Книга - Take Me Home for Christmas

Take Me Home for Christmas
Brenda Novak


Too bad not all memories are pleasant!Everyone in Whiskey Creek remembers Sophia DeBussi as the town’s Mean Girl. Especially Ted Dixon, whose love she once scorned. But Sophia has paid the price for her youthful transgressions. The man she did marry was rich and powerful but abusive. So when he goes missing, she secretly hopes he'll never come back—until she learns that he died running from an FBI probe of his investment firm. Not only has he left Sophia penniless, he's left her to face all the townspeople he cheated…Sophia is reduced to looking for any kind of work to pay the bills and support her daughter. With no other options, she becomes housekeeper for none other than Ted, now a successful suspense writer. He can’t bring himself to turn his back on her, not at Christmas, but he refuses to get emotionally involved. He learned his lesson the last time.Or will the season of love and forgiveness give them both another chance at happiness?







Christmas is a time for remembering…

Too bad not all memories are pleasant! Everyone in Whiskey Creek remembers Sophia DeBussi as the town’s Mean Girl. Especially Ted Dixon, whose love she once scorned.

But Sophia has paid the price for her youthful transgressions. The man she did marry was rich and powerful but abusive. Then he goes missing—and she soon learns that he died running from an FBI probe of his investment firm. Not only has he left Sophia penniless, he’s left her to face all the townspeople he cheated.…

Sophia is reduced to looking for any kind of work to pay the bills and support her daughter. With no other options, she accepts a job as housekeeper for Ted, now a successful suspense writer. He can’t turn his back on her, but he refuses to get emotionally involved.

Will Christmas, the season of love and forgiveness, bring them another chance at happiness?


Praise for the Whiskey Creek novels of

New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak

“A hero in need of redemption, a heroine up to the challenge, and an idyllic California gold country setting brilliantly launch Novak’s foray into the thriving ‘small-town community’ market.”

—Library Journal on When Lightning Strikes

“[The characters’] heartwarming romance develops slowly and sweetly. The sex is fantastic, but the best part is how Simon and Gail tease and laugh as they grow closer.”

—Publishers Weekly on When Lightning Strikes

“Novak delivers a lively, sparkling series debut…romantic gold by a superior novelist. The love story blossoms naturally, which is rare nowadays… Additionally, by populating Whiskey Creek with realistic characters—instead of ‘quirky’ caricatures—Novak ensures that readers will eagerly await their next visit.”

—RT Book Reviews on When Lightning Strikes

“It’s steamy, it’s poignant, it’s perfectly paced—it’s When Lightning Strikes and you don’t want to miss it!”

—USA TODAY.com’s Happy Ever After blog

“In this sensitive, passionate, and heartbreakingly poignant second installment of her Whiskey Creek series, Novak masterfully explores what happens when a woman whose entire life has been consumed by playing a variety of roles casts off her suffocating masks and, with the support of an unexpected lover, embraces who she was, is and can be.”

—RT Book Reviews on When Snow Falls (2012 Reviewers’ Choice Award Winner)

“With a great supporting cast of characters Novak fans have come to know quite well, When Summer Comes is a magical addition to the already heartwarming Whiskey Creek series.”

—Fresh Fiction

“A rare treat. Brenda Novak draws you in from the first page.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Barbara Freethy


Take Me Home for Christmas

Brenda Novak




www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


To Sandra Standley and her mother, Diane.

I think you two have read every book I’ve ever written. Thanks for your tremendous enthusiasm and support!


Dear Reader,

I’ve had many of you request Ted and Sophia’s story—so I’m excited to see it published, especially at Christmas because Christmas is such a perfect time for forgiveness, and that’s what Sophia longs for. If you’ve read the rest of the books in this series, you already know that she needed to learn a few lessons. Fortunately, they were nothing that the school of hard knocks couldn’t teach her. By the time I finished this story I admired her as much as (or even more than) all the other characters in Whiskey Creek, even the ones who’ve lived exemplary lives. I hope you’ll agree as you come to know her and her situation better.

