A Christmas Howl (5 page)

Imelda paused, then issued a correction. “Well, to tell the truth, we didn't really care about the tennis. We both had huge crushes on the club's pro. You've never seen two teenage girls take so many tennis lessons in a single summer. I think between the two of us we must have monopolized his entire schedule.”

She took a moment to enjoy the memory. Then Imelda looked at Peg, cocked her head to one side, and said, “Sarah Turnbull was your mother-in-law.”

“She was indeed,” Peg agreed. She added, perhaps unnecessarily, “We were
not
close.”

“No . . . I was quite aware of that.”

“The two of you spoke of me?”

“Only once or twice in passing.”

“I'm surprised it wasn't more often,” Peg said bluntly. “Sarah seemed to have a lot to say about me, at least when I was listening. She saw me as the interloper in her perfect family. The hussy who'd had the audacity to seduce away her younger son.”

Imelda permitted herself a small nod. “Quite so. Although I'm not sure I would have phrased it just that way.”

“I'm hoping we can speak to each other honestly,” said Peg.

‘The most honest thing I know is that Sarah didn't like you very much.”

“I'm well aware of that.” Peg paused for a sip of tea. “She never made any secret of the fact.”

“But now . . . Sarah's been gone for nearly a year. Surely this is all past history?”

“It is indeed,” Peg agreed. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about Sarah's relationship with another family member. Obviously you know my husband, Max, who was her younger son. But did Sarah ever speak to you about her older son, Michael?”

“The one who stole her money?”

Peg swallowed a gulp of tea. It burned all the way down her throat. She coughed several times, then finally caught her breath.

“You said you wanted to speak honestly,” Imelda chided. “So that's precisely what I'm doing. Bear in mind that if Sarah were still alive, I wouldn't have said a word about that. I'd have turned you around and sent you right back to Sarah herself. She could have answered your questions or not as she chose. But under the present circumstances, I don't see the harm in telling you what I know.”

“Please do,” Peg invited. She set her teacup aside. “I'd like to hear everything.”

“As you may know, toward the end of her life Sarah wasn't a happy woman. She felt as though she'd failed as a mother. Both of her sons had disappointed her greatly.”

“Max did so by marrying me,” said Peg.

Imelda nodded.

“And Michael?”

“According to what Sarah told me, he appropriated a rather large sum of money from her.”

“No,” said Peg. “That's not right. Sarah gave him that money. It was to be invested on her behalf.”

“In the beginning, yes, that was how it started. It wasn't how things ended, however. I believe Michael was in need of a new job.”

Peg nodded.

“Sarah knew that he was struggling. Not much got past her. Plus, she made it her business to keep tabs. And Michael had a family to support. His children were Sarah's grandchildren. The only ones she was ever going to have.”

Peg could scarcely overlook
that
fact. It had been a bone of contention for years.

“She felt it was her duty to step in and set him back on the right path. Sarah was sure that her intervention could make all the difference to Michael. She pulled some strings and secured another position for him. Her own investment account was included as part of the package.”

“Michael lost her money by making poor investments,” said Peg. “Dabbling in junk bonds and currency trading.”

“That was what Sarah thought at first. That was what she had been told.”

“Told by whom?” asked Peg.

“By Michael, her beloved older son.” Imelda sighed. “He had convinced her to put the funds in a joint account. He told her that sometimes decisions had to be made quickly and that it would be better if the account was set up to allow both of them access. Sarah never questioned the wisdom of that. Michael was not just her financial adviser, he was her child. She trusted him implicitly.”

“Dear Lord,” Peg said under her breath. She was beginning to get an inkling of where this was heading.

“Some of Sarah's money was lost to bad investments, but not all of it. The remaining funds simply . . . disappeared.”

Peg sat up straight. “What do you mean?”

“They vanished.” Imelda waved hand through the air. “Poof! As though they had never existed.”

“Where did they go?”

“Your guess is probably as good as Sarah's. She suspected the Cayman Islands.”

Peg was incredulous at this new twist. “Sarah
knew
about that?”

“Not at first. But eventually . . . yes. Your mother-in-law wasn't a foolish woman by any means. She understood finances. She knew how money could and should be made to work by those who had it. When a large portion of her estate went missing, she went looking for it.”

“Did she find it?”

“Near enough,” Imelda replied. “I don't think she ever discovered all the details, but there was sufficient evidence for her to reach a very unpleasant conclusion.”

“Holy cow,” said Peg. She'd come to Imelda hoping to find answers, but she certainly hadn't expected that one.

Then that realization was followed quickly by another: Max would be horrified by this information. He'd be appalled by his brother's betrayal. Even worse, he would most likely feel responsible.

Peg quickly cast the disturbing thought away. The most important thing now was to keep Imelda talking. “What did Sarah do next?” she asked.

“Nothing. As far as I know, she never said a word about it to either of her sons.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Think about it,” Imelda said. “You know how much family meant to Sarah. She knew that revealing what she'd found out would tear everything she cared about to pieces. Accusing her own son of stealing from her? Even if he was guilty—perhaps especially if he was guilty—Michael would never have forgiven her.”

“Even so,” said Peg. “How could she just let him get away with doing such a despicable thing?”

“Sarah felt she had no choice. The disclosure would have pitted her two sons against one another. It would have ruined her grandchildren's lives. Ultimately she knew she couldn't allow that to happen. I'm quite certain that was why Sarah spoke to me about it. The knowledge was eating away at her. She
needed
to tell somebody. And there was no one else she could confide in.”

Peg sat in silence for a moment, processing what she'd been told.

“I find this all quite shocking,” she said finally.

