Night Swimming (23 page)

Sean was shrugging into his jacket when the door opened again. Assuming it was Dave coming back to pester him some more, he didn’t bother to look up.

“Hi, Sean. I’m so glad I caught you alone.” Stacy Malloy smiled.

The plate of tiramisu, placed in the center of the table so that Kaye and Lily could share, was half-finished. Her stomach deliciously full, Lily sat back in her chair and raised the glass of Prosecco to her lips. The champagne-like wine was exquisitely chilled. She breathed in its delicate fragrance and closed her eyes, savoring it as she drank. Opening them again, Lily couldn’t believe what she saw. She blinked to clear her vision. Instead, a red mist of anger descended.

“Lily, what’s wrong; what’s the matter?” Kaye asked.

Lily spoke with glacial calmness. “Nothing. I was merely thinking about how much I detest politicians.”

Kaye relaxed. “Oh, well, we all do,” she said, and laughed lightly. She straightened as Lily’s words registered. “What? What politician? Surely you don’t mean—” She made to turn her head.

“No! Don’t turn around,” Lily hissed frantically. But she was too late. Stacy Malloy had spotted them. She must have been scanning the dining room, on the look-out for familiar faces. A brilliant, ultrasatisfied smile lit her face as she zigzagged her way past the tables, towing Sean behind her.

Sean was just giving their order to the bartender when Stacy began dragging him by the sleeve. He looked back over his shoulder, wanting to make sure the bartender got him that double whiskey straight up. He deserved one, needed one after being cornered in his office by Stacy Malloy—undoubtedly one of the scarier moments of his life. Spooked by the possibility that she might try some idiotic seduction ploy, like stripping naked in his office, he’d hustled her out of there with the promise that he’d take her out for a drink. After all, what could she do in public? And Marco’s was as public you could find.

The place was jumping, waiters bustling to and fro. Sean assumed Stacy was leading him to some corner table where they could discuss balloon colors, crepe paper, and Christ only knew what else. Glancing about, Sean didn’t see an empty table anywhere. All he saw was . . . that he was fucked.

The pain of seeing Sean and Stacy together here at Marco’s enveloped Lily, surrounded her like a frenzied swarm of bees attacking. There was nowhere she could run and hide. The hurt intensified a hundredfold when Stacy stopped before their table.

“Hi, Mrs. Alcott. Hi, Lily. How sweet, you’re having a mother-daughter night out. Don’t you just adore this restaurant? It’s so romantic! Sean
insisted
we come here tonight.” She preened, a gloating expression on her face as she smiled down at Lily and Kaye. “He always picks the perfect place for us.”

Despite being dulled with shock, Lily’s brain nonetheless registered certain details, such as the fact that Stacy was dressed to the nines—the plunging vee of her dress practically down to her bellybutton, and that she kept turning toward Sean and brushing her bared flesh against him.

Unable to bear the pain any longer, she somehow managed to rise and made to brush past the happy couple. Dimly, she was aware of Kaye standing, too.

“Lily—” Sean’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

She refused to look at him, knowing she’d fall apart if she did.

“Don’t—” he said.

She clenched her teeth, biting back a scream of betrayal. “Why don’t you drop dead, McDermott?” she suggested, and walked away.

She hadn’t uttered another word, even now that she and Kaye were in May Ellen’s Cadillac, driving back toward the condo. But Lily hardly needed to speak; her mother was talking enough for two.

“I never did like that girl, Stacy Malloy,” she said. “Very pushy. And she dresses atrociously. Dana tells me she’s been absolutely insufferable ever since she got picked as president of the Junior League. She’s convinced Stacy only ran so she could be involved in this campaign party for Sean. Stacy seems to believe Sean is her personal property.” Braking for a red light, she glanced over at Lily. “I do wish you’d let Sean speak to you, Lily. It’s always a big mistake to let someone like Stacy think she’s won the battle.”

Lily’s temples pounded. “There is no battle. Stacy can have him.”

