Driftwood Lane (14 page)

A squawk sounded from a trumpet, then a second later a note resonated and hung in the air.

It was their turn.

Max had his eyes closed, his lips moving silently.
Say a prayer for me too
, she thought. What if she stepped on his toes? What if she stumbled backward as she had with Jake? What if they ended up sprawled on the dusty stage floor with strains of music flowing by them?

The curtain parted, the mechanicals squeaking as the curtain
whooshed
open. The noises were lost in the applause for the trumpeters as the girl and her father disappeared stage right.

Mrs. Wilcox appeared at the microphone set off to the side. “And now we will enjoy the elegant ballroom dance of Maxwell Ward and his sister, Meridith.”

Meridith turned toward Max, but her eyes caught on someone deep in the darkened auditorium. It looked like . . . but it couldn’t be.

Before her eyes found him again, the spotlight switched on, bathing her and Max in a warm puddle of light.

She gave him a confident smile.
Breathe, Meridith, breathe
.

The music began, and they counted off six beats silently. Then together they moved in harmony through the first box step. Once they made it around twice, she began to breathe again. Her feet remembered the steps. Thank God.

Spine straight. Shoulders back. Arms rigid.

Max led her around the stage. She felt the swish of her dress against her knees. One-two-three, one-two-three. The spotlight seemed to spin in her periphery. She kept her eyes on Max, just a few inches beneath her line of vision.

His hand clutched hers, squeezing the blood from her fingers. Nerves. She remembered to smile, performing the steps carefully. She was doing it. They were doing it. Round and round they went. Just another minute or so and it would be over.

As they whirled to the right, Meridith caught sight of Noelle and Ben in the front row. She hoped they were cheering their brother on.

One-two-three, one-two three. Spine straight. Shoulders back. Arms rigid.

Max was a good leader. Not as good as Jake, not as firm, but his height made the movements less awkward. The spotlight lost them, then found them again.

A few more times around. One-two-three, one-two-three. She made eye contact with Max, a silent signal that the end was coming. One-two-three, one-two-three, and . . . the big finish and . . . done! The music ended as her skirt settled around her knees.

The audience began to applaud, and Meridith shared a relieved smile with Max. They took their bows, the curtain drew closed, and they were shrouded in darkness as they trotted offstage.

After the show, Meridith and Max met up with Noelle and Ben in the foyer.

“Nice job, little bro,” Noelle said.

“Yeah, you guys looked like pros,” Ben said.

“I’m so proud of you, Max,” Meridith said.

Max flung his arms around her, and Meridith staggered backward. “Thanks, Meridith.”

Meridith put her arms around the child. “You’re welcome, honey. You did really good.” He was a soft cuddly bear. His hair, freshly washed, smelled like oranges and sunshine.

When the crowd thinned, they went to The Soda Fountain for ice cream to celebrate. Riding home in the van later, Meridith got the first real slice of success since she’d arrived. They’d made it through the dance with flying colors, Max was happy, Ben was noticeably proud of his big brother, and even Noelle seemed to have put her dislike for Meridith aside for the night. Maybe things would work out after all. She caught a glimpse of a possible future with the children, happy and settled in her St. Louis home, and she smiled, content.

Back at the house, they exited the van. Max put Piper in the garage, and Meridith grabbed the mail.

“Up to bed, guys. It’s late.” She smothered a yawn. What a long day.

There was a message on the machine, but it could wait until morning. She flipped through the mail and was ready to set the stack down when she came to the last one.

It was from the tax collector’s office. She slid her finger under the flap, dread kindling in the pit of her stomach. She shook the feeling away. It was probably concerning the transfer of ownership.

She pulled out the letter and unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed the words, the dread in her stomach spreading like wildfire.
Nonpayment of taxes . . . delinquency . . . taking of said estate . . . fourteen days
.

Fourteen days? Her eyes dropped to the amount due on the last line, and the breath left her lungs. How could she not have known?

