Remember Me (9 page)

Covey lifted his hands in a gesture of futility. “Mr. Nichols—”

“Adam.”

“Adam, I understand why there's so much talk. I'm a stranger. Vivian was wealthy. But on the Bible, I swear I had no idea she had so much money. Viv was desperately insecure and could be secretive. She loved me, but she was just beginning to understand how much I loved her. Her self-image was terrible. She was so afraid people only bothered with her because of her family background and her money.”

“Why was her self-image that bad?”

Covey's expression became bitter. “Her whole damn family. They always put her down. In the first place, her parents didn't want to have her, and when she was born, they tried to make her a carbon copy of her sisters. Her grandmother was the one exception.
She understood Viv, but unfortunately she was an invalid who spent most of her time in Florida. Viv told me her grandmother had left her a million-dollar trust and that three years ago, at twenty-one, she came into it. She told me she had paid six hundred thousand for the house, was living on the rest and wouldn't come into another dime until she was thirty-five. By anybody's standards she was well off, but I understood that the balance of the trust reverted to her grandmother's estate if anything happened to her. Yes, because of her death I received the house, but I never thought her estate went beyond a couple hundred thousand dollars more. I had absolutely no idea she'd already received five million dollars.”

Adam linked his fingers and looked up at the ceiling, thinking aloud. “Even if she was only worth the amount of money she told you, people could justifiably say that for a marriage of three months, you did mighty well.”

He looked back at Covey and shot the next question. “Was anyone else aware that your wife had not shared her true financial status with you?”

“I don't know.”

“No close friend who was a confidante?”

“No. Vivian didn't have what I would call close friends.”

“Did her father and mother approve of the marriage?”

“They never knew about it until it was over. That was Vivian's decision. She wanted a quiet wedding at city hall, a honeymoon in Canada and then a home reception when we got back. I know her parents were shocked and I don't blame them. It's possible she did tell them that I didn't know the extent of the inheritance. In a way, as much as she defied them, Vivian desperately wanted their approval.”

Adam nodded. “On the phone you said that a detective has been asking you about a family ring.”

Scott Covey looked directly at Adam. “Yes, it was an emerald, a family heirloom, I believe. I absolutely remember that Viv was wearing the ring on the boat. The only thing that makes sense is she must have changed it to her left hand that morning. When I was going through her things I found her engagement ring in the drawer at home. Her wedding ring was a narrow gold band. She always wore the engagement and wedding rings together.”

He bit his lip. “The emerald ring had been getting tight to the point it was cutting off circulation. That last morning Viv was tugging at it and twisting it. When I was leaving for the store I told her if she was determined to get it off to soap or grease her finger first. She bruised very easily. When I got back we took off for the boat and I didn't think to ask about it and she never mentioned it. But Viv was superstitious about that ring. She never went anywhere without it. I think when I identified her body and didn't see the ring I assumed it was because her right hand was mutilated.”

His face suddenly became contorted. He pushed his knuckles against his mouth to stifle the dry sobs that shook his shoulders. “You just can't understand. No one can. One minute we're down there, swimming next to each other, watching a school of striped bass go by, the water so clear and calm. Her eyes were so happy, like a little kid in an amusement park. And then, in a second, it all changed.” He buried his face in his hands.

Adam studied Scott Covey intently. “Go on,” he said.

“The water went gray, got so rough. I could see Viv was panicking. I grabbed her hand and put it on my belt. She knew I meant that she should hang on to me.
I started to swim for the boat, but it was so far away. The anchor must have been dragging, because the current was fierce. We weren't making progress, so Viv let go of my belt and started to swim next to me again. I could tell that she thought we'd make better time if we both swam. Then, just as we were surfacing, a huge wave came and she was gone. She was gone.”

He dropped his hands from his face and blurted, “Christ, how can anyone think I'd deliberately allow my wife to die? I'm haunted thinking I should have been able to save her. It was my fault for not being able to find her, but before God, I tried.”