“As did I,” Imelda replied. “Not to mention Sarah herself. I know she subsequently made an adjustment to her will. Something to address the wrongdoing and restore the balance going forward, she said. She wanted Michael to know—even if it wasn't until after she died—that he hadn't gotten away scot-free.”

Peg shook her head. She felt unbalanced, reeling from the scope of what she'd learned. It was as though she'd picked at one small thread and unexpectedly ended up unraveling an entire quilt. She lifted the ruby Cavalier and set her gently aside on the couch, then rose to her feet.

“That explains quite a lot,” Peg said. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

“It's what Sarah would have wanted me to do. Although quite frankly, I had expected to be having this conversation with your husband.”

Peg had taken a step toward the door. Now she stopped and turned. “Excuse me?”

“Max,” said Imelda. “After Sarah died, I thought I would hear from him.”

“Why is that?”

“Sarah warned me it might happen. She told me that she'd left a private note for Max among her papers. She let him know that if he had any questions about the choices she had made, he should contact me for clarification. But he never did.”

For a long moment, Peg simply stood still. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She and Max shared everything. She couldn't believe that he'd never said a thing.

“Max would have received that note almost a year ago,” she said quietly.

“I take it he didn't mention it to you?”

Peg shook her head.

“Perhaps he was afraid you might take matters into your own hands.”

The thought hung in the air between them. Neither woman felt obliged to voice it aloud.

“Max should have told me.” With effort, Peg tamped down her irritation. “We could have discussed the matter. Of course, I would have respected his wishes.”

Even before the words were said, Peg realized they were a lie. Max
had
asked her to leave things alone. And yet here she was.

“You've given me a lot to think about,” she told Imelda.

The other woman rose from her seat as well. Sophie hopped down from the couch and the three Cavaliers eddied around Imelda's legs as she followed Peg to the front hall.

“Not all of it bad, I hope?” she said as she retrieved Peg's things from the closet.

“No indeed,” Peg replied. “I asked the questions. I wanted to know. That was hardly your fault.” She slipped on her warm, wool coat and deliberately changed the subject. “I assume I'll be seeing you next month at Westminster?”

“Of course,” Imelda replied. “I wouldn't miss a minute of it. How's that specials dog of yours doing? Is he ready for his big day?”

“Targa.” Just saying his name made Peg smile. “He's wonderful. Thank you for asking.”

“See that he stays that way. I plan to watch the two of you win the Non-Sporting Group.”

Peg gasped. She had always been superstitious. “Shush! Don't even
talk
to me about the group. Targa and I have to get out of the variety first. That's our first goal.”

Imelda just laughed. “I've seen that dog of yours in action, and he moves like a dream. There isn't another Standard Poodle out right now that can touch him.”

“Anything can happen,” Peg retorted. “And at Westminster, it often does. I'm not going to count on winning that purple and gold rosette until I'm holding it in my hands.”

“You're right,” Imelda agreed mildly. “Anything can happen at that show. And I'll be there in the stands to cheer you on when it does.”

 

 

Peg fully intended to drive straight home. And yet somehow—her thoughts whirling with new information and old recriminations—she instead found herself on the Merritt Parkway heading back to New Canaan. Perhaps she should never have started down this path. Had she possessed the knowledge earlier that Max had faced the same choice and deliberately turned the other way, Peg's decision might have been different.

But it was far too late for that now.

Having begun her quest for answers, Peg knew that she wouldn't behave as her mother-in-law had done. She had no illusions about her ability to right the wrongdoing. But what she could do was prick a sharp pin in her brother-in-law's smug, self-satisfied existence, if only for the pleasure of watching his ego deflate.

It was mid-afternoon, and only Eileen was at home. That suited Peg just fine. Nana hadn't confronted Michael. Even angry as she was, Peg decided it wasn't her place to do so either. Instead she would talk to Eileen. Woman to woman, wife to wife. She wondered if her sister-in-law had any idea what kind of man she'd married.

Eileen drew open the front door in response to Peg's knock. She gazed out at her visitor uncertainly. “Peg,” she said with a tight smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Not really,” Peg replied. “Actually it's not pleasant at all.”

Eileen raised her hand and braced it on the back of the door. “In that case, maybe I shouldn't invite you in.”

“Do as you wish. You don't have to talk to me. I've recently learned some things that I'm trying to understand. I thought maybe you could help me with that. But I can speak with Michael if you'd prefer.” Peg paused, then added meaningfully, “Or maybe Melanie and Frank.”

Eileen stepped back. The door opened.

Peg strode inside. She unbuttoned her coat but didn't remove it. Somehow she suspected she wouldn't be staying long.

Rather than waiting for Eileen to provide direction, Peg walked across the hall and into the beautifully appointed living room. The Christmas tree was still up, she noted idly. It was still lovely. And it needed water.

Peg helped herself to a chair.

Eileen remained standing. “What's this about?” she asked. Now she sounded annoyed.

“Nana's will,” Peg replied. “And her missing money. And your husband.”

Eileen's eyes grew wide. She lifted a hand and touched it to her cheek. Her gaze slid past Peg and fastened on something in the far corner of the room.

In the time it had taken to drive from Greenwich to New Canaan, Peg had been determined to think the best of her sister-in-law. She had hoped that Eileen hadn't been aware of Michael's deception. But now she saw she'd been wrong.

“I see I don't have to explain why I'm here,” she said.

Eileen remained standing. And mute. Peg knew she shouldn't find satisfaction in her sister-in-law's distress, but nevertheless she did.

“So here's my question. When Michael took the money that supports your lavish lifestyle—stole it not from a stranger but from his own mother—what was he
thinking?
Nana loved him. She supported him. How could he have done such a vile thing to her in return?”