Nineteen
PEOPLE, NOISE, MOVEMENT FILLED BLUFF HOUSE. ELI HAD forgotten what it was like to have so many voices speaking at once, so many activities rolling over each other, so many questions to answer.
After the initial jolt, he found himself enjoying the company and chaos. Hauling luggage upstairs or bags and platters into the kitchen, watching his niece toddle everywhere—and holding what seemed to be intense conversations with the dog—noting his mother’s surprised approval when he pulled out a fancy tray of fruit and cheese to offer as a post-trip snack.
But his biggest pleasure came from seeing his grandmother stand on the terrace, the breeze fluttering her hair as she looked out to sea.
When he slipped out to join her, she leaned against him.
In her beam of sun, the old dog Sadie raised her head, gave a little wag, then went back to sleep.
“Sun warms old bones,” Hester said. “Mine and Sadie’s. I’ve missed this.”
“I know.” He draped an arm around her shoulders. “And I think this has missed you.”
“I like to think so. You potted pansies.”
“Abra did. I water them.”
“Teamwork’s a good thing. It’s helped knowing you’re here, Eli. Not just on the practical level of having someone in the house, but having you here. Because I think this has missed you, too.”
The familiar vine of guilt and regret wound through him. “I’m sorry I stayed away so long. Sorrier I thought I had to.”
“Did you know I hated to sail?”
Pure shock had him gaping down at her. “You? Hester First Mate Landon? I thought you loved it.”
“Your grandfather loved it. I had to take a pill to keep my stomach steady. I love the sea, but better when I’m on land looking at it. We sailed together, Eli and I, and I don’t regret a single pill, a single minute on the water with him. Marriage is a series of compromises, and at its best, the compromises create a life, a partnership. You compromised, Eli, and that’s nothing to apologize for.”
“I was going to take you out tomorrow.”
She laughed, quick and delighted. “Let’s not.”
“Why do you keep the boat?”
When she simply looked at him, smiled at him, he understood. For love, he thought, and pressed his lips to her cheek.
She shifted to look him in the eye. “So, you have a dog.”
“I guess I do. She needed a place. I can relate.”
“A dog’s a healthy step.” She shifted again to study him more closely, and leaned on her cane. “You look better.”
“I hope to hell I do. You look better, Gran.”
“I hope to hell I do.” She let out another laugh. “We were a couple of wounded warriors, weren’t we, young Eli?”
“Healing up now, and coming on strong. Come home, Gran.”
She sighed, gave his arm a squeeze before she walked with the aid of her cane to a chair to sit. “I’ve got more healing to do yet.”
“You can heal here. I’ll stay with you, as long as you need.”
Something shimmered in her eyes. For a moment, he feared tears, but it was light. “Sit,” she told him. “I fully intend to come back, but now’s not the time. It would be both impractical and unwise to be here when I have all those damn doctors and physical therapists in Boston.”
“I can take you in for your appointments.” He hadn’t realized, not really, until he’d seen her standing on the terrace, her eyes on the sea, how much he wanted her back. “We can arrange for you to have your therapy here.”
“God, how much your mind’s like mine. I’ve considered exactly that almost from the moment I woke up in the hospital. Coming back’s one of the main things that got me through. I come from tough stock, and marrying a Landon gave me more. I made those doctors eat crow when I recovered, when I got on my feet again.”
“They didn’t know Hester Landon.”
“They know me now.” She sat back. “But I’ve got a ways to go yet. I need your mother. Oh, I need your father, too. He’s a good son, and always has been. But I need Lissa, bless her, for a while longer. I’m on my feet, but I can’t stay there as much as I’d like, as much as I will. So I’ll stay in Boston until I’m satisfied I’m steady again. And you’ll stay here.”
“As long as you want.”
“Good, because this is exactly where I want you, and always have. I wondered if I’d be the last Landon in Bluff House. The last who’d live in Whiskey Beach. I’ve asked myself more than once if the reason I never warmed to Lindsay was because she’d keep you in Boston.”
“Gran—”
“Well, however selfish and self-serving, it was part of the why. Not the whole, but part. I would have accepted that, or tried, if she’d made you happy—the way Tricia’s family, and her work at Landon Whiskey, make her happy.”