Adam straightened up. He remembered the night of Bobby's death, with Menley sedated, barely conscious, sobbing over and over, “It was my fault, my fault . . .” He reached over and squeezed Scott Covey's shoulder. “I'll represent you, Scott,” he said, “and try to relax. You'll get through this. Everything will be all right.”

A
my arrived at seven o'clock to baby-sit Hannah. She greeted Menley, then immediately knelt in front of the baby swing Adam had set up in the keeping room.

“Hi, Hannah,” Amy said softly. “Did you go swimming today?”

Hannah looked at her visitor complacently.

“You should have seen her splashing in a puddle in the sand,” Menley said. “She yelled when I took her out of it. You'll find that Hannah lets you know when she isn't happy.”

Amy smiled briefly. “That's what my mother used to say about me.”

Menley knew that Elaine was engaged to Amy's father, but she didn't know whether he was divorced or a widower. It seemed to her that Amy was inviting the question. “Tell me about your mother,” she suggested. “I can see she raised a nice daughter.”

“She died when I was twelve.” The girl's voice was flat, emotionless.

“That's rough.” It was on the tip of Menley's tongue to suggest that it was so nice that Elaine would be Amy's new mother, but she suspected that wasn't the way Amy saw it. She remembered how her brother Jack had objected to their mother dating. One man, a doctor, liked her a lot. Whenever he phoned, Jack would call out, “Stanley Beamish for you, Ma.” Stanley Beamish was a nerdy character in a mercifully brief TV series that had aired when they were kids.

Her mother would hiss, “His name is Roger!” but her lips would be twitching with a smile when she reached for the phone. Then Jack would flap his arms in imitation of Stanley Beamish, who had the ability to fly.

Roger hadn't lasted long as a potential stepfather. He was a nice guy, Menley thought now, and who knows? Mother might have been much happier if she'd toughed it out, instead of telling Roger that it wouldn't work. Maybe I'll have a chance to talk to Amy a bit this month, she thought. It might make it easier for her.

“It's time to put the crown princess away for the night,” she said. “I've made a list of the emergency telephone numbers: police, fire, ambulance. And Elaine's number.”

“That one I know.” Amy straightened up. “Is it okay if I hold Hannah?”

“Sure. I think it's a good idea.”

With the baby in her arms, Amy seemed more confident. “You look awfully pretty, Mrs. Nichols,” she said.

“Thank you.” Menley felt inordinately pleased by the compliment. She realized she'd been a bit nervous about meeting Adam's friends. She didn't have the knockout looks of the models he used to date, and she knew that over the years he had brought some of them to the Cape. Far more important than that, however, she was sure she must be the object of speculation. Everyone knew her history. Adam's wife who had driven the car over the railroad track and lost his son. Adam's wife who wasn't with him last year in the month he spent at the Cape.

Oh, they'll be eyeing me all right, she thought. After several false starts, she'd chosen to wear a peacock blue raw silk jumpsuit with a blue-and-white corded belt and white sandals.

“Why don't we try to get Hannah settled before I go?” She led the way to the stairs. “The television is in this parlor. But I'd like you to leave the baby monitor on high volume and look in on Hannah every half hour or so. She's great for kicking off the blankets, and the cleaning woman put both sleepers in the wash. The dryer isn't hooked up yet.”

“Carrie Bell. She was here?” Amy's voice sounded incredulous.

“Well, no, this woman's name is Hildy. She'll be coming in once a week. Why?”

They were at the top of the stairs. Menley stopped and turned to look at Amy.

Amy blushed. “Oh, nothing. I'm sorry. I knew Elaine was going to suggest someone else to you.”

Menley took Hannah from Amy. “Her dad will want to say good night.” She went into the master bedroom. Adam was just putting on his navy linen sports jacket. “One of your younger admirers to pay homage,” she told him.

He kissed Hannah. “No late dates, Toots, and don't give Amy a hard time.” The tenderness in his face belied his flippant tone. Menley felt her heart twist. Adam had been crazy about Bobby. If anything happened to Hannah . . .

