Tears slid down Grace Lindell’s cheeks to dampen her blouse and Nicole wished for just a moment that Malcolm were there to witness the damage he’d done. Stealing from the rich was bad enough; stealing from charitable foundations and those in need was unconscionable. But then Malcolm appeared to have ditched his conscience along with his scruples some time ago.
That afternoon after she’d dropped a disappointed Kyra off at a rental car agency, Nicole sat in the chaise in a nook of the guest bedroom and took out her laptop to begin an Internet search of every victim’s name she’d been able to winnow out of Grace and every email address she’d ever had for Malcolm. But nothing was live; everything had been shut down.
So far, Palm Beach, like every other place she’d searched for clues about Malcolm, had turned out to be one great big dead end. But for the first time as she remembered Grace’s tears and allowed herself to think about all the people Malcolm had hurt, she began to acknowledge that Malcolm needed to be found and punished. In her own way, Nicole had been as selfish as her brother. This whole tragedy was absolutely not all about her.
Still, he was her little brother. She’d loved him since he was born and done her best to raise him. Now, the last thing she could do for him was get to him before the FBI did so that she could make him admit that he’d done wrong and return the money he’d stolen. Maybe if he did those things, and was genuinely repentant, the authorities would go lighter on him.
Nineteen
“It’s Sunday,” Maddie groaned. “I thought we were taking the weekend off.”
“We are,” Avery said, despite all evidence to the contrary.
“Then why are we doing this?” Madeline motioned with the wand of the pressure washer she’d been aiming at the wall of the garage, then attempted to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. She was a sodden mess and Avery didn’t look any better.
“Because we have so much to do and so little time to do it in.” Avery turned off the nozzle of her wand and sank down on the lounge chair. “And because it’s way too pretty out to work inside.”
Avery was right about that. Bright blue skies, sparkling blue green water, golden sun, white sandy beach. Madeline felt as if she were in an advertisement for Florida living. And if she’d been forced to pick up that putty knife or so much as touch another pane of glass, she would have run screaming from the house and never come back.
“Too bad the pool hasn’t been resealed and resurfaced yet.” Madeline managed to swipe at her face with the back of her free hand and looked down into the long, deep, empty rectangle. They were already wearing bathing suits under their T-shirts. “We could be in it right now.”
“Well, we do have the estimate from the pool guy. But it could be another month before the work gets scheduled.”
Madeline dropped down on the chair, letting the wand clatter to the concrete. Grime and water coated her skin. She was far too tired to go inside for the glass of iced tea she wished she were sipping right now. Her exhaustion wasn’t just physical. Earlier this morning she’d managed to get Steve on the phone and then spent thirty grueling minutes trying, unsuccessfully, to convince him to show up for a counseling appointment she’d scheduled for him. Maddie sighed and turned her gaze out over the water. It was a good thing it wasn’t sunset; she’d be hard-pressed to come up with a good thing right now.
“Nicole was smart to bail out,” Maddie said. “She’s probably soaking in a Jacuzzi right now.” Kyra had come back late yesterday and her description of Bitsy Baynard’s estate still rankled. “Or floating in that invisible-edge pool with an umbrella drink in her hand.”
“No doubt,” Avery said.
Madeline pushed away the images of Nicole in her vintage designer clothing schmoozing with the socialites. “Well, at least the folks there hate Malcolm Dyer as much as we do. It’s amazing how many people he managed to dupe.”
“I’d like to meet that asshole’s family and ask them how they can live with themselves,” Avery agreed. “But then they’re probably too busy enjoying themselves to worry about it.”
“Well, I just hope I never meet any of them,” Maddie replied. “I’ve never thought of myself as a violent person, but I don’t think I could be held responsible for my actions.”
She dropped her head back and concentrated on the warmth of the sun on her face. She willed herself to relax.
“Hey, Mom!” Kyra’s voice floated down to her from above. “Phone!”
Madeline opened her eyes and saw Kyra leaning over the master bedroom balcony. “It’s Andrew.”
Madeline stifled a groan. Conversations with Steve were infrequent and futile. Conversations with Andrew, who was now back in Atlanta for the summer and most likely the fall, were frequent. And frustrating.
