For My Daughters Page 6

  “Tell her that.”

  “I intend to. And I’ll tell you something,” Caroline said with a burst of self-righteous determination. “She’d better have a perfectly good explanation for having misled me this way, or I’ll be back in Chicago tomorrow. Mark my words, Ben. I’ll be back.”

  Annette was uneasy. She had been that way since dawn, when Jean-Paul had drawn her reluctant person from bed. No. She had been that way for weeks, ever since she had been railroaded into making this trip—but how could she have said no, with five children and their father insisting that she couldn’t let Ginny down? What kind of example would she be setting if she didn’t go? What kind of message would she be sending the children?

  She had considered every possible emergency that might arise during her absence, had left memos addressing each, and even then had spent hours discussing contingency plans with Robbie and the twins. She had left numbers listed by each phone. She had taped step-by-step instructions on the microwave, the coffee maker, and the washer and dryer, because even though Charlene knew how to work each, Charlene was prone to allergy attacks that kept her home at least one day a week.

  Annette had left nothing to chance.

  Now, though, while she waited for her luggage to arrive, she worried. Robbie was taking Thomas and Nat canoeing in Forest Park, and although all three boys were good swimmers, the younger ones were novices in a canoe. Annette had visions of one of them swinging a paddle and knocking the other into the water, of Robbie going in after him, of the canoe capsizing in his absence. She should have insisted that they wait for the weekend and Jean-Paul. But Thomas and Nat had been ecstatic about going with Robbie, whom they adored, and Annette’s yielding to their ecstasy had made her feel less guilty about leaving.

  “Hi, Charlene. It’s me. I’ve just landed in Portland. Are the boys back yet?”

  “Not yet, Mrs. M.”

  “But it’s one-fifteen there. They were planning to be on the water by ten. They should have been back long before now. Are you sure they didn’t call?”

  “They didn’t call.”

  “Are either of the girls there?”

  “No. They’re at Lauren Kelby’s pool.”

  Annette moaned. “Okay, Charlene. I’ll try them again once I get to my mother’s place.” She hung up the phone and quickly punched out Jean-Paul’s office, but he was in the operating room.

  “Would you like me to send in a message?” his secretary asked.

  But Annette couldn’t call the situation an emergency. Not yet. “Don’t bother him now. When he’s done, though, would you ask him to give the boys a call and make sure they’ve returned from the lake?” When she had exacted a promise to that effect, Annette dialed a final number. This one belonged to Lauren Kelby and was answered on what Annette guessed to be a portable phone beside the pool, if the mix of fuzz and background laughter was any indication.

  “Hi, Lauren. It’s Mrs. Maxime. Could I speak with one of my girls?”

  “Sure,” Lauren said. “Devon, Nicole, it’s your mom!”

  A breathless Nicole took the call. “Mom! Where are you?”

  “At the airport in Portland. Nicole, I’m worried about the boys. I called home and Charlene hadn’t heard from them. They were just going to the lake. They should have been back by now.”

  “They were having lunch afterward at Union Station. Thomas and Nat wanted to go to a sports store there. How was your flight?”

  “Just fine.” Lunch at Union Station hadn’t been part of the plan. “When did they decide to do this?”

  “At breakfast, after you left.”

  She let out a breath. “I’ve been worried.”

  “They’re fine, Mom. What’s the weather like there?”

  Annette glanced outside. “Uh, nice, I guess. I haven’t been out yet. I’m waiting for my luggage.”

  “Are you with Grandma?”

  “No. I won’t see her until I get to Star’s End. Ah. Here comes the luggage. Finally. Do me a favor, sweetie? Call Charlene and tell her where the boys are, because I just called your father.”

  “Oh, Mom, you didn’t.”

  “He was in surgery, but he’ll be calling home to check as soon as he’s free.”

  “They’re fine. We’re all fine. Really.”