“She’s a whiz at it, isn’t she?”
“She takes after your grandfather, and your father. Born and bred for it. You’re more like me. Oh, we can handle business when we have to, and we’re not fools. But it’s art that pulls us.”
Reaching over, she patted his hand. “Even when you turned your sights on the law, it was your writing that made you happiest.”
“It seemed like too much fun to be a job. And now that it’s a job, it’s a lot more work. When I practiced law, it felt as if I had something important, something solid. More than daydreaming on paper.”
“Is that all there is to it? Daydreaming?”
“No. Lindsay used to call it that.” He’d nearly forgotten. “Not harshly, but . . . a handful of short stories wasn’t all that impressive.”
“She preferred the impressive, and I don’t say that harshly. She was who she was. But in that series of compromises, the plain truth is Lindsay rarely pulled her weight. Or not that I could see. People who say not to speak ill of the dead just don’t have the spine to say what they think.”
“You’ve got plenty of spine.”
He hadn’t expected to talk of Lindsay, not here, not with his grandmother. But maybe this was the place to put some of it to rest. “It wasn’t all her fault.”
“It’s rarely only one person’s fault.”
“I thought we’d take our own steps, meld our strengths, weaknesses, goals. But I married a princess. Her father always called her that. Princess.”
“Ah, yes, I recall that now.”
“She always got what she wanted. She was raised to believe she could and would—and should. She was naturally charming, incredibly beautiful and absolutely believed her life would be perfect, exactly the way she wanted.”
“And life isn’t a series of fairy tales, even for a princess.”
“I guess not,” he agreed. “It turned out life just wasn’t perfect with me.”
“She was young and spoiled, and given the chance, she may have matured and become less self-involved. She did have charm, and an excellent eye for art, for decor, for fashion. With time she might have made something of that, and of herself. But the blunt truth is, she wasn’t your match, or your mate, or the love of your life. You weren’t hers.”
“No,” he admitted, “neither of us made the grade.”
“The best that can be said is you both made a mistake. She paid too big a price for that mistake, and I’m sorry for it. She was a young, beautiful woman, and her death was senseless and cruel. It’s done.”
No, Eli thought, not until who caused it paid.
“I have a question for you,” Hester continued. “Are you happy here?”
“I’d be crazy not to be.”
“And you work well here?”
“Better than I expected or hoped. For most of this past year writing was more of an escape, a way to get out of my head—or into another part of it. Now it’s my work. I want to be good at it. I think being here’s helped me with that.”
“Because this is your place, Eli. You belong in Whiskey Beach. Tricia? We all know her life, her family, her home’s in Boston.” She glanced back, through the terrace doors where Selina sprawled on the floor beside an ecstatic Barbie. “This is a place for her to come, to spend a weekend, a summer break, a winter holiday. It’s not home for her, and never was.”
“It’s your home, Gran.”
“You’re damn right it is.” Her jaw lifted, her eyes went deep and soft as she looked over the heads of fluttering pansies and out to the roll of the sea. “I fell in love with your grandfather on that beach, one heady spring night. I knew he’d be mine, and we’d make our home in this house, raise our children here, live our lives. It’s my home, and what’s mine I’m free to give.”
She turned to Eli now, and those soft eyes went steely. “Unless you tell me, and make me believe, that you don’t want it, you can’t make your life here, be happy here, I’ll be making arrangements to deed it to you.”
Stunned, he could only stare at her. “Gran, you can’t give me Bluff House.”
“I can do exactly as I please, boy.” She tapped her finger firmly on his arm. “As I always have and intend to continue to do.”
“Gran—”
She tapped her finger again, a warning this time. “Bluff House is a home, and a home needs to be lived in. It’s your legacy, and your responsibility. I want to know if you’re willing to make it your home, if you’re willing to stay, when I’m able to come back, and when I’m gone. Is there somewhere else you’d rather be?”
“No.”
“Well then, that’s settled. It’s a weight off my mind.” With a contented sigh, she looked out to sea again.
“Just like that?”
She smiled, reached over to lay a hand on his, gently now. “The dog clinched it.”
