Family Skeletons (22 page)

She stopped. “No, there’s nothing else. That’s all.
That’s enough.”

With each hand he squeezed a foot. “No wonder you’re
so uptight I can feel it all the way into your toes.” He gave her a long and
serious look. “But you skipped over some important points. For one thing, I’m
more concerned with who pushed you off the cliff than who bashed Franklin’s
head in. And your mother didn’t push you.”

She sighed at the stars, then looked at him. “You’re
still hung up on that. One thing has nothing to do with the other. They just
don’t...fit. I can’t explain it, and it scares me, too. I still don’t feel
comfortable on my own because of that. But it could’ve been a stray hiker, or
even a beach bum. We get them sometimes. Someone who’s long gone but is still
muddying up the picture.”

“I disagree. I think that if you can find the person
whose prints are on that baseball bat, you will also find the person who killed
Franklin, shot at you, and pushed you off the cliff.”

“Yeah? Now that’s farfetched if I ever heard
farfetched. Look at the time element. We have no idea how long that bat was in
the attic, and Franklin was killed seven long years ago.”

He said nothing as his gaze returned to the dark
ocean. She sensed his growing tension. And it somehow worked to ease hers.

She wriggled her toes. “You want to know what else
I’m thinking?”

She waited to tell him until he looked back at her.
“I’m thinking that’s a beautiful moon up there. And if we got a blanket we could
find a nice secluded spot on the beach, and—”

He pushed her feet off his lap, jumped up, grasped
her hands and pulled her up. “Well, let’s go. What are you waiting for? Someone
to come out here and start up a conversation?”

* * *

The next morning Sunny found herself dodging three
people while she tried to make French toast. As she waited for Ryan to move so
she could open the drawer and get the eggbeater out of it, she forced a smile.

“Wouldn’t you all like to go lounge on the porch
with coffee?” she asked nicely.

Ryan looked at the coffee pot and Jonathan looked at
the porch, but no one moved.

“Let me help,” Roberta said. “If I don’t have
something to do, I’ll go crazy.”

So will I
. “You can cut
the cantaloupe, Mom.”

“Where...?”

“In the refrigerator, Mom. And the knives are in
that drawer, same as always. Jonathan, maybe you and Ryan can set the table.”
And
then sit down nicely and wait.

She reached for the cinnamon, then double-checked to
make sure she had what she thought she had.
Got it right this time, but
w
hat do you want to bet you’ll grab the chili powder one of these days, just
because he’d planted the possibility in your head?

Next was the vanilla flavoring. It was a new bottle
and the cap was tight. When she couldn’t twist it open she handed it to
Jonathan. Maybe he could do something in here besides take up space. After
working with it for several seconds, the small bottle almost lost in his hands,
he frowned and handed it to Ryan. Ryan twisted the cap, grunted, got nowhere
and also frowned. Roberta took it from him, tapped the solid end of a knife
against the stubborn cap three times, then twisted it open and gave the bottle
back to Sunny.

Sunny grinned. “Thanks, Mom.”

Once breakfast was ready, and they sat down to eat,
Roberta still couldn’t settle. She continued to act as if she had ants in an
uncomfortable place. She got through half a piece of bread, one slice of melon,
and then simply could wait no longer to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, honey, I just...”

“Never mind. I understand.” Sunny let her own
breakfast go and followed her mother outside, where Roberta’s suitcase was
already in the car. The men joined them on the front porch.

Sunny initiated a hug. “It’s over, Mom,” she
whispered. “It’s finally behind us.”
Please, Mom. Please let it be over.

Roberta drew back to meet her daughter’s eyes. “Yes,
honey, it’s done. But it took a long time to get to where we are, and it’s
going to take some time now to get beyond it.” She managed a weak smile. “But
I’m working on it.”

She exchanged a hug with Ryan, and then shook hands
with Jonathan.

“Thank you, Jonathan, for that lovely piece of
furniture. I’ll take possession once both of you are out of here, and I’ll take
loving care of it. I promise.”

