Secret Sisters (20 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“Somehow, everything looked bigger when we lived here as kids,” Daphne said. “The hotel, the town, the cottage where Mom and I lived. Even this beach. Now it all seems so much smaller. How does that happen?”

“I suppose it's a change of perspective,” Madeline said. “When we were growing up, Cooper Island was our whole world.”

“And then we went out into a much bigger world, so the island and everything on it now seem smaller in comparison.”

Madeline studied the opposite end of the rocky beach and thought about how far away it had seemed when she and Daphne had come here in the old days. They had sought the privacy of the beach to share the secrets and mysteries of the girl-into-woman metamorphosis they were undergoing.

Today when they had felt the need to get some fresh air, they had both instinctively turned toward the cliff path. There had been no need for words. The beach had called them when they were young, and it called them now.

The day had dawned crisp and sunny. If you were in the sun, as
she and Daphne were, it was surprisingly warm. But in the shade there was a chill.

“I think that's how it works,” she said. “We have a different perspective, a different frame of reference now.”

Daphne glanced at her, sunlight glinting on her dark glasses. “So if the past looks smaller in hindsight, why does it bear a striking resemblance to a very large asteroid on a collision course with us?”

“You know the old safety warning—
objects in the rearview mirror are closer than they appear.
”

“You and I should have done something about our particular asteroid a long time ago. We should have opened up that wall in room two-oh-nine and taken a good look at whatever was in that briefcase. At least we'd have known what we're dealing with.”

“I thought about doing that once in a while,” Madeline said. “But for some reason I never felt like I had the right. The secret always seemed to belong to the adults—my grandmother and Tom. I was just a kid.”

“But now we are the adults.”

“Yes.”

They walked in silence for a while. It seemed they had almost never shared long silences as girls. There had always been so much to talk about—boys, school, boys, clothes, boys, the doings of movie stars, boys. Sister travelers on the great journey to adulthood, they could not wait to reach their destination.

And then had come the night of blood and violence, the night that had changed everything. The journey to adulthood had been just as relentless in the wake of that shattering night, but Madeline knew that neither of them had traveled it in the protective cloak of innocence. The man named Porter had given them a glimpse of the darkness that was always just below the surface of the world. Once viewed, it could never be forgotten.

“You and Jack seem to have crossed a bridge while Abe and I were in La Jolla,” Daphne said.

“I suppose it is sort of obvious.”

“The fact that you two are now sharing the same bedroom was definitely a clue. But I knew from the start that there was something serious going on between you and Jack. The electricity in the atmosphere is off the charts.”

“We've been circling each other for about three months now. Grandma hired him just before she died. I inherited him.”

Daphne smiled. “That's certainly an interesting way to start a relationship.”

“Saves hanging out in bars or filling in questionnaires at the online matchmaking sites.”

“True. Think there's a future with Jack?”

“No. He made it very clear that he's not interested in a future. As Grandma would have said, he's not the marrying kind.”

“Has Jack actually said that?”

“He went to great pains to make sure I got the point before we wound up in the same bed.”

“Ouch. Well, at least he was honest about it. Unlike some people I could mention—my lying, cheating husband, for example.”

“Oh, yeah,” Madeline said. “Jack was very up-front about his lack of interest in marriage.”

“He used those words?
Lack of interest
?”

“Well, no, not exactly. He just said something about not being able to offer a future.”

“Good heavens.” Daphne halted and turned quickly. “Is he ill?”

“No, nothing so dramatic.”

Daphne relaxed and started walking again. “I can't believe that he's got a secret wife and family tucked away somewhere. I'm sure Abe would have mentioned it.”

“I'm pretty sure there's no secret family.”

“So what's wrong with our picture of Jack Rayner?”

“I don't know,” Madeline admitted. “I suppose I could hire a private investigator to do a background check on him. It would be sort of strange, though.”

Daphne chuckled. “Who do you hire to investigate the man you hired to conduct investigations?”

“Exactly. But in this case I don't think there's any reason to push it. Odds are good that whatever Jack and I have going won't last long.”

