The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel (28 page)

The evening’s only permitted bonfire was under the watchful eye of Deon and a volunteer firefighter. Clancy gave his buddy a quick hello before he joined the girls around the fire. Since it was getting late, Jellybean crawled into his lap and fell asleep, while Evie sat tucked close to his side.

Yeah, he knew Deon was staring at him, and Clancy knew he would have five hundred questions for him the first time he got him alone, and the first one would be
“Who the hell was that woman you were with last night at the bonfire?”

He wasn’t sure how he would answer him.

They decided it was time to get Christina to bed, and headed up the beach. As they began to climb the Safe Haven’s private steps, Rowan and Ash stopped them. Jellybean was flopped over Clancy’s shoulder, sound asleep. It felt like she might even be drooling on the back of his shirt.

“You know, she’s welcome to stay here tonight.” Rowan’s voice was kind. Evie thanked her, but took a rain check. When they returned home, Evie got Christina settled and immediately retreated to the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later wrapped in nothing but a towel. She grabbed a T-shirt out of Clancy’s dresser and crawled into his bed.

Some men might get freaked out when a new girlfriend made herself at home like that. Not Clancy. He
was thrilled. But then again, she wasn’t exactly a new girlfriend, was she?

Evie fell asleep on his chest. He held her close, in awe that this already felt normal. He dozed off with a smile stuck on his face.

R
ichard couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to show up unannounced at his suite, and at this ungodly hour of the morning. He hadn’t had his first cup of coffee or even a shower!

“Just a moment.” He went to the bedroom to trade the comfort of the hotel robe for trousers and a polo shirt, grumbling to himself. Whoever this was had gotten through the front desk. His cardiologist? No. He was the last guy who would want to startle Richard first thing in the morning.

Walt Henson, his lawyer? Possibly, but Walt always called first.

Maybe it was the FBI again. Special Agent in Charge Teresa Apodaca and her buddies had become like family to him this last week. Hey, maybe he could order breakfast from room service for everyone! They could hold a news conference right here, with Richard in his robe! He could stand off to the side like a fool until it was his cue to say, “I remain hopeful.”

Ha! Just more lies. He didn’t feel hopeful—he felt panicked. Because if they couldn’t find Christina, it meant he had just caused a stupefying amount of collateral damage to his life—campaign contributions, approval ratings, committee assignments, access to the
Derricks’ deep-fried pockets, and even his shot at a VP nod.

For nothing
.

If Richard were brutally honest with himself, he would have to admit that the only reason he was prepared to walk away from the life he had was because he had another life waiting—life as a father.

If they never found Christiana, he would be left with no life at all.

He would not let that happen.

Now dressed, Richard arrived at the hotel suite door and put his eye to the peephole.
Jesus!

He opened the door for M.J. and immediately retreated to one of the sofas.

“Got any coffee around here?”

“No.”

M.J. curled up on the couch opposite Richard. She stared at him. “Comfy.”

Yes, it was. That’s why Richard liked the Jefferson: guaranteed discretion and seating that didn’t feel like steel girders shoved up his ass.

“What can I do for you, Mary Jane?”

“I’ve come to tell you a bedtime story.”

“I just woke up.”

“Well, you might spend the rest of the day in bed after you hear it.”

Richard laughed softly. “My sincere apologies, but I have neither the patience nor the energy to deal with your passive-aggressive bullshit this morning.”

M.J. swung her legs around and leaned forward. “You don’t even remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“Sunday morning. Right before you went on-air with Tamara. I told you there was something you really needed to know, and you told me it had to wait. Well, I don’t think it can wait any longer.”

Richard leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Make it short.”

She flashed a perfectly evil smile. “Sure. The title of this story is ‘Above and Beyond.’ It’s about a young girl named Amanda McGuinness and her adventures in the nation’s capital. It’s a cautionary tale, really. ”

Richard lowered his chin and stared at M.J. as dread pressed down on him. “Go on.”

M.J. tossed an envelope onto the coffee table. Richard knew it was her letter of resignation. “First, you need to understand the setting for this story. We were eyeballs deep in reelection strategy for your third term. You’d just been appointed chair of the oversight subcommittee. Your approval rating was off the charts. You’d already raised eight-point-five million from Super PACs alone. You were golden.”

“What . . . did . . . you . . . do?” Richard sat up straight, his blood pressure mounting.

She laughed. “I did what I’ve done for you for sixteen years: I cleaned up your mess.”