Even as he laughed, Tricia opened the terrace doors. “If you two can tear yourself away, it’s egg-dyeing time.”
“Let’s get to it. Give me a hand, Eli. I can get down, but I still have trouble getting up.”
He helped her to her feet, then just wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll take good care of it, I promise you. But come home soon.”
“That’s the plan.”
She’d given him a lot to think about, but dyeing Easter eggs with a toddler—not to mention her very competitive fifty-eight-year-old grandfather—made it difficult to think. So Eli just rolled with it. By the time the doorbell chimed, puddles of dye pooled and splattered the newspaper covering the kitchen island.
With the dog at his side, he opened the door for Abra. She stood with the straps of bags over each shoulder and a covered tray in her hands.
“Sorry, I didn’t have enough hands to open it myself.”
He just grinned at her, leaned over the tray to kiss her. “I was about to call you.” He took the tray, angling so she could get by him. “I thought you’d be here before this—but I did, with great effort and canniness—manage to save some eggs for you.”
“Thanks. I just had some things to deal with.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“What could be wrong?” She set the bags aside. “Hello, Barbie. Hello.” Better to hedge, she decided, than dump distressing news on a family party. “Pies take time.”
“Pies?”
“Pies.” She took the tray back, walked with him to the back of the house. “From the sound of it, everyone’s settled in.”
“Like they’ve been here a week.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good. Really good.”
She saw that for herself when they stepped into the kitchen. Everyone was spread around the island. Eggs, colored with varying degrees of skill and creativity, sat nesting in crates. She pumped up her smile, tried to put the horrible day behind her as attention turned to her.
“Happy Easter.” She hurried over to set down the pies, turned immediately to Hester. After wrapping her arms around Hester, she closed her eyes, swayed a little. “It’s so good to see you here. It’s so good to see you.”
“Let me look at you.” Hester drew her back. “I’ve missed you.”
“I need to come visit more often.”
“With your schedule? We’re going to sit down with a glass of wine for you, and a martini for me, and you’re going to fill me in on all the gossip. Because I’m not ashamed to say I’ve missed that, too.”
“You’re nearly up-to-date, but I can dig out a few more tidbits for wine. Rob.” Abra rose on her toes to embrace Eli’s father.
Eli watched her work her way through his family. Hugging came naturally to her, that physical contact, the intimate touch. But seeing her with his family made him realize she was woven through their lives in ways he hadn’t understood.
He’d been . . . apart, he thought now. Had taken himself to the side. For too long.
Within minutes she stood hip to hip with his sister, using a wax crayon to draw a design on an undyed egg, and talking about potential names for the new baby.
His father edged him aside. “While they’re busy finishing up here, take me down and show me this business in the basement.”
It wasn’t the most pleasant of tasks, but it needed to be done. They went down, started through. Rob paused beyond the wine cellar.
He stood, a man who’d passed his height, his build—and the Landon eyes—to his son, his hands in the pockets of khakis.
“In my grandmother’s day, this whole area was filled with jams, jellies, fruits, vegetables. Bins of potatoes, apples. It always smelled like fall to me in here. Your grandmother continued the tradition, though on a smaller scale. But then the days of the endless and elaborate parties faded off.”
“I remember some elaborate parties.”
“Nothing like the generation before,” Rob said as they moved on. “Hundreds of people, and dozens of them who’d stay for days, even weeks during the season. For that, you needed a lot of idle time, a warehouse of food and drink, and a houseful of servants. My father was a businessman. If he had had a religion, it would have been business as opposed to society.”
“I never knew about the servants’ passageways. I just heard about them.”
“To my great disappointment as a boy, they’d been closed up before I was born. Mom threatened to do the same with parts of the basement. I used to sneak down here with my friends. God knows why.”
“I did the same thing.”
“You think I didn’t know?” Rob chuckled, slapped Eli on the shoulder. Then stopped again when they reached the old section.
“Christ almighty. I know you told me how extensive, but I didn’t fully believe it. What kind of madness is this?”
“Treasure fever, I think. Nothing else makes sense.”
“You can’t grow up in Whiskey Beach and not come across treasure fever, even catch a mild case.”
