A Beach Wish Page 24

  He should go to the police station and file a complaint. But Henry and Floret would hate that. And it wouldn’t do any good. The chief lived in a big house in the suburbs. Rumor had it he was completely overextended. And in Hannah Gordon’s pocket.

  He stopped short for a red light.

  Hell. The woman should be sitting at home spoiling her grandchildren instead of driving the town nuts with her obsessive greed.

  As far as David was concerned, that was their problem, until she attacked his family. Henry and Floret could take care of themselves, and it was their choice to ignore Hannah. But Eli was hands-off and if she couldn’t figure that out by herself, David would make it clear. He was done with ignoring the old woman.

  As for Zoe Bascombe, he wished she had never come, but she had, and she didn’t deserve to be bullied or injured by the old witch. David would let Hannah know that Zoe was off limits, too.

  The Cadillac was parked in the driveway of her clapboard house. She was just getting out, pulling a sparsely filled yellow grocery bag out from the seat behind her.

  David stopped the station wagon across the drive. Not that he thought she would try to escape. She was on her home turf.

  He pulled the keys from the ignition, got out, and cut across the grass to intercept her by her front door.

  She walked right past him to the door, unlocked it, and started to go inside. He reached over her and pulled the door shut.

  If he was going to bully an old woman, he was going to do it where the world could see.

  “Get off my property or I’ll have you arrested.”

  “Oh, save it for the rest of this town, Hannah. I don’t care what you do. If you want to carry on this ridiculous fight with Henry and Floret, be my guest. But you leave my nephew out of it. And you tell Lee to stay away from me and mine. Do you understand me?”

  “I’m not deaf, boy. And I’ll do as I please. So take yourself off. And take your nephew with you. And as far as Henry and Floret . . . I’ll own Wind Chime and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Stop it, you ridiculous old woman. Either you stay away from us or you’ll be served with a restraining order.”

  Her mouth twisted into some semblance of a smile. God, she was like a cartoon villain. Except her actions had real-life consequences. And he’d probably just provoked her into exacting a new revenge.

  He turned while she sneered at him, got back in the station wagon, and drove away. What had he been thinking? He tried to stay out of the day-to-day machinations of small-town life. He prided himself on his objectivity, observing the changing dynamics with the same unfettered eye that captured the most honest photos. Only today, he had let his temper get the better of him, for Eli, for Henry and Floret, and strangely enough for the intrusive, annoying stranger who seemed determined to upturn their lives.

  Well, it was done. Now it was up to Hannah. In a few weeks Eli would be gone, David would be back in the field, and things here would go back to the way they always were. It couldn’t happen soon enough for David. He just hoped he hadn’t made it worse.

  Eve sat across from Zoe, watching her, noticing how the vivacious young woman who had arrived at the inn less than a week ago was looking tired. There were dark half-moons under her eyes; her features were drawn. She was scraped and bruised and in pain.

  Her sister, physically attacked by her own grandmother, denied by her father. She didn’t know why Zoe didn’t just spread Jenny’s ashes and leave. What could possibly hold her here?

  Eve was afraid to believe that she might be the reason for Zoe staying this long. Her sister. It was an odd sensation. She’d never lacked for the company of sisters and brothers when they had lived at the commune. But now that she actually had a sister of her own, she was loath to let her go.

  She didn’t miss the irony of wanting to keep Zoe here while pushing Mel out the door. Maybe college wasn’t right for Mel; if she really didn’t want to go or wasn’t ready to go, maybe she’d like to travel with Eve instead. They could see the world together.

  Maybe Zoe would go with them. Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon. Eve had never been to either. Hell, Paris, Rome. The pyramids. They’d see the sights, she and Zoe and Mel. And Noelle, too, if she wanted. They’d visit Harmony and her family on holidays the way other families did.

  She could put the inn up for sale. She’d gotten several offers for it over the years. She owned it outright; she’d paid back Hannah’s down payment years ago.

