The House Guests Page 17

  She was on the third page when someone spoke behind her.

  “Are you busy? I don’t want to bother you.”

  She recognized Cassie’s voice, and without having to think about it, she instantly closed down the search engine and turned off the computer. Then she got to her feet and faced her friend.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you.”

  Cassie’s gaze flicked to the monitor, then up to Amber’s face. “Amber, you didn’t have to stop. I won’t take up your computer time. I just saw you here and thought I’d say hello.”

  “Not to worry. I was all finished. Will dropped me off on his way to the Kouzina. I was just checking...” Her mind whirled and settled on a story. “The news in Kentucky. In my hometown.”

  “Kentucky? I must have jumbled that in my head. I thought you said you were from Arkansas.”

  Amber nodded, as if nothing was wrong. “Born in the Ozarks, but my family moved to Kentucky when I was little.” She realized her newest mistake when Cassie looked even more confused. Had she told her that she’d left her home in the Ozarks when she was pregnant with Will? She’d told that story often enough that she probably had. At some point a year or so ago she had scrambled to change her life history for a while, and now she couldn’t remember why or when. Someone she’d met. Something that had been said. Someone who’d wanted to trade stories about life in the mountains. She had broken her own rule, which was to keep everything simple and the same. Now she was paying the price.

  She took a chance and tried to glue it all together with more lies. “My parents moved back to Arkansas when I was in high school, but Kentucky still seems most like my home, which is why I like to check the news there. We Blairs are wanderers, I guess. It’s in my blood.”

  “They’re still there?”

  For a moment Amber was so rattled she wasn’t even sure where “there” was anymore. She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t look them up?” Cassie inclined her head toward the computer. “Online?”

  “Some things are better left alone. Sometimes it’s the right thing to just make a clean break. I know how you feel about family, but these were not people I’d want Will to know.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s hard.”

  Amber thought she was probably in the clear now. “Are you by any chance heading home from here?”

  “I’m just picking up some books I reserved. Do you need a ride?”

  “That would be great. I’ll let Will know he doesn’t have to pick me up.”

  Amber started to leave, but Cassie stopped her. “You forgot your notebook. Here.” She reached around to the desk and picked up the steno pad. Amber saw what Cassie just glanced at on the front page, the notes on the newspaper article she’d read about the West Virginia House of Delegates.

  Amber snatched the pad quickly and slipped it into her purse. “Do you have any thoughts about dinner? I took chicken out of the freezer this morning.”

  On the way out they chatted about everything except the truth. But Amber worried about the things they weren’t saying. If Cassie had paid attention to her notes, now she knew that Amber had not been catching up on news about a hometown in Kentucky. Even worse? She might also be wondering if everything else Amber had said that afternoon was a lie.

  18

  CASSIE HADN’T BEEN SURE what to get Savannah for Christmas, because whatever she bought would be wrong, simply because it came from her. She settled on a smart speaker Savannah could program to play music and follow simple commands. She finished with a few smaller gifts so inexpensive that she didn’t care if they landed in the garbage that night. She fully expected them to.

  On Christmas morning she got up early and put gifts under the tree, flipping on the lights so they would greet the others when they joined her. In addition to gifts for Savannah she’d bought Will Bluetooth headphones to go with the new smartphone his mother was giving him.

  She’d intended to buy Amber a gift card for something practical like oil changes for their car, but instead she’d found herself at the outlet mall clutching a deep violet rain jacket with a pillowy zip-out lining that was perfect for the changeable local weather and her new friend’s coloring. Amber’s own jacket was thin and showing wear, and by now Cassie knew it would have to self-destruct before she replaced it. She was sure Amber would love this one.

  When the gifts were all in place, she busied herself in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with freshly ground beans. She slipped the cranberry Christmas bread that she made every year into the oven to warm and took a citrusy fruit salad from the refrigerator to sprinkle coconut flakes on top.

  By the time the coffee was ready and the house was stirring, she’d whipped a dozen eggs to make omelets and set out shredded cheese and crumbled bacon. Amber was the first to wander into the kitchen. They exchanged Christmas greetings as Cassie pulled the bread from the oven to slice.

  She and Amber hadn’t been alone together since the day at the library. She wasn’t sure if Amber was avoiding her, or if their schedules just hadn’t meshed. Cassie had given their encounter some thought. Before Mark’s death she had taken people and what they told her at face value. These days she found herself evaluating everything. The person she’d been closest to had lied in the months before his death. Now she looked for lies in every sentence.

  At the library she hadn’t had to look hard. She had caught Amber in a lie about her family. As Cassie had watched her flail through an explanation about where she’d grown up, she had realized that Amber’s reaction was both important and troubling. Clearly fear lay behind the jumbled story. And if Amber was afraid, did Cassie need to be afraid, too, that whatever boogeyman was pursuing her new friend might find its way to the house in Sunset Vista?