Why would her father and Eva have all that money in the bank and not have paid their taxes? She’d gone through their business files and hadn’t seen anything regarding back taxes. But then, it had been a disorganized mess, with papers filed under the wrong headings, many of them old or irrelevant. Eva may have been a hospitable hostess, but she’d lacked in business acumen.

Meridith took the inherited checkbook from her purse and opened it to the register. After paying Jake for the repairs he’d completed last week, she barely had enough to pay the taxes. It would leave her with . . .

She did a quick mental tally. One hundred and twenty dollars.

Not enough for a week’s groceries, to say nothing of all the needed repairs. The house would never pass inspection.

She looked back at the letter and the words
taking of said estate
stole the decision from her hands. Pay the taxes and take her chances at the sale of Summer Place, or don’t pay the taxes and lose the property.

It wasn’t much of a decision.

Twenty

Jake climbed the apartment stairs, unlocked the door, and shrugged off his suit coat. It was all he could do to focus on Pastor Owens’s sermon. Every time he closed his eyes for prayer, he saw Meridith whirling around the elementary stage, her dress drifting behind her like an afterthought. Max had looked debonair and so grown up in his suit. Eva would’ve been proud.

He sure had been. Proud of both of them. At least when it was finished. Until then, he’d been a basket of nerves. But then they were taking their bows, and he’d never seen Max so proud. Or Meridith so radiant.

And that’s about where his thoughts were when he realized the prayer was over and he still had his head bowed.

After church he’d eaten out with Wyatt and Willow and a few friends from church, and now he found himself free for the afternoon. Maybe he’d take his cycle across the island and enjoy Surfside. Or he could ride up to the cemetery and freshen the gravesites. He’d put out fresh flowers a week ago when he couldn’t get Eva off his mind. He missed his sister so much. He’d sat there for over an hour, thinking of her, missing her, grieving for her.

But he didn’t want to go there today. What he really wanted to do right now was get the kids and take them fishing at Hummock Pond. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t even call them or visit them. This undercover operation had its drawbacks. And yet, what information had he found in his two weeks at Summer Place?

He was going to have to step it up. Start snooping. He hated the thought of rooting through Meridith’s private things. It wasn’t his style. Maybe he could get to know her better, cajole information from her. He hadn’t quizzed her about her future plans for the kids. Not that it was going to help him get them back.

He needed definitive information that proved she was incompetent. Something so severe that the state would go against Eva and T. J.’s will. He’d done some digging at the library and had found that keeping children in their school district was important to judges. Ripping them not only from their school but from the island would surely not be favorable. If only he could find out if that was her intention. But would that be enough?

He wasn’t sure he’d find anything worse. Even if she were bipolar, maybe it was under control with medication. The more he knew Meridith, the more he realized she wasn’t the freak Noelle had claimed. Controlling and paranoid, yes. Repressed, certainly. But incompetent? Not even close. She wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, but she wasn’t cruel.

Still, why was she putting her life on hold to raise three kids? It was obvious she hadn’t been around children much, and she’d never met her siblings before she arrived . . . so why did she want guardianship?

Even if she wasn’t a natural with kids and didn’t understand their grief, he’d have to do better than that to convince a judge she was unfit.

He’d have to get closer to her. It wouldn’t be easy, but he did have his charms. And if the opportunity for a little snooping arose, he wouldn’t turn it down.

A light flashed on his phone, and he punched the button as he unfastened his shirt.

“Hi, this is Meridith. I—uh, have some unfortunate news.” There was a pause.

The kids .
. . Jake walked back to the phone as if he doing so would hasten her words.

“There’s been a change in my financial situation, and I won’t be able to finish the house. Effective today. I’m sorry for any inconvenience. But thank you for the work you’ve done.”

Another pause. What had happened? What financial situation? Were the kids okay?

“Oh, I also wanted to let you know the talent show went well. We didn’t so much as falter, and I wanted to thank you for that as well. So. Thanks. I guess that’s all. Bye.”

