The Beach at Painter's Cove Page 3

  Issy heard the detective’s footsteps just seconds before he entered the room, barely giving her time to stifle a yawn and smooth the front of her dress. A few minutes later he would have found her, like Amanda, facedown in the Yodels.

  “Ms. Whitaker?”

  His voice boomed over the lowered volume of the television. Griffin sighed and fell back asleep. Mandy’s head lifted, she saw Issy. “I knew you’d come get us.”

  She launched herself out of the chair and threw both arms around Issy’s waist. Issy, to her discredit, wondered if she would find chocolate smears on her dress when she boarded the shuttle in a few hours.

  Griffin sat bolt upright. “Mommy?” He looked around, spotted Isabelle, and burst into tears.

  Stephanie didn’t bother to look up.

  “Easy, guy. She’ll be coming for you soon.” At least Issy hoped so.

  “I want her now.”

  So do I, Issy thought. So do we all.

  “Have you heard from their parents?” Griggs interjected.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  “They left us!” Amanda cried, and clung to Issy.

  She peeled Amanda from her waist. “Did you talk with your mom or dad after they left? They’re probably just out on a date.”

  Amanda shook her head. “She packed our suitcases and said we had to stay with Grammy. And left us. Steph got really mad.”

  “Shut up,” came from Steph’s lowered head.

  Issy ignored her. “When did they leave?”

  Amanda shrugged. Looked at Detective Griggs. Maybe Issy should just be posing her questions to him; surely he had questioned the children. He didn’t seem too intimidating, about five-eight, chunky, black buzz cut, wearing shirtsleeves in deference to the weather.

  “She said the mother dropped them off after her ballet lesson. She goes to that on Monday. They drove straight to Mrs. Whitaker’s, where she left them. She didn’t tell them when she’d return.”

  Issy looked toward Steph for confirmation, but she was deliberately ignoring them. Issy felt a punch to the gut.

  Man, did she recognize that expression. She’d worn it plenty of times during her own childhood. So what if you’ve got a famous mother, if she didn’t even bother to come to your school play, parents’ night, graduation, your—fill in the blank—or if one day she dropped you off at Grammy’s and never came back for you.

  Issy would give everyone that same look as she died the death of a thousand humiliations. “Or a weekend away. Even parents get vacations.”

  “Do you think that’s what they did?” Amanda said hopefully.

  “I want to go home,” Griffin cried.

  Issy turned her attention to the detective. “You didn’t find out anything?”

  He shook his head. “I can put out a missing persons on them, but I need a member of the family to authorize it.”

  Issy nodded. She didn’t see much else they could do. What if there really was something wrong, and this wasn’t just Vivienne pulling a Jillian York.

  “She’s calling on Saturday.”

  Issy and the detective both swiveled in the direction of the voice. Steph was still bent over her phone. She hadn’t moved but Issy knew the voice belonged to her.

  “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” the detective asked.

  “You didn’t ask.” Stephanie never looked up from the phone.

  “In that case, Ms. Whitaker, if you’ll sign for them, they’re all yours.”

  “Mine?”

  Mandy and Griffin straightened up. Even Steph’s thumbs paused before taking up again.

  “If you’re willing.”

  Wasn’t that part of the reason she’d just driven from the city? And who else was there? She looked at the kids. Amanda and Griffin were looking tear-streaked and hopeful. Stephanie still hadn’t even glanced up but Issy knew what she was thinking as surely as if she were in her place, and oh heavens, how many times had she been right there?

  “Sure.”

  The room seemed to relax. The detective exhaled audibly.

  “Just until your mom comes to get you. Can I take them home?”

  “Locally?”

  “Yes, we’ll be staying at my grandmother’s home at the shore. It’s called Muses by the Sea. You might know it.” She gave him the address.

  “You’ll be sure to inform me when you’ve made contact with one or both of the Bannisters. If you don’t hear from them and need to take the next step—” He handed her a card.

  “Thank you.”

  He cocked his head and looked speculatively at her. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Issy looked at him in mock surprise and lowered her voice. “A bawling five-year-old, a histrionic nine-year-old, and a sullen teenager? Piece of cake.”