“I’ll ask you one more time.” Richard crooked his arm and aimed his right pointer finger across the coffee table at her. “What did you do to Amanda?”

M.J. rose from the sofa and hugged herself. She began pacing the room. “You are incredibly dense, Richard, more so than your average congressman. I found the girl cowering in the corner of the ladies’ room, sobbing because she was in love with you and had just found out she was pregnant with your baby. She was scared to death, trying to summon the courage to tell you, daring to hope that you’d leave Tamara for her the way you’d promised. She was a lost little kitten. So I made it simple for her.”

Richard stood up, suddenly dizzy. His heart began to race and skip. “Dammit, M.J.! You knew about the baby? All these years? For Christ’s sake, why didn’t you tell me? And what did you do to that poor girl to make her run like she did?”

M.J. looked disgusted with him. “I told her I’d take care of everything and she should just sit tight. I
promised to be the go-between, and I would help her in any way I could.”

“Where was I during this? Why didn’t I know what was going on?”

She laughed. “You were in a caucus meeting all afternoon and then dined at Charlie Palmer’s with some of your generous friends from Mass Mutual, but the reason you didn’t see she was miserable was because the girl meant nothing to you unless she was naked in your favorite suite at the Jefferson.” M.J. looked around. “Oh, my! We’re in it right now!”

“Enough.”

“Let me finish!” Her eyes turned to dark, hard pebbles. It was obvious she didn’t plan to stop until she drew blood. “While you were enjoying your prime rib, I dropped by Amanda’s cheap little apartment. I brought her an envelope with six one-hundred-dollar bills and passed on your message:
Get rid of the baby
. I told her you didn’t love her and never would. And I broke the news to her that, no, you would not be leaving Tamara.”

Richard felt his mouth fall open. It stayed open in complete horror.

“And then I advised her that she needed to leave the city because being a congressional aide who was young, female, and pregnant could be hazardous to her health. I explained that women such as her had been known to disappear in this town.”

“No.
You
didn’t
.” Richard went numb. “M.J., please tell me you didn’t threaten her like that. Oh, Jesus.”

“And that’s how I made sure that no one ever heard about the baby. I did it so we could continue with the plan, Richard. And look how far we’ve come—we are a stone’s throw from getting the VP spot and going to the White House. It’s what you promised me. Ring a bell?”

He felt his knees weaken.

“But you’ve gone and ruined everything, you son of a bitch!”

It was beyond his control. Richard felt hot tears roll
down his face at how wrong this whole thing was, how cruel, and how it had ended with the complete waste of Amanda’s life. She’d been smart and beautiful. She should still be alive. What was wrong with him? How could he have been so twisted up in his own ego that he never even checked on Amanda after she left? How could he have not known what his own chief of staff was doing?

Richard landed on the couch, lost in disbelief. Maybe he hadn’t exactly loved Amanda, but he had cared for her! She was a good kid. Kind to others. She was funny. When she entered a room, people instinctively smiled.

This town chewed her up and spit her out. It was his fault.

What would have happened if she’d come to him with news of the child? Would he have been tempted by the one thing power and money could never provide? Maybe he would have found the courage to leave Tamara and ride the wave of scandal like a man. Maybe he would have left politics. He would never know, because he hadn’t been allowed to make that decision for himself.

M.J. had made it for him.

“You stole my power to choose.” He heard his voice shake with fury. “You made decisions you had no right to make.”

M.J. snorted. “Oh, for the love of God, Richard, don’t be so melodramatic. Now, there is one matter we need to settle before we part ways.”

He was stunned.

“I hope you’re listening because here’s how it’s going to work.”

Richard was suddenly too tired to think.

“You work for me, now.”

He heard himself let go with a slow, weary laugh.

“I know how the old-boy system works. You might be down, but you’ll never be all the way out. You’ll get another law gig somewhere, maybe even transition into life as a lobbyist. So if I ever need you to smooth the path for me in any way, you’ll do it. You owe me that.”

“Or what, Mary Jane?”

She gave him a malevolent smile. “The world will learn exactly how you managed the magical custody-by-default ruling in your favor. Think about it. Not only will you go down in history as a dirty old man, but you’ll probably be charged with bribing a public official, perjury, influence peddling—a veritable cornucopia of improprieties!”

Richard’s face had gone dead. He wasn’t sure if he was having a stroke or reacting to a political pistol-whipping courtesy of his most faithful confidante, the person who had done his bidding for the past sixteen years. Yes, the island cop might have had a hunch, but his chief of staff
knew
.

