Fortunate Harbor (35 page)

“No, you don’t. But apparently I have to put up with a credit card bill I’ll be paying for the next year. And I have to put up with reminders of our life together, which I’d rather forget.”

“You know what I’m reminded of? That after everything I’ve done to show you I’ve changed, that prison changed me, you’re not able to see anything but a stupid credit card bill. You can’t see that this party was for you, for
your
future, not mine. I chose Happiness Key for you
because
it had problems, enough that I hoped the Feds wouldn’t bother trying to find a way to steal it, too. And I chose it because I had faith in your ability to handle things here. More faith than you’ve ever, apparently, had in me.”

He was making inroads. Even as she was still boiling over with outrage, CJ was beginning to make her question herself. She saw it, felt it and somehow couldn’t stop it.

“You are slick,” she said, her voice lower. “You always have been, and I have no way of knowing what’s real, and what’s smoke and mirrors. How can I tell if prison did anything for you? You’ve never even admitted there was anything that needed to be changed.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly distracted. “I told you before, I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. I let power go to my head. It’s a common affliction. But don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the rewards.”

She heard a jackhammer inside her skull, but somehow she kept talking. “I don’t know anything, except that you made a big mistake by throwing this party today. Don’t ever do anything like this again, because next time, I’ll tell them to bill it to you, even if Henrietta has me fired. I won’t rescue you,
and I won’t play nice. If you’re really trying to get into my good graces and prove yourself, this wasn’t the way.”

“Is there any way to do that, TK? Short of sprouting a halo and angel’s wings?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He moved around her, careful not to touch her. In a moment her door slammed, and she was left alone to wonder how one man could raise so many conflicting emotions in one woman.

Tracy thought of herself as relatively uncomplicated. She slept easily and well, rarely gave in to stress, and rarely worried about the things other people obsessed about, except maybe her weight. Apparently those days were behind her.

By five the next morning she gave up pretending to sleep and went for a long run before the sun blazed a path to another miserable day. Afterward she took a glass of ice water out to her patio and watched the world grow lighter.

Why did a relatively uncomplicated woman choose hideously complicated men? Before CJ’s reappearance, she’d had a lock on her love life. She and Marsh had been within a hair-breadth of taking their relationship to the next level, and her opinion of CJ had been fixed in stone. She had done all the psychological work an uncomplicated woman ever did and relegated CJ to that slot in her life reserved for
very
big mistakes.

Now Marsh was gone and CJ was back, taking up a lot more space than she had reserved and spreading guilt like dandelion down. And just like dandelions, guilt was turning Tracy’s easy-care psyche into a weed patch.

Two men. Two unbearable complications. She was unsuited and unprepared for this much angst, and unsure what to do next.

As Tracy sat staring morosely at the street, “next” arrived in
a late-model Jaguar. She recognized the car and its driver just as Henrietta Claiborne stepped out from behind the wheel. Tracy got to her feet, all too aware that she was still dripping sweat.

“I thought you might be an early riser,” Henrietta said, coming up the walkway. “Gladys gave me your address.”

Tracy held up her hands. “I’ve been jogging. You might not want to get too close until I shower.”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. I brought it with me. You go take your shower, and I’ll have everything ready by the time you get out.”

Tracy didn’t know what to say. Surely Henrietta, with all her millions, Jaguar and yacht, had better things to do on a Sunday morning than fix Tracy breakfast. On the other hand, who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

She ushered Henrietta into the house and kitchen, then retreated to the bathroom, where she followed orders, taking an extra few minutes to wash her hair. She scrunchied it back from her face, and put on clean shorts and a T-shirt, then she went to join the rec center’s benefactor.

“I’m out here,” Henrietta called from the patio. “It’s still in the shade. Want to brave it?”

Tracy discovered Henrietta had set out a platter of cut melons and berries, bagels and cream cheese, and a pitcher of orange juice.

“This looks fabulous. I can make coffee,” Tracy offered.

“No need. I brought lattes, if that’s okay?”

“Better than okay, but how did you know I’d just be sitting outside waiting for you?”

“That’s the thing about being filthy rich. I can take chances.”

Tracy remembered never having to think about money.

Never worrying about what she spent or what happened to the things she bought. Never clipping coupons, or balancing the joys of a perfect artichoke against a whole bag of carrots and a head of lettuce.