“I don’t think we’re finished here yet.” She looked hopefully at Avery. “Are we?”
Avery shook her head.
“He says he needs to talk to you now.” Kyra made her way down the curl of wrought-iron steps and handed Maddie the phone, plopping down beside her. Kyra wore a pair of Soffes and a tank top that clung to her slightly rounded stomach and barely contained her burgeoning bust. It wouldn’t be long before her pregnancy became noticeable.
“Hi, sweetie,” Maddie said. “What do you need?”
What her son needed, it turned out, was everything from her attention to some sort of vacation. He was both whiny and angry. At the moment he sounded about five years old.
“Slow down, Andrew,” she said, trying to extract the important points from his litany of woe. “What exactly are you calling me for?” He’d barely been home from school for a week and she’d already lost track of the things he thought she should take care of from five hundred miles away. If remote laundry had been possible, she had no doubt he’d expect her to be doing a load right now.
“I want to go to the beach for a week with the guys. Everyone’s chipping in on a condo in Destin.”
“And what did your father say when you asked him?” she asked although the answer seemed obvious.
“He wouldn’t even talk to me about it.” Andrew’s voice was tinged with both anger and amazement. “He told me to call you.”
Maddie closed her eyes against the hurt in her son’s voice. The demands and belligerence were far easier to deal with; she was no longer impressed or swayed by them. “We can’t afford it, Andrew. Period. If the house down here gets finished by Labor Day and sold sometime in the fall, we can get back on our feet, but for now there is no money. We all have to hold on as best we can.”
There was what could only be described as a sullen silence. And then, “What’s wrong with Dad? He just lies on the couch all day.”
Madeline felt the sting of tears and willed them away. “He’s having a hard time dealing with what’s happened. He feels responsible, and he doesn’t seem to be able to move forward.” Just talking about it dredged up that morning’s conversation and reminded her how completely alone she felt without Steve to turn to.
“Can’t you come home?” he asked in a voice she hadn’t heard in years.
“No.” This was the truth as far as it went. The part she kept to herself was that she was relieved that she couldn’t. She just couldn’t deal with one more thing. “At the moment this house is our best hope. And the more hands we have working on it, the faster we can put it on the market.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line, and she pictured her son not as the strapping six-footer he’d become, but as the small sweet boy who’d worshipped his father and gone so out of his way to please.
“Look, Drew, your father’s going to have to find a way back to himself. I’ve been trying to push and pull him there, but it doesn’t work that way. I’d like him to get some professional help, but I can’t even get him to admit he needs it.” And, of course, they’d have to come up with the money to pay for it.
“Well, it’s not up to me,” he said. “I don’t know what to do. I just want to go to the beach like everybody else.”
Part of her wanted to tell him it would be okay, that she’d somehow find the money and that things would get better soon. But everything wasn’t okay and this was not the time to coddle him. Her mother-in-law’s love for Steve had always felt far too fervent to Maddie. After his father’s death, Steve had become the center of his mother’s universe; but worship didn’t necessarily build backbone. Andrew was no longer a child and she needed his help.
She stood and walked with the phone to the edge of the seawall. Though she looked out over the Gulf and breathed in the warm salt air, in her mind she saw her son holding on to his childhood as tightly as he could. She shoved the image away.
“You’re an adult now, Andrew, and your family needs you. You’re going to oversee the repairs at Grandma’s and when her house is ready, I want you to call our neighbor Mrs. Richmond and tell her we want to list the house for sale. I’ll email you the details.”
“No. I’m going to the beach,” he said. “I want . . .”
“What we each want doesn’t matter anymore,” Maddie said. “Our family’s in trouble and it’s up to all of us to pitch in.” She felt the pinprick of tears again and she shoved those away, too. Her hurt and anger blended into a potent cocktail; she wasn’t prepared to play the Little Red Hen a moment longer. She had a family and they needed to step up to the plate. “What defines us isn’t how we behave when things are good, Andrew, but how we respond when they aren’t.”
“Where’d you get that?” he sneered. “Off a frickin’ fortune cookie?” Then he hung up on her, leaving her staring out over Shell Key with no idea of what he would or wouldn’t do.
