Trimmed With Murder (8 page)

The question hung in the heated air of the car.

“I don't know,” Amber said simply. “The inheritance is kind of a blur. But I know what I'm going to do for my mother.”

Nell glanced at her face in the mirror. It held little emotion, and her voice was eerily calm.

Amber looked out the window, her breath clouding the glass as she spoke into it. “For the first time in forever, I feel some control over this family. They've controlled me, my mother. But no longer. I have no idea what I will do with this inheritance, but I'll use it in whatever way I need to. You can bet on it.”

I
t was tacitly agreed that Charlie would stay on in the guesthouse. Ben and Nell had assumed from the start that he would stay there as long as he chose. And Charlie simply didn't leave. They added a microwave to the small galley kitchen in the back of the cottage and told him the laundry in the main house was his to use and their meals his to enjoy whenever the spirit moved him.

Dr. Lily Virgilio was thrilled to have Charlie helping at the free health clinic—Janie Levin was going to show him the ropes and as far as all of them were concerned, they would keep him as long as he could stay.

“I can see already that he's an excellent nurse,” Lily had told Nell when she saw her in the checkout lane at the Market Basket on Tuesday. “He met a group of kids this morning and they love him. He's kind and gentle and very smart—just as I'd expect Izzy's brother would be.”

Kind and gentle and smart.
Nell repeated the adjectives to Ben and Sam later that day. They all agreed that he was those things. And more.

Sam had scratched his head. “There's something else going on in that head of his that he needs to get rid of. It's as if he's locked up ten years of his life and thrown away the key. He might be better-looking now, but that young pimply kid I used to know when he was young had a spirit that seems to have dimmed along the way.”

Nell questioned him on what he meant, but Sam just shook his head. “Izzy talks about it, too, about those years. The lost years, she calls them. Though he wasn't really lost. Just not available, I'd guess you'd say. He doesn't ask Izzy much about her life, law school, why she moved here, marrying me. It's as if he's afraid to go there—to open that conversation—because then he'd have to reciprocate. But if you ask me he and his sister are never going to completely mend the sibling bond Charlie has done his best to sever unless he gives Izzy the key to those years.”

•   •   •

On Wednesday night, Charlie pulled his car into the driveway just as Ben and Nell were leaving.

“We haven't seen much of you the past couple days,” Ben said, and insisted Charlie join them at the yacht club for a drink and food. “It's the best winter buffet you'll ever find anywhere, anytime. Sam and Izzy will probably show up, too. Sometimes Birdie. You just never know.”

Charlie checked his watch, then his phone for messages, then finally agreed. But he'd follow them over in his own car. He was whipped and might call it an early night.

Izzy, Birdie, and Sam were already at the club, greeting the hostess and waving to friends across the room. “Danny and Cass are on their way,” Izzy said. She turned toward Charlie.

“This is a middle-of-the-week pickup for us,” she said, then without thought looped her arm in his and followed the hostess to a table near windows.

Nell looked into the lounge just as Barbara Cummings and Garrett O'Neal walked out.

Barbara spotted Nell, waved, and walked their way. Her greeting was firm and pleasant, as was her way. She always looked the same, Nell thought, her short cropped hair perfectly groomed, her pantsuit dark colored and well made. Her expression businesslike, even in social settings. Ben saw it differently. She was difficult to read, he said—lots went on behind that composed expression, which probably fared her well in business. Who knew what was behind the smile and set jaw, the intelligent greeting?

Garrett O'Neal stood next to Barbara. He was about the same height but seemed smaller in stature when standing with the nursery owner. He nodded politely to Ben and Nell and said a few words but seemed anxious to move on. He touched the rim of his glasses nervously, his eyes behind them seeming tired.

“Are you here for dinner?” Ben asked.

“Garrett and my brother, Stu, love this buffet,” Barbara said. “They insist on coming, even after grueling days at the office. Sometimes I escape—there are things I enjoy doing with my time off—but tonight Garrett insisted.”

Nell suspected the last few days might have been especially grueling for all of them as they absorbed Lydia's will and any changes it might mean for the company.

Garrett's attention had already drifted away from them as he looked around the room.

