Whiskey Beach (26 page)

“I never knew about the servants’ passageways. I just heard about them.”

“To my great disappointment as a boy, they’d been closed up before I was born. Mom threatened to do the same with parts of the basement. I used to sneak down here with my friends. God knows why.”

“I did the same thing.”

“You think I didn’t know?” Rob chuckled, slapped Eli on the shoulder. Then stopped again when they reached the old section.

“Christ almighty. I know you told me how extensive, but I didn’t fully believe it. What kind of madness is this?”

“Treasure fever, I think. Nothing else makes sense.”

“You can’t grow up in Whiskey Beach and not come across treasure fever, even catch a mild case.”

“You?”

“I believed—feverishly—in Esmeralda’s Dowry as a teenager. Scoured books, hunted up maps. I took scuba lessons in preparation for a career as a treasure hunter. I grew out of it, but there’s still a part that wonders. But this . . . this is senseless. And dangerous. The police have no leads?”

“Not so far, or not that they’re sharing with me. Then again, they have a murder on their hands.”

Eli had considered this, had weighed the pros and cons of laying it all out for his father. He hadn’t known until that moment, he’d decided to do so. “I think they might be connected.”

Rob studied his son. “I think we should take those dogs of ours for a walk, and you can tell me why. And how.”

Inside, Abra sat with Hester in the morning room.

“This is nice,” Abra said. “I’ve missed this.”

“You’ve kept the house beautifully. I knew you would.” She gestured to the pots of flowers on the terrace outside. “Your work, I’m told.”

“I got some limited assistance. Eli’s not much of a gardener.”

“That can change. He’s changed since he’s been here.”

“He needed the time, the space.”

“It’s more than that. I’m seeing glimpses of who he used to be, mixed with who he’s becoming. It does my heart good, Abra.”

“He’s happier than when he came. He looked so sad, so lost and so angry under it all.”

“I know it, and it’s more than what happened in the past year. He let too much of himself go before that because he’d made a promise, and keeping promises is important.”

“Did he love her? It doesn’t feel right to ask him.”

“I think he loved parts of her, and he wanted what he thought they could make together, wanted it enough to make the promise.”

“A promise is a fearsome thing.”

“For some, yes. For people like Eli. And for you. If his marriage had been happy, he might’ve become someone else yet, some other combination of himself. Someone who could have been content with his work in the law, his life in Boston, and he’d have kept the promise. I would have lost the boy who once thrived in Whiskey Beach, but that would’ve been fine. The same could be said about you.”

“I guess it could.”

“Is he seeing people?”

“He likes his solitude, but that goes with the work he’s chosen. But yes. He and Mike O’Malley seem to have hit it off, and he’s reconnected with Vinnie Hanson.”

“Oh, that boy. Who’d have thought that half-naked, surf-riding, pot-smoking layabout would end up a county deputy?”

“You always liked him, it shows.”

“He was so damn affable. I’m glad Eli’s reconnected with him, and is friendly with Mike.”

“I think Eli makes friends, and keeps them, easily. Oh, and he spent the best part of an evening tossing them back with Stoney at the pub. They
really
hit it off.”

“Good God. I hope someone drove him home, and I don’t mean Stoney.”

“We walked.” Abra realized the implications of “we” the instant Hester’s brows lifted.

“I wondered.” With a curve to her lips, Hester lifted her martini glass. “Lissa seemed very excited you’d join us for the weekend.”

“I don’t want it to be awkward. Hester, you mean so much to me.”

“Why would it be awkward? When I asked Eli to stay here, I hoped he’d find that time and space, find those pieces of himself. And I hoped the two of you would . . . start walking home together.”

“Did you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? In fact, I intended to meddle, if necessary, once I got fully back on my feet. Are you in love with him?”

Abra took a deep sip of wine. “You move fast.”

“I’m old. I can’t waste time.”

“Old, my ass.”

“But not so old I don’t notice you haven’t answered the question.”

“I don’t know the answer. I love being with him, and watching him become the way you talked about. I know things are complicated for both of us, so I’m happy with that.”

“Complications are part of living.” Taking her time, Hester sampled one of the two olives in her glass. “I know some of what’s happened here, but not, I think, all. Everyone’s too careful around me. I have a blank in my memory, but my mind’s perfectly sound.”

“Of course it is.”

“And the rest of me soon will be. I know someone broke into Bluff House, and that’s upsetting. I know someone was killed, and the police searched the house, which is more upsetting.”

“The lead detective doesn’t consider Eli a suspect,” Abra said quickly. “In fact, he doesn’t believe he had anything to do with Lindsay’s death.”

Her face a study of relief and annoyance, Hester sat back. “Why hasn’t anybody told me
that
?”

“I imagine they didn’t want to upset you with everything that went around it. But as bad as it’s been, what’s happened has worked Eli up. He’s pissed, Hester, seriously pissed, and he’s ready to stand up, to fight back. That’s a good thing.”

“A very good thing.” She looked outside, toward the sea. “And this is a very good place to make a stand.”

“Sorry to break this up.” Lissa walked in, gave the watch on her wrist a tap.

“Oh, it’s the warden,” Hester announced.

“Hester, you need to rest.”

“I’m sitting. I’m drinking an excellent martini. I’m resting.”

“We had a deal.”

On a huff of breath, Hester downed the rest of her martini. “All right, all right. I’m required to take a nap, just like little Sellie.”

“And if you don’t, you’re as cranky as Sellie when she misses hers.”