“Have a seat. I’ll be right back,” Henrietta said.

A moment later Tracy accepted the pricey Starbucks venti-sized latte with pleasure. She remembered Starbucks, too.

“So…” Henrietta took a seat across from Tracy. “You and CJ have had a falling-out.”

There were many things Tracy could say about her ex, but it was not like CJ to run crying to anybody. In fact, the CJ Tracy married had never been outwardly upset with her. Instead, he had simply canceled a social engagement she was looking forward to, or occasionally he had just “forgotten” to come home at night, a stern reminder that she was already wife number three, and he might be scouting for candidate number four.

For some reason, she had put up with it.

“Did he tell you that?” Tracy asked after a careful sip.

“No. Or rather, not until I pulled it out of him. CJ’s one of those men who simply hates to appear weak. Most self-made men are that way. They claw their way to the top, and they can never pause, never look down, never hint they’ve lost their way. They’re afraid that if they do, they’ll topple all the way to the bottom again.”

“CJ’s already toppled. Been there, done that.”

“He told me about the barbecue.”

Tracy tried to smile. “I have enough leftovers for an army. When we’re done with breakfast, we can start on lunch.”

“I think he feels badly. Does that help?”

“Not that much.” Tracy accepted the platter of melon from Henrietta and put some slices of honeydew on her plate.

“Tell me, aren’t you feeling a little put upon yourself, having him camping out on your yacht for so long? It’s been what, a month now?”

“He’s very engaging company. A woman my age doesn’t have much to offer a man except a listening ear and whatever resources she can spare. I happen to be able to spare a great deal.”

“This is a personal question, and I know it borders on rude, but are you being careful? Because with the charm come the requests.”

“In other words, is CJ trying to milk me for all I’m worth?”

“Maybe just some of what you’re worth.”

Henrietta considered. “Can we just say that I may have come into my fortune through the hard work of my second husband, but I’ve tripled it in the years since his death.”

“I know you’re nobody’s fool.”

“I certainly am not. Do I trust your ex completely?” Henrietta shook her head. “Do I leave myself open to manipulation or fraud?” She shook her head again. “Do I think CJ’s a better man now than the one you married?” She smiled. “In that last instance, what
I
think is relatively unimportant.”

“I’d still love an answer.”

“Then I would have to say the jury’s still out.”

Tracy felt a little better. “I’ve been sitting here reassessing my worth as a human being. And you know what I’ve been thinking? When I realized that CJ was going to jail, and we were going to lose everything, I took off so fast I probably whipped up a forest fire.”

“You were young—
are
young. The whole situation must have been a terrible shock.”

“But did I desert him when he needed me? Should I have done more?”

“Nobody can answer that but you. I will say this. CJ’s not a man who accepts help. He makes bargains, but he would never want to be in anybody’s debt. I imagine he presented everything to you with that in mind.”

Tracy could hear Henrietta’s admiration for CJ, but she also heard caution. She felt better, but she was still confused. She wasn’t sure either of them saw the real CJ—if there even
was
a real CJ. “Are you here to ask me to give him a second chance?”

Henrietta smiled, and Tracy glimpsed the much younger woman, who had clearly been a beauty.

“I would never presume such a thing,” Henrietta said. “I may be an old woman in love with love, but I’m not one who would ever insert myself into a situation. I only wanted you to know that CJ realizes he made an error yesterday. I think adjusting to this different world he finds himself in is something of a stretch. Perhaps I’ve done him a disservice by giving him such a luxurious place to stay. But I’ve known him for years, and I believe that before any of us realize it, CJ will be on top of the heap again. I’m sure he has a plan, and he’s executing it even now.”

“I hope it’s not one he’ll get executed
for
.”

“I had one other reason to visit you,” Henrietta said. “I’m having a house party in Palm Beach the last week in August. Youth camp will be finished, and I’d like you to be my guest. CJ has already accepted. Please come and keep an eye on him? I promise you’ll have a wonderful time.”

Tracy remembered house parties. She remembered invitations to estates with names instead of addresses. She remembered yachts and private jets and days of never having to lift a finger to care for herself. A wave of nostalgia swept over her. “I’d love to see your house. I’d love to spend that time with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll count that as a yes.” Henrietta glanced at her
watch. “And now I really must go.” She swept her hand to encompass the table still brimming with food. “Now you have breakfast leftovers to go with your others. You’ll be okay, despite CJ’s lapse?”