“Oh, no she can’t!” Kaye contradicted vehemently. “Dana having to deal with a daughter-in-law like that? Besides, Sean doesn’t want her, he wants—”

“I don’t care what Sean McDermott wants,” Lily said, cutting her off.

For a moment Kaye was blessedly silent. Then, “Mother and I were discussing the party on Saturday.”

Lily sagged with relief at the switch of topics.

“I think it’s lovely that Mother wants to throw a party for you. We were wondering whether we might buy you something to wear for it, something really smashing.”

“I really don’t—”

“A wonderful friend of mine has this boutique she’s opened. Fiona’s got great taste, buys from only the best designers.”

“I’m incredibly busy right now, wrapping up the reef study.”

“I’d love to see you in something dazzling, something that does credit to your beauty,” Kaye continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “So many people will be at the party. Oh, no!” she exclaimed, as if a thought had just occurred to her. “I hope Sean’s not planning to bring Stacy! But that’s right—you don’t care what Sean and that tramp do.”

Lily flinched, anguished as she pictured Sean and Stacy arriving arm in arm at her grandmother’s party. “I don’t see how buying a dress will accomplish anything.”

“You leave that to me,” Kaye said confidently as she made a left-hand turn, easing the Cadillac into the circular drive in front of the condominium complex. “We’ll work around your schedule—I’m totally flexible. I’ve nothing planned except running errands for Mother. Just call. I promise I won’t bully you into buying anything you don’t like.”

“Nothing in pink or green?” Lily asked, still leery of the whole idea.

“You’re Lily Banyon, not Lilly Pulitzer. Quite a different look,” Kaye laughed. “Trust me, Fiona will find you something Sean McDermott will never forget.”

“That would be a major triumph,” Lily replied bitterly under her breath. Sean obviously found her all too forgettable.

At first glance, it looked as if Karen hadn’t budged from her spot on the sofa. She was still wrapped in her blanket, staring at the TV. It wasn’t until Lily stepped into the apartment that she realized she was mistaken. She sniffed the air.
Popcorn
. Karen must have microwaved herself a batch.

“Hi, Lily.” Karen looked up. She lifted the bowl that was nestled in her lap in offering as Lily sank down on the sofa beside her. Lily shook her head in refusal.

“Sean just called . . . for the third time,” Karen informed her. “He seems really anxious to talk to you.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Lily’s voice was flat. “Especially where Sean McDermott is concerned.” How could he have held her in his arms, kissed and touched her until she moaned with desire for him? How could he have made those heated promises, then turn around and escort Stacy to a romantic, candlelit restaurant?

She couldn’t bear the idea that Sean had so easily replaced her. She hated knowing that at this very moment Stacy was doing her utmost to keep Sean “entertained.”

She’d call Sean when hell froze over. No, make that when politicians started keeping their promises . . . that would never happen.

Resolving to put Sean out of her mind as easily as he’d forgotten her, she turned to Karen. “You must be feeling better,” she said, consciously injecting an upbeat note in her voice. “I see you made popcorn.”

“No, Dave popped it for me.”

“Dave? Dave Cullen?”

“Yeah.” Karen nodded. “Dave must have been with Sean when he called the first time. He stopped by with a movie.” She gestured toward the screen. Something greenish black was roaring as it writhed and flailed.

“What is this?”

“
Godzilla versus the Sea Monster
. It’s a classic.” Karen shoved a mouthful of popcorn in her mouth, chewed, and added, “Dave’s so sweet. He watched it with me for a while, but then he had to leave. He’s got a breakfast meeting with his staff—they’re working out the logistics for the scuba weekend.”

“That was thoughtful of him to bring you a movie.” Dave was an okay guy. It was his friend, McDermott, who was a jerk. “So John didn’t come back?”

“No.” The blanket around Karen’s shoulders moved in a shrug. “No great loss there.”

“What? I thought you were still on a ‘Redeem John Granger’ crusade.”

“I’ve decided it’s not worth it.” She scowled as Godzilla grappled with a slime-covered creature that was a dead ringer for the Loch Ness monster, then glanced back at Lily. “Remember this morning?”

