Waterfront Weddings (53 page)

He didn’t like the idea of her waltzing around the island asking questions. She’d been gone a long time. Old wounds had scabbed over. She was bound to irritate others if she refused to leave the past alone. Until she asked for his help though, there wasn’t much he could do.

Now that she knew about the paintings, she’d add that to the questions burning through her. If she was determined to clear her brother, she’d bulldog residents about the graduation party. Asking the questions no one wanted to answer. And she didn’t have a clue. Well, maybe she did now that her mom had left without a word.

It would benefit everyone to unbury the event people ignored. The wound festered below the surface, and now Alanna would change that.

Jonathan entered his cabin and sped through getting ready. A protein bar served as breakfast as he biked downtown. Maybe he couldn’t ask the questions for her, but he could poke around the edges. If he didn’t, she’d only make things worse.

Alanna fumed through her morning routine. Between her mother leaving like a spoiled teenager and Jonathan, she felt wrung out before she’d been awake an hour.

The simple solution? Leave.

Head back to her job at the firm. Her apartment in Grand Rapids. Her roommate and cat.

She couldn’t do it though. It wasn’t in her to slide back into that world before she resolved the questions and problems she’d uncovered. She didn’t walk away from a fight. She was a litigator after all. But those battles hadn’t revolved around her family.

The coffee perked in the pot while she stared out the window across the pond.

God, what do I do?

He was truth. Would He lead her to truth? She wasn’t sure how to begin, other than investigate Grady’s death. That would be tricky. Everyone seemed to have placed the event firmly in the past. But if she could clear Trevor, he could put his name on the paintings, and her parents could properly display and sell the work. Then only the people who’d already bought the wrongly signed art would need some type of restitution. For now they could wait.

Alanna poured coffee into a traveling mug and doctored it with flavored syrup and milk. Her thoughts gave her a headache, the kind that could pound a drum beat the rest of the day if she didn’t tackle it now. She rubbed her temples in an effort to loosen its hold before she opened the studio.

She had to find an employee. Then she could investigate to her heart’s content and eventually leave.

When she reached the Painted Stone, Alanna made short work of the opening duties. As soon as she flipped the sign to O
PEN
, she settled on the stool at the counter. While the computer booted up, she made a short list of people to talk to. . .people who lived on the island all those years ago and who might have memories about what happened.

Then she opened her e-mail. As the messages poured in, she glanced through them for résumés. She sorted through the few, disappointed only a couple lived close enough to interview. Guess she’d need to advertise in closer newspapers if she wanted to find someone quickly rather than spend the season on Mackinac. The partners would love that.

The bells announced a new arrival. She glanced up and smiled when Ginger entered. The woman had a firm set to her posture. A small smile pasted on her face almost looked as if it belonged.

“Good morning, Alanna.”

“Hi, Ginger. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got what you wanted.” Ginger placed a thin file on the counter.

Alanna pivoted it toward her so she could read the label. C
ADIEUX
, G
RADY
. His case file. She’d almost forgotten about asking for it. “Thank you.”

“I hope you enjoy the reading.” Ginger’s lips tightened. “Some things are better left in the past.”

“Some,” Alanna agreed. “But not this.”

Ginger blinked quickly. “Another example of life not being fair.”

Alanna studied her. Why did she care so much about someone who had died so long ago? Had they still been dating when he died? She tried to remember.

Ginger swiped at her eyes then squared her shoulders. “The past is over, right?”

“Is it?”

“Not when my baby never knew her daddy.” Ginger spun on her heel and hurried from the studio as her words hovered.

Her baby? Grady’s? How come she hadn’t heard that? She might have left Mackinac, but Mom had done a good job the first few years of keeping her up-to-date on the lives of her friends. Then she resigned herself to the reality Alanna wouldn’t return.

Ginger’s daughter was Grady’s. Would her search hurt the girl? Bringing to the surface questions Ginger wouldn’t want to answer?

A couple wandered in, both looking vaguely familiar, but Alanna couldn’t place them. A common occurrence after eleven years away. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Looking for inspiration.” The tall woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Enjoy.” Alanna watched the two a minute then turned back to the file Ginger had thrown at her, thoughts spinning. She scanned the file but didn’t see anything she hadn’t expected. Still, she’d needed to look. Next she’d dig up news articles from Grady’s death. See what she could learn there.

The door banged open, the bell jangling an angry song. Alanna looked up and straightened when Mr. Hoffmeister marched in. He nodded to the couple but didn’t slow as he approached Alanna.

“Good morning.” The lines drawn deep in his face didn’t match the words. He wiped his hands on his formerly white apron, smudges of rich chocolate fudge coloring it. The cloud of chocolate following him made Alanna’s mouth water.

“Mr. Hoffmeister. You just missed Ginger.”

“I know. She’s why I’m here.” The lines around his eyes tightened, and Alanna could almost feel his pain.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

She eyed him, unconvinced. “What are you doing away from the fudge?”

“Needed to clear the air a bit.” His words bit between them.

Alanna leaned back, wishing the stool had a backrest and slanting a quick glance at the couple. They seemed focused on the paintings, but the woman had pivoted slightly toward them. Great. “Okay.”

“I know you’ve been away awhile. So you might have forgotten a few things. Like how those who live here take care of their own. Well, we do.”