Why do you keep thinking that? she asked herself fiercely. She forced her own voice to sound bantering. “Your daughter thinks you look terrific. She wants to know if you're getting gussied up for all your old girlfriends?”

“Nope.” Adam leered at her. “I've just got one girl. No,” he corrected, “two girls.” He addressed the baby. “Hannah, tell your mommy that she looks very sexy and I wouldn't throw her out of bed for anybody.”

Laughing, Menley brought the baby back to the nursery. Amy was standing by the side of the crib, her head tilted as though she was listening for something. “Do you get a funny feeling in this room, Mrs. Nichols?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sorry. I don't know what I mean.” Amy looked embarrassed. “Please don't mind me. I'm just being silly. Have a great time. I promise you Hannah will be fine and I'll be on the phone in a shot if there's any kind of problem. Besides, Elaine's house is less than two miles away.”

Menley paused for a moment. Was there something
odd about the baby's room? Hadn't she felt it herself? Then shaking her head at her own silliness, Menley settled Hannah in the crib and popped the pacifier in her mouth before she could launch a protest.

E
laine lived near the Chatham Bars Inn in a small Cape that had started its existence in 1780 as a half house. Over the years it had been enlarged and renovated so that now it blended handsomely with its more impressive neighbors.

At seven o'clock she made a quick final inspection The house gleamed. The guest towels were in the powder room, the wine was chilled, the table attractively set. She had made the lobster salad herself, a long, tiresome job; the rest of the buffet was prepared by the caterer. She was expecting twenty people in all and had hired one man to serve, another to tend the bar.

John had offered to handle the bar, but she'd declined. “You're my host, aren't you?”

“If that's what you want.”

Whatever Elaine wants, Elaine gets, she thought, knowing just what he would say before he said it.

“Whatever Elaine wants, Elaine gets,” John said with a rumble of laughter. He was a big, solid man
with a deliberate manner. At fifty-three his thinning hair was completely gray. His full face was open and pleasant. “Come here, sweetie.”

“John, don't muss my hair.”

“I like it mussed, but I won't. I just want to give you a little hostess gift.”

Elaine took the small package. “John, how sweet. What is it?”

“A bottle of olives, what else? Open it.”

It was an olive bottle but inside there appeared to be only a wad of blue tissue.

“Now what's this about?” Elaine asked as she unscrewed the top of the jar and reached into it. She began to pull out the tissue.

“Go easy,” he cautioned. “Those olives are expensive.”

She held the tissue in her hand and opened it. Inside were crescent-shaped onyx earrings edged with diamonds. “John!”

“You said you were wearing a black and silver skirt, so I thought you ought to have earrings to match.”

She put her arms around his neck. “You are too nice to be true. I'm not used to being pampered.”

“It's going to be my pleasure to pamper you. You've worked hard enough, long enough, and you deserve it.”

She held his face between her hands and drew his lips to hers. “Thank you.”

The bell rang. Someone was standing at the screen door. “Will you two stop necking and let your company in?”

The first guests had arrived.

*   *   *

It's a very nice party, Menley told herself as she came back from the buffet table and reclaimed her seat on the couch. Six of the couples were lifelong summer Capeys, and some of them were into reminiscing.
“Adam, remember the time we took your dad's boat to Nantucket. He was seriously unhappy.”

“I forgot to mention our plans to him,” Adam said with a grin.

“It was my mother who went on the warpath,” Elaine said. “She went on and on about my being the only girl with five young men. ‘What will people think?' “

“The rest of us were furious we weren't invited,” the quiet brunette from Eastham drawled. “We all had a crush on Adam.”

“You didn't have a crush on me?” her husband protested.

“That started the next year.”

“The time we dug the pit for the clam bake . . . I nearly broke my neck collecting seaweed . . . That stupid kid who ran down the beach and almost fell into the pit . . . The year we . . .”

Menley smiled and tried to listen, but her mind was elsewhere.