Morning was eons ago. “Refresh my memory.”

“Okay. Remember how we took two cars, and John and I arrived at the marina first? Ferrucci was already there when we pulled into the parking lot. I pointed him out to John and said something about what a sleazoid creep Ferrucci was. Know what John said in reply? That Ferrucci wasn’t so bad . . . not once you got to know him. I think John’s become pals with Ferrucci. If so, he’s a total loser himself.”

John Granger friends with Pete Ferrucci?

And what would being friends with Pete Ferrucci entail?
she wondered. Hanging out in Ferrucci’s bar and making passes at any woman who happened to walk by was the obvious answer. The second one that insinuated itself in Lily’s mind was too absurd to credit.

Lily didn’t like John, hadn’t ever liked John. But personal antipathy didn’t give her license to contemplate— even in passing—that John might do anything to compromise the reef study. John was an ass-grabbing boor, but that didn’t mean he was corrupt. For Pete’s sake, he was a marine biologist, or would be, once he’d finished his dissertation.

Besides, there wasn’t anything to be suspicious about. Lily had gone over almost all of the patch reef and found no evidence of disease thus far.

“I don’t know what John does in his free time,” Lily admitted wearily. “I agree Ferrucci’s scum, but I find it difficult to believe John and he are very well acquainted. I’ve passed by Ferrucci’s place, the Blue Dolphin. All those neon lights and wall-to-wall mirrors probably lured John inside. Who knows, maybe they have a great ladies’ night or something. Think about it, Karen. What could John and Ferrucci possibly have in common?”

“Other than being creeps? Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she concluded glumly. “It’s just depressing. I really thought John was getting more
normal
.”

“Character improvement is a lifelong endeavor. Most people fail miserably. But I think you’ve had a good influence on him, he’s been much more . . . cooperative on this trip. I wrote as much to Simone in the update I e-mailed her.”

“Yeah? Thanks, Lily. So, aren’t you going to call Sean? He’s going to be disappointed.”

“I doubt it.” Lily dropped her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.

“What happened? I kind of got the impression that you two might have a thing going.”

“No. Not one that would work anyway. We’re too different. Our lives are too different. We don’t care about the same things.” He doesn’t care about
me
.

“I don’t buy that.” At Karen’s censorious tone, Lily opened her eyes. Karen was shaking her head as if deeply disapproving. “You and Sean are both dynamic people who care about the world you live in. You’re both incredibly brave, too. And you’re both obviously attracted to each other—no, don’t try to deny it.”

“I‘m not denying it,” Lily said, feeling miserable. “But that’s all it is. Physical attraction.”
At least on Sean’s
part,
Lily thought.

Karen snorted. “Show me a relationship that doesn’t start that way.”

She had a point there, Lily conceded, but only silently.

“So it would be pure cowardice and darned stupid, too,” Karen continued, “if you were to walk away from what you and Sean could have together without even giving it a chance.” At that, Karen put the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and stood, the blanket draped over her shoulders. Then, with the blanket billowing like a sail behind her, Karen left Lily alone with her bleak thoughts and Godzilla.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Sean,” Evelyn Roemer said in surprise. “What are you doing here this early?”

Sean looked up from his computer. “Morning, Evelyn. I’m putting the finishing touches on my press statement.”

His secretary walked over to the espresso machine, saw that he’d used it already, and frowned. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Not much.” He shrugged. “Could you make it a double? My first cup tasted like sludge.” He hadn’t slept at all. But the reason, contrary to what Evelyn believed, had nothing to do with his mayoral duties and everything to do with a beautiful blond scientist. His initial chagrin at running into Lily and Kaye with Stacy draped all over him—and then having Stacy babble about candlelight and romance and how her and Sean’s meeting might take half the night—had eventually undergone a metamorphosis, turning into righteous indignation.

After prying himself free of Stacy, he’d tried telephoning Lily a dozen times. All he got was a busy signal. It took him a while to figure out that she’d taken the phone off the hook. He knew from experience what banging on her door would get him: a flattened face. Infuriated that she wouldn’t even listen to his explanation, he’d barely shut his eyes last night, frustrated, remorseful, furious . . . and missing her so damn much.