I am often asked if my Whiskey Creek books can be read as stand-alone stories or if they need to be read in order. The answer to that question is, yes, they can be read alone and should be just as enjoyable. So dive in and meet the group of friends who’ve made Whiskey Creek “The Heart of Gold Country.”

Please visit my website at www.brendanovak.com (http://www.brendanovak.com) for more information about this book and all the others I’ve written (I think I’m getting close to forty-five, although it’s been a while since I’ve counted). If you’re all caught up on Whiskey Creek, you might be interested in trying my other small-town series (with a total of eight books) set in the fictional town of Dundee, Idaho, until Come Home to Me (Aaron and Presley’s story) is released in April 2014.

At my website you can also drop me an email, enter my many giveaways and participate in my annual online auction for diabetes research. So far, we’ve managed to raise nearly $2 million to help those (like my son) who have diabetes.

Enjoy!

Brenda


WHISKEY CREEK Cast of Characters

Major Characters

Cheyenne Christensen: Helps Eve Harmon run Little Mary’s B and B (formerly the Gold Nugget). Married to Dylan Amos, who owns Amos Auto Body.

Gail DeMarco: Owns a public relations firm in L.A. Married to movie star Simon O’Neal.

Ted Dixon: Bestselling thriller writer.

Eve Harmon: Manages Little Mary’s B and B, which is owned by her family.

Kyle Houseman: Owns a solar panel business. Formerly married to Noelle Arnold.

Baxter North: Stockbroker in San Francisco.

Noah Rackham: Professional cyclist. Owns Crank It Up bike shop. Married to Adelaide Davies, chef and manager of Just Like Mom’s restaurant, owned by her grandmother.

Riley Stinson: Contractor.

Callie Vanetta: Photographer. Married to Levi McCloud/Pendleton, veteran of Afghanistan.

Other Recurring Characters

The Amos Brothers: Dylan, Aaron (who was in a relationship with Presley), Rodney, Grady and Mack.

Olivia Arnold: Kyle Houseman’s true love but married to Brandon Lucero, Kyle’s stepbrother.

Presley Christensen: Cheyenne’s sister.

Sophia DeBussi: Jilted Ted Dixon to marry Skip DeBussi, investment guru and richest man in town.

Joe DeMarco: Gail DeMarco’s older brother, owns the Whiskey Creek Gas-n-Go.

Phoenix Fuller: In prison. Mother of Jacob Stinson, who is being raised by his father, Riley.


Contents

Chapter 1 (#uedd33823-6d80-5df3-9b46-be3bc8d15bc0)

Chapter 2 (#ub597cb07-392e-5fa2-9fa1-63d8a6ac9882)

Chapter 3 (#u773c84d7-19f6-508d-a6db-4b0295d5deb5)

Chapter 4 (#uc33ecbd7-c14d-5a73-b978-098d5c4f132f)

Chapter 5 (#u925b2085-bdea-58f0-84a5-fa6e234fa7d3)

Chapter 6 (#u5058c173-f0c6-50b3-929b-7c8be8548140)

Chapter 7 (#u8365b527-bdb4-5f8b-95dd-59315e5388d4)

Chapter 8 (#u3b7a0e2d-4876-5809-bee5-964c72f063c2)

Chapter 9 (#ub3767240-4fb7-54fa-8770-c362c8b5c445)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


1

Sophia DeBussi’s husband was gone. As in...disappeared. Nowhere to be found. At ninety feet, the Legacy was a sizable yacht—Skip never bought anything except the very best—but not so sizable that a full-grown man could easily be overlooked. The six-member crew had just helped Sophia and her thirteen-year-old daughter scour every inch of the boat.

Other than his cell phone, which he wasn’t answering, Skip’s things were where they should be, but he was not.

Holding back her long hair, Sophia squinted against the sunshine glinting off the water, trying to see the coast of Brazil a few miles to starboard. Could her husband have gone for an early-morning swim and somehow reached land?