“Yes, sir. I remember.” The violation of that code had kept her away.

“We don’t like people poking around in matters best left alone. You have to be careful, or you’ll get hurt.” He placed his palms on the counter as if to steady himself. “Leave the past where it belongs.”

“I will if I can, but I need to see if I can uncover what happened. Free Trevor to return.”

“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.” He slammed a hand on the counter, and she jumped. What happened to the sweet man she’d always known? “Alanna, I’ve always liked you and your family. But if you dig into the past too deeply, it will only harm your parents. They still live here. . .try to make a living here. I know you don’t mean to jeopardize that. Please stop asking your questions.”

What did he mean? She’d barely asked any. Her glance landed on the folder. Did this have something to do with Ginger? “I promise to be careful.”

“I don’t want to see my daughter or granddaughter hurt. And be careful about Tomkin.”

Alanna let that soak in as he studied her intently. She resisted the need to squirm. “I’ve known him a long time.”

“But not the last eleven years. He’s changed. Devious.” Odd how his words mirrored the ones Mr. Tomkin said of him. Finally, he nodded. “Someone will get hurt if you don’t leave the past alone. I’ve said what I needed.”

Alanna’s jaw dropped as he spun and marched out of the studio as abruptly as he’d appeared. What had happened to the man who wanted to talk to her? Share secrets from the past with her?

She hurried to the windows and watched him hustle down the sidewalk. Where his posture had always been board straight, he now walked like a man burdened. He’d shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy Dockers and hunched his shoulders. Without much breeze, he didn’t fight the elements. No, it looked like he fought a war within himself. A battle she wanted to glimpse. Especially if that shed light on her brother’s mess.

The rest of the morning passed with a few people glancing in the windows, but no one ventured inside the store. Once she’d freshly dusted each piece, Alanna sat back down at the computer. She pulled up an article on Grady’s death. As she read it, the details leaped into her mind in fresh color.

It had been a quiet spring day. The kind that still had a chill that bit through clothes whenever the wind kicked in off the lake. That didn’t stop the high school seniors from heading to the narrow beach the moment Mr. Tomkin dismissed them. Within an hour, a towering bonfire burned, kicking heat around as the flames danced higher and higher, as if straining to touch the sky
.

Her classmates had paired off, but Alanna remained alone
.
If Jonathan had lived on the island, she wouldn’t have sat on a log by herself. Grady brought a cooler with him, and when she opened it, longneck bottles waited in a bed of ice. She closed the lid, refusing to join in that part of the celebration. As the alcohol flowed, each person’s plans for the future spiraled into crazier and crazier areas. According to them, she’d attended high school with a future president, cancer-eradicating doctor, and next NFL probowl quarterback
.

The laughter rolled around the fire after Grady made that claim. She still lay awake some nights wondering if they had all backed off, would Grady have stopped there? Instead, the juniors and sophomores had arrived—Trevor with them. Grady scanned the group and launched to his full height
.

“Who wants to race?” He puffed out his chest and flexed his arms. “I can beat any of you to the round lighthouse.”

“Don’t do it, Grady.” Alanna wrapped her arms around her and shivered. “It’s too cold to do anything in the water.”

“ Yeah, at least wait until summer to prove you’re a man.” Alanna had cringed as Brendan Tomkin egged Grady on. Didn’t he know that’s all it would take to make Grady follow his insane plan? One glance at his face reinforced that Brendan knew exactly what he was doing
.

From that moment, the afternoon spiraled along its deadly path
.

First Grady then Trevor had entered the water. She tried to pull Trevor back, but he wore his goofy grin. “It’s no big deal, sis.”

Nobody had seen what was coming
.

The door opened, and the bell jarred Alanna from the past.

Jonathan’s cell phone rang, and with a glance at the caller display, he reached for it then pulled back. What did he have to tell Edward Morris? Not what the man needed to hear. No, he’d let voice mail get the call then track down Rachelle Stone. He couldn’t wait any longer to let Edward know whether he could order a painting. She’d need time to create the perfect painting to honor Edward and Bonnie’s marriage. And he needed confirmation Rachelle would paint it. Trevor might be a capable artist, but without his name on it, Jonathan wouldn’t connect him to Mr. Morris.

As soon as his phone beeped to indicate he had voice mail, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Rachelle’s cell number. He entered it then waited for an answer.

It rang several times, and he wondered if he’d joined her do-not-talk-to list.

“Hello?” The voice sounded bone weary, unlike the usual pep that filled her words.

“Rachelle? This is Jonathan.”

“Yes?”

“A client would like to commission a painting.”

“Jonathan, stop.”

“He likes your work. This fits with commissions you’ve painted before.”

“Used to. My time isn’t my own now.”

“Wouldn’t the income help?”

She sighed, and he heard her burdens. “You have no idea. I know Alanna is trying, but the studio must make more.” She was silent, and he waited. “Trevor could do something.”

“Not good enough. This is to honor a client’s wife who’s fighting cancer. It has to be you or not at all.” He pushed back in his chair, gut tightening. Maybe she’d just say no again, and that would be the end. It felt like he’d crossed a line with his pushing. Perhaps she couldn’t paint now. Maybe creative types needed more than physical energy to work their magic.