Tracy was embarrassed. “Absolutely okay.”

“I like your little house. I would be comfortable here. You’ve made a good life for yourself. Remember that in the days to come.”

Tracy was still wondering exactly what Henrietta had meant an hour after the older woman had left.

Wanda hadn’t expected Dana and Lizzie to stay on the key. After the way the women had mishandled their piss-poor attempt to figure out who and what Dana was running from, she’d expected Dana to pack in the dead of night and run. Instead, four weeks had passed since that night at Tracy’s house, and Dana and Lizzie were still in residence.

Something was up, though. Now Dana always looked tired. In fact most of the time she looked like a horse that had been rode hard and put away wet. Wanda didn’t know if her manager was staying up nights worrying her neighbors might turn her in, or just worrying Lizzie’s father might catch up with her as easily as Wanda and the others had caught on to her.

During quiet times at the shop, Wanda had tried to get Dana to open up, but quiet times weren’t as common as they’d been. In the two weeks since Frieda Mertz had gotten out of the pie business to concentrate on bread—which was, apparently, decent enough bread at that—Wanda’s Wonderful Pies
was more or less holding its own. She figured that in addition to the Sunshine Bakery’s pie customers, the “eat local” trend was helping, since folks seemed willing to pay more for pies that were made from fresh ingredients. Plus, since it was the season for family reunions and pool parties, several more caterers had begun to order in bulk.

The new rush didn’t leave much time to talk to Dana, though, and Dana seemed to prefer it that way, since she always had something important to do whenever Wanda tried. The only thing Wanda knew for sure was that Dana and Pete were still spending a lot of time in each other’s company. He stopped by the shop on some pretext a couple of times a week, and they left together to go out to dinner or a movie. For better or worse, Wanda suspected there was more going on than dinner and entertainment. In fact when Lizzie was staying overnight with Olivia, Wanda suspected Dana and Pete were entertaining each other up a storm. But whether they were or weren’t, something still wasn’t right in Dana’s life.

On Thursday, Wanda flipped the Closed sign about half an hour earlier than usual. Dana came in from the back, where she had been scrubbing the sink. She always did a good job, but the kitchen would never look as clean as it had the night Frieda scrubbed the room from top to bottom after catching all the critters she’d set loose. During the process, Wanda had taken a secret photo or two with her cell phone. She figured someday she would need something to smile about.

Dana handed Wanda her time sheet for the week. “Everything’s clean and put away. And you’ve got ten crusts in the refrigerator for the morning. Were you able to get the lemons?”

Juicy Florida lemons had been surprisingly hard to come by this year, but too many people thought summer and lemons
went together and needed their lemon meringue pies like they needed a tan or brand-new flip-flops.

“I got a big old bag coming tomorrow. If they’re any good that should help.”

Dana untied the strings of her apron. “I called Alice and told her I’d pick up the girls at youth camp. So I’d better scoot. Want me to check back afterward?”

“I won’t be here. What with Kenny home for a change, I plan to make a real dinner tonight. And I got plans for the rest of the evening, too.”

“He goes back to Georgia next week?”

To Wanda, Dana didn’t sound casual. She sounded like a woman who hoped the neighborhood cop would stay as far away as possible. Yet, if Dana needed protection from a stalker, why wasn’t she happy to have Ken close by? Unless she had, as she had so vehemently denied, taken the law into her own hands and ended Ray Strickland’s stalking once and for all.

“Wanda?” Dana sounded perplexed.

“Sorry.” Wanda realized she hadn’t answered. “He goes back on Monday. For another week. Then he’ll be home awhile until September rolls around. I’ll sure be glad to have him here.” She met Dana’s eyes. “You should be, too.”

Dana didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I can’t involve the police in my situation. You have no idea how far Roy’s reach extends and how many people he’s paid off to look the other way.”

Wanda was offended and knew it showed. “Kenny wouldn’t sell you out to anybody.”

“I’m sorry, I know that. I’m not questioning Ken’s honesty. But one cop gets involved, others down the line have to, especially with Roy going underground.”