He had to find Lily and convince her he was blameless in the debacle of last night. He had a freshly laundered handkerchief in his pocket. He’d use it as a gag if he had to. Then, after he’d humbly apologized for having inadvertently ruined a night he’d dreamed of for years, he’d remove it and kiss her senseless.

But first he had to get through this morning. A morning that promised to be rotten, with the potential for a slippery slide into hell itself.

Evelyn placed a fresh espresso in front of him.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said gratefully. “I’d appreciate it if you’d read over the statement I’ve prepared, Evelyn, and give me some feedback. The basic message is this: Yes, Coral Beach has been approached by a group interested in developing the land south of the marina. But at this point, no specific plans have been discussed. As I’ve gone on record repeatedly, I refuse to make any decisions about land use along the southern coast until the final report to the reef committee has been submitted. To do otherwise would not only be premature, but irresponsible. The tone should be firm, but not defensive. Got it?”

“Got it.” Evelyn nodded. “I’ll bring your faxes and phone messages.” She went into the adjoining office and returned, messages in hand.

“Thanks.”

“You’ve got your first appointment at nine.”

Sean’s expression hardened. “And what better way to start the day than with a lawsuit? By the way, Mike Coehlo’s going to arrive a few minutes early.” Mike Coehlo was Coral Beach’s legal counsel.

“I’ll get the copies of the police report,” Evelyn said.

“Good. I want to go over it one more time before Mike gets here. Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I still can’t understand why Mrs. Ritter decided to do such an idiotic thing.”

“Ambulance chasers.” His secretary’s answer came with a disdainful sniff. “They lurk everywhere. One of them probably convinced her she’d be able to buy a mansion in Hawaii with the money she won.”

“She’ll get nothing but a mountain of legal fees if she decides to go through with the suit,” Sean said flatly.

“Looks like it’s going to be another long day.”

“That’s right. The life of a politician’s just nonstop fun.”

“It’ll be even jollier once your reelection campaign begins,” Evelyn said.

Sean’s smile died. “That reminds me, Evelyn. If Stacy Malloy telephones, drops by, attempts to contact me in
any
way, I am unavailable. Let’s make that a standing order.”

“Oh, Sean! You mean you won’t have time to consult Ms. Malloy about where to put the microphone on the podium?” She struggled to hide her grin and failed miserably.

“Don’t push it, Evelyn,” he growled. “Or I’ll let
you
tell her where to put the microphone.”

“I don’t think Ms. Malloy would care for my suggestion.”

“Mr. Coehlo is here, Sean,” Evelyn announced a short time later.

“Thank you.” Sean stood and walked around his desk to greet the lawyer.

“Mike, good to see you again,” he said, shaking the town counsel’s hand. “How are Patty and the kids?”

“Doing great, although Patty’s going through a period of adjustment. She’s having a hard time getting used to the fact that our youngest, Jamie, is a freshman in high school. Speaking of which, Jamie came home and announced she wants us to sign her up for this scuba program the Department of Parks and Recreation is organizing.” Mike’s grin widened. “Plus, she’s decided to go to summer school and take an environmental science course. Says she’s thinking about a career in marine science, like this Dr. Banyon who gave a talk at the high school.”

“Good for Jamie.” Sean laughed, feeling better for the first time today. He couldn’t wait to tell Lily that her talk at the high school was already affecting lives. “Have a seat, Mike. Can I offer you some coffee?”

“No, thanks, I’m trying to cut back.” He sat in the chair facing Sean’s desk, laid his brown leather briefcase across his knees, and pressed the locks with his thumbs. They opened with a snap. He drew out a sheaf of papers, closed the briefcase, and set it against the legs of the chair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you yesterday afternoon—”

“No need to apologize, Mike. Mrs. Ritter’s lawyer will be here shortly,” Sean said. “This is a copy of the police report; take a look.” He leaned forward and handed it to him. “I made an asterisk next to a paragraph I thought might interest you.” As the lawyer’s eyes skimmed the report, Sean continued, “No one pressed charges, but when they interviewed the other driver, the woman claimed she’d seen Mrs. Ritter with a cell phone pressed to her ear. Yeah, that’s the relevant paragraph.” He was silent while Coehlo read the passage.