“I thought you executive types liked to think positive.”

“I'm trying to be realistic,” Madeline said. “That way there's less of a shock when things go south.”

“Why are you so sure your relationship with Jack is doomed?”

“For the same reasons all my previous relationships have been doomed.”

“Your intimacy issues.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jack knows about your issues?”

“Yep. We had a lengthy conversation about his issues and mine before we—you know.”

“Before you fell into bed together,” Daphne concluded.

“Mm.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“I sense sarcasm.”

“Do you always have conversations like that before you go to bed with someone?” Daphne asked with what sounded like clinical curiosity.

“I try to be honest about my issues.”

“Does it work?”

“No. At the start, men always think I'm going to be the perfect
date—a bit of the woman-in-leather thing spiced with commitment-free sex.”

“A real wet dream for a lot of guys.”

“At first.”

“What goes wrong?”

“You mean, aside from the fact that I don't actually wear leather in bed?”

“Aside from that,” Daphne said.

“What usually goes wrong is that I make a few demands. I take my time deciding if I want to have sex with a man. I want a companion, not just someone to fall into bed with.”

“You want a relationship. Perfectly natural.”

“I admit that I like to date men who are willing to engage in extended conversations about a variety of subjects,” Madeline said.

“You were always interested in anything and everything.”

“While I'm having those conversations with a man, I run a background check on him. If all goes well, I'm willing to get into bed. But I do tend to drag my feet during the getting-to-know-you phase because the sex phase is always the beginning of the end.”

“Maybe you should rethink the whole leather-in-bed thing. Spark up your wardrobe. Get a nice little whip. Might make your relationships last longer.”

Madeline felt the giggles rise up out of nowhere. And suddenly she was laughing.

“You know, you haven't changed, Daphne. Always there with the helpful styling tips. You should write a column.”

“One thing I've learned over the years is that nobody really wants my good advice. They just pretend to listen to it.”

“Probably because most people just want to whine about their problems. They don't want to actually take the hard actions that will fix those problems.”

“You haven't changed much, either,” Daphne said. “You're still the pragmatist you were when you were twelve. You look at something that you're pretty sure won't work and you cut your losses.”

“Go ahead, say it, I'm a boring business executive.”

“No, you're a very fine hotel executive who knows how to create a warm and welcoming environment for travelers.”

“Thank you. But I suspect that I'm also a very boring hotel executive.”

“You have recently survived an attempt on your life, you faced down Louisa Webster, you are trying to solve an eighteen-year-old mystery, and you are sleeping with a man who carries a gun. I think we can say with absolute certainty that, whatever else you may be, you are not boring.”

Madeline thought about that for a beat. “You're right. At the moment my life is not the least bit boring.”

“Abe said that Jack was a lot like a freight train once he made a decision. Anyone standing in the path had two options—get out of the way or get on board.”

“So?”

“So I'm thinking that if Jack ever did make a commitment, you could take it to the bank,” Daphne said.

“I think you're right.”

“Present circumstances aside, how do you feel about taking over your grandmother's hotel chain?” Daphne asked.

Madeline thought about that for a few steps. “I've never even asked myself that question. I always knew where I was going. Never considered doing anything else. Grandma made me start out in housekeeping and work in every department and at every skill level in the business until I made it into upper management. I loved all of it. So yes, I'm fine with the job. I've been in training for it my whole life.”

“You were born into the family business.”

“Yes. But I still miss Grandma terribly. We argued over a lot of things. She could be so damn stubborn. But she loved me and I loved her.”

“You were family,” Daphne said. “I understand. My mom and I are close, too. She's been worried about me since Brandon died.”

“Did you ever tell her about the other woman?”

“No. I was afraid it would just make things worse. She liked Brandon so much and was so happy that I had found my soul mate, as she put it. She was looking forward to grandchildren.”

“You should tell her the truth.”

“Think so?”

“Yes. Who are you trying to protect by keeping the secret? You or your mom?”