That was a possibility, but it was a remote one. Why would he go off on his own? It was too windy to enjoy the beach today. And although he traveled all over the world for business, she’d never heard of him meeting anyone in Rio de Janeiro.

Besides, he’d planned this trip for their thirteenth anniversary because he wanted to spend quality time as a family. She couldn’t imagine he was working, not when this vacation was supposed to be about starting over, about saving their troubled marriage. He’d said he wouldn’t take one call. If he’d made that promise just to her, maybe she wouldn’t have relied on it. He’d said such things before and hadn’t followed through. But he’d also promised their daughter, and he and Alexa were very close.

So...where was he?

Sophia gazed down at the water itself. Had he fallen overboard and drowned in the choppy Atlantic?

That thought led to a surge of relief. It was macabre to wish anyone dead, but only if Skip was gone for good would she ever escape him. She’d lived with him long enough to know he’d never willingly let her go. He’d said as much.

The moment Alexa came to the railing to stand beside her, guilt replaced the relief she’d been feeling. Her poor daughter might have lost her father. How could she be happy about that?

“What happened, Mom?” Lexi asked, her big blue eyes filling with tears.

Sophia put an arm around her child’s thin shoulders. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” She kept going over the past twenty-four hours in her mind, but could point to nothing out of the ordinary. Skip had gone to bed with her last night at eleven, as usual. He’d demanded sex, as usual. If he was around, he insisted on some sexual favor at least once a day. She was pretty sure he slept with other women when he was traveling, especially since he was often gone for a week or longer. But she never tried to check up on him. She just did what she had to when he was home to keep the peace, to survive. She knew how he’d act if she refused him. Even if he didn’t strike her, he’d sulk for days.

Except for the embarrassment of having to tell everyone, including their daughter, that she’d tripped and fallen into a door or slammed on her brakes and hit the steering wheel, she would’ve hated the sulking even more. Sometimes it lasted far longer than the bruises.

Alexa wiped her wet cheeks. “You really don’t remember when he got up this morning?”

They’d already been over this. Sophia didn’t remember. She didn’t rise as early as he did. It wasn’t as if he’d allow her to have a job. On a school day, she typically went back to bed after Alexa left, staying there until ten or so. Then she’d get up slowly, work on maintaining her beauty, which was all-important to Skip, and drink away the rest of the afternoon. Alcohol was the one thing that seemed capable of dulling the disappointment, not to mention the boredom, she lived with on a constant basis.

But it also gave him a club to use when he needed it. I thought I was getting something special when I married you. You were someone, remember? The mayor’s only child. The most popular girl in school. Now look at you. You’re nothing but a lazy drunk.

She tried to shove those hateful words into the back of her mind, where they resided. They made her crave a gin and tonic, but it was too early for that. She couldn’t have one, anyway, she reminded herself. Not only had she just spent thirty days in rehab, she’d promised Skip, as part of their “starting over,” that she’d really quit the booze this time. He’d threatened to have her committed to a mental institution like her mother if she didn’t. She wasn’t sure what he’d use to make her seem crazy, but he’d figure it out. Her mother’s condition, the fact that there was mental illness in the family, definitely wouldn’t work in her favor.

“Mom?” Lexi said.

Sophia pulled herself out of the whirlpool of her thoughts. “He didn’t wake me, honey. I’m sorry. He didn’t tell me he was leaving, either. I would’ve remembered.”

“Are you sure? He says you forget a lot. That you’d live in a bottle if you could.”

He often criticized her to Lexi. He was the dazzling father who swooped in bearing outlandish gifts. The parent who’d promised her a Porsche for her sixteenth birthday. He never had to raise his voice to insist she do chores, finish her dinner or improve her grades, because he wasn’t around long enough. “I’ve quit drinking,” Sophia said softly. “That’s why I went away, remember? Why you had to stay with Grandma and Grandpa.”

Alexa didn’t pursue the old argument. She was too bewildered by her father’s disappearance. “This is just so...weird.”