Mike Coehlo raised his head and looked at Sean. A smile split his freckled face. “
Oops
. Looks like this slimeball didn’t do his homework. Thanks, Sean,” he said. “I may actually get to play that round of golf after lunch.”

“My pleasure.”

The intercom buzzed. Sean checked his watch. “I believe our slimeball has arrived. Should we make him wait?”

“Definitely.” Mike grinned. “So, what have you been up to lately, Sean?”

When Evelyn finally ushered Joseph Anders, the lawyer representing Mrs. Ritter, into Sean’s office, no coffee was offered, no pleasantries wasted, either.

Anders settled himself in the only remaining chair, adjusted his tie, and with his chin thrust out pugnaciously in Sean’s direction, said, “As I informed you on the phone yesterday, Mayor McDermott, my client, Mrs. Susan Ritter, intends to file a suit against the town of Coral Beach for failing to make necessary safety improvements to the Bellemer Bridge and the Bellemer Road that leads to it. The town’s gross neglect caused my client and her young children extensive injuries. We feel five million dollars—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Anders,” Sean said. “This is a copy of the investigation report by the police.” He picked up the photocopy and then let it drop onto the desk. He gave the lawyer a smile. “Have you read it by any chance?”

“Naturally,” the lawyer replied.

Anders was bluffing. Sean could see the tiniest flicker of worry in his eyes. In a poker game, Sean would take him to the cleaners. He exchanged a look with Mike, leaned back in his chair, and let Mike have his turn.

Coehlo picked up the copy of the police report and offered it to Anders. “Perhaps you should review page three, paragraph four, Mr. Anders. Then we’ll discuss whether your client really wants to file this lawsuit.”

Sean watched a grimace of embarrassment steal over the lawyer’s face. He doubted Anders was even aware of the odd little noises he was making. Whoever worked as Anders’s paralegal was about to be out of a job. Sean let him sweat a little before nodding to Coehlo.

“I assume you understand that Mrs. Ritter’s suit will go nowhere, Mr. Anders,” Mike said. “I suggest you get in touch with your client immediately. And when you do, you might mention that based upon this police report, the town has a solid defense of contributory negligence. Holding a cell phone to your ear while negotiating a curve is a pretty dumb idea. Especially when your kids are in the backseat,” he finished flatly.

Sean took over. “If you don’t have the good sense to dissuade Mrs. Ritter, I will ask Mr. Coehlo to contact the county prosecutor, who may very well choose to bring Mrs. Ritter to trial for reckless endangerment. Have a nice day, Mr. Anders,” Sean said. “Oh, yes, one other thing. You can give your client a bit of practical advice from me. That curve leading to the bridge? It’s a piece of cake with both hands on the wheel. She should try it sometime.”

“Thanks for coming, Mike,” Sean said, as Mike Coehlo replaced the papers inside his briefcase and stood up. Sean walked him to the door.

They shook hands. “God, I loved the look on Anders’s face when he realized just how deep that shit hole was. I haven’t had this much fun all week.” He laughed and gave Sean a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“No thanks, Mike, I’d rather not. What I would like to do, however, is find out who put Anders on the Ritters’ doorstep. I saw Mrs. Ritter at the hospital after the accident. She didn’t strike me as the type of person who’d get involved in this sort of thing.”

“Any names pop up?”

Sean shrugged. “Gehring, Ferrucci . . . hell, maybe I’m becoming paranoid.”

“Tell you what, I’ll make a few discreet inquiries. I have some friends at the DOT, too.”

“Don’t let it interfere with your golf game.”

“God, no.” Mike grinned. “I’ve got my priorities. I’ll give you a buzz if I unearth anything.”