“You?”
“I believed—feverishly—in Esmeralda’s Dowry as a teenager. Scoured books, hunted up maps. I took scuba lessons in preparation for a career as a treasure hunter. I grew out of it, but there’s still a part that wonders. But this . . . this is senseless. And dangerous. The police have no leads?”
“Not so far, or not that they’re sharing with me. Then again, they have a murder on their hands.”
Eli had considered this, had weighed the pros and cons of laying it all out for his father. He hadn’t known until that moment, he’d decided to do so. “I think they might be connected.”
Rob studied his son. “I think we should take those dogs of ours for a walk, and you can tell me why. And how.”
Inside, Abra sat with Hester in the morning room.
“This is nice,” Abra said. “I’ve missed this.”
“You’ve kept the house beautifully. I knew you would.” She gestured to the pots of flowers on the terrace outside. “Your work, I’m told.”
“I got some limited assistance. Eli’s not much of a gardener.”
“That can change. He’s changed since he’s been here.”
“He needed the time, the space.”
“It’s more than that. I’m seeing glimpses of who he used to be, mixed with who he’s becoming. It does my heart good, Abra.”
“He’s happier than when he came. He looked so sad, so lost and so angry under it all.”
“I know it, and it’s more than what happened in the past year. He let too much of himself go before that because he’d made a promise, and keeping promises is important.”
“Did he love her? It doesn’t feel right to ask him.”
“I think he loved parts of her, and he wanted what he thought they could make together, wanted it enough to make the promise.”
“A promise is a fearsome thing.”
“For some, yes. For people like Eli. And for you. If his marriage had been happy, he might’ve become someone else yet, some other combination of himself. Someone who could have been content with his work in the law, his life in Boston, and he’d have kept the promise. I would have lost the boy who once thrived in Whiskey Beach, but that would’ve been fine. The same could be said about you.”
“I guess it could.”
“Is he seeing people?”
“He likes his solitude, but that goes with the work he’s chosen. But yes. He and Mike O’Malley seem to have hit it off, and he’s reconnected with Vinnie Hanson.”
“Oh, that boy. Who’d have thought that half-naked, surf-riding, pot-smoking layabout would end up a county deputy?”
“You always liked him, it shows.”
“He was so damn affable. I’m glad Eli’s reconnected with him, and is friendly with Mike.”
“I think Eli makes friends, and keeps them, easily. Oh, and he spent the best part of an evening tossing them back with Stoney at the pub. They really hit it off.”
“Good God. I hope someone drove him home, and I don’t mean Stoney.”
“We walked.” Abra realized the implications of “we” the instant Hester’s brows lifted.
“I wondered.” With a curve to her lips, Hester lifted her martini glass. “Lissa seemed very excited you’d join us for the weekend.”
“I don’t want it to be awkward. Hester, you mean so much to me.”
“Why would it be awkward? When I asked Eli to stay here, I hoped he’d find that time and space, find those pieces of himself. And I hoped the two of you would . . . start walking home together.”
“Did you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? In fact, I intended to meddle, if necessary, once I got fully back on my feet. Are you in love with him?”
Abra took a deep sip of wine. “You move fast.”
“I’m old. I can’t waste time.”
“Old, my ass.”
“But not so old I don’t notice you haven’t answered the question.”
“I don’t know the answer. I love being with him, and watching him become the way you talked about. I know things are complicated for both of us, so I’m happy with that.”
“Complications are part of living.” Taking her time, Hester sampled one of the two olives in her glass. “I know some of what’s happened here, but not, I think, all. Everyone’s too careful around me. I have a blank in my memory, but my mind’s perfectly sound.”
“Of course it is.”
“And the rest of me soon will be. I know someone broke into Bluff House, and that’s upsetting. I know someone was killed, and the police searched the house, which is more upsetting.”
“The lead detective doesn’t consider Eli a suspect,” Abra said quickly. “In fact, he doesn’t believe he had anything to do with Lindsay’s death.”
Her face a study of relief and annoyance, Hester sat back. “Why hasn’t anybody told me that?”