  Then there was the memo pad and the words West Virginia. She’d seen nothing but those, but she had noted the way the words were gouged into the paper, as if Amber had been chiseling a headstone.

  She had considered and reconsidered whether to talk to her friend, to point out what she’d seen and encourage her to share her real story. But in the end? She had stayed silent. She wasn’t really sure she wanted to know Amber’s secrets. More important she didn’t want Amber to leave. Amber and Will were buffers between her and Savannah, giving them the space they needed to heal their relationship. And having a friend was pulling her out of the depression she’d sunk into after Mark’s death.

  “When do you think the kids will get up?” Amber poured coffee for both of them without being asked and went to the refrigerator for cream to add to Cassie’s.

  “As a little girl Savannah was always up by five. I’d double that today. How about Will?”

  “I think he’ll be up earlier. But he and Savannah were banging around last night, and he went to bed late. I heard him tiptoeing around my bed.”

  “What do you think they were up to?”

  “Will’s good at keeping secrets.”

  “Like his mother.”

  Amber didn’t tense as much as grow absolutely still, as if she was waiting for the next sentence. Cassie let the silence extend just a moment. “You can’t hide anything in this house. You’ve been up late, too.”

  Amber relaxed a little. “I haven’t kept you awake, have I?”

  “I stay up late, too, to keep from tossing and turning even longer. Your light’s been on as late as mine.”

  “Well, the reason won’t be a secret after this morning.”

  Cassie looked up at a noise. Savannah, in soft flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers, was in the doorway. “Can we get this over with so I can go back to bed?”

  Cassie measured her daughter’s tone. It was more promising than her words. “As soon as Will gets up, too.”

  “Stay out of the living room. And I’m going to go make a lot of noise outside Will’s room.”

  Cassie noted it was no
longer “my suite.” Now the suite belonged to Will and his mother. Another change.

  “Want a couple of pot lids to clang together?” Amber asked.

  “Nope. Got it covered.”

  Cassie watched her daughter disappear down the hallway. Then, the air was filled with the strains of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” screeched at top volume.

  Amber screwed up her face, but Cassie only smiled. The morning showed no signs of being a storybook Christmas, but it was much more than she’d expected. She was happy to take it exactly the way it was.

  * * *

  Later that morning, after a nap on her sitting room couch, Cassie stared across the room at the lemon tree Savannah had given her for Christmas. She had placed the Meyer lemon in a spring green ceramic pot that had survived the disastrous party, even filling in the gaps with potting soil.

  Cassie had been too disheartened to begin a new plant collection. Even tending to the party’s survivors hadn’t given her much comfort. But this new tree, small in stature but dotted with scented flowers? And the thought behind it? She smiled. When they had exchanged gifts that morning, Savannah had acted as if the tree was nothing, but Cassie was clinging to it as a sign that things could change again. Maybe they already were.

  The gifts under the tree had all been selected with care, and now she knew what Amber had been doing late at night. Her housemate had bought and repurposed the curtains Cassie had admired at Things From the Springs so they would fit her windows. A new border ran along the sides and hem of each, highlighted with tasteful machine embroidery that made the curtains look like they’d come from a designer boutique. Will had given presents, too. He had visited the local used bookstore and bought half a dozen books he thought Cassie might like, because he remembered her saying she’d had to leave most of hers in New York.

  Both of them had appreciated their gifts from her, and Savannah had added a gift card to the local movie theater for the Blairs to share. Will and Amber had gone in together to buy Savannah a Himalayan salt lamp shaped like a crescent moon. The morning had passed without the drama she had feared.

  Savannah was now at Helia’s foster home for the family’s annual Christmas party. Helia had arrived with her brother and another girl, Minh, to collect Savannah and finally for introductions to Cassie and Amber.

  Afterward Amber had said how much Helia reminded her of herself at the same age, a surprising slip from a woman who rarely admitted to having a past. The girls were all strangers at Coastal Winds, and each, in her own way, seemed to be particularly perceptive. Both had arrived with small gifts for Savannah, and to her daughter’s credit, Savannah had bought gifts for them, as well.

  Cassie had the afternoon free because Amber and Will were making dinner. Her sitting room had been neglected, and she hated for Amber to see the stacks of mail and magazines when her friend came in that evening to help hang curtains. She carried all the piles to her sofa and set the mail on the coffee table, moving magazines to one side and bills to another.

  She had missed a few Christmas cards, mostly the kind sent by service providers. She opened one from her pest control company and another from her accountant in New York. The next card-sized envelope had an address label, which meant it was probably a mass mailing. She expected an advertisement, but she was wrong.

  Five minutes later she was connected to the local police station.

  “I’d like to leave a message for Officer Nick Andino. I’m sure he’s not there today, but I need to talk with him when he is.”

  She listened and nodded, as if the woman on the other end could see. Her hand was trembling, so she clutched the phone harder. When the woman fell silent, she gave her phone number and name and hung up. Cassie had explained this was not an emergency.

  It just felt like one.