  Annette sighed, then smiled. “I’m just not used to being away. Okay, there’s my bag. I have to run. I’ll call when I get to Star’s End.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Talk with you then.” She tossed two kisses into the phone and hung up in time to run to the carousel and snatch off the larger of her bags. The smaller one was slower in coming. Only when she had both did she head for the door. She had barely cleared the baggage claim area when she stopped short.

  Ten feet ahead, looking at her in a way that precluded mistaken identity, was her sister.

  “Caroline! What on earth—?”

  Caroline gave a thin smile. “How are you, Annette?”

  “Fine, uh, surprised. I hadn’t expected to see you. What are you doing here?”

  Caroline studied her for a minute, then sighed. “Same thing as you, I guess.”

  “But I thought—” She had thought she was the one Ginny wanted to be with.

  “So did I. It looks like Ginny’s playing games.”

  Annette was stunned. “I guess so. I had no idea.” If she had, she wouldn’t have come. She would have stayed with her family, where she belonged, rather than subjecting herself to the emotional turmoil that being with Caroline caused.

  Caroline was the consummate professional. Even now, in jeans and a silk blouse with her hair short and sleek, she looked sophisticated in ways that Annette, at her most classy, never looked.

  She was glad she had worn linen today. Linen wasn’t as sophisticated as silk. But it was smarter than cotton—which was irrelevant, but typical of what being with Caroline did to her, which was why she didn’t want to be here. Ginny should have said something, damn it.

  “Did you just land?” she asked for lack of anything better to say.

  “A little while ago.” Caroline looked over her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for the car Ginny promised to send, but it looks like—is that it? Ahhhh. Yes. Finally.” Her returning gaze fell on the larger of Annette’s bulging bags.

  “I wasn’t sure what kind of clothing to bring,” Annette explained defensively and instantly regretted it. She shot a withering look at Caroline’s lone bag. “Is that it?”

  “Yup,” Caroline said. She wheeled around and made for the taxi stand.

  It struck Annette that nothing had changed. Caroline was as arrogant as ever. She rushed to catch up. “Caroline, wait.” There was no time to waste. If she entered the Downlee taxi, all would be lost. “I was under the impression that Mother would be alone here. That’s the only reason I came. But since you’re here, I don’t need to be. I’m sure I can catch a flight back to St. Louis.”

  Caroline was focusing on the tall stick-of-a-man who had unfolded himself from the wood-paneled wagon. “Are you from Downlee?”

  “Yup.” He released the tailgate.

  “Caroline?”

  Caroline slung her bag into the back of the wagon. “If either of us catches a flight back, it’s going to be me.” More carefully she placed her briefcase beside her bag. “I can’t tell you how much this trip is putting me out.”

  “My kids are on vacation,” Annette said, helplessly watching the driver put the larger of her bags into the car. “If ever there was a time when I like being with them, this is it. I think,” she cautioned the man, “that I’d better have that back.”

  But Caroline was taking the second bag from her hand. “Since neither of us wants to stay, the only fair thing is if we both do, at least until Ginny explains herself. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling slightly used.”

  Annette was feeling slightly desperate. Downlee was two hours away. She didn’t see how she could travel there, talk with Ginny, and return to Portland in t
ime to catch a same-day flight to St. Louis.

  “Climb in,” Caroline said, but more gently. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we leave.”

  Annette looked back once, wistfully, at the airport, before sliding into the car. The seats were velour and looked new. The car itself looked new. She was surprised.

  Caroline read her mind. “I know,” she murmured as the driver left the terminal. “I was expecting something dusty and rundown.”

  “Do you think the house is?” Annette murmured back.

  “Mother likes the best, so I can’t imagine it, but then, I wouldn’t have imagined her moving here, period.”

  “Why is she, do you think?”

  “She said this was a gift.”

  “But why would she want a gift like this?”

  “She wrote that she wanted something quieter.”

  “What’s the real reason?”

  “Who knows.”

  “You haven’t spoken with her?”

  “No.” Caroline shot her a look. “Have you?”