“I imagine they didn’t want to upset you with everything that went around it. But as bad as it’s been, what’s happened has worked Eli up. He’s pissed, Hester, seriously pissed, and he’s ready to stand up, to fight back. That’s a good thing.”
“A very good thing.” She looked outside, toward the sea. “And this is a very good place to make a stand.”
“Sorry to break this up.” Lissa walked in, gave the watch on her wrist a tap.
“Oh, it’s the warden,” Hester announced.
“Hester, you need to rest.”
“I’m sitting. I’m drinking an excellent martini. I’m resting.”
“We had a deal.”
On a huff of breath, Hester downed the rest of her martini. “All right, all right. I’m required to take a nap, just like little Sellie.”
“And if you don’t, you’re as cranky as Sellie when she misses hers.”
“My daughter-in-law has no problem insulting me.”
“It’s why you love me,” Lissa said as she helped Hester to her feet.
“One of the many. We’ll talk more later,” she said to Abra.
Alone, Abra gave herself a moment for depression, for worry. Should she make an excuse and run home? For what? To make sure no one had broken in, left more incriminating evidence?
She had nothing to gain by obsessing, by letting worry nibble away at the corners of her mind. Better off here, she told herself, with people. Better off enjoying the moment.
God knew what might happen next.
Rising, she wandered into the kitchen. She’d like to cook something, she realized, but right now she was guest, not housekeeper, and didn’t have free rein.
She should take her things upstairs, put together the little gift bags she’d made for the family.
She needed to keep busy.
She turned when Lissa came back in.
“Hester always complains about the nap, and always sleeps like a rock for an hour.”
“She’s always been so active and independent.”
“Don’t I know it. Still, an hour’s nap is nothing. When she was first hurt, she was rarely awake for an hour at a time. She beat all the odds, and I shouldn’t have expected less. You know, that looks good.”
“Let me pour you a glass. I was just poking around, wondering what I could do to help. With dinner. Or anything.”
“Oh, I’m going to draft you for dinner detail. I can hold my own in the kitchen, when our Alice lets me. But I’m no Martha Stewart. You must be a wonderful cook.”
“I must?”
“Hester’s said so, and I see the evidence myself. Eli’s putting weight back on instead of shedding it. I owe you for that.”
“I like to cook, and he remembered he liked to eat.”
“And he remembered he likes dogs, and walks on the beach, and companionship. I’m grateful, Abra.”
“I liked reminding him.”
“This shouldn’t be awkward. We had a friendly relationship before you and Eli started seeing each other.”
“You’re right.” She let out a breath. “I haven’t been involved with anyone in a long time, especially anyone with close family. Truth? I’m so used to doing whatever needs to be done around here, or finding something that could be done. I’m not sure what I should or shouldn’t do as a guest.”
“Why don’t we take ‘guest’ out of it and consider we’re all family. Hester thinks of you as hers. Eli thinks of you. Why don’t we start with that?”
“I’d like that. Then I can stop second-guessing myself.”
“I had Max take your things up to Eli’s room.” Lissa offered an easy smile, and a twinkle. “I didn’t see the point in second-guessing.”
After a surprised laugh, Abra nodded. “That makes it all simple. Why don’t you give me the basics of the weekend’s menus, and I’ll take assignments?”
“We can do that. But while we’ve got a minute or so, I’d like you to tell me what, exactly, has gone on. I know Eli’s out there, using that sweet dog and poor old Sadie as excuses to give his father all the details he’s left out. Protect the womenfolk from worrying their pretty heads.”
Abra fisted her hands on her hips. “Really?”
“It’s not quite that bad, but not that far off. I lived the last year, too, Abra. Every day of it. Every hour. I want to know what’s happening with my son.”
“Then I’ll tell you.”
She hoped she’d done the right thing, but to Abra it had been the only thing. Direct questions deserved direct answers. Now, as she trusted Lissa’s judgment, both Eli’s parents knew the score.
No more hedging or leaving out unpleasant details.
And what was she doing? she asked herself. Wasn’t she hedging and leaving out unpleasant details? Eli certainly had a right to know about the planted gun, the police search. Shouldn’t she trust him enough for full disclosure?