“I haven’t told Kenny, and I don’t intend to.” Wanda didn’t
add that she
had
asked Ken to check on Pete, and now that he was back at the station today and tomorrow, she hoped he would have time to.

“I appreciate it, Wanda. You know I do. I’m sure you don’t like keeping secrets from your husband.”

“You go on now. I’m ready to go myself. I’ll lock up.”

After Dana left, she did just that. The back door had a sturdier lock now, one Frieda Mertz would never be able to thwart with a credit card. Wanda was ashamed she hadn’t replaced it first thing before she moved in, her being a cop’s wife and all. She figured if Ken had been around more, he would have insisted.

But Ken
was
going to be home tonight. She smiled, and even though nobody was there to see it, she wiggled her penciled eyebrows coquettishly.

An hour later she wasn’t wiggling anything. She was looking at the report an exhausted Ken had handed her just before his cell phone rang. She’d read it while he had one of his normal grunting, one-word-answer conversations with somebody at the station. The facts about one Peter Knight were scribbled in Ken’s slanty handwriting, since checking out Pete wasn’t exactly aboveboard.

“Nothing wrong with him I could find,” Ken said, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “A stand-up guy.”

“But it says here Pete was a cop.”

“I thought you already knew that.”

“He told Tracy he was military.”

Ken took the notes and pointed. “That, too. Army National Guard in North Dakota. Weekend warrior. Military police. He put in twenty years before he retired.”

“Why didn’t he tell Tracy he was a police detective, too?”

“Maybe he thought it didn’t matter. What’s worrying you?”

Wanda couldn’t tell Ken the truth. Not without using Dana’s name. “I just don’t like that he didn’t mention it, that’s all. I mean, guys who don’t come clean about simple things are capable of hiding others.”

“He doesn’t have a blemish on his record. Not anywhere. Started young and worked his way up. Now he’s just here enjoying the rewards.” Ken grinned boyishly. “Which I’m hoping to do after I get back this evening.”

“Back?”

“Sorry, but they’ve got a guy in custody who might be the one who broke into that jewelry store over on Tanner. Remember? I was working on the follow-up before the Georgia opportunity. But I’ll just be gone a couple of hours, and it’s still early. When I get back, if you don’t feel like making dinner, I’ll take you out. Anywhere you want to go.”

She was too busy considering what she’d learned about Pete to be offended. Besides, she knew better than to protest. Ken was so much happier at his job than he’d been last year that she sure wasn’t going to interfere.

“I’ll see you when you get back,” she said. “We’ll figure out what to do then.”

He kissed her goodbye. She waited until she heard his car drive away, then she headed out the door to find the other women and discuss what they should do next.

Dana’s uneasiness was growing. She had come to Happiness Key for two reasons. She’d fulfilled the first before she and Lizzie moved in, but fulfilling the second seemed increasingly impossible. She was superstitious enough that speaking ill of the dead was forbidden, but as always, she wished that the man
whose ashes were now eternally a part of the bay and gulf he had loved, had never tantalized her with the promise of a better life for Lizzie.

Had he not, she wouldn’t be in this place with women she was, against her better judgment, beginning to regard as friends. She wouldn’t be in this place with Pete Knight, who she was, against her better judgment, falling in love with. She wouldn’t be in this place where her real identity and reason for being here might be discovered.

“Then I can go?” Lizzie asked. “You’re going to let me?”

Dana pulled herself back to the conversation at hand. It was five o’clock and only growing later. “Okay. Just get your pajamas and things together while I check with Alice. And don’t forget your inhaler.”

“I already told you, Mrs. Brooks said she would drive us to Jody’s house.”

Jody was another youth camper, and she had invited Olivia and Lizzie to her house for a sleepover. Sleepovers, like so many things, had been rare in Lizzie’s life. There were no cats on the premises—Lizzie had made sure to check—and Jody lived just over the bridge in a development Dana was familiar with. She could reach her daughter in minutes if she had to, and while Lizzie was away and the light was still good, she could use the metal detector and search just one more time.

“I’m going to check anyway, because that’s what mothers do,” she told her daughter.

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but not for long. She was off like a Thoroughbred at the starting gate to stuff her backpack.

Dana called Alice and was reassured that yes, Alice would drive the girls to Jody’s house. She was going out for dinner anyway, so it wasn’t an imposition.