“It is weird.” Sophia could tell that the captain and his mates agreed. She’d heard them asking each other if anyone had seen Mr. DeBussi on deck in the wee hours. No one had. No one had heard him, either. But with the engine chugging away and the waves splashing against the sides of the boat, would anyone notice if he fell overboard?

“I keep thinking he has to be here somewhere.” Dressed in cut-offs and a white tank, Alexa leaned on the railing as her troubled eyes ran over the deck, the bar, the stairs going below. “I’m so worried.”

Sophia didn’t want her to have to accept the worst quite yet. She didn’t want her to suffer at all. Alexa was the only reason she’d remained in her loveless marriage. Skip had told her she’d never see her daughter again if she left, and she believed him. He had the support of a rich and powerful family who lived in the same small town they did. With her own mother diagnosed with schizophrenia and her father dead, she had no one. “He might turn up.”

A fresh tear rolled down Lexi’s cheek. “But you heard the captain. He said there’s no way Dad could’ve reached shore. No one could swim that far.”

The captain would’ve been right had he been talking about anyone else. But he didn’t know Skip, not like she did. Skip could do anything he set his mind to. Sophia had never met such a strong-willed individual. Or such a controlling one.

She pulled her daughter into a hug. “We’ve contacted the U.S. Consulate, and they’ve called the police. We’ll be docking at Rio to wait while they check the city and the beaches. We won’t leave without him. Let’s not give up hope too soon.”

Alexa’s head bumped against Sophia’s chest as she nodded, but she was obviously struggling to believe those measures would do any good. She couldn’t picture her father jumping over the side in the middle of the night and swimming for shore—and neither could Sophia.

The captain approached. “I’ve secured a slip at Marina de Gloria, Mrs. DeBussi,” he said. “We should be in port in less than thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Captain Armstrong.”

His nod had the same effect as a salute. He turned away, but then he paused.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“I just—” he faced her again “—I wanted to warn you.”

A sense of foreboding chilled her despite the ninety-degree weather. “About...”

“The police. When I spoke to them on the radio, they...they asked me if...” He cleared his throat as his eyes flicked to Alexa, and she nudged her daughter toward the stairs.

“Lexi, why don’t you go below and check our bedroom one more time, okay? Make sure everything of Daddy’s is there, even his shaving kit.”

“We know it’s there,” she protested.

Sophia gave her another little push. “Check again, will you?”

Reluctantly, her daughter headed to the stairs, casting a frown over one shoulder before she disappeared from view.

“What is it, Captain Armstrong?” Sophia asked.

“They had questions about your marriage, Mrs. DeBussi. If I’ve ever seen the two of you fight, that sort of thing.”

He hadn’t seen them fight. No one had. Skip kept up appearances at all costs. His reputation as the man who had everything meant more to him than something as malleable as the truth. He never grew violent when someone else was around, and that included Lexi. If he got upset, he simply punished Sophia later.

But anyone who was astute could no doubt feel the tension. Sophia was terrified of him. Even when he wasn’t overtly abusive, she endured many small but vicious reprisals.

“And you told them...what?” Her heart thumped so loudly she was afraid he could hear it. Skip wouldn’t like this intrusion into their personal lives, so why had he left her vulnerable to it?

“That I don’t know anything about your private life. But...I want to reassure you that even if I did, I wouldn’t speak of it.”

She found his loyalty comforting, especially because she would never have taken it for granted. She barely knew him, had hardly ever spoken to him. It didn’t matter that he was old enough to be her father, or that he was married himself. Her husband was too jealous. Any interaction would’ve risked the captain’s job. “Thank you, Captain Armstrong.”

“You’re welcome. I have the utmost respect for you, Mrs. DeBussi. But...”

She pulled the gauzy white scarf she’d paired with her summer sheath dress tighter. “Yes?”

He lowered his voice. “You should be prepared. They will ask you the same thing.”

Suddenly she grasped why he was telling her this. “You don’t mean... They don’t think I might’ve harmed Mr. DeBussi?” The irony of anyone suspecting her of hurting him almost made her laugh.

“They have to rule out that possibility.”