  She sorted the rest of the mail to make sure nothing from the same person was lurking in the pile. Once finished, she was staring at the windows that would sport Amber’s Christmas curtains when the phone rang. Nick was on the other end.

  “Not in a million years did I expect to hear from you today,” she said. “I told them it wasn’t an emergency. Are you at home with family? We can talk—”

  “I cover for the officers with children who need the morning with their families. I’ll see my brothers and sisters later this evening at my mother’s house. What’s up?”

  “I got something...in the mail.” She realized she didn’t want to describe the letter. “May I bring it by for you to look at?”

  “Why don’t you meet me for coffee. I’m about to take a break anyway. McDonald’s is open and not far away. Can you come now?”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  She wasn’t surprised at how good Nick looked in his uniform of dark slacks and a short sleeved shirt with patches on both sleeves. She remembered, looking at him now, how she’d always yearned to have those beautiful brown eyes focused on her.

  She took a deep breath and handed him the coffee she’d insisted on buying, then retrieved slices of cranberry bread she’d brought. “You don’t have to eat that now. It’s my traditional Christmas breakfast.”

  “I may swallow it whole.”

  Cassie knew she had to get straight to the point. “I left the message for you just to get in line. I figured I’d hear later this week.”

  He sat back. “So tell me about your mail.”

  She pulled out the envelope and handed it to him. “I’m not sure when it came. I haven’t been good about keeping up with things. I was sorting mail today and found it in the pile.”

  “It looks like it was postmarked on December 18.”

  “I saw that. Who knows how many people handled it before or since. The woman who delivers our mail. My roommate. Her son, who usually gets the mail, or my daughter.”

  He opened the envelope and held the piece of paper by the corner.

  She knew exactly what it said. Whoever had sent the note had kept it short. It was printed on standard-issue computer paper and unsigned.

  She recited as Nick read silently. The words were burned into her brain.

  “Your husband had all kinds of secrets. Do you want the world to know them now? How about that daughter of his? Is she old enough to understand? Are you safe enough in that cozy little town not to bother protecting yourself from the truth?”

  He slipped the letter back into the envelope. “You always were good at learning lines. Our Town, remember? I struggled with mine. I think you helped me.”

  “At that point in my life I would have shined your shoes. I had such a crush on you.”

  He looked pleased. “Did you?”

  “Oh, yeah. But so did half the girls in the school. You were a charmer.”

  “My charming days are gone. Now when people see me coming, they run the other way. Tell me about your husband.”

  She knew he was referring to the note. She wasn’t sure how much to say about Mark. Did she talk about the old Mark? The one she’d married, the generous and kindhearted man who had been devoted to his wife, daughter and patients? Or did she talk about the one who, in the last year of his life, stormed away from the practice he’d worked so hard to establish? The Mark who had dismantled his family’s financial safety net and left his widow and daughter scrambling?

  “Mark was a psychiatrist,” she began, and then continued on to tell Nick about his first marriage and the custody arrangement.

  “Could the letter be from his ex?”

  “No chance. She’s unfailingly supportive of me, and she was of Mark, too. Plus she’s in Africa at the moment.”

  “Someone could have mailed it for her.”

  “She has no reason to make threats. She might be a distant mother, but she loves Savannah. She wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “The letter mentions secrets. Did your husband have them?”

 
She sipped coffee and tried to think how much to say. “We had a good marriage. I would have said a great one until about a year before Mark died. Then he changed. He was irritable, and suddenly we went from talking about everything to only talking about what we were going to watch on television. He was away more often, too, and he got annoyed if I questioned him. Then he quit his practice. He had an excellent reputation, got along with everybody. In fact he was the one who smoothed over bumps they encountered. Then, one day, he came home and said he’d quit.”

  “Just like that.”

  “I’ve spoken to one of his partners. He wasn’t interested in rehashing it, but in the end he said they were seeing the same things at work that I was seeing at home. The other doctors were relieved when Mark left. They thought he was bringing personal problems into the office, and when they tried to talk to him, he just blew up and resigned.”

  “Do you have any theories why?”

  She knew she should mention the sudden holes in their finances and the lies that Mark had told his financial advisor. But she wasn’t ready to make any of that public yet, not until she could do more investigating on her own. She didn’t know how much Nick was required to report.

  Instead she moved to the explanation she favored most. “Like I said, Mark was a psychiatrist. He got death threats a few times. One from a former patient who was in prison, another from a patient in a locked ward in a psychiatric hospital across town. There might have been verbal threats, too. In fact, I’m sure there were. He worked with very difficult cases. You can’t do what Mark did without stirring up all kinds of problems. I’m just not sure how anybody like that could get my address.”

  “Have you ever googled yourself? Your address probably took whoever sent this letter about one minute to locate.”

  “Life was probably easier before the internet.”

  “How did your husband die?”

  “Sailing. He loved the water, and he’d been sailing since childhood. But one afternoon he took his boat out when he shouldn’t have, got caught in a storm and drowned.”