“Good question. I hadn't thought of it that way.” Daphne paused. “Me, probably. I didn't want to admit to anyone, including Mom, that I had been such a trusting fool.”

“You were not a fool. You are an honorable person who made a commitment in good faith. The bastard who asked you for that commitment lacked honor and integrity. He was not worthy of you, but that does not make you weak or foolish. I've got a hunch that sooner or later, all decent, honorable people make the mistake of trusting the wrong person. All we can do is move on.”

“Who are you lecturing? Me? Or yourself?”

“Both of us, I guess,” Madeline said.

“Sounds like good advice.”

For a time they walked in silence.

“Say you could go back in time,” Madeline said after a while. “Right back to the moment when your husband got his diagnosis. Say you found out that same week that he'd been having an affair. Do you really think you would have walked out and left him on his own?”

“In a heartbeat,” Daphne said, grimly cheerful and defiant.

“No,” Madeline said. “I don't think so. You would have been
crushed and you would have been angry, but you wouldn't have left him alone.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know you.”

“You knew me when I was a girl,” Daphne said.

“You were a very kind, very brave girl. Grandma always said that people don't change, at least not way down deep inside where it counts. You wouldn't leave anyone to die alone, not even a husband who had cheated on you.”

“But at least I would have been able to tell him to his face that I knew that he was a lying, cheating bastard.”

“Oh, yeah,” Madeline said. “At least you would have been able to tell him that.”

She looked down at a tide pool where tiny creatures were going about the business of survival. The little crabs and the small fish darting here and there in the shallow water lived out their lives in a world that was only a couple of yards across. Within the confines of that world they did what all living things did. They searched for food, reproduced, and tried to hide from the predators in the shadows.

Perspective was everything. And yet nothing. The predators were out there, regardless of the size of your world, Madeline thought. But so was friendship. You just had to reach out and make it happen.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the same with love.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Abe snapped the stem off the last spear of asparagus and gestured proudly at the heap on the cutting board. “What do you say, boss? Do I get an A?”

Jack looked up from the salmon fillets he was rubbing with a mix of spices. He glanced at the large pile of asparagus.

“Looks good,” Jack said. “Now blot 'em dry with some paper towels, put them in a bowl, and toss them with a little olive oil and salt and lemon juice.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Abe held up both hands, palms out. “Easy for you to say. How much oil? How much salt?”

“Just eyeball it.”

“No way. I'm not screwing this up and taking the blame for any ensuing disaster.”

“Okay, step aside, grasshopper,” Jack said. “I'll handle the olive oil.”

He washed his hands, dried them, and moved to the cutting board. He scooped up the asparagus and dumped it into a bowl. He drizzled the spears with olive oil, added some flaked salt, and squeezed half a lemon over the top.

“Okay, they're all yours,” he announced. “Line the baking sheet with parchment paper and spread the spears out on the sheet.”

“Then what?”

“Then I will get started on the hollandaise sauce.”

“Wow. We're trying to impress the ladies tonight, aren't we?”

“Got a problem with that?”

“No, sir,” Abe said. “Got one more question for you, though.”

Jack took the eggs and some butter out of the refrigerator. “What?”

“Does this cooking thing make it easy to meet women?”

“Not that I've noticed.”

“Come on, women must find it romantic.”

“Sometimes,” Jack said. He put the butter into a pan and set it on the stove to melt. “At the start. But the effect doesn't last long. Sooner or later other stuff gets in the way, and then my ability to cook dinner loses its attraction. Turns out women are smart. They figure out right away that they can order in.”

“The other stuff that gets in the way being your issues.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm no expert on relationships, but for what it's worth, I don't think Ms. Chase has a problem with you or your issues.”

“She will.” Jack sliced open another lemon and squeezed the juice into a measuring cup. “Eventually. Why don't you stop standing around doing nothing and slice up that loaf of sourdough bread I picked up today.”

“That's one of the things I admire about you, boss.”

“What?”

“Your sunny, optimistic outlook. It's downright inspirational.”