She could understand why, of course. But how would she convince them? Although the U.S. Consulate was acting as a liaison, she’d be dealing with foreign police; she couldn’t even speak their language. What if they arrested her?

Her face must’ve betrayed her panic because the captain took her elbow and led her to a chaise. It was nothing he’d risk doing in her husband’s presence, but she was grateful for his kindness.

“They won’t be able to prove anything, Mrs. DeBussi,” he said. “You just need to remain strong and insistent.”

They won’t be able to prove anything? What did that mean? That he suspected her—but didn’t blame her? She dared not ask him to clarify. Forcing a smile, she said, “Of course.”

If only “strong” felt like a possibility. She’d been strong once, even willful and rebellious. She regretted a great many things about those days, had been paying for her sins ever since. She considered living with Skip to be part of her penance. But the one attribute she’d lost that she wished she’d retained was her fighting spirit.

Maybe it was there, somewhere. But having a child had completely disarmed her.


2

Sophia slipped out of Alexa’s room. She was finally asleep, and Sophia was grateful. It had been a long, hard day. Although she could scarcely believe it, there’d been no word from Skip. As promised, the police had met them at noon, when they docked at the marina. While a handful of crime-scene techs went through the boat, searching for blood or any other clue, an investigator had spoken to her. In a heavy Portuguese accent, he’d asked all the questions one might expect under the circumstances.

And Sophia had lied in response to almost every one of them.

What made you decide to take a trip to Rio?

Where better to celebrate our anniversary? We’ve been meaning to get away for months.

Do you consider you and your husband to be a happy couple?

Oh, yes. We’ve never been more in love.

Is there anyone, maybe a member of the crew, who might’ve been angry with your husband?

Of course not. Skip is wonderful, well-liked by everyone.

Her muscles had ached with tension, but she dared not tell the truth, especially when she was asked who might want him dead. She was pretty sure she was the only one. Mr. Armstrong’s three mates were new hires. They’d met Skip at the beginning of the voyage so they’d had very little time to get acquainted. And although it was possible the captain, the cook and the maid found him as egotistical and overbearing as she did, without him they wouldn’t have a job. None of them had any reason to push him into the ocean.

So where had he gone? They had no more answers now than before they’d docked. But, thank God, the day was over and she had the night to try to recover.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she went up on deck and gazed out at the city. Rio was lit up like an amusement park, but it was a lonely sight as she sat on the Legacy so far from California, wondering what had happened to her husband.

Her cell phone lay on the table nearby. Today, Carlotta, the maid who cleaned up after them and saw to their personal needs, had helped her make arrangements with her carrier so she’d have service while she was out of the States. No doubt Skip’s phone had had international calling from the beginning but, until now, there’d been no need for Sophia to have it. She rarely spoke to anyone outside Whiskey Creek.

After eyeing it for several minutes—as though it was a snake ready to strike—she picked it up and dialed. She’d tried calling Skip earlier, on the captain’s phone. Then, when the police were here, they’d called together. Skip hadn’t answered, of course, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“This is Skip DeBussi of DeBussi Worldwide Investments. I’ll be unavailable until October 23rd. My assistant, Kelly Petruzzi, will handle any work-related matters in my absence—”

She hung up before he could recite Kelly’s contact information. She’d checked in with Skip’s assistant several times today. He hadn’t heard from her husband, either, which made no sense. Kelly always knew where to reach him in case there was an emergency.

If Skip was alive, he had to pick up at some point. He never went anywhere without his phone, and it certainly hadn’t been left on the boat.

Determined to put an end to what felt like a bizarre dream, Sophia tried him again. And again and again. If the police checked his phone records, it’d look like she was frantic to speak to him. But, in her heart of her hearts, she knew she was merely trying to confirm that he wasn’t going to answer.

The calls went directly to voice mail. Although she listened to his greeting every time, she left only one message. “Skip? Where are you?”

“Mrs. DeBussi?”

The voice didn’t belong to her husband. Startled in spite of that, she jumped and hit the end button. “Yes, Captain Armstrong?”