  He held the clipboard while she signed it then raised both eyebrows. “Will you be okay? Shall I try to find someone to walk you out?”

  “Thanks but we’re good. Come on, guys, we’re going to Grammy’s.”

  Griffin slid off the couch and glommed to her side. Amanda latched on to her belt, which stretched with each step she took as she ushered them toward the door.

  At least Stephanie had stood and was shuffling behind them on her own steam.

  This must be the way pack mules felt, Issy thought as they lumbered down the corridor toward the exit. Pack mules. She must be really tired. Of course she was. Long days, longer nights. Missed meals and little sleep. One installation opened tonight. Another leaving in a few hours, maybe already gone. And how was she going to make it back to Queens in time for the early D.C. shuttle?

  What was she going to do with three children? She supposed she could just put them all on the shuttle with her and get Deirdre to find someone to babysit. Or get Deirdre to babysit. Just deserts.

  Somehow none of that sounded like a good idea. What if Vivienne came back and they were gone? Holy cow, she’d have Issy arrested for child abduction.

  But Issy couldn’t stay here with them. Maybe Great-Aunt Fae would be home when they got there, though Issy wasn’t sure she was up to taking care of them. And where could Fae possibly be? Amanda said they hadn’t seen her. Several scenarios passed through Issy’s mind, none of them with a happy ending. She pushed the images away.

  Maybe Mrs. Norcroft would be willing to oversee them if Issy offered her more money. But could Issy leave her grandmother in the hospital with no family members to watch out for her?

  She’d just have to fly back and forth until the exhibit was installed, launched, and running. She looked at her phone to see if she’d somehow missed Vivienne’s return call. Nothing.

  She stifled a yawn. First things first. Get these kids to the Muses and find someone to watch them until she could find her sister or make permanent arrangements.

  What on earth had her sister been thinking to leave them with their great-grandmother? Leo was in great shape for someone who was eighty-three—four? But she couldn’t take care of three kids. Fae was younger by about six or seven years, but she would never be a reliable child-care provider. Fae was the least reliable person Issy had ever known, though she loved her dearly.

  They were several feet from the exit when the door whooshed open; a man rushed in and barely managed to skid to a stop in front of them. His arms stretched out as if he might grab them—Issy’s first thought—or was trying to herd them—before he said, “Sorry, sorry,” danced around the little group, and headed to the information desk.

  Issy knew just how he felt. The call in the middle of the night, the rush to the hospital, she just hoped his ride didn’t end in heartache.

  She gathered Amanda and Griffin closer and was about to lead them out when she heard the man say, “Leonore . . .”

  Issy stopped, causing a boomerang effect with the youngest children.

  “Whitaker.”

  “He’s talking about Grammy,” Amanda said in a whisper.

  “Do you know him?” Issy whispered back. He
was dressed in wrinkled jeans and a T-shirt, holey running shoes with no socks, and with his hair sticking up like he just woke up.

  She squinted at him. He looked slightly familiar. She guided the others back toward the information desk. “Excuse me.”

  He’d just turned in the opposite direction toward the bank of elevators, but he completed the turn all the way back to Issy in an awkward pirouette.

  “Are you talking to me?”

  Issy nodded. “I heard you ask about Leonore Whitaker.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m . . .” She stopped, really looked at him, kind of sandy hair, grayish-blue eyes, nice enough face. But it was the hair, the way it stuck up on one side like he’d just gotten out of bed . . . “Ben?”

  He jumped as if one of the kids had goosed him; Issy quickly looked around for the culprit, but they were all standing behind her.

  “Ben Collins?”

  “Yes. Do I know you?”

  Issy grinned, started to laugh. Totally inappropriate. It must be fatigue . . . she hadn’t had much sleep in the last week, but this was no time to get punch-drunk. She tightened her mouth. Shook her head. Covered her face with her hand. Snorted a laugh.

  Griffin started to cry.

  “Aunt Issy,” Amanda moaned. “You’re scaring us.”