  And when the money ran out, she’d do something else. Far from her manipulative grandmother and her erratic father.

  But would Zoe want to go? She looked across at her sister, but she seemed lost in her own world. Was she thinking about how soon she could leave? Eve wanted to ask, but she was afraid of the answer.

  “What are those?” Zoe asked into the silence.

  Eve looked at the stack of Jenny’s letters that she’d taken out to reread. In her haste to get to the door earlier, she’d not put them away.

  “I meant to tell you . . . but so much has been happening. You know how Jenny said she wrote me letters? I went to my grandmother’s Sunday. God, has it only been two days?”

  “I know. It seems like decades.”

  “I asked her about the letters. What had happened to them.” Eve still couldn’t wrap her mind around Hannah’s reaction. “She’d kept them all these years. Together, tied up like love letters from an old war. She didn’t even bother to deny it. Just said she’d known this day would come and pointed to a drawer in the sideboard. And there they were.

  "Jenny really did send me letters.” Eve reached out and touched them, not to keep Zoe from seeing them, but because she still couldn’t believe they were real.

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” Zoe said. “I’m just glad that Hannah, for whatever reason, kept them.”

  “You can read them.” Eve pushed them in Zoe’s direction.

  “Someday, if you want. But not now. For now, they’re yours, just yours. Something that belongs only to you.”

  “Thanks,” Eve said. “I’ll just put them away, then.” She scooped them off the table, but pulled one off the bottom. “This one is yours. I kept it to show Dad, but you should keep it now.”

  Zoe took the letter that just a few short days ago had changed all their lives. It no longer had the feel of the crisp, clean sheets of paper that she’d first read. Now it was crumpled and had been folded over and over. Held by hands that had belonged to strangers then, but who were family—for better or worse—now.

  “Thanks.” She put it in her bag.

  “Are you hungry?” Eve asked.

  Hungry, thought Zoe. She should probably be hungry. But like a tightrope walker without a net, she was desperately trying to stay focused on her mission with the ashes and not on all the unexpected craziness that was bombarding her at every turn.

  “I think so.”

  Eve popped out of her chair. “There’s gazpacho in the fridge and some good bread.” She started toward the kitchen, stopped. “Or I could call Mike and he’ll send over whatever you want.”

  “Gazpacho’s fine.”

  The soup was good, but Zoe’s appetite was losing the battle to the throbbing in her elbows, knees, and shoulder.

  And her mind screamed for closure. Longed for peace. She tried to conjure up the sound of the chimes in her head. So peaceful. She’d been trying to capture them in music since the first day she’d heard them; she’d come close, but close wasn’t close enough.

  But the attempt had set off feelings she’d pushed to the side for years. Had almost convinced herself she’d forgotten . . . until she came here. Now it was back. Music. Like a bird in a cage. No. That wasn’t the song. Like a rat.

  “I have to go.”

  “Why don’t you stay here tonight? Noelle’s room is pretty comfortable and she picks up her clothes.”

  Eve smiled tentatively, and it broke Zoe’s heart. You could be my mother, she thoug
ht. How could she be a sister? She needed Chris. She needed to go home.

  If only she’d taken the ashes to Henry and Floret the first day. Explained to them what she wanted to do. It would be over by now. And she would be home. Except where was home? Not Long Island and not here.

  She didn’t have a home. And she didn’t have a job. What the hell was she going to do?

  “Sorry. Thanks for the soup. I’ll talk to you tom— I’ll talk to you.” She was backing toward the door. “I’m sure Henry and Floret will take care of Mel, so don’t worry.”

  She fumbled for the doorknob, caught the look of dismay on Eve’s face, and slipped out the door.

  Outside, the stillness of twilight—and loneliness—settled over Zoe, dug its way inside her, twisted and squeezed as she limped to the inn and down the hall to the elevator.

  She jabbed at the button, half seeing. Took a deep breath and another as she rode to the third floor.