“There you are.” Eli, windblown, smiling, walked in. “Barbie deserted me for my father, and her new best friend, Sadie. I think she’s a little too easy.”
“Good thing she’s spayed. Any handsome hound might seduce her.”
“I’m really glad you’re here. I told my father the whole shot, all the grim and grisly details. I figured it was time.”
“Good, because I just finished doing the same with your mother.”
“My—”
“Goose and gander, Eli. She asked me directly. I answered. And she’ll worry less knowing than wondering.”
“I just wanted her to feel safe and unburdened here for a couple days.”
“I understand. I thought the same, and that’s why I didn’t— Is that Hester?”
At the shout, Eli was out of the room before Abra finished the question, and moving fast to his grandmother’s bedroom.
Close on his heels, Abra hurried in to see Hester, white as the sheets, sitting up in bed. Her breath came too fast, and the hands she reached out to Eli shook.
Abra darted into the bathroom for water.
“It’s okay. I’m right here. Take it easy, Gran.”
“Here, Hester, drink a little water. Remember your breathing.” Abra’s voice was a balm over a wound. “Hold the glass for her, Eli, while I fix the pillows. I want you to relax back now, breathe.”
Hester kept one hand gripped on Eli’s, sipped slowly before she let Abra ease her back against the pillows.
“I heard a noise.”
“I ran upstairs,” Eli began. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“No.” Her eyes on Eli’s, Hester shook her head. “That night. That night, I heard a noise. I got up because I heard a noise. I remember . . . I remember getting up.”
“What kind of noise?”
“Footsteps. I thought . . . but then I thought I was imagining things. Old houses make noise. I’m used to it. The wind, I thought, but it was still, almost still that night. Just the house creaking like an old woman. I thought I’d make some tea, some of that special herbal tea you got for me, Abra. It’s soothing. I’d make tea and I’d be able to sleep again. I got up to go downstairs.
“It’s in pieces. It’s all in pieces.”
“It’s all right, Gran. You don’t have to remember it all.”
Her grip tightened. “I saw something. I saw someone. Someone in the house. Did I run? Did I fall? I don’t remember.”
“Who did you see?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.” Her voice cracked on it, fragile glass. “I can’t see his face. I tried to get downstairs, but he’s behind me. I think . . . I think I couldn’t go up, so I ran down. I hear him, I hear him coming after me. Then I can’t remember anything until I woke up in the hospital. You were there, Eli. You were the first one I saw when I woke up. I knew I’d be all right because I saw you.”
“You are all right.” He kissed her hand.
“Someone was in the house. I didn’t dream it.”
“No, you didn’t dream it. I won’t let him come back, Gran. He won’t hurt you again.”
“It’s you who’s in the house now, Eli. You have to protect yourself.”
“I will. I promise you. Bluff House is my responsibility now. Trust me.”
“More than anyone.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Behind the armoire, on the third floor—the big double armoire—there’s a mechanism in the molding that opens a panel.”
“I thought all the passageways were sealed.”
Her breathing leveled, and when she opened her eyes again, they beamed clear. “Yes, most are sealed, but not all. Curious little boys can’t move that heavy armoire, or the shelving in the basement, in the old section—where your grandfather had a little workshop for a short time. There’s another panel behind the shelving. The rest I had sealed. A compromise.”
Now she managed to smile at him. “Your grandfather let me have my way, and I let him have his. So we didn’t seal those two, and completely close a Bluff House tradition. I didn’t even tell your father, not even when he was old enough not to be foolish.”
“Why?”
“His place was Boston. Yours is here. If you need to hide, to get away, use the panels. No one else knows, except Stoney Tribbet, if he remembers.”
“He remembers. He drew me a blueprint of where the panels used to be. But he didn’t tell me two were still open.”
“Loyalty,” Hester said simply. “I asked him not to tell anyone.”
“All right. Now I know, and you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I need to see his face, the man who was in the house that night. I will see it. I’ll put the pieces together.”
“Why don’t I fix you that tea now?” Abra offered.
“It’s past time for tea.” Hester squared her shoulders. “But you can help me get up, get myself downstairs. Then you can pour me a good glass of whiskey.”