Sunny followed her down the stairs to the sea green
sedan. After getting into the car, Roberta motioned for her daughter to lean
down so she could talk to her through the open window.

“Jonathan is good for you,” she whispered in her ear
so no one else could hear. “You deserve to be happy. And your mother deserves
to see you happy.”

Then Roberta turned away to twist the key in the
ignition, but not before Sunny caught the moisture in her mother’s eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“No,” Jonathan said that afternoon. He took the
packaged roast out of Sunny’s hands and returned it to the freezer. “You’ve
done enough cooking. We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

Ryan took two seconds to think about it, then nodded
in agreement. “Yeah. Good idea. Matthew was telling us about this place where
he moonlights.” Then with a frown he glanced aside. “That was hard on the ego,
I must admit, batting a solid zero with the kid. Jonathan was the one who got
him talking, and even then it was only about Sal’s.”

Evidently he had a fast-healing ego, however,
because his gaze quickly returned to Sunny. “It’s an Italian restaurant where
he claims they make excellent lasagna, not to mention their minestrone.” With
his expression going through yet another fast transformation, he added, on a
critical note, “You never make soup.”

“Well...dinner out.” Thrown by the unexpected
development, Sunny looked around the kitchen, wondering what to do now that she
didn’t have to cook. “How about that.” Then she looked back at her companions
and decided to take full advantage of the moment. “I’ll tell you what, how
about I go on vacation for the whole day and let you guys make lunch, too?”

Ryan appeared surprised. Jonathan looked at the
refrigerator, then the cabinets with a game but dubious expression. He lived on
his own, but she didn’t know how he existed. TV dinners and takeout was her
guess, which meant that lunch was most likely going to be Ryan’s baloney and
mustard sandwiches. She debated about telling Ryan there should be at least as
much baloney on the bread as mustard, but didn’t trust him not to slap extra
mustard on her sandwich if she did, so she kept quiet.

 She opened the porch door. “Ryan, may I have a
Sprite with my lunch?” she asked nicely, then glanced at Jonathan. “Would you
mind getting my book for me? I think I left it in the parlor.”

Relaxing under the umbrella at the picnic table,
waiting for her soda and book and lunch, she smiled complacently at the ocean.
Gee,
life is good.

She chose a blouse and skirt to wear out to dinner.
The fact that Jonathan had liked her in feminine garb had much to do with her
choice of outfit, she admitted to herself, but she skipped stockings. The skirt
was a flared red print and she topped it with a white cotton blouse that had a
squared neckline decorated with tiny strawberries. Jonathan watched her tuck it
in at the waist, then slip on a pair of white strappy sandals.

“Casual,” he said. “And pretty.”

So it’s not just stockings that turn you
on.

When she walked downstairs, Ryan took a double take.
“Two skirts in two days?”

The restaurant got Ryan’s approval. He concentrated
on his dinner, wasting no time on small talk. “Excellent,” he said, as he sat
back and pushed away his empty plate. “So good I didn’t save room for dessert.
Highly unusual.”

He studied the last piece of French bread.
Apparently deciding he could manage just that little bit more, he reached for
it, then looked up questioningly.

Jonathan shook his head, indicating he didn’t want
it, and Sunny said, “Go for it.”

Then she said, “Ryan, dear, may I ask you a
question?”

“Shoot.”

“What are you still doing here?”

The butter knife paused in midair.

“I seldom catch you speechless.” She gave each man a
wry glance. “And I noticed that Jonathan caught his breath for a second there.”
She settled back. “Okay, guys, may I ask what your plans are, regarding me, for
the next week?”

“Go ahead, Jonathan,” Ryan said. “I’ve got my mouth
full.” He stuffed half the piece of bread into it.

Jonathan met her eyes. His stuffiness was back, and
along with it was a steely look she’d not seen before. Apparently he could play
hardball when he had to. “Both Ryan and I have to depart on Monday.” His speech
was precise. “If you won’t go home with Ryan, Marcus will be here by noon to
relieve us.”

