The Inn At Ocean's Edge Part 9

Ric stood and took her hand when she arrived. His eyes caressed her. "There you are, my dear. I've been waiting breathlessly all day to see you." His Spanish accent added to the charm of his words.

She wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand away when he rubbed his thumb sensuously over her palm, but she forced herself to smile up at him. This merger was more important than his flirtation.

Claire smiled across the table at Francisca, Ric's sister. "Sorry I'm late."

Francisca was Claire's age, and since their families ran in the same circles, the two of them had been casual friends since childhood, coming in contact once or twice a year. Like Ric, Francisca had dark-brown hair and eyes. On Ric, that darkness simmered in a brooding countenance, but his sister's frank, open smile welcomed everyone into an inner circle.

Francisca's eyes held worry. "I heard what happened to you. How are you feeling, my friend?"

"It still hurts to breathe, but I'm doing all right. It was good for me to be out and about today."

Ric directed an intense stare her way. "You look beautiful tonight, Claire. I've missed you. I thought we might go out on my boat one day this week if you like. We can discuss the merger at length."

Her smile felt brittle and forced. "You sailed it up the coast?"

"Not me, but my captain. I thought you might like to see the new clipper. She is most spectacular. He tells me he saw some humpbacks breaching all along here as he came in. I am quite sure we can see some when we go out. I shall captain it myself on our trip, of course."

Ric knew her love of all things to do with the sea, and it might be the best opportunity to get him to agree to the merger. "I'd like that."

He leaned back in his chair with a confident smile. "I look forward to it."

Ric's stepmother, Bridget, smiled in Claire's direction. "Francisca cut her hair since you saw her last. It's very chic, though I'd look terrible bald like that."

Claire exchanged a commiserative glance with Francisca. Her friend's hair still covered her ears so it wasn't that short, but Francisca was used to dealing with Bridget's constant sense of compet.i.tion. Bridget had been a model when Alberto met her at a society function. He promptly divorced Ric and Francisca's mother and married Bridget five years ago, though he was twenty years older.

Francisca reached for her water. "You should try this style, Bridget. Everyone says it makes me look five years younger."

Bridget's eyes narrowed, and her mouth grew pinched. She didn't respond to Francisca's barb, probably because she didn't want to discuss age. The trauma of turning forty had sent her to bed for a week. Claire suspected the "trauma" had actually been a facelift and, judging from Bridget's still-reddened skin, had been harsher than necessary.

Claire took out the file folder in her satchel. "I have some figures for you to look at, Ric. As you will see, the merger will be hugely profitable for you. We have several small jet models that are filling a much-needed niche in the market. It's an area that Castillo Aviation hasn't ventured into yet."

Ric took the folder and slid it under his chair. "I'll take a look at this later. Let's talk more about this when we're alone, Claire."

His glance at his father told her the older Castillo still opposed the merger. She reached for her water. "Of course."

THIRTEEN.

The setting sun threw rays of gold and red over the roof of Hotel Tourmaline. The backdrop of color against the stone added to its charm. Kate had never taken the ferry out here before, and she gawked at the grand yet welcoming hotel. She imagined her father sipping wine as he smiled and chatted with his wife. What would he think if he knew she was out here? How would his wife react?

Sh.e.l.ley touched her arm. "I just talked to my cousin. He said your dad has reservations at the Sea Room, a really nice restaurant in the hotel, for tomorrow night so he'll be there at least a couple more nights. He also has a tee time at the golf course at seven thirty tomorrow morning. I'd bet he'll be here all week. You have time to figure out what to do."

Kate took a step toward the front of the hotel where light gleamed out of floor-to-ceiling windows. "I know exactly what I want to do. I want to go in there and ask the front desk to call him."

Sh.e.l.ley's red hair swayed with the shake of her head. "I think you should talk to him alone. If you get his wife mad too, you'll get nowhere. What if you approach him after his round of golf? He and his father-in-law are playing eighteen holes, so they should be done around twelve thirty. You could come a little earlier than that." She turned and pointed to the south side of the building. "That path leads from the clubhouse to the inn. There's a nice grove of oaks with some benches along the walk. You could wait there."

The thought of all that family she didn't know clogged her heart with regret. "I probably have cousins. Maybe even another aunt or uncle. And grandparents." Her mother's parents lived on the West Coast, and she'd only seen them twice in her life. She had her uncle Paul and he was great, but even cousins might have supplied the closer sibling-like connection she longed for.

Sh.e.l.ley rubbed her forehead. "Don't get your hopes too high, Kate. Your mom has already warned you he doesn't want to have anything to do with you. Be prepared for him to turn you away."

The thought of that rejection made Kate's stomach clench. Could she handle it? She straightened and stared at the inn. "I won't let him." She glanced down at her jeans and sweater. "How about we have dinner in the Oyster Bistro tonight?"

"It's more casual than the Sea Room so we're probably dressed appropriately. You want to see if he's hanging around, don't you?"