  “No.” And she was cursing herself for it. Had she talked with Ginny, she might have learned that Caroline was coming and saved herself the trip.

  But it was done. She was there, at least for the time being. There was nothing to do but take in the sights.

  “So,” Caroline said. “How are the kids?”

  Annette smiled. This was home turf. The kids were her favorite topic. “They’re great. Getting bigger. Rob’s going into his senior year.”

  “Little Rob?”

  “You haven’t seen him since Dad’s funeral. He’s six-one now.”

  “Really?”

  Annette nodded. Her children were a source of pride and strength, none of which Caroline would understand. “How’s work?”

  “Busy. But good.”

  “You look tired.”

  “That’s from burning the candle at both ends getting ready for this trip.” She faced the window, but the tightness in her jaw was telling. She was as peeved as Annette was. “How’s Jean-Paul?”

  Annette drew in a breath. “On my shit list, as we speak. He’s the one who kept telling me I should come here.”

  “Same with Ben.”

  “You’re still seeing him?”

  “Yup.”

  Annette had met Ben at the funeral. “I liked him. He looked like he was wild about you.”

  “He is.” Caroline held up a hand. “Don’t ask. I turned him down. I’m not ready for marriage.”

  If not now, when? Annette wondered but didn’t ask. Marriage was one of the things about which she and her sister disagreed vehemently. There was no point in renewing the argument now, not when they were confined in a small space with nowhere to flee, not with new territory whipping past.

  Annette leaned forward. “I’m Annette Maxime. What’s your name?”

  “Cal.”

  Cal had faded skin, a sparse gray crew cut, and a flat tone of voice, and while nothing about him invited approach, Annette needed a diversion. “Are we still in Portland?”

  “Yup.”

  “For how much longer?”

  “A bit.”

  “All on the highway?”

  “’Til Falmouth.”

  “What then?”

  “We go on up the coast road a ways.”

  Annette sat back. “I wonder if it gets picturesque. I mean, the trees here are pretty, but I was hoping for charm.”

  “Ben said there was charm. I guess it doesn’t come until we hit the shore.”

  Mention of the shore, with its image of waves, made Annette think of the boys in their canoe on the lake. She looked at her watch and wondered if they’d come home, or called home, at least. Leaning forward again, she searched the front.

  “No phone,” Caroline murmured. “I looked.”

  Annette sat back. “I feel out of touch.”

  “Tell me about it. So. You have a phone in your car?”

  “In all of them. For safety. If the kids are in an accident, I like knowing they can call for help. How about you? Do you have one?”

  “You bet.” She hesitated. “Think Leah does?”

  “Actually,” Annette mused, “I think her insurance company gave up on her.” Leah was the master of fender-benders. “She doesn’t own a car now. When she has places to go, she takes a cab.”

  “Wise move.”

  “Mmm. Caroline? Do you think she’s coming, too?”

  “I don’t know,” Caroline said and turned back to the window.

  Annette could see Ginny doing it, inviting each and implying that she was the only one. Was it an honest mistake? Not likely. Ginny lived life in a deliberate way. Of course, if Annette had said that to Jean-Paul he would have called her a cynic. She was the bad guy, where her mother was concerned. Poor Jean-Paul. He couldn’t possibly understand. He hadn’t grown up in world of benign neglect.

  Hating herself for even that single, self-pitying thought, she leaned forward again. “So, Cal. Are you a native of Downlee?”

  “Yup.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Small.”

  “How many people?”

  “Couple hundred year ’round. Twice that in summer.”

  “Then it’s crowded there now?”

  “Not crowded. Just family and friends.”

  “And tourists?”

  “Nope.”

  To Caroline, Annette said, “That’s a relief. There are times on Hilton Head when we’re stuck waiting in traffic to get to the store to buy milk. I hate that. But the kids love it there. We rent the same place every year.”

  Caroline nodded. Her eyes remained on the window. Annette guessed that either her mind was miles away, or she was bored. Probably bored. She had no interest in Annette’s life. Which made conversation a mite tricky.