She put her elbow on the table, her chin on her
fist, and stared at him. His expression took on a touch of wariness, but never
lost its resolve. Then she sat up straight with a getting-down-to-business
attitude.

“Okay, now let me tell you what my plans are. The
three of us could’ve talked this over in the first place, but that means the
two of you would’ve had to forego your behind-my-back scheming of which you are
so fond.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve got to go home, get back to
work, and make some money so I can afford to find my own place and feed my cat.
I’ll follow Ryan home on Monday.”

Ryan had taken a sip of water and now choked on it.
He got his breath back, used his napkin, and said, “What?”

“You’re obtuse about as often as you are speechless,”
Sunny told him, voice mild. “I’ll spell it out for you. The house is done.
Franklin has been adequately provided for. It’s time for me to go home.”

The men looked at each other. Their expressions were
similar to the ones they’d worn when the doctor had informed them that Sunny
hadn’t broken anything when she’d taken the plunge off the cliff.

She pursed her lips. “You know, you two work
together quite well. But just think, if you put all that time and thought and
energy toward solving a problem that actually exists—”

“Shut up, Sunny.”

“Please,” Jonathan agreed.

“Sure, guys.”
Gee, life is good
.

Matthew appeared, gathered their dishes and utensils
with minimum effort and noise, left and then quickly reappeared with a pot of
coffee. Sunny shook her head, but her companions nodded theirs.

“How many different cheeses were in that lasagna?”
she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “But there’s a lot.”

Yesterday’s sullen mood was behind him, she was glad
to note. His gray-blue eyes were easy and friendly. In these lights, his hair
appeared more blond than sandy-brown, and he had long-fingered hands that
looked strong and capable. When he reached for a cup with his left hand, Sunny
noticed an imperfection in his little finger. It was bent outward at the
knuckle, giving it a bowlegged appearance compared to the straight ring finger
next to it.

He finished pouring the second cup. “Cindy will be
back in a minute with dessert menus.”

The suggestion of more food raised frowns and groans
from the men. Sunny said nothing. She was staring at Matthew’s hands.

Matthew looked amused by the audible reaction. “Sounds
like I better head her off before she gets here.”

When he left, Sunny put her left hand palm down on
the table. The same long fingers and narrow wrist. His hand had been bigger and
adorned with fine hairs, the nails blunt, but a perfect male match to hers,
even to the slightly bent, bowlegged appearance of the pinkie.

“Sunny?”

She became aware that was the second time Jonathan
had said her name. She looked up.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked. “You look like...”

“I saw a ghost? That’s what I feel like.”

Twisting around in her chair, she watched Matthew
carry the coffee pot from table to table. He was lithe, friendly, and had ample
charm to draw from. She’d not seen this side of him before, but he’d always
been in the store or overshadowed in some way by others. On his own, his
charisma shone through.

She wondered what Howard Wilkes looked like. Was he
tall, short? Dark, light? Introvert, extrovert? Where could she find a picture
of Howard without having to ask Bev for it?

“Sunny,” Ryan said pointedly, “should we worry about
you?”

She turned back, folded her hands in her lap and
looked at each man in turn. “Look at Matthew. Try not to be obvious about it,
but give him a really good look.” They were seated at a corner table in the
back, with only one table near them and it was empty. She wasn’t concerned
about being overheard.

She gave them a moment before she asked the key
question—what Tim Joyce would call the money question. “Could he be Franklin’s
son?”

Their disbelief was evident in their silence. Their
eyes narrowed, but settled on her instead of on Matthew. She pushed her chair
back and stood. “Wait here. Watch me. Watch us.”

She tracked Matthew. He disappeared into the
swinging doors of the kitchen as she approached, and she paused, hoping she
didn’t look as out of place as she felt standing by herself in the middle of
the dining room. Fortunately, he quickly reappeared.

