Play Dead (18 page)

“Y
OU WHAT
?” M
EG
A
MBOY
cried. She simply couldn’t believe her niece was standing there telling her that she’d waltzed into Surf’s Up this morning. “Didn’t Garver Browne say not to go anywhere? You were supposed to hide. Even I don’t know where you’re staying or what your new cell phone number is.”

“That was last night. I spoke with him this morning. The whole thing is a case of mistaken identity.” Hayley sounded confident, but Meg wasn’t buying it. “The ATF proved the bomb had been made by the Sinaloa cartel. I’ve never had anything to do with drugs. Obviously, the car bomb was intended for someone else.”

Meg gulped. “You can’t be serious. You asked me who I thought was behind the bombing. I said the Fordhams and you agreed.”

“That’s true, but in light of the discovery of the origin of the bomb, I think it rules them out.”

“Think again! You may not be involved with drugs but Trent or his sister could be.”

“Trent gave me his word that he hasn’t.”

“His word.” Could this be her Hayley? What was she thinking? Meg drew in a breath and attempted to relax. She reminded herself that when she rose from bed yesterday, she would have given everything she had to have Hayley back.

They were standing on the balcony of Meg’s suite. She gazed out at the magnificent stretch of coastline visible from her balcony. When it came to nature’s marvels, people were insignificant.

Hayley lightly touched Meg’s arm. “Let’s sit down.”

Meg lowered herself into one of the two wicker chairs where she often sat drinking her morning coffee or enjoying the sunset with Conrad. No doubt this car bombing had been a life-altering experience for Hayley. It came less than a year after her parents had been killed, which had been followed by Chad’s betrayal. No wonder Hayley wasn’t thinking clearly.

Hayley turned to Meg; her niece’s eyes were more hazel than green under the awning that shaded the balcony, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in them. “Trent had nothing to do with this. I’m positive. When he saw me this morning, he hugged me and there were tears in his eyes. He acted just the way he did after Daddy died.”

Meg was sure he did. Splitting the estate in thirds rather than in half was enough to make a grown man cry. She tried to think of how to respond, since her niece obviously didn’t perceive the situation the way she did.

“I know you’re concerned, but I don’t want you to worry. We’re taking precautions.”

We? Surely she hadn’t forgiven Chad Bennett. That cheater was never good enough for Hayley, but befriending her now could persuade soft-hearted Hayley to forgive him. She kept her face neutral—she hoped—asking, “We?”

“Ryan Hollister. You and Conrad asked him to help me. He’s been great.” Her words were infused with a slight tinge of excitement.

Something’s going on between them,
Meg thought, pleased. She knew they’d be a perfect couple. All they needed was time to discover it for themselves. “What precautions are you taking?”

“I’m still not telling anyone where I’m staying or giving out my new cell number.”

“Why not, if you’re positive the bombing was a mistake?” Meg challenged, but took care not to sound too critical.

“Ryan says…just in case the police are wrong, I shouldn’t be an easy target.”

This was straitjacket territory, Meg decided. Either that or she was truly succumbing to senility. Why half hide? It was like being half pregnant. Either you were or you weren’t. Something else was going on here. She’d had this feeling since Hayley had first returned from the dead.

Hayley stood up, took two steps forward, and clutched the balcony railing with both hands. Facing the sea, Hayley said, “We’re going to lose Surf’s Up if I don’t do something.”

A jumble of confused thoughts and feelings assailed Meg. What was really going on here? How could Surf’s Up be lost? Hayley seemed stronger now, yet different. Had Ryan caused the change or was it escaping death while losing a close friend?

Meg concealed her inner turmoil with a deceptively calm voice. “What do you mean? Is the company in trouble?”

Hayley turned to face her. “Yes.” Her voice echoed her concerned expression. “We need money so much that we may have to accept Laird McMasters as part owner.”

“Really?” Meg was astonished. Surf’s Up had been a
cash cow. It had supported Russell Fordham’s whole family. Some of its products were sold in sport shops around the country. True, Alison had been the brains behind the business, but it had been less than a year since they died. “What happened?”

Hayley sat down again and gazed steadily at Meg. “It’s my fault.”