  “I am so sorry. The stress of the evening. I heard you ask about my grandmother and I thought . . .” What? That a total stranger could tell her what the hell was going on. But he wasn’t a total stranger, and maybe he would have a clue.

  “I’m Issy Whitaker. Chloe and I were in the same grade at school.” They’d been unlikely comrades, porcelain complexioned and blond, Chloe was a mother’s delight, cheerful, neat, with a streak of mischief she kept well hidden by a naturally happy disposition. And the dark-haired, dark-eyed, sullen Isabelle, who wouldn’t recognize her mother in a crowd, who felt more comfortable among the cigars, brandies, and arguments of middle-aged artists than on the playground. And yet they’d become friends. Ben was Chloe’s older brother, a science nerd and worshipped by his sister and her friend Issy.

  “Issy? Good grief. I would never have recognized you. You’ve—” He seemed to stall for words.

  “Grown?” Issy supplied. She felt another giggle about to erupt. What was wrong with her? She slammed down on it.

  “That, too. How is she?”

  “The doctor said it was a mild—oh God, I can’t remember the name—” She took a deep breath. “Something to do with her heart, but minor and some bruises and dehydration and she’ll be fine.”

  She was surprised by a yawn. “Sorry. I’m just sleep deprived and not thinking clearly.”

  “I can understand. Don’t you work in Manhattan?”

  “Yes I was at work when the hospital called. I came straight from the museum, which is why I’m . . .” She gestured to her dress, the worse for a two-hour drive and Mandy’s sticky fingers.

  “They look like they hurt like hell,” he said, gesturing to her shoes.

  “They do. I’m not sure why you’re here. Did the hospital call you, too?”

  “Actually Fae asked me to come.”

  “Fae? Where is she? The kids said—”

  “These are your kids?”

  She shook her head. “My sister’s. Evidently they’re staying with Leo and Fae for a while.”

  He blew out air. “That’s what she meant. I was beginning to wonder.”

  “About what? Where is Fae? Amanda said she wasn’t there.” This time she managed to cover her yawn with her hand.

  “You look beat. What are you going to do with these guys?”

  “Take them back to the Muses for now.”

  “And not make us be orphans,” cried Amanda.

  “You’re not an orphan,” Issy said, too tired by now to even be annoyed.

  “But we’re starving,” she complained.

  “I want to go to McDonald’s,” mumbled Griffin, and started to cry again.

  “Oh, man up, Griff,” Steph said with disgust, and stuck her earbuds back in.

  She couldn’t have said it better herself, Issy thought. “Is Fae all right? Is she at home?”

  “She and Chloe are both at my house. She’s been out of town and she saw the ambulance drive away as she arrived. She sent me to see about Leo. It’s a long convoluted story.” He glanced around at the children. “Why don’t I drive you all to the Muses and I’ll call Chloe to bring Fae and some food, though I’m guessing those two will be asleep when they hit the seat.

  “And that one.” He flicked his head toward Stephanie. “We’ll just plug her into the car lighter and reboot her.”

  Issy glanced at Steph just in time to see her eyes widen, then close as if she hadn’t heard.

  He scooped Griffin up. Gestured the others toward the doorway.

  “Thanks but I have my car,” Issy said. “I’ll find a drive-thru on our way, and if you tell me where you live, I’ll also pick up Fae.”

  “You’re not driving anywhere tonight. You might yawn yourself into a ditch.”

  She knew he was right. Now that she was here, exhaustion was sweeping over her. “I have to be on the morning shuttle to D.C.”

  He stuttered to a stop. “And I suppose you’re driving yourself to LaGuardia or Logan as soon as you drop these guys off.”

  “If there’s someone to keep them. I have a huge installation beginning in the morning. I can be back by tomorrow night.”

  “Same old Issy,” he said.

  She wanted to ask him what he meant but she was just too tired.

  “I’ll drive your car, providing we’ll all fit.” He lifted his eyebrows in question.

  “SUV.”

  “And Chloe can bring me back for my truck in the morning.” He stuck out his hand and opened his fingers.

