steps and jogged toward the back of the house.
She looked up. Wren was stretched out on a lounger, one foot dangling over the side. It was getting too dark to see much else, although it appeared that Grace had been right about the stogie. She could smell it. A faint red spot glowed between the slats of the deck.
“Wren?” she called. “Are you okay up there?”
Worried, Grace waited only a few seconds and then called out again. When no answer came, she headed for the back door, hoping she’d find it unlocked.
Chase had made good time. He pulled up to the beach house and glanced at the clock on his dashboard. The call started about fifteen minutes ago. Surely he wasn’t too late to say hello and offer some semblance of support to Grace.
A gust of wind pulled his car door from his grasp, opening it wide. He exhaled harshly, shoving it closed after exiting the vehicle. Wind was whipping the garden flag Grace had planted. He jogged over to it and pulled it from its iron rod, tucking it into his coat.
Chase entered through the back door, the faint sound of conversation flowing from the living room. A sharp bark split the air and Zeke came running.
“Hey, buddy.” Zeke squatted to give the dog a pet, but the dog leapt into his arms, knocking Chase backward onto his butt. He laughed. “That’s some welcome!”
With Zeke tucked safely into his arms, he made his way down the hall to the living room. He didn’t want to scare Grace by creeping up to her from behind, but figured Zeke’s intermittent barks must have alerted her that he was back.
The voices grew louder, but when Chase turned the corner, the room was empty. He peered into the kitchen. No one there. The sound of paper s
huffling, humming, and a couple of words here and there filled the otherwise quiet space.
He stepped in front of the computer screen, Zeke nuzzling the crook of his arm, and found three pairs of eyes looking back at him.
“There’s lover boy!” Lacy threw her head back, laughter bellowing out of her.
“Hi, Chase,” Bella said.
“Hello, ladies.” He glanced around the darkening room and back at them. “Anyone seen my wife?”
As he spoke, the words seeped down into his gut like a three-layer cake, surprising him.
Maggie piped up. “She went over to check on Wren. Said the wind had toppled some of her patio furniture.”
Chase stepped over to the window and peered out. It was dark now, but a soft glow emanated from somewhere behind Wren’s house.
“I should go over and help,” he said.
“Not so fast, lover boy,” Lacy said. She pointed a half-full wine goblet at him. By the color, he guessed a Pinot Noir. “Did you really leave our girl alone on your honeymoon?”
“Lacy!” Bella said.
Maggie sighed. “Ignore her, Chase. You have to put food on the table. I think we all understand that.”
“Shew,” Lacy said. “Grace can do that all by herself, I’m quite sure.”
The computer screen blinked, then went black, before lighting up again. A fourth box opened up. A guy with an expression that told Chase he’d rather be anywhere but at this meeting.
“What’d I miss?” he said.
“Jakey!” Bella said, her voice higher than usual. “We’ve missed you.”
“Hey, Bella.” He was looking down, away from the camera, as if multitasking. “Hey, everyone else.”
“Hello, Jake,” Chase said.
Jake’s eyes snapped up and he looked straight into his webcam. He neither smiled nor frowned.
“You’re the husband.”
“I am.”
Maggie cut in, “Now that the intros are done, Jake, where the heck have you been?”
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