Nell spotted the rest of Garrett's party at the same time that he did. Stuart Cummings sat in quiet conversation with his wife, Helen. Beatrice Scaglia, Sea Harbor's mayor and a good friend of the couple, sat across the table from them, listening attentively.

Beatrice looked across the room and met Nell's eyes one second before Nell could look away. The mayor was a formidable force, and sometimes avoiding conversations with her made for a more peaceful evening, in Nell's opinion.

But it was too late. With an enthusiastic wave, Beatrice gestured them over.

“Two of my favorite people,” the mayor said, standing up on her signature three-inch heels, smoothing her silk suit, then kissing Ben on each cheek. She turned from Ben and gave Nell a hug.

“Always the politician, Beatrice,” Ben laughed. “You've perfected the gracious hello.”

Stuart stood and shook hands all around. “That's our mayor. But we love her just the same, even though she makes us look puny and poorly dressed sometimes.”

Beatrice ignored him and looked beyond Ben and over to a nearby table where Izzy, Charlie, and the others had already emptied one basket of calamari. “That's Izzy's brother, correct? I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him yet. Helen and Stu tell me he's been hanging out at the company business office.”

“Charlie?” Nell said, puzzled. “I don't think so . . .” She glanced over at Charlie.

“Amber Harper has practically moved in over there,” Beatrice said. “She's doing everything but sleeping on the desk. Garrett can barely get to his files, or so I've heard.”

Garrett looked annoyed, but more at the mayor and what she was saying than being inconvenienced. He was about to say something when Barbara discreetly touched Beatrice's arm and said firmly, “Bea, it's all right. Let's not drag the whole town into this.”

But Beatrice was known for protecting her political supporters, and the Cummings family was among the most lucrative and generous of them. She looked at Barbara, then Stu. “I'm sure you'll be able to control the situation. But if City Hall can be of assistance, I want you to know that you have my help and support.”

Ben frowned. “City Hall?”

But Beatrice wasn't quite through. “Barbara and Stuart are trying to protect the amazing and successful company their mother and father worked so hard to build. Cummings Northshore Nurseries does wonderful things for our town. Having a stranger come in and poke around isn't appropriate now, is it?” She tossed the question out indiscriminately, to anyone who might want to answer it. Her black eyes flashed.

Her voice level, her face expressionless, Barbara answered, “She's doing it because she now owns part of the company, Beatrice. You know that. She'll lose interest soon.”

“I just wonder what she hopes to find over there,” Helen said, speaking up for the first time. She looked around at the others, her shyness lessened by a sip of martini.

Helen was the opposite of her sister-in-law, Nell thought, watching her now. She wondered if they were friends—or simply thrown together by marriage, polite sisters-in-law. As always, Helen's attire was impeccable and more feminine than Barbara's—a tasteful green wool dress, a gold necklace circling her long neck, and an elegant brooch near the scooped neckline. Helen clearly cared for herself, making the most of what otherwise might have been nondescript features, a long and narrow nose and chin, graying hair covered expertly with dark brown highlights. Nell imagined the two women's contrasting days: Helen's at a salon or gym and doing whatever she could to make her husband's life more comfortable; Barbara's in an office crowded with files and books and computers, her keen mind playing with figures and financial reports.

Stu glanced down at his wife and answered her question, his face not as cheery as normal, but his voice calm and reasonable. “It's not rocket science what she's looking for—Miss Harper is trying to get her arms around what she inherited. Barbara's right—she'll soon figure out that running a company is complicated—business always is—and she'll do the right thing and move on with her life. It's what my good mother intended. I'm putting together a package for her right now. She doesn't know anything about business—she's been a waitress in Florida from what my sources tell me.” Stu smiled and huffed at their foolish worry. The cigar in his shirt pocket wobbled against his wide chest. “Problem resolved,” he said.

His intentions were clear—to change the subject and move to the buffet where steaming containers of boiled lobster and crab and piles of oysters were waiting.

Nell looked over at Ben, who was as uncomfortable as she was at being privy to the Cummingses' private family and business affairs—and equally appreciative of Stu's cordial and valiant attempt to end the discussion.