The Legacy’s captain came closer, his tall body momentarily blocking the lights of the city behind him. “You didn’t eat much dinner. Can I bring you a plate of cheese and crackers? Or a glass of wine?”

She definitely wanted a drink. Some chardonnay would relax her, help her get through what promised to be a rough night of wondering and waiting. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop at one glass. And she needed a clear head. Her daughter was depending on her for emotional strength and direction. The last thing she wanted to do was let Alexa down or prove Skip right—that she was nothing but a lazy drunk.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

He seemed disappointed that she’d refused. He didn’t know she’d recently come out of rehab, or he would never have offered her wine. Skip, embarrassed by her addiction, had kept her stint at New Beginnings in Los Angeles a secret from everyone except his parents, who’d watched Alexa so he could work while she was gone.

“You should have some food to keep up your strength,” the captain coaxed.

Sophia wanted to eat for that reason but couldn’t swallow a bite. “I’m okay, really.”

With a nod, he moved toward the stairs. “I’m going to turn in, then.”

It was only nine o’clock, but why shouldn’t he enjoy some private time? There wasn’t much anyone could do to change the situation, except wait and see if Skip returned. Although the police had tried to find him by tracking his cell phone, there’d been no signal. According to them, he hadn’t placed a single call since early last night, when he’d talked to his office.

“Good night, Mr. Armstrong,” she said, “and rest easy. There’s nothing a ship’s captain needs to worry about while we’re docked at the marina.”

“This ship’s captain is worried about you,” he told her.

She glanced up. The light of the moon let her see the sympathy on his ruddy face.

“I’m sorry, you remind me of my daughter,” he said. “I can’t help feeling protective of you.”

Sophia might’ve been surprised, except she had that effect on most men, not just the fatherly types. Her mother used to laugh about it. You’re like a china doll, she’d say. Flawless but fragile. There isn’t a more potent combination for attracting the opposite sex.

Skip, of course, had put a darker spin on it. You’re like Marilyn Monroe. You have the kind of sex appeal that drives men crazy. You’ve constantly got them sniffing around, like dogs after a bitch in heat.

The first time Skip had ever hit her was following a chili cook-off sponsored by his wealthy parents. His own cousin, visiting from Denver, had pulled out a chair for her, and that was all it had taken to set him off—once they got home, of course. He’d accused her of flirting, of making his cousin believe she found him attractive.

“I appreciate your concern,” she said to Armstrong, “but...I—I’ll get through this somehow.”

“And if your husband doesn’t come back? Will you be able to get through that?”

Her life would be far easier than if he did. But she couldn’t admit it. “I’ll do my best for my daughter’s sake.”

“I hope it won’t come to that.”

She didn’t say anything, merely smiled as he left. Then she called Kelly to see if there’d been any news.

“Mrs. DeBussi?”

Her husband’s thirtysomething assistant sounded impatient, upset. At first, Sophia felt guilty, assuming she’d bothered him after hours. It was dark where she was—but then she remembered that Rio was five hours ahead of California. Back home, it was three in the afternoon.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you again,” she began, slightly put off, but he broke in before she could go any further.

“No, I’m glad to hear from you. Relieved. As a matter of fact, I was about to call.”

A tight ball of nerves formed in her belly. He’d never been excited to hear from her before. During their brief encounters, even the ones earlier today, he’d treated her with professional courtesy but that was it. Skip kept his business completely separate from his personal life. He hardly ever talked about what he worked on from day to day, or the places he went—unless it was to brag about some multi-million-dollar deal he’d closed.

“You’ve heard from my husband,” she said.

“Not a peep. But I really need to talk to him. He’s not back yet?”

She might’ve been glad there was still no sign of the man she’d grown to hate, but the anxiety in Kelly’s voice kept her on edge. “No. What’s going on?”

“The FBI is here. They’re looking for him.”

So soon? She’d had no idea the Brazilian police were going to contact the FBI. They hadn’t mentioned it. Did the FBI get involved in every case involving a missing American? Maybe if that American disappeared while out of the country. “That was fast. He’s only been gone fifteen hours or so.”