"I just want to observe him a little. I've only seen him at my house. Seeing how he acts in other settings might tell me more about his character."

Sh.e.l.ley pursed her lips and frowned. "We already know his character leaves a lot to be desired. He had a long-term affair and abandoned his daughter. Not a good guy in my book."

Kate held back a wince. Sh.e.l.ley was just speaking the truth. "I still want to see what I can find out. You game?"

"I'm always game." Sh.e.l.ley started up the walk toward the ma.s.sive gla.s.s entry doors.

Kate fell into step beside her, though her heart hammered in her chest. What if her dad recognized her? But no, he hadn't seen her in seventeen years. She was an adult now, and she looked very different than she did when she was twelve. Back then, she'd been all arms and legs and no shape. Her hair had been wild too.

The blond doorman, handsome in his dark-blue jacket, opened the door with a welcoming smile. "Welcome to Hotel Tourmaline, ladies. Anything I can do to help you?"

"Which way to the bistro?"

His blue eyes held appreciation as he looked Kate over. "Down the hallway to the right of the front desk. You can't miss it. The chef's special tonight is oyster po'boys. I had one for lunch, and it was delicious. Enjoy your evening."

His enthusiasm was so infectious, Kate had to smile back. "Thanks." She stopped and eyed him a moment. Did she dare ask him about her father?

Sh.e.l.ley frowned and gave a slight shake of her head. Fudge. Her bestie always knew what she was thinking.

Sh.e.l.ley grabbed her arm and propelled her across the gleaming hardwood floor. "He might have told your dad. Just play it cool, Kate."

She allowed Sh.e.l.ley to tug her past the front desk and the comfortable seating area in front of the fireplace that practically called to her. But once they reached the hall by the elevator bank, the aroma wafting from the bistro made her mouth water. They hadn't even eaten lunch.

Though they didn't have a reservation, it was early enough that they were seated right away. They'd scored a back corner table where she'd be able to see nearly every table and even out the door of the restaurant. They both ordered the special, and Kate surveyed the restaurant over the rim of her sweet tea. She didn't recognize anyone in the place, but the bistro's clientele was mostly tourists staying at the hotel. Locals tended to congregate at Downeast Roadhouse, a bar and grill just south of Summer Harbor.

Her po'boy was nearly gone when a group moved past her table. She instantly recognized her father. She barely glanced at the other people. "Sh.e.l.ley, look! Wait, don't turn. I don't want to cause a scene." Her gaze ranged over her father's face. She watched hungrily as the group walked out of the restaurant.

Kate paid the bill and rose. "Let's get out of here. I don't think I can take any more."

The moon glimmered on the whitecaps rolling into the rocky sh.o.r.e, limning the sea with ghostly light, and the scent of kelp and salt hung in the air. Feet dangling off the edge, Luke sat with Meg on the edge of the Folly Shoals pier.

Claire was in the hotel, a mile away, yet much further in reality. And why did he care? He'd only known her a few days, yet his thoughts turned to her constantly. Something about her vulnerability and determination drew him. He reached into the bucket and threw a fish to the orca. The little mammal caught it in midair, then almost seemed to smile at him and beg for another. He obliged and tossed him another fish.

Meg leaned back on her hands, and the moon illuminated her face. "You're awfully quiet. I think we're both worrying about the same thing. We might as well talk about it."

Luke glanced at her. "Pop's reaction this afternoon was peculiar. He never mentioned that crying child before today. Tell me I'm wrong for being suspicious."

"You aren't wrong. I feel awful for even thinking it, but what if he had something to do with Mom's death?"

With her bald statement, the fear lay bare and stark. And somehow ridiculous. "It's not possible, is it?"

She sighed and crossed her ankles. "I wish I could say it wasn't, but you're older than I am. I'm sure you remember how they fought even more than I do. And he hit her a couple of times, I think."

"He did. I heard him apologize once, but he's always been a hard man."

"I'm sure they investigated him when Mom disappeared and didn't have any evidence."

Luke had been holding on to that hope, but it was a flimsy thread to cling to. "There's no telling what other evidence they found in the makes.h.i.+ft grave. What if they uncover something that implicates Pop? What if he really did it?"

Did he just say that? He rubbed at the sting in his eyes. What kind of son suspected his own father of something so heinous?

He tossed the orca the last of the fish. "My life was a whole lot less complicated a month ago. I'm beginning to wish I'd never come home."

Meg lay back on the pier, her face up to the sky. "You would have had to now anyway. This is something we have to face together. I'm going to believe in Pop's innocence until there's no other option."

"I don't want us to be blindsided, Megan. I have to know the truth."

"And how are you going to find it out? The sheriff's department will tell us if there is anything to worry about."