What was going on? She’d given him no useful information. Maybe he could get hold of Noelle. But he couldn’t risk an e-mail, and a phone call was out of the question. Besides, Noelle wasn’t likely to know what was going on with Meridith’s finances.

Okay, Walker, think.

Meridith didn’t have the money to finish. He couldn’t offer to work for free.

But he could offer a trade . . . Jake felt the weight lift from his shoulders, and as the idea gelled in his mind, a smile pulled at his mouth. Maybe this setback was really an opportunity in disguise.

Twenty-one

Meridith watched the school bus roll from the curb and went to the check-in desk to look over the registry. The tax bill, leaning on a homemade clay pencil holder, mocked her.

She’d go to the treasurer’s office in person and pay the bill today. After that, she’d develop a budget. She’d have to get into her account back home, her personal savings. She hadn’t mentioned that to Stephen when she’d called him the day before, but she didn’t have a choice. They had to eat. She had to keep the electric on, such as it was.

She prayed business would increase as spring progressed. There was a family of four coming late in the week, thanks to spring break, and a couple coming for the weekend. The extra money would help. Seeing how sparse guests were off-season, she realized how costly it was to keep Summer Place running. No wonder they were in arrears. Still, it would’ve been nice knowing that before paying Jake for two weeks’ work.

She’d been thankful he hadn’t answered the day before. Leaving a message was cowardly, but she couldn’t resist taking the easy way out.

As she hung up, a weight she’d later defined as sadness enveloped her. Maybe a little disappointment too. And though she told herself it was the unfinished house that plagued her, deep down she knew it was more.

All the more reason to be glad Jake was out of her life. She was an engaged woman. She didn’t need the distraction of some arrogant man who made her feel . . . things.

Her mind unwittingly flashed back to Saturday when she was whirling around the living room in his arms. When the feel of his shoulder, rock solid, did things to her insides . . . when the stumble had left her crushed against his chest . . .

And there was that feeling again. Drat the man. Even when he wasn’t there he vexed her.

She removed a notepad from the desk and made a to-do list. The house was quiet this morning. No buzzing of saws or pounding of nails, no high-pitched whine of an electric screwdriver. No slam as Jake had a hissy fit over some snag.

She almost missed that part.

A loud knock sounded at the door, and Meridith set down the pen and went to answer it.
Please, God, a customer
. Though it was early in the day for tourists seeking shelter. Maybe she could raise the rates to offset her financial woes. She made a mental note to check her competitors’ rates.

She opened the door. “Jake. I—didn’t you get my message?”

Why had she left a voice mail? Now she’d have to explain in person.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh—sure. Come in.” She didn’t owe him more money, did she? She’d cut him a check on Friday, and he hadn’t worked on Saturday— unless he was counting the dance lessons, but surely not.

He followed her into the living room, and she sat on the armchair, leaving him with a choice between the sofa and love seat. He chose the love seat, perched on the edge, elbows propped on his knees.

“I left you a message yesterday.” She couldn’t seem to get any further.

“Got it. You had a financial setback.”

She didn’t know why that humiliated her, but it did, even if it wasn’t her fault. It was one of those issues related to her childhood, she supposed, taking her right back to the calls from bill collectors. But unlike her mom, she was meticulous with her finances.

“I had an unexpected bill,” she said.

“I guess you inherit the bad with the good.”

Was that sarcasm flickering in those brown eyes? One moment Meridith thought she detected it, the next second she was sure she’d imagined it.

Well, her finances were none of his concern. And if he’d received her message, why was he here?

She clasped her hands around her knee. “What brings you here today?”

He took his time responding. Stretched his legs out. Leaned into the sofa like he was settling in for the winter.

She looked away, over to the fireplace. The damaged, no-good fireplace. Yet another item on a long list of things wrong with the house.

When she had a buyer, inspection was going to be a nightmare.

“Had an idea, a solution to your problem.”

Meridith cocked her head. “Do tell.”

“You have a lot of things needing fixed. The place isn’t up to code.”

“No secret there.”

“The boiler could go out at any time, and you won’t find parts for it.”