The tension in his voice rose a notch. “They’re not here for the reason you think. They have a search warrant.”

Sophia got to her feet. “What does that mean?”

“They’re demanding access to the offices, the files, everything.” Kelly’s emotions were obviously escalating toward panic. But other than an occasional speeding ticket—usually when he was driving his Ferrari since he had a chauffeur take him to and from the company offices in San Francisco—Skip had never been in trouble with the law.

“Why?”

He seemed to make an effort to keep his voice down. “I guess...I guess he’s the target of a probe. They plan to bring him up on criminal charges.”

Sophia was so stunned she couldn’t speak.

“Mrs. DeBussi?”

After clearing her throat, she managed to find her voice. “I’m here. What—what kind of criminal charges?”

“There’s a whole list. Just a sec, they gave me something—” She heard a flustered sigh, then sheets of paper rattling in the background before he came back on the line. “Here it is. He’s looking at several counts of conspiracy to commit mail and wire fraud, securities fraud and engaging in monetary transactions in property derived from specified unlawful activity.”

After such a windy day, the night was, by contrast, calm. But Sophia hardly felt calm inside. Conspiracy. Fraud. Unlawful...whatever that was. Those charges sounded like a jumble of very bad words. “And that adds up to...”

“From what I understand, he could go to prison for the rest of his life.”

Knees weak, Sophia felt behind her for a chair and sank into it. “It can’t be as bad as that.”

“They claim to have proof,” he said, “and they think they’re going to uncover more in their search.”

“They claim?” she echoed. “Is it true? Could it be true? Wouldn’t you know if he was doing something that...terrible?”

“How would I? He only tells me what he wants me to hear, and he’s never said anything about fraud. But—” he lowered his voice “—he has been acting strange lately.”

Somehow she’d missed every sign of that. But she’d been in rehab for a month, during which he could’ve done almost anything. During the first two weeks, she wasn’t even allowed to talk to him. And she’d been absolutely focused on maintaining her sobriety ever since. “In what way?”

“Distracted. Worried.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” she asked, appalled. “When we called, you claimed everything was fine.” Kelly hadn’t seemed concerned in the least. He’d said that maybe Skip had arranged for a boat to pick him up and take him to Rio or somewhere else in Brazil.

“I was trying to keep the business running here and I wanted to handle the call the way he’d expect me to. What if I’d gotten everyone worked up and then he returned by nightfall? I never thought...I mean, I guessed a particular deal might not be going well, but there are always ups and downs when you’re managing investments. I had no idea his problems were this serious.”

Kelly had referred to prison. In a town the size of Whiskey Creek, the humiliation of criminal prosecution would be devastating—not just for her and Skip and his parents, who were so proud of him, but for Alexa, who’d had everything money could buy and was used to feeling important and admired.

“Those charges you mentioned—mail fraud and...and securities fraud. They’re not murder. They’re not anything...violent. If he gets a good attorney, he’ll be able to stay out of prison, won’t he?”

“It’s white-collar crime, but those are serious charges.”

She rubbed her temples. She had such a headache. She needed a drink but refused to succumb to the pressure. How could she handle all this if she was drunk? Lexi needs me.

“They’re not coming after you, too....”

“They haven’t said, but I can’t imagine they are. All they have to do is follow the money to know I haven’t been involved.” But his job was in jeopardy. That couldn’t be easy to hear, especially out of the blue.

“I’m still not clear on what he’s done,” she said. “Or what they say he’s done.”

“He’s stolen money, Mrs. DeBussi.”

But he always had so much. Why would he need to steal? “From who?”

“From his investors.”

Oh, God... “Then what’s the mail fraud?”

“I can’t say how that figures in, exactly. It’s one of the charges. According to a special agent by the name of Freeman, your husband’s been taking investors’ funds and funneling them into private accounts and privately held companies instead of putting them into the SLD Growth Fund. Maybe they mailed him the payments. The FBI is asking a lot of questions but they’re not giving a lot of answers.”