“My daughter-in-law has no problem insulting me.”

“It’s why you love me,” Lissa said as she helped Hester to her feet.

“One of the many. We’ll talk more later,” she said to Abra.

Alone, Abra gave herself a moment for depression, for worry. Should she make an excuse and run home? For what? To make sure no one had broken in, left more incriminating evidence?

She had nothing to gain by obsessing, by letting worry nibble away at the corners of her mind. Better off here, she told herself, with people. Better off enjoying the moment.

God knew what might happen next.

Rising, she wandered into the kitchen. She’d like to cook something, she realized, but right now she was guest, not housekeeper, and didn’t have free rein.

She should take her things upstairs, put together the little gift bags she’d made for the family.

She needed to keep busy.

She turned when Lissa came back in.

“Hester always complains about the nap, and always sleeps like a rock for an hour.”

“She’s always been so active and independent.”

“Don’t I know it. Still, an hour’s nap is nothing. When she was first hurt, she was rarely awake for an hour at a time. She beat all the odds, and I shouldn’t have expected less. You know, that looks good.”

“Let me pour you a glass. I was just poking around, wondering what I could do to help. With dinner. Or anything.”

“Oh, I’m going to draft you for dinner detail. I can hold my own in the kitchen, when our Alice lets me. But I’m no Martha Stewart. You must be a wonderful cook.”

“I must?”

“Hester’s said so, and I see the evidence myself. Eli’s putting weight back on instead of shedding it. I owe you for that.”

“I like to cook, and he remembered he liked to eat.”

“And he remembered he likes dogs, and walks on the beach, and companionship. I’m grateful, Abra.”

“I liked reminding him.”

“This shouldn’t be awkward. We had a friendly relationship before you and Eli started seeing each other.”

“You’re right.” She let out a breath. “I haven’t been involved with anyone in a long time, especially anyone with close family. Truth? I’m so used to doing whatever needs to be done around here, or finding something that could be done. I’m not sure what I should or shouldn’t do as a guest.”

“Why don’t we take ‘guest’ out of it and consider we’re all family. Hester thinks of you as hers. Eli thinks of you. Why don’t we start with that?”

“I’d like that. Then I can stop second-guessing myself.”

“I had Max take your things up to Eli’s room.” Lissa offered an easy smile, and a twinkle. “I didn’t see the point in second-guessing.”

After a surprised laugh, Abra nodded. “That makes it all simple. Why don’t you give me the basics of the weekend’s menus, and I’ll take assignments?”

“We can do that. But while we’ve got a minute or so, I’d like you to tell me what, exactly, has gone on. I know Eli’s out there, using that sweet dog and poor old Sadie as excuses to give his father all the details he’s left out. Protect the womenfolk from worrying their pretty heads.”

Abra fisted her hands on her hips. “Really?”

“It’s not quite that bad, but not that far off. I lived the last year, too, Abra. Every day of it. Every hour. I want to know what’s happening with my son.”

“Then I’ll tell you.”

She hoped she’d done the right thing, but to Abra it had been the only thing. Direct questions deserved direct answers. Now, as she trusted Lissa’s judgment, both Eli’s parents knew the score.

No more hedging or leaving out unpleasant details.

And what was she doing? she asked herself. Wasn’t she hedging and leaving out unpleasant details? Eli certainly had a right to know about the planted gun, the police search. Shouldn’t she trust him enough for full disclosure?

“There you are.” Eli, windblown, smiling, walked in. “Barbie deserted me for my father, and her new best friend, Sadie. I think she’s a little too easy.”

“Good thing she’s spayed. Any handsome hound might seduce her.”

“I’m really glad you’re here. I told my father the whole shot, all the grim and grisly details. I figured it was time.”

“Good, because I just finished doing the same with your mother.”

“My—”

“Goose and gander, Eli. She asked me directly. I answered. And she’ll worry less knowing than wondering.”

“I just wanted her to feel safe and unburdened here for a couple days.”

“I understand. I thought the same, and that’s why I didn’t— Is that Hester?”

At the shout, Eli was out of the room before Abra finished the question, and moving fast to his grandmother’s bedroom.

Close on his heels, Abra hurried in to see Hester, white as the sheets, sitting up in bed. Her breath came too fast, and the hands she reached out to Eli shook.

Abra darted into the bathroom for water.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. Take it easy, Gran.”

“Here, Hester, drink a little water. Remember your breathing.” Abra’s voice was a balm over a wound. “Hold the glass for her, Eli, while I fix the pillows. I want you to relax back now, breathe.”

Hester kept one hand gripped on Eli’s, sipped slowly before she let Abra ease her back against the pillows.

“I heard a noise.”

“I ran upstairs,” Eli began. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No.” Her eyes on Eli’s, Hester shook her head. “That night. That night, I heard a noise. I got up because I heard a noise. I remember . . . I remember getting up.”

“What kind of noise?”

“Footsteps. I thought . . . but then I thought I was imagining things. Old houses make noise. I’m used to it. The wind, I thought, but it was still, almost still that night. Just the house creaking like an old woman. I thought I’d make some tea, some of that special herbal tea you got for me, Abra. It’s soothing. I’d make tea and I’d be able to sleep again. I got up to go downstairs.

“It’s in pieces. It’s all in pieces.”

“It’s all right, Gran. You don’t have to remember it all.”

Her grip tightened. “I saw something. I saw someone. Someone in the house. Did I run? Did I fall? I don’t remember.”