Embers (19 page)

Meg felt sorry that she
'
d pointed it out. Her sister
'
s identity was completely bound up in her youth and beauty. What good could come of snatching it away from her?
"
Probably it
'
s a one-shot,
"
she said apologetically.

"
I
'
m old,
"
said Allie, entirely serious.
"
This is proof. I
'
m old. Gray, and unmarried, and old. I can
'
t believe it. A gray hair before a husband.
"
She walked over to the kitchen trash basket and dropped the strand into it. She was like a ship
'
s captain, burying her shrouded youth at sea.

"
Allie, get a grip,
"
Meg said, becoming impatient with her sister
'
s penchant for melodrama.
"
Buy a box of L
'
Oreal. You
'
re worth it.
"

"
Yeah,
"
said Allie, staring into the trash can.
"
I
'
m worth it.
"

"
Well, it
'
s not as if you couldn
'
t have married half a dozen different men,
"
Meg said, amazed at the depth of her sister
'
s distress.
"
What about Bob? Has he re
-
proposed yet since you
'
ve been back?
"

Although, come to think of it, Meg hadn
'
t heard the roar of his Harley-Davidson rattling the cut-glass chandelier in the front hall.

Allie looked up blankly at her sister.
"
Bobby? Beaufort? Can you possibly be serious?
"

"
All right, not Bob. But someone, somewhere. You
will
be married, obviously. For Pete
'
s sa
ke, if I have to, I'll go next
door and drag your detective fr
iend back to you, even if it's
kicking and scre
—
"

"
That
'
s not necessary, Meg;
here I am," said a voice from behind her, a voice
that she h
oped belonged to anyone in the
world besides Lieutenant Thomas Wyler.

S
miling, Wyler handed Allie a hardback book.
"
Here
'
s your novel; you forgot it yesterday.
"

Allie
'
s cheeks went crimson. She took the novel, lifted her chin, said,
"
Thank you very much; I think I
'
ll go in the garden and read,
"
and walked by him like a tennis star past a ball boy at
Wimbledon
.

Meg waited until her sister was outside, then nodded toward the hedge of mountain laurel that obscured Allie from their view.
"
I think that was your cue, Lieutenant.
"

Wyler laughed softly.
"
Are you kidding? She
'
s still furious with me. If I went out there now, she
'
d cut out my heart and feed it to the seagulls. No, I think the best thing is to let her cool off.
"

Meg smiled and said,
"
Do you mind if I ask you something? How long were you married?
"

"
Ten years, on and off. Why?
"

"
Really!
"
Ten years, and he hadn
'
t learned a thing.
"
Do you have any sisters?
"
she added impulsively.

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable.
"
If you mean birth sisters, I wouldn
'
t know. I was raised in a series of foster homes,
"
he said, his mouth setting in a grim line. After a pause he added,
"
My second set of parents, and my fourth, had daughters of their own. Is there a direction this is taking us?
"
he asked her coolly.

"
I
'
m sorry,
"
Meg said at once.
"
I didn
'
t mean to pry.
"
Which of course she did.
"
Can I be candid? It
'
s just that you don
'
t seem that much in tune, somehow, with how a woman
'
s mind works.
"

"
I have three women detectives under my command,
"
Wyler said testily.
"
We get along fine.
"

"
Oh, sure, detectives. Persons of
logic.
I
'
m talking about my
sister.
"

He laughed at that, despite himself
,
and Meg laughed with him.

Feeling vaguely conspiratorial, Meg glanced out at the garden again. She could just catch a glimpse of Allie
'
s y
ellow shorts. Her sister was sit
ting on the stone bench under the oak tree at the far end of the property. The stone bench was a stupid place to be if you wanted to read in any kind of comfort; but it was a charming spot to be if you were hoping for a rendezvous. Meg knew that Allie was counting on her to make that happen.

Last night, moved by her sister
'
s pain, Meg would
'
ve done just about anything to drag the man back to Allie
'
s feet. Today, with him right there and in no big hurry, she was having second thoughts. She had no business being intrigued by him; but she was.