Strange and disquieting thoughts began to race through Meg’s mind. This had to be financial and she’d bet her life it was Trent’s problem. “It can’t be your fault. You’ve just been filling in for your mother—designing.”

“I should have been watching the books the way my mother did.” There was no mistaking the self-deprecation in Hayley’s voice.

“I thought Trent had a handle on things. It seemed to me he was more interested in the business than his father. Without your mother’s encouragement Russell would have spent the last twenty-five years in a garage making boards, not building a famous company.” Meg had never spoken disparagingly of Russell. After all, the man had been Hayley’s father.

“My father and mother contributed a lot. Not just to their shop but to the whole culture. When they started, no one knew much about surfing. Now you can go to any town in the Midwest and find Surf’s Up merchandise.”

Meg had to admit that surfing had certainly taken off since her sister married Russell Fordham, but she wasn’t sure she would give them much credit. They rode a wave that had already formed—thanks to others.

Hayley must have detected the skepticism in Meg’s expression. She continued, “It’s not just the clothes or the boards. It’s a style of life that’s caught on even where there’s no ocean to surf.”

“The big breakthrough was Nagano,” Meg added, recalling those winter Olympics clearly because she’d been lucky enough to attend them. “Skateboarding was featured for the first time. After the games, your father couldn’t produce and ship boards fast enough. As I recall, Nagano also caused a revolution in surfing. Surfers saw the fancy tricks skateboarders were doing and began trying them, which called for new surfboards.”

Happiness shone in Hayley’s eyes for the first time since her return. “My parents were part of a cultural revolution. Outlines of three waves, the last one being three times bigger and the words
Surf’s Up
became a brand magnet. We’re about to blow everything they worked so hard to make happen.”

Meg had never thought about it in quite these terms, but Hayley was right. Alison—her little sister—had been part of something larger, more important. Of course, it would have happened without them, but they had been prime movers.

“When I was in Costa Rica painting the mural, I took a break one afternoon because it was unbelievably hot. The hotel isn’t open yet so the air-conditioning wasn’t running. At the beach, I saw a teenage girl wearing board shorts. I recognized the pattern,” Hayley said, the threat of tears in her voice. “My mother and I designed it together at least fifteen years ago. The fabric had faded but the logo with the three waves and the words
Surf’s Up
in brilliant blue were still as bright as the day someone purchased those board shorts.”

“I know. I’ve seen your mother’s designs all over the world.” Meg was grateful that she’d taken the time to travel when she’d been younger. Now she was just an armchair tourist.

“I don’t want Surf’s Up to be ruined because Trent made a simple mistake, then the economy tanked. This is like a rogue wave. We can ride it out and reinvent the business.”

“Reinvent? I think the wave has—how do you say it?—clamshelled. There will always be surfing and a certain number of boards and clothes will sell, but I think it has run its course.”

“Maybe,” Hayley conceded, “but I have some ideas. Mixed Martial Arts is just taking off and Southern California is the epicenter just as it was for surfing. My designs for The Wrath are booming despite the weak economy.”

Meg frowned; she hadn’t known much about MMA until she’d met The Wrath, then watched a fight on a cable channel. Three rounds with barefoot fighters wearing lightly padded fingerless gloves and trying every move imaginable from boxing punches to jujitsu moves disgusted Meg. There was no escape for the fighter. The ring was octagonal and enclosed completely in chain link. A human cockfight, the announcer had called it. The description fit to her way of thinking.

“I find it barbaric.” Meg knew she sounded old-fashioned, but she couldn’t help it. Suddenly, the world seemed to be moving faster than ever—and beyond her understanding.

“Violence has always sold,” Hayley commented. “Right back to the Romans watching the Christians battle lions for entertainment. It’s a testosterone thing. Male bonding.”

Meg couldn’t stifle a laugh. “You may be onto something. I watched one MMA fight and the announcer said it’s a billion-dollar-a-year business, which I found hard
to believe. But I checked it on the Internet and discovered he was correct.”

“I want to put MMA products in our store and market them with the surf/skate products that we sell to other companies. This Friday is the annual surf competition. We have a booth. I want The Wrath to be there along with some of his buddies to meet the kids.”