“I’d appreciate it, Mike. Give my love to Patty and tell Jamie to have fun scuba diving.”

Sean shut the door after Mike and turned to Evelyn. “Think you can work your magic on the espresso machine again for me? I’ve got a few minutes before I have to go ten rounds with a roomful of journalists.”

“Be happy to.” Evelyn made to rise from her chair, when the phone rang. Sitting back down, she answered it. “Mayor McDermott’s office, Evelyn Roemer speaking.” She paused, listening. “Just a minute, please,” she replied, and clamped a hand over the mouthpiece. “Sean, it’s the governor for you.”

Lily, Karen, and John slid into a vacant booth. A waitress wearing a faded shirt with glittery letters spelling
Norma Jean’s
emblazoned on its front brought them their menus, asked whether they would like coffee right away, and disappeared.

“Nice place you’re treating us to, Lily.” John leaned back, resting his arms along the back of the vinyl-covered booth. His sunglasses reflected the noonday sun as he surveyed the other patrons eating lunch, the lunch board with the handwritten specials all but obscured by grime. “Yes, indeed. Real swank. Definitely pulling out all the stops for us.”

Lily smiled tightly. “Pulling out all the stops?” she repeated. “I think clogging all the arteries is a better way to describe a meal at Norma Jean’s. And for you, John, only the finest grease in Coral Beach will do.” She was too tired to put up with John’s sarcasm. She’d spent the night staring at the dead phone, trying to convince herself that this was for the best. Yet as the clock ticked off the minutes creeping by, she kept hearing Karen’s voice saying the word
coward
over and over again. Perhaps Karen was right. Perhaps she was a coward, but at least she’d be leaving Coral Beach next week with her heart merely bruised and battered—not lost forever.

When the waitress returned to take their orders, Lily said, without bothering to consult the menu, “I’ll have the Jimmy Buffet. Hold the beer, please.”

“What’s a Jimmy Buffet?” John asked her.

“ ‘Cheeseburger and Paradise,’ ” Lily quoted.

“So what do they call it if you want a cheeseburger with bacon?”

Lily pretended to think about it. “That would be a bacon cheeseburger.”

“Jesus.” John tossed aside the menu. “Bacon cheeseburger for me.”

“I’ll have the salad, please.” Karen said. “Oh, and some Jell-O.”

Despite the air of neglect that permeated the place, Norma Jean’s was fast and efficient. Their orders arrived before they’d finished talking about the morning’s dive.

“I got to admit, this is pretty good,” John said around a mouthful of burger.

Lily nodded. “Yeah, these are the best burgers in Florida. I figured our last lunch should be a memorable one.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely remember this trip,” John said with a laugh. Demolishing his burger in short order, he left to use the rest room.

Karen had merely picked over her salad, muttering about wilted iceberg. With a sigh, she pushed it aside, picked up a spoon, and pulled the bowl of green Jell-O closer.

Lily signaled the waitress to bring them their check, doing her best not to look while Karen poked tentatively at the green globs.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Karen said, watching with sick fascination as it jiggled wildly.

“You certainly wouldn’t catch me eating that stuff,” Lily said.

“Mind if I join you?” Sean slid into the space vacated by John.

“Hey, Sean,” Karen said, smiling brightly for the first time today. “Want some Jell-O? I haven’t taken a bite.”

“I’ll pass. Thanks though, Karen.” Sean paused and gave Lily a long look. “Hello, Lily.”

She maintained a stony silence.

“Here’s your check,” the waitress said, and placed the slip in the middle of the Formica-topped booth. “You want something to eat, Mayor McDermott?”

“No, thanks, Sue.”

“A cup of joe?” she asked.

For a second, Sean’s gaze released Lily to look up and shake his head at the waitress. Lily’s hands flew to her wallet. Opening it, she riffled through the bills. Damn, they were all twenties. She’d have to wait for change.

“Lily, we need to talk.”

“That won’t be possible, Mr. Mayor. We’re just leaving.”

“I thought I’d come on the dive this afternoon—”