The orca leaped into the air and splashed down. The cold spray striking Luke's legs sharpened his thoughts. He didn't have the greatest confidence in the easygoing sheriff and his limited resources. Their father had been part of the community all his life. There had been a Rocco family living in that old house for five generations. Sheriff Colton had been their father's friend for thirty years. The sheriff was apt to give the family a pa.s.s unless the evidence was overwhelming.

"I'm not so sure, sis. Colton would do just about anything for Pop. There have been a lot of rumors over the years. Maybe we've been wrong about what we believed. I just know I have to find out the truth. Even if I don't really want to know it."

Meg fell silent, but her gaze never left his face. She finally cleared her throat. "Okay, I'm with you. Knowing the truth is better than pretending there are no monsters among us when we know there are. I just don't want to think our dad could be one of them."

"I don't either." He heaved another sigh. "There's more, Meg." He told her about the letter Jenny sent to the sheriff.

Meg's eyes grew wide. "What could Jenny have meant?"

"I don't know, but I think we need to see if we can retrace Jenny's movements and find out who told her what."

A frown hovered between her dark eyes. "Claire's totally gotten past your defenses, hasn't she?"

"I like her, if that's what you mean. I think Jenny was given false information."

"I don't think she's to blame for anything, but she's connected to Mom's death in some way. That should be enough to make you guard your heart. This whole ordeal may turn so ugly that she has to escape all thoughts of it. Where will that leave you if you fall for her?"

He considered the question. Meg knew him too well, and trying to lie to her would be futile, even if he were so inclined. "I'm not falling for her. I just want to find out what happened."

She laughed and shook her head. "I like her too. She's not running from this but is facing it head-on, even if it brings her discord with her family. I admire that. But she runs in very different circles. She's been used to the best of everything. I suspect she'll take over the family business soon. I'm not sure I'd like to see you married to an executive who has to fly all over the country every week."

He got up and grabbed the empty bucket. "Whoa, no one said anything about marriage! I just met the woman. Yes, I like her, but you're making some pretty huge a.s.sumptions."

Meg hopped up too and slipped her feet into her flip-flops. "I might be your baby sister, but I've got eyes in my head. I've never seen you look at any woman like you look at her."

He set off toward the sh.o.r.e, his bare feet slapping the weathered boards of the pier. "Let's worry about what happened to Mom and forget my love life."

She fell into step beside him. "I will if you will."

"Deal."

FOURTEEN.

On the balcony of her suite, Claire lifted her face to the sea breeze and inhaled the night scent of sea, dew, and newly mown gra.s.s. Moths, drawn by the light flooding from the French doors, fluttered against the gla.s.s in an eerie staccato that set her nerves on edge.

Francisca kicked off her heels and sank onto the lounge chair beside her. "I was so ready to get away from Bridget."

"She seemed very curious about me missing for a year. I was uncomfortable."

Francisca lay back on the lounge. "What do you remember?"

"Nothing really. I feel like that entire year I was missing has been hidden from me on purpose and I don't know why."

"Wait, you mean your padre did not discover your whereabouts during that time?"

Claire leaned on the railing and lifted her face into the breeze, smelling of kelp. "Dad claims he doesn't know. I mean, I was somewhere for that year. I think he knows but doesn't want to tell me. What could be so terrible that he has to keep it from me?" She turned to face Francisca.

Francisca wrapped a lock of dark hair around her finger. "What did your parents say when you asked for specifics?"

"Nothing. I have to wonder how hard he looked, though, because if he'd really looked, surely he would have found something. He's a very determined man."

Francisca adjusted the pillow at the top of the lounge and eased back. "Downeast Maine is such a remote area. Maybe some family out in the mountains had you. If they didn't have any close neighbors, no one would have reported anything."

Claire bit her lip. "But wouldn't they have reported a child they'd found? And then how did I get back to my parents? I have even begun to wonder if I'd been kidnapped and held for ransom, but my parents don't want to tell me."

Francisca gasped and put her hand to her chest. "Kidnapped! That's pretty farfetched."

"It happens all the time, and it would explain a lot of things. Like my grandmother's reaction." Claire hunched her shoulders and turned to look out at the sea. She probably shouldn't have brought it up. "Like why no one wants to admit where I was."

"But why would kidnappers hold you for an entire year?"

Claire thought about it. "Maybe the money drop went wrong, and they were trying to teach my dad a lesson. Maybe it took him awhile to get the money they wanted." Weak excuses. Francisca was right. There was more to it than a simple kidnapping. She rubbed her chest. "I'd better take some more pain meds. This is all so confusing." She retrieved her purse from beside her and shook out a pill, then swallowed it with a sip from her water bottle.

"Maybe you should rest. You could have died out there, Claire. What is the sheriff doing to find who did this to you?"

"I don't know. He hasn't shared any details with me."

"Wait here. I have an idea." Francisca rose and shooed away the moths before she opened the French doors and stepped inside. She returned a few moments later with Claire's sketchpad and a pencil. She handed them to Claire. "Draw what you remember."