“I live to inspire my staff.”

“Speaking for all two of us—Becky and me—we appreciate that.”

Jack's phone pinged just as he finished separating the third egg. He wiped his hands on the towel and unclipped the device.

“Becky. About time you checked in. What have you got for me?”

“Nothing that you can take to the police and certainly nothing that would stand up in court, but it looks like Edith Chase may have had a visitor on the night of the fire,” Becky said.

Jack felt the old, familiar spike of adrenaline. “Go on.”

“After the alarms sounded, the situation was the usual controlled chaos that you get in a major evacuation, but the safety procedures were in place and they worked.” Becky paused. “Well, except for the one fatality.”

“Mrs. Chase. Go on.”

“I finally managed to track down almost every member of the staff. One of the bellmen said that when the alarm went off, he was tasked with going door-to-door on the floor just below Mrs. Chase's floor. He was busy getting people out of their rooms and into the stairwell. He had a list and he was counting heads to make sure he hadn't missed a room. He was concentrating on his floor but when I asked him about the floor above, he said something interesting.”

“I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop here.”

“Right. By the time he arrived at his floor there were several guests already descending the emergency stairs. But just before he opened the fire door to go into the hall, he heard the stairwell door on the floor above open and close. He's sure there was someone on the landing.”

“Huh.”

“He didn't pay much attention because he was focused on his assigned floor. But at the time he assumed the person coming down the stairs was Mrs. Chase or whoever had been sent to make sure she got out safely. As you know, the penthouse occupies the whole top floor of that hotel. She was the only guest in that room.”

“Did he see the person on the floor above?”

“No. The bellman had a job to do and he did it. He went down his
assigned hall and started banging on doors. I asked him if he thought the person he had heard on the landing above his floor was male or female. He said he just didn't know. He assumed female because—”

“Because he assumed it was Mrs. Chase.”

“Exactly. Like I said, he didn't stick around to make sure because he had his own responsibilities that night. After he found out that Mrs. Chase hadn't made it out of the building, he told the investigators that he had heard someone in the stairwell, but from what I can tell, nothing was done with the information. Got a hunch no one thought it was important.”

“The investigators probably assumed that, what with all the people and noise in the stairwell, the bellman had not heard correctly.”

“You know how sound carries in an emergency stairwell,” Becky said. “It's all the hard surfaces. In most stairwells you can hear people talking several floors above or below wherever you're standing.”

“Thanks, Becky. You've done some good work on this.”

“That means a raise, right? And a company car?”

“How about a gold star to stick on your computer?”

“Self-sticking or do I have to lick it?”

“If you're going to get picky, you can forget the gold star.”

“I'll take whatever I can get,” Becky said. “Anything else I can do on this end?”

“You said you've been able to track down almost every member of the hotel staff. Who's still missing?”

“The housekeeper who was assigned to the penthouse that day. She had to leave town shortly after the fire to take care of her elderly parents.”

“Find her.”

Jack ended the call and glanced up to see Madeline and Daphne standing in the doorway of the big kitchen. Madeline looked amused. Daphne's brows were slightly elevated. Abe was focused on arranging
the asparagus in a neat row on the baking sheet, but the corner of his mouth was twitching a little.

Jack looked at Madeline. “Am I missing something here?”

“Have you ever actually said good-bye before you ended a call?” Madeline asked as though she were genuinely curious.

“I don't like good-byes,” Jack said.

“Because they're a waste of time?” Madeline asked.

“No,” he said. “Because they sound so damn final. I only say good-bye when I really mean good-bye. As in, I won't be seeing that person again or at least I hope like hell I won't be seeing him or her again.”

They were all gazing at him now, evidently speechless.

He put the egg yolks, lemon juice, salt, and a dash of cayenne into the blender and hit the on switch. Very slowly he drizzled in the melted butter. It wasn't the classic way to make hollandaise sauce, but it was practically foolproof. He didn't want any screwups tonight.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” he said over the roar of the blender. “Anyone else want another beer or a glass of wine?”