But a promise was a promise.

"
Lieutenant
...
Tom
...
I was just about to put on more coffee for Allie and me. I don
'
t suppose you have time for a cup?
"

Wyler had been leaning against the kitchen counter opposite her. Now he walked over to the window through which Meg had a view of her sister. He peered out toward the stone bench.
"
Yes,
"
he said.
"
I
'
d like that.
"

"
Great.
"

It shouldn
'
t have, but his answer depressed her. Staying for coffee meant his carrying Allie
'
s cup down a stepstone path through sweet-smelling roses and heady viburnums and under a rose-covered arbor, ending up at a stone bench just big enough for two. If you sat close.

The kiss between Allie and him had been bad enough, but this was worse. Allie had goaded him into the kiss, but no one was goading him into staying. He cared for Allie. Dammit, dammit, dammit. He really cared.

Meg made a production of setting up Comfort
'
s prized Bunn coffeemaker.
"
So.
How was your séance?
"
she asked in a stupidly cheerful voice.

She knew damn well he
'
d thought it was a farce.

"
Not
'
séance,
'"
he corrected as he unhooked a happy-face mug from a coffee tree on the counter where she was working.
"
It
'
s called a
'
darkroom session
'
.
"

"
Whatever.
"
She flipped the
brew
switch and turned to get the half-and-half from the fridge at the same time that he about-faced, and they bumped into each other. Her breast brushed up against his chest, sending a jolt through her.
"
How w-was it?
"
she repeated, faltering.

"
Nice,
"
he said instantly. She was half a breath away from him; she could almost hear the gears clunk into place as he rethought her question.
"
Uh-h
...
you mean the séance,
"
he said, truly embarrassed. H
e tried to shrug it off. "Yeah ...
well
...
hmm
...
I
'
m not a big believer in the otherworldly. I tend to put my faith in the here and now.
"

He was standing very close, close enough for her to see how fair skinned he was, close enough for her to see the faint flush that had begun to darken the surface beneath his skin. It was an immensely endearing trait, this tendency of his to betray his emotions. And yet she knew instinctively that he would never do it on the job. He would never allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable.

"
So,
"
she said again, inanely.
"
How was the séance?
"

He looked at her with a puzzled smile and said,
"
Do I have to keep answering that until I get it right or something?
"

"
No, no,
"
she said quickly, realizing that she hadn
'
t heard his first answer.
"
I
'
m sorry. I was thinking of something else.
"

She launched into a long and rambling monologue, trying to cover her own embarrassment.
"
The fact is,
"
she said,
"
I don
'
t put much stock in that kind of thing myself. I mean, just because there
'
s a millennium coming up, everyone is running around looking for ghosts. You read about it all the time. Groups like Zenobia
'
s are all over
Maine
. Sometimes they even charge
a
fee
,
"
she said indignantly.
"
That
'
s
not right. Do you think this mania could
'
ve happened in 1950? No. Absolutely not. It
'
s because of the millennium. I
'
m convinced of it.
"

"
So you think séances are hooey?
"

"
I didn
'
t say that,
"
Meg said quickly.
"
I wasn
'
t at yours, of course. On the other hand, I
do
think this Sylvie person had a genuine experience in Thunder Hole. Not that there
'
s anything supernatural about Thunder Hole. You could go anywhere in
Acadia
and feel what she felt. Clearly she tapped into the
...
the pulse of nature, the flow of energy there. I understand
that
part completely. There
'
s something about the sea
;
something about the awesome, beautiful, uncaring
vastness
of it
...
it
'
s
just
like a starry sky on a moonless night, like
—
"

He was watching her with a quiet curiosity that brought her up short.
"
God, listen to me,
"
she said with a nervous laugh.
"
Can I be any more vague than that? If that was one of Terry
'
s compositions, I
'
d give it a
'
C.
'
I suppose
you
deal only with hard facts,
"
she added, continuing her babble.
"
You know, like Jack Webb?
'
Just the facts, ma
'
am
'
?
Dragnet?
"