  So she hit on Cal again. “Are you familiar with Star’s End?”

  “Yup.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Nice.”

  “Mother wrote that there was work to be done. Are we talking electricity and plumbing?”

  “Oh, it has bathrooms. Lights, too.”

  Annette heard dryness in his voice. He thought her rich and spoiled. She wondered if everyone in Downlee would. “How big is the estate?”

  “Fifty acres, give or take.”

  “Are there other estates in Downlee?”

  “Nope. Lotsa interest in this sale.”

  She didn’t know whether that was good or bad. “Who did Mother buy from?”

  “Mathew Pierce. Nice fellow, ’til he died.”

  “When was that?”

  “Year ago. Lived alone, so the place was shabby, is what your mother probably meant. Lotta work’s already been done.”

  “Really?” Annette looked at Caroline, who was similarly surprised.

  “What work?” Caroline asked.

  “Walls, floors.”

  “When?”

  “All spring, starting in January.”

  “January,” Annette mouthed to a wide-eyed Caroline. In a low voice, she said, “When she wrote me in April, she said that it ‘needed’ work, future tense implied.”

  “She’s good at implying things.”

  Annette returned to Cal. “Who’s been supervising the work?”

  “A decorator from Boston. Nice lady. Uses locals.”

  “Ahh. Well, that’s good, at least.” More quietly again, she asked Caroline, “If she has a decorator, why does she need us?”

  Caroline grunted.

  Annette was feeling the heat of a slow boil. “She wrote me that she wanted help settling in.”

  “Same here. And that she wanted to spend time with me.”

  “Same here. She dragged us away under false pretenses.”

  “Deliberately.”

  “But we’re adults, not children. She can’t control us this way. Whatever is in the woman’s mind?”

  “I can’t wait to hear.”

  “It had better be good,” Annette swor
e, “because if it isn’t, I’ll share a cab with you back to the airport, and we can both fly out. It would serve her right to suddenly find herself alone.”

  Caroline sent her a wary look. “Either alone, or with Leah.”

  Annette closed her eyes. She shook her head, then bowed it. “Or with Leah,” she murmured and sighed. “Right.”

  five

  LEAH TOOK A LONG, DEEP BREATH THAT carried with it wisps of ocean, beach roses, and spruce. Curling into the lounge chair, she tightened the afghan around her. Beneath it she wore a bathing suit and a bright silk sarong, appropriate attire for an afternoon by the pool had the sun been stronger. But the breeze off the ocean was a cool one. Thanks to the afghan, it was delightful.

  She felt content, even lazy, which was one of the reasons why she didn’t return to the house to get dressed. Another reason was that her clothes were all wrong. They were too fine, too fitted, too chic. They had worked for her when she had visited friends on the Maryland shore or in Newport. But Star’s End was different. As elegant as the house and the flower beds were, they were also unpretentious, raw, and exceedingly real.

  The moistness in the air wreaked havoc with her hair, but she loved it. That moist air invigorated, the beach roses comforted, the spruce scent excited. She felt contented.

  Give me another word.

  Gratified.

  And another.

  At home.

  None of the three made much sense. Given the circumstances, she ought to be feeling unsettled. Things hadn’t gone quite the way she’d planned.

  She had left Washington the morning before, a full day ahead of schedule, but there hadn’t been any point in waiting. She had nothing left to do in the city. Besides, she liked the idea of surprising Virginia, indeed had spent much of the flight anticipating it.

  After renting a car in Portland, she headed north, but a bit more nervously now. She wasn’t the best of drivers, the sun was setting, and the roads were foreign to her. Once she left the highway there were several tricky spots that the rental agent’s directions had failed to mention. She made one wrong turn, realized her mistake, and corrected it, but she lost half an hour in the process. A second wrong turn was even worse, and she ended on an unpaved road at the end of nowhere in the pitch-black. By the time she had turned the car around and headed back, an overextended something she hadn’t seen had put a two-foot scratch on the side of the car.