“Oh, hi, Sunny.” He looked surprised. His gaze moved
beyond her to her table. Realizing she stood in front of him, not presenting
the view to her companions that she wanted to present, she stepped to her side
and he turned with her. Now the occupants at her table had a clear view of
their profiles.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, appearing
puzzled.

As usual, you thought this one out well,
Sunny. What can he get for you?

“We changed our minds about dessert. Could you bring
us some menus after all?”

“Sure. But you didn’t have to come after me. I
would’ve—”

She waved away his words. “I was feeling so stiff I
had to get out of the chair for a minute.” When she returned to the table and
sat down, no one said anything. “Well?” she prompted.

Ryan shook his head. “You’re grasping at straws,
Sunny.”

She looked at Jonathan. He said nothing, his gaze
still on the spot where she’d stood with Matthew.

Ryan continued to shake his head. “Okay, you both
have light complexions and are slightly built. But there are other people in
this room that are blond and blue-eyed and slim, and you’re not related to any
of them.”

When her gaze returned to Jonathan, his eyes warned
her. Turning, she accepted the menu from Matthew, and then he gave one to each
man.

“Cindy will take your orders,” he told them. “She’ll
be right here.”

He walked away, and Sunny looked back at Jonathan.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.”

Cindy appeared before they’d even looked at the menus.

Okay, Sunny. You’ve got to order
something. You asked for the stupid things.

“Oh,” she said, stalling for time and reading fast.
Her companions were no help. They weren’t even pretending to read the
selections.

“Oh,” she said again, but with pleasure this time.
“Spumoni. It’s been forever since I had spumoni.”

“Good choice. Ours is excellent.” Cindy looked
questioningly at the men, but they shook their heads.

Matthew appeared on her heels, refilled coffee cups,
and then Cindy and the dish of spumoni were there. The hostess seated a couple
at the next table, which removed the opportunity for private conversation.
Though Sunny hadn’t really wanted dessert, she was glad now she’d ordered it.
The ice cream was as good as Cindy had claimed.

“That does look good,” Jonathan said, and gave her a
questioning look.

“Sure,” she said, and he scooped up a small taste
with his coffee spoon.

“Hmm,” Ryan said, looking interested. He spooned out
half the mound of ice cream and put it on his saucer.

Jonathan’s spoon was on its way back again. She
shoved the dish toward him, sat back in her chair and watched her dinner
companions, who were too full for dessert, finish hers. Jonathan at least had
the grace to look sheepish.

* * *

Apparently the spumoni had merely titillated Ryan.
When they walked in the back way of the old Victorian, he headed straight for
the freezer and the banana nut ice cream. He emptied the container into three
bowls, and then they sat outside with their treats and watched the descending
sun.

But the men appeared more interested in Sunny than
the sun. At length, Ryan asked, “Well, do you still think you might have
discovered a brother you never knew you had?”

She looked into her bowl, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Then she held her left hand up, palm facing her, and looked at it. “Notice how
my little finger is malformed, just slightly. I never thought much about it. It
was just the way my finger grew, but Matthew had the same look to his pinkie,
left hand.” She lowered her hand, still not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I know it’s
skimpy. But, well, I always had a feeling...”

She made a sound of disgust and shook her head. “I
know how lame that sounds. But I like Matthew, and, yes, I feel a kinship with
him. He’s a good kid. But...” She gave up. “Oh, dammit anyway, I don’t know.”

“It would be simple enough to ask Roberta if
Franklin had a misshaped finger,” Jonathan said. “And she’d know what Howard
Wilkes looks like. So should Tom and Mavis. Matthew may resemble Howard more
than the Cordays, and in that case you could discard this theory. But, until
then, it’s not a bad theory.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asked. He looked both skeptical and
thoughtful. “Feel free to expound.”

“It would answer a couple of questions. Franklin
kept coming up here, but it might not have been the view that attracted him.
His first love might have been his strongest love.” He paused to give Sunny an
apologetic look, as if he’d insulted her mother. “Perhaps he was never quite
able to break away from Bev. And vice versa.”