Dana hung up and calculated. Pete was due that evening, but if Lizzie left now, Dana might have as many as two hours to search.

Lizzie was back in minutes with her pack weighting her narrow shoulders, and her eyes dancing. She promised she had everything she needed, including the inhaler. Dana thought of all the things she’d been forced to deny her daughter and was glad this had not been one of them. At least when Lizzie looked back on their months here, she would have happy memories.

Dana gave the protesting preteen a hug and sent her on her way. Ten minutes later, after she witnessed Alice’s car backing out of the driveway, she went to the utility shed at the back of the house to get the metal detector. She was hauling it around the side to her car when she saw her neighbors approaching. Tracy, Wanda and Janya were walking together, and they looked oddly serious. For a moment Dana considered ducking back the way she had come. She could go inside and pretend she wasn’t home. But when Tracy raised a hand in greeting, Dana knew she’d been spotted.

She leaned the detector up against the cinder block wall and told herself to behave naturally. Maybe this was just another invitation to an impromptu sunset party. Maybe the women had seen Lizzie leaving with Alice and Olivia, and thought she might be lonely.

At closer range, the women’s grim expressions put that fantasy to rest.

“What’s up?” Dana asked, willing herself to sound calm.

“You have a minute?” Wanda asked.

“I was just heading out for a walk.”

“We’ve got something we have to talk to you about.”

Not “like to” talk to you about. “Have to,” as if Dana’s own opinion in the matter was of no consequence. She wondered
if, in pursuit of a happy ending, Wanda had broken her word and told her husband all the things the women
thought
they knew about her. She wondered if he was even now digging into a past that had nothing to do with hers.

“Would you like to come inside?” she asked, with no genuine invitation in her voice.

“We don’t need to trouble you. Let’s sit out here.” Wanda gestured to some folding chairs in the shadiest spot in the yard.

“Why don’t I get some cold drinks for—”

“No need,” Wanda said. “But there’s something you got to know.”

Dana gave up trying to delay the conversation. She gave a slight nod and led the way. Wanda pulled one of the chairs closer so that the women formed a circle.

“So what’s this about?” Dana struggled to sound calm.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell Kenny anything about you, and I didn’t,” Wanda said, without preamble. “But I didn’t promise anybody I wouldn’t have him check out somebody else. Janya here came across Pete looking through your mail a couple of weeks ago—”

“On the Fourth of July,” Janya said. “He claimed you had asked him to pick it up and bring it into town when he joined you there for the parade.”

Dana tried to remember if she had ever asked such a thing. Her relationship with Pete was filled with little intimacies now. It had become difficult to keep up her guard and not involve him in the minutiae of her daily life.

“I can’t say I did, but I can’t say I didn’t, either,” she said, fear like a spider scurrying up her spine.

“I didn’t like it,” Wanda said. “What did we know about him except what he told Tracy?”

“He gave me references, and I called them,” Tracy said. “I didn’t have any reason to be worried. Everyone said he was great.”

“But nobody told her the whole truth,” Wanda said. “And the truth is that Pete retired in the spring from the Grand Forks, North Dakota, police department. He was well-respected, a detective with a lot of years on the force, but why didn’t he tell Tracy here, or you, for that matter, what he really did for a living?”

For the first time Dana understood,
really
understood, how her daughter felt when she could not suck air into her lungs. Dana was so stunned, so frozen, that for a moment she was afraid she might never be able to breathe again.

Janya, who was sitting closest, put her hand on Dana’s knee, reassuringly. “Perhaps he did tell you?”

Dana willed herself to breathe, willed herself to act as if this was not a surprise. But she was sure she had already given herself away. She scrambled for something to say, something to make them leave so she could make sense of it.

But there was no sense to be made. Pete Knight must have tracked her here to Florida where, because of her family’s connection to this place, she should never have come. Now he was probably making certain he had the right woman before he destroyed her life and her daughter’s.

“I thought Pete was in the military,” she said carefully, keeping her voice as light as she could. “But maybe I just misunderstood.”

“He was,” Wanda said. “National Guard. So he wasn’t lying. He just wasn’t telling everything.”

Tracy leaned forward. “Dana, like Wanda told Janya and me, a lot of ex-cops become private investigators after they retire or leave the job behind. Is it possible Pete was hired by somebody in Stockton to find you?”