Maddie walked back to the pool deck and handed the phone to Kyra.
“Is everything okay at home?” Kyra asked.
Maddie looked at her daughter with her ripening body and her gray eyes clouded with uncertainty. How had everything changed so unexpectedly? She felt as if her family had been standing on a fault line all along and only discovered it when the earth began to tremble beneath their feet.
“No,” Maddie said. “Of course not. But it’s as okay as it’s going to be for a while.”
Kyra carried the phone back inside. Madeline and Avery forced themselves to their feet, turned on the pressure washer, and took aim at the outbuilding. Madeline watched the grime of close to a century wash down the stucco and soak into the ground; too bad a life couldn’t be pressure washed as easily.
They worked without speaking, and after a while Maddie lost herself in the whoosh of the spray and the hum of the machine’s motor, going back to just a year ago when everything had seemed so promising, so normal.
“Oh, my God, Maddie. Stop!” Avery grabbed her hand and tried to redirect it even as a small hole began to appear in the wall. “The psi is too strong to hold it in one spot like that.”
There were short beeps of what turned out to be a boat horn, and they whirled toward the sound, sending a spray of soapy water arcing over the seawall toward the sleek black boat floating beside it.
“Hey!” Chase Hardin shouted as the spray hit the water beside him, shoving the boat away from the wall and kicking a spray of seawater on Chase. Josh and Jason ducked. His father laughed out loud.
“Oh!” Madeline didn’t know how to turn off the wand.
Avery grabbed Maddie’s arm and the spray hit Chase in the shoulder before she could redirect it. Avery aimed her wand at a patch of scrub grass beyond the house, which was quickly blasted to smithereens.
Josh and Jason stayed down. Jeff Hardin was still smiling, but he moved out of the line of fire.
“Hey, cut it out!” Chase yelled from the boat. “Turn it off!”
Avery aimed both wands out over the seawall but away from the boat. Her gaze stayed on Chase, who sputtered and glared back.
“I don’t know,” Avery said to Maddie. “I’ve been dying to wash his mouth out with soap from the first day he started calling me Vanna. But I guess we don’t want to put a hole in him like we did the garage.” She threw Maddie a hopeful glance. “Do we?”
“We do not,” Maddie said. She took the wands and waited for Avery to turn them and the pressure washer off.
They walked, still dripping, to the edge of the seawall. The boat idled a few feet out, its side coated with soap. Chase was wiping his face with a beach towel. His T-shirt was plastered to his body. “Good shot,” he said dryly. “Thanks for the wash.”
“Sorry,” Avery said, though she didn’t sound the least bit regretful. “My hand slipped.”
“Right.” He rubbed his hair and dropped the sopping towel on the deck while the boys tried to mask their laughter. He nosed the boat closer.
“We came to see if you ladies would like to go out for a ride,” Jeff Hardin said. “We’ve got a picnic. We’re going to anchor off the beach over at Fort De Soto.”
“Oh.” Avery turned to Maddie and gave her a small shake of the head. “No,” she began just as Maddie said, “That sounds great.”
Avery raised an eyebrow her way, but for once Maddie didn’t care. It was a beautiful day and anything that might take her mind off of their predicament and the work still to be done was way too good to pass up. “Do you have room for all three of us?” Maddie asked. “Kyra’s inside.”
“Sure,” Jeff Hardin said. “Why don’t you get her and meet us over at the Cottage Inn dock? It’ll be easier to board there.”
Avery turned back to the Hardins. “Look, it’s really nice of you to ask, but . . .”
“What?” Chase asked. “Is there something in the monkey handbook about fraternizing with the boss?”
“You are so not the boss.” Avery’s chin went up a notch.
Chase folded his arms across his chest.
Good grief.
Maddie felt as if she were in the middle of a Rock Hudson/Doris Day movie. “Children, children,” she said in her best “mother” voice. “It’s way too beautiful a day to be acting out some fifties battle of the sexes film.” She took Avery by the shoulders and turned her away from Chase. “Let me just get Kyra. We’ll meet you there in five minutes.”