“Is this a threat?”

“No. It’s your new reality.”

Richard looked at M.J.’s face as if he were seeing her for the first time. All that rage, all those hard lines, all that scheming and grasping for one moment of glory—he understood her perfectly.

Because he’d taught her everything she knew.

The truth was, if it weren’t for Christina, Richard wouldn’t give a goddamn if he did prison time—as unlikely as that would be for a congressman with a heart condition and the best lawyers money could buy.

“You disappoint me, Mary Jane.”

She laughed. “And you failed me.”

Richard thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. I did. I suppose you should do whatever you believe is right, expose me if you must, and I’ll face the consequences. If they don’t find Christina, nothing matters anyway.”

“What the . . . ?”

“You win.” He raised his chin. “Isn’t that what you want—to win? Your resignation has been regretfully accepted. Now, get the hell out.”

M.J. moved to the door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, then glanced over her shoulder to Richard.
That smile was back. Yet again, he thought of Tamara, and he shivered.

“You know, I’m really going to enjoy watching you crash and burn, Congressman.”

He waved her off. “It’s an empty threat, and you know it. You’d only incriminate yourself.”

Her smile widened. “Perhaps I’ll get immunity in exchange for delivering your ass on a platter. You taught me everything I know about making deals, Richard. Remember?”

*   *   *

Charlie knew it was a risky idea, but it was his birthday, and he was so lonely that he craved the comfort memories could provide. Even if he had to settle for memories tainted with sorrow.

He hadn’t opened this door in over a month. The last time he’d come in Amanda’s room was right after Wahlman’s lawyer had shown up. That was the night Evie had told him the whole story. He learned of Amanda’s affair with the congressman she worked for, and when he had discovered she was pregnant, the bastard had insisted she terminate the pregnancy and threatened her life if she didn’t leave the city immediately. No wonder the country was going to hell in a hay wagon—Congress was nothing but a cesspool of power-hungry, lying degenerates like Richard Wahlman. God help the USA.

Sometimes, Charlie thought it a blessing that his Ginny hadn’t lived to see what happened to Amanda—and now Evelyn. It would have been too much for her to bear.

Charlie flipped on the light and crossed the old wood floors to sit on the double bed. Amanda had always been a free spirit, such a bright and creative young woman. The colors in her bedroom reflected her personality perfectly—yellows and oranges and reds everywhere he looked.

The room was just as she had left it. Framed photographs and books and pillows scattered about. The
comforter still held her scent. Amanda’s computer was on her desk, covered in a thin layer of dust. Wonder of wonders—the FBI hadn’t stolen all her personal things the way they had Evelyn’s. Maybe search warrants only applied to the living.

Charlie sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, soaking in the presence of his younger child. He missed Amanda down to his bones. He missed Jellybean and Cricket inside every cell of his body. What was he to do with his life now that everyone he loved had gone? It was like all the color had been sucked out of his world.

Charlie didn’t fight the waterworks. But eventually he opened his eyes and decided he would keep on somehow. There were animals to feed and water. Maybe now was the time to get another dog for company. Maybe even a border collie like Jordi.

Through his tears, Charlie noticed a small corner of bright blue paper sticking from beneath Amanda’s computer keyboard. He found it curious, maybe because it didn’t match the rest of the room. He pushed himself from the bed and yanked it loose.

It was a vacation brochure for Bayberry Island’s Mermaid Festival. Tucked in its pages was a piece of white memo paper from Amanda’s job. In her handwriting he saw this:
“9 months from now. Pop-Pop’s 70th b-day, same hotel??? Same rooms? Check ferry schedule, block out vacation, remind Evie. Festival 3rd wk Aug.”

Charlie froze where he stood, the pieces falling into place in his mind. Evie had, in fact, planned to take vacation this week, the third week of August. Today was his seventieth birthday. He and Ginny had taken the girls to the festival once. . . . What was it, almost twenty years ago now? Had Amanda planned to re-create that happy time for his birthday?

He felt a huge smile break out across his face. So that’s how Evie had done it—she had used plans made by Amanda nine months before for her escape. Evie and Chrissy were on Bayberry Island, at least they had been,
at one point. Surely, Charlie would have heard if agents had found them, if not a personal phone call, then at least from the news.

No. Evie had likely left before the FBI came looking for them. She was so smart. All that running had made her focused and strong, and Charlie knew if anyone could get through this, it would be his Evelyn.

He suddenly knew in his heart that his girls would be all right. He thanked God for their mystery helper, whoever it might be.