  Her sister had her own family who needed her. Her grandmother had just tried to mow her down; her brothers were furious with her over a simple wish that might tear her family apart. It was time for her to finish what she’d come for and get out of Dodge.

  She made her way slowly and painfully back to her room, where she closed the drapes, shutting out the sun and the rest of the world. But not her cell phone. As she placed it on the dresser, it rang. She ignored it and went to run a bath. It was ringing again when she came out.

  She looked at the little rectangle of light in the dark. Errol. Great. He’d left a voice mail. “Please call me.” She deleted it. Powered down the phone.

  She groped her way over to the closet and took the urn out of the tote bag. Felt her way back to the dresser, placed the urn on top.

  “Did you have any idea what you were about to unleash?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. It didn’t matter. And it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

  The room was dark when Zoe awoke the next morning. She knew it was morning because there was a sliver of light dancing along the wall next to the blackout curtains. Another sunny day, she guessed, before she rolled over in bed, sending shock waves radiating through her body. The ungodly events of the day before began to slowly unreel in the darkness.

  She got out of bed, unleashing a few more jolts of pain. Her grandmother had hit her, then threatened her. Her brother had called. She hadn’t called him back. She stumbled over to the desk. Powered up the phone. Messages and calls pinged on the screen. She scrolled through a list of calls—Errol, Errol, Robert, Chris, Errol—which she ignored. Texts—Errol, Chris, Joyce Redfern from the agency she’d recommended to Noelle. She read that one.

  Loved Noelle. We could use an intern for the project division. Call me. Want to chat.

  Started to put the phone down. What had she been thinking? What if there was an emergency? At least from Chris. The others had their own families. They probably just wanted to argue.

  But Chris was different. Maybe Errol had gotten to him, too. Urging him to get Zoe to change her mind. It wasn’t even her mind. It was just her duty.

  She wouldn’t put Chris in the middle of this. Her life was already screwed. No reason to wreck his, too.

  She wanted coffee, but she needed to deal with Errol first. And where was Robert in all of this? He, of course, would defer to Errol; he always did. They all did. When their father had packed his suitcase and walked out the door, Errol had become head of the family. He wore the role well.

  She pressed call.

  Errol picked up immediately. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I went to bed early.” And I’m tired, sore, alone, and I couldn’t face any more incriminations.

  “Are you still there? In whatever that town’s called. Have you done it yet?”

  “I— No. Not yet.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “I have to. It was her last wish.”

  “I don’t understand you, none of us do. To throw us over for people who made her an outcast. She was obviously not in her right mind.”

  “Errol, don’t. You’re not helping.”

  “Don’t do a thing. I’m getting a court order to stop you.”

  A court order? Was he nuts? “You can’t do that. These are her final wishes. She wrote them down long before she died.”

  “Well, it’s no longer up to her. Or you. You’re not even a Bascombe.”

  His words knocked the breath out of her lungs, the strength from her legs, and she dropped onto the edge of the unmade bed.

  A court order? This was crazy.

  “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes. Errol. Please don’t do this. It’s hard enough losing her, don’t do this.”

  “Too late. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Until then, don’t do anything with those ashes. You’ll be in contempt if you do.”

  “Errol! No!”

  He ended the call. She just held the silent phone while her stomach heaved.

  And a searing anger passed through her. She turned on the urn.

  “See what you’ve done? Forty years against a couple of summer months at a hippie commune and ten minutes of stand-up sex in a dressing room eighteen years later. You’d tear your family apart for that?

  “What is this? The ultimate passive-aggressive act of a well-ordered life? Only you get to be passive and I have to do all the aggression. What am I supposed to do?”

  The urn sat silent on the dresser top. No longer beautiful in its simplicity, but as cold and sleek as a Hollywood femme fatale.

  “I should have dumped you by the side of the road in New Haven. I could be back in the city looking for another job. Finding an apartment. Getting a life.”

  She covered her face with her hands. What was she saying? This was her mother. You’re not even a Bascombe.

  Maybe she wasn’t a part of their family anymore. But she was still her mother’s daughter.