  Issy didn’t think about arguing; she dropped her keys in his palm.

  Chapter 3

  The familiar sound of gravel brought Issy bolt upright in her seat as her SUV passed beneath the wrought-iron arches of the Muses. She couldn’t really see them, but she felt them in the darkness. For the briefest second she was a child and seeing the house for the first time. She didn’t know then that it would soon be her home.

  And here she was again. She sat still as the fog in her mind cleared. Grammy was in the hospital, Vivienne’s kids were in the backseat, Ben Collins was driving them home.

  She glanced to her left. Yep. Ben Collins was driving her car.

  Issy pulled her skirt down in a futile attempt to appear put together and awake rather than lost in a total stupor. Only a few short hours ago she was at the museum, preparing for her next opening. Looking forward to a busy summer, and now . . .

  “Sorry. I must have dozed off.” She peered out the window. “You know I’d recognize that gravel anywhere. It has a crunch unique unto itself.”

  Ben flashed her a smile. “The sound of coming home.”

  “Well, I’m not sure about that.” It had been her home, but she hadn’t thought of it as home for a long time. Tonight the old mansion and the grounds were lit up as if they were expecting her. They had been expected that night, too. She remembered it had looked like . . .

  “Christmas,” Issy said wistfully. “It’s lit up like Christmas.”

  “I’m surprised you remember.”

  Issy cut him a look. She hadn’t spent Christmas at the Muses since college. She hadn’t visited at all since her grandfather died.

  Ben pulled the SUV up to the front door and turned off the ignition. “All ashore who’s going ashore,” he announced.

  He got out and opened the back door, lifted a groggy Griffin to his shoulder then waited for Mandy to climb out.

  Stephanie just sat there.

  “Out,” he said at the same time Stephanie opened the opposite door. She slid out of the car without looking up.

  Issy opened her own door and practically fell out of the front seat. Yelped when her bare feet met the gravel. She leaned back into the car and r
ummaged on the floor until she found her shoes.

  When she straightened up, the children had all stopped at the bottom step, their faces lifted to the apparition that had appeared in a nimbus of porch light.

  Issy hesitated only for a moment before she recognized her great-aunt Fae. She was dressed in flowing gown of floral gauze. A wreath of flowers sat askew and slightly wilting on a head of wild gray curls. Perennial flower child from an era that ended before any of the others were born.

  Fae raised her arms in welcome, but before Issy could move, the front door opened and Chloe rushed out holding a wooden spoon. Chloe Collins, blond and plump, funny and kind, and Issy’s best friend since kindergarten.

  “Issy!” she squealed, and wrapped arms and spoon around Issy, nearly knocking her off her feet. “You look wonderful. Ben, get those children inside, and then bring Issy’s luggage in. You do have luggage, don’t you? How long are you staying?”

  She chatted as she guided Issy up the stairs and deposited her in front of Fae, before scuttling the children through the door. Ben grabbed Issy’s suitcase and computer case before Issy could tell him not to, and followed his sister into the house.

  “Aunt Fae.” Issy gave her great-aunt a hug. Fae felt fragile, almost as light as air. As if she was becoming one of her paintings, slowly disappearing from view.

  Fae just smiled beatifically. Issy’s smile wavered. Did she even recognize Issy?

  “It’s all right, Aunt Fae. I talked to the doctor and she’s going to be fine.” Issy patted the older woman’s back.

  Fae grasped both Issy’s hands in hers. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have gone. But Leo said she’d be fine and—well, she’s not exactly alone, lots of people look in on her. And I was only gone a week.

  “She didn’t tell me the children were coming. I didn’t know what children they were talking about.”

  “Who was talking about?”

  Ben stepped onto the porch. “The hospital when Fae called. Chloe says come and eat.”

  “I didn’t know about the children. I wouldn’t have gone.”

  “I don’t think Leo knew they were coming,” Issy said, finally able to loosen her aunt’s hold and guide her to the front door. “According to Amanda, their mother packed their suitcases and drove them here. Nothing about making plans.”