“Will you be selling MMA T-shirts and stuff?” Meg asked.

“Yes. We’re expecting huge crowds.”

It sounded hot and boring to Meg, but then, she’d never been one to stand around and watch surfers compete. Obviously, she was in the minority. She’d been to enough competitions with her sister to appreciate the huge crowds they drew. “Where does Laird McMasters fit in?”

Hayley rolled her eyes, then sat down beside Meg again. “I haven’t spoken with him. I honestly don’t want to have another partner. It’s hard enough for Trent and I to agree.”

Meg nodded; she understood completely. Early on in her career in commercial real estate, she’d taken in a partner. It had been a dreadful mistake. After she extricated herself, Meg didn’t purchase any property she couldn’t finance alone. “Don’t do it then.”

Hayley huddled in her chair without responding. Something clicked in Meg’s brain. Hayley wasn’t here to discuss the business. She needed money to keep Surf’s Up afloat.
Well, I’ll be,
Meg thought.
She’s afraid to ask me for the money.

Last month, Meg might have refused even though it would have been difficult to turn Hayley down. But a lot had happened since then. Meg had believed she’d lost the only person left on earth that she truly loved.

What was money for? This loan would be only a blip in her funds. Everything would belong to Hayley at some point anyway. It was a fact that Meg hadn’t been able to face. Death was her shadow.

Knowing this made her wish to see Hayley happily married. Settled on a career path she loved. She’d believed Hayley was anxious to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a designer, but she’d been wrong. Or had she? Hayley had claimed going to Costa Rica secretly had been a career move, but now she sounded as if Surf’s Up was her passion. Did she know her own mind?

“What about your career as an artist?” Meg asked Hayley, who was staring out at the ocean.

Hayley faced her. “It will have to wait until I get Surf’s Up over this hump. I can’t desert Trent. He has no one to help except Courtney, and she isn’t interested in the business.”

As far as Meg was concerned, the wheel was turning but the hamster was dead. Courtney had never been the same since she started taking pills for her back injury. She needed to go into rehab, but Meg wasn’t the one to suggest an intervention.

“Why don’t I lend you the money?” Meg said as casually as she could manage. She didn’t want her niece to have to ask for the money. And she did want to save her sister’s legacy. She wasn’t sure this would be successful, but she had to try.

A cry of relief broke from Hayley’s lips. “Really? You’d do that for us?” she asked, her voice thick, unsteady.

“For you. I’m doing it for you. I love you dearly.” Meg wasn’t comfortable saying this; she never had been one for displays of emotion. When Alison had died in the
plane crash, Meg realized she’d never told her sister how much she loved her. Meg believed Alison knew. Hadn’t she been the big sister who raised Alison after their parents died? Still, it would have been nice to have said the words.

“I love you, too,” Hayley whispered, tears trembling on her dusky lashes. “You’ve always been like a mother to me.” Hayley left her chair to hug Meg, saying, “Sometimes I felt you loved me more than my mother did.”

Meg hugged her back. “We both loved you,” she assured her niece, although she had her doubts. Hayley had never been told but she had been an accident. Her parents had come close to getting rid of her. Alison and Russell had been so much in love that there really hadn’t been enough room for another child, when Russ already had two. At the last minute, Alison decided she wanted the baby and Russ went along to please her.

Hayley sat down again and swiped at her teary eyes with the back of her hand. “You won’t regret lending the money. I swear.”

Meg hated to lecture but now was the time to make this point clear. She should have discussed her financial situation right after Alison died. “You must never trust anyone except yourself with finances. Even now, when I can’t go in every day to oversee my business, I check the books. Having managers is fine, but never allow them total control.”

“That’s what happened with Trent,” Hayley admitted. “My mother
always
kept her eye on the finances. When I went away to design school, she insisted I take several business courses.”

“I know,” Meg responded. She let her niece believe it had been her mother’s idea, but Meg had persuaded
Alison to convince Hayley that she needed to take business courses.

After the Fordhams had been killed, Meg had assumed Hayley was checking on things. Trent took after his father; he was a bit of a loose cannon. Was he also a killer? Meg couldn’t help but wonder.