  And what was “contempt” anyway? Could they put her in jail if she spread the ashes? Was she willing to risk it? Would they go through a lengthy court battle over who had custody of their mother’s remains? Did people do that?

  The whole thing was ludicrous. She stood. Went into the bathroom where she smeared herself with Floret’s mixtures, then dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. Not exactly funeral clothes, but she still wasn’t sure what she planned to do. And if she had to run for her life on the way, she’d be prepared.

  Besides, she couldn’t sit here waiting for some police officer to come and wrest the urn from her hands. Jenny Bascombe would be mortified. Though, Zoe thought wistfully, Jenny Campbell, band groupie and rock-star paramour, might be willing to fight for her right to be buried where she chose.

  Where did Zoe’s duty lie? You are among my dearest friends. They will guide you through and see you safe.

  Henry and Floret. Zoe grabbed the tote and slid the urn inside. She’d come back later for the rest of her things.

  Eve poured herself a cup of coffee and wandered into the living room. It seemed too quiet. Henry had called the night before to say Mel was staying at Wind Chime. Noelle was in New York with Chris Bascombe.

  She wanted to call Zoe and see if she wanted to come over for coffee or meet downstairs for breakfast. But she didn’t want to wake her; she’d looked like she was about to drop when she left last night.

  Her phone rang.

  Noelle. Eve mentally crossed her fingers. Please be good news, she thought, while feeling a pang of suddenly wanting to keep her close.

  “Mom!”

  Good news. You could always tell with Noelle.

  “I got the job! They have this new project that sounds perfect, but they want me to start in two weeks. I told them I had to clear it with my current employer.”

  “Wow. That soon? What current employer?”

  “You, Mom. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, especially with all the stuff that’s going on.”

  “Honey, this is just what you wanted. Go for it. But you’ll have to find a place
to live, pack your stuff.”

  “Mom, chill, I’ll figure it out. And Chris said he will help.”

  “That’s great, honey. I knew once they had time to consider . . .”

  “Yeah, plus I talked with Zoe’s graphics friend. She liked me, too. So I kind of threw it out that I was being considered for another position. Well, she didn’t say thanks, but no thanks, so I just . . . you know . . .”

  Eve laughed. “I do indeed.” Of course she did. Noelle had a streak of her mom in her, Eve thought proudly. She was proud of all her girls, but she was most envious of Noelle for getting away.

  “When are you coming home? We’ll have a celebratory dinner.”

  “Tomorrow night. It’ll be a quick turnaround.”

  She already sounded like a New Yorker.

  “But dinner would be great. And maybe . . . should we invite Granddad? He hasn’t really met Zoe, officially.”

  No, thought Eve, he hadn’t, but he’d made his feelings clear. “It might be a little too early for him. But we’ll see.”

  “Oh, and tell Zoe to call Chris. He’s been trying to call her. I guess their brothers are being weird about the whole burial thing.”

  “Oh, dear. I’ll tell her.”

  “Gotta run.”

  “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you. Love you.”

  “Thanks. Love you, too. This is just what I want. See you soon.”

  “See you soon.” Just what I want. Eve sure hoped she was right. It was a big move. But Eve wasn’t worried at all. Not about Noelle. Now, if she could just get Mel on solid ground . . .

  Eve sipped her coffee and walked back into the kitchen. Maybe she’d just go upstairs to see how Zoe was feeling.

  Her phone rang. Noelle again? She was excited.

  “Eve, this is David. Kelly’s Diner has just been shut down by the health department. This is Hannah’s doing. Call her off before this gets really nasty. There are a lot of pissed-off people outside. I think they’ve had enough of Hannah Gordon.”

  Eve’s mouth went dry. “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter 21

  Zoe had barely left the hotel when she saw people hurrying down the sidewalk, all heading in the same direction. Something was going on that for once couldn’t have anything to do with her. Maybe it was the farmers’ market she’d heard about. Or one of the locals had a new truck.