But his reasoning wasn't very sound, a fact that didn't escape either of the Endicotts. If Lydia Cummings intended for Amber to sell the Sea Harbor Nursery back to her children, why didn't she just give her granddaughter a monetary inheritance and avoid this kind of consternation?

Nell was even more curious about what Charlie's role was in the whole affair. She looked over at him now, his head back, laughing at something. “Is Charlie helping Amber in some way?” she asked Garrett and Barbara. “Why is he at the office?”

Barbara looked at Garrett, who seemed hesitant to answer. Finally he said, “Miss Harper seems to have her friend Charlie on speed dial. She was at the office until nearly midnight one night—I stayed too, not wanting to leave her alone. She said Charlie was picking her up and I didn't need to stick around, but I felt I should.”

“That was nice of you,” Nell said, although she wasn't sure that was what it was. Garrett looked nervous, and she had the distinct impression that leaving Amber alone in the office would be like leaving a stranger alone in his house. Especially one he didn't trust.

When no one else spoke, Garrett seemed to feel the need to fill the silence with more information. “I offered to answer any questions she had, but she doesn't seem to want that kind of help from me,” he said. “We have an intern, Zack Levin. She goes to him, but he's there to help with the computers, that's all. He doesn't know anything. Mostly Amber pokes around on her own, reading company history, files, computer files, whatever she can get her hands on, using my printer. My worry is that something might get misplaced or lost. I keep careful track of everything. I suggested she might stick to regular company hours, but, well, she made it clear our office wasn't the only thing on her agenda. She'd fit it in when she could.”

“All right, then.” Stu smiled broadly and pulled out a chair for his sister. “On a more festive note, we'll see all of you Saturday, no?”

“Saturday?” Nell said, and then she remembered. It was the evening the decorating teams laid claim to their tree. “Of course we'll be there. Let's hope for decent weather.”

“It doesn't matter. Stu has thought of everything,” Helen said, reaching up and touching her husband's arm, smiling at him. “Northshore Nurseries is putting up a heated tent on the Harbor Green. It will be a winter wonderland event.”

When Nell and Ben finally reached their table, Danny assured them their drinks were on their way and that he'd ordered more appetizers for the table. “I thought for a minute you'd ditched us to be seen with the mayor, maybe get your picture taken?”

Everyone laughed. They all liked Beatrice well enough, and to the surprise of some, she was doing a decent job as mayor. But spending an evening with the very opinionated and talkative mayor would not be on Ben Endicott's bucket list, not in a million years.

“The Cummingses look a little worse for wear,” Izzy said. She glanced over, then quickly back when she noticed Helen Cummings staring at their table.

Nell glanced back, too. Garrett looked worn out, and she realized she had never heard him string so many words together. And to do it in front of all the Cummingses plus the mayor had to have added stress to his effort.

Charlie followed her look. “I met that guy last night,” he said. “He doesn't talk much, but I don't think he's crazy about Amber coming in like she owns the place.”

“But she does,” Sam said. “At least part of it.”

“What's she going to do with it?” Cass asked.

“Are you asking me?” Charlie asked, poking a thumb into his chest. “Amber keeps things pretty close to her chest.” He changed the topic. Finally Ben roused them by rising from his chair and suggesting they head for the buffet table and show Charlie what living in Sea Harbor was all about.

Plates were filled with baked potatoes, lobster and crab, coleslaw, and cheesy corn. The waitress had left baskets of rolls and Irish butter on the tables, along with bowls of sauces and dips.

“Why don't all of you weigh seven hundred pounds?” Charlie finally asked. He pushed his chair back a few inches and stared at his plate that had been wiped clean more than once.

“Because we've learned not to go back for seconds and thirds,” Izzy said sweetly.

Even Charlie laughed, then heartily seconded Ben's suggestion that they finish off the meal with baked apple and cinnamon ice cream. Then he backed out of the conversation and let the talk circle around him, looking down at his lap as his thumb tapped on his phone, checking for messages.

From the other side of the table, Danny brought the conversation back to the reluctant guest. “So you played football in college, Charlie?”

“High school,” he said.

“But . . . ,” Izzy began to correct him. But the memory was vague. She was in law school on the East Coast when Charlie went off to college half a country away. She looked over at Nell, who seemed to be picking at her own memories as well.