Funneling money into personal accounts? Why would Skip be so dishonest? “He wouldn’t cheat anyone. He must’ve been borrowing the money. He’ll pay it back.”

“Impossible.”

“Excuse me?”

Kelly’s whisper grew louder. “Do you have any idea how much we’re talking about?”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She wanted to be home where she could find solace in the familiar. “No. How much?”

“Sixty million dollars.”

Sophia felt faint. “That’s a huge amount of money.” Even to her, and she was used to hearing Skip talk in big figures.

“More than he’ll ever be able to come up with.”

“So...who’s been hurt? Which investors?”

“Anyone who gave him money for the SLD Fund.”

“And the SLD Fund is...”

“The money that was supposed to be invested in a diverse array of assets and publicly traded equities.”

Wait. The “publicly traded equities” reference jogged her memory. She’d heard Skip talking about the SLD Fund with various people around town. That was the big moneymaking opportunity he’d been pushing for the past year. “You’re saying these investors have lost their money? There’s no way to get it back?”

“Now you’re catching on,” Kelly retorted. “I’m guessing he wouldn’t have taken it if he didn’t need it, but that doesn’t make this right. He’s been struggling to cover our overhead here for months. I thought he’d get the finances straightened out when he closed the next deal. That’s what he told me. He said he had a big one coming down the pike. But now...I’m wondering if he’s been saying that just to buy time, so I’d stick around until the end and help him keep up appearances.”

“You’re making it sound like...like DeBussi Investments is defunct. Broke!”

“It should sound that way. Because unless he’s sitting on a secret stash somewhere, it’s true.”

“That can’t be possible.” Skip always had money. Although he’d entered the business world right out of high school and hadn’t attended a day of college, he’d been independently wealthy by the time she married him, when they were twenty-two. And he’d grown richer as the years passed. Not long ago, California Business, a respected magazine, had touted him the best investment consultant in the state.

“But if there’s no money in DeBussi Investments, what about our personal finances?” she asked. “Maybe I can pay some of it back.” At least to the people she knew.

“I have no idea how things stand on the personal side,” Kelly said.

That gave Sophia some hope, but she found out soon enough that she wouldn’t be able to right Skip’s wrongs. When she tried to buy fuel for the Legacy the next morning, she learned that the FBI had frozen all of their bank and credit accounts.


3

Sophia squinted against the bright afternoon sun. She’d never been fond of her in-laws, especially Skip’s mother. Generally, they treated her with a sort of mild neglect, and she pretended not to notice, but occasionally she detected real disdain. She could only assume that her husband had complained about her to them the way he did to Lexi. She’d never said or done anything that should put her out of favor—but there was her drinking problem. Their disapproval and their coolness toward her made it difficult to turn to them, even in her hour of need. She’d called them today because they deserved to know that their son was missing. He was fairly close to them, as close as he was to anybody, and she needed money to fly Alexa and her home. It wasn’t as if she could go to her parents for help. It’d been twelve years since her father had died of prostate cancer, fourteen since her mother had been hospitalized for good.

“What are you talking about?” Sharon snapped. “This can’t be true.”

Sophia had just told her that Skip hadn’t been on the boat when she woke up yesterday and she hadn’t seen him since. She’d decided not to mention the FBI. She figured hearing that their son had disappeared and was likely dead would be hard enough; they could deal with the rest once she got home and had more information. Despite the harsh reality of her current financial situation, or perhaps because of it, Sophia kept hoping that there was a logical explanation—other than what the facts seemed to suggest.

“Sharon, it’s true,” she said. “I have no idea where he could be. I contacted the Brazilian police, of course, and they’ve been searching ever since. But it’s been thirty-two hours and there’s no sign of him.”

“Have you called his cell?”

“Over and over.”

“He must’ve had business in Rio,” his mother said in her usual brusque manner. She always acted as if she had all the answers. “You know how he is. He works nonstop.”

“Are you saying he swam to his appointment? Because that’s the only way he could’ve gotten there—unless we all missed the fact that a boat came alongside us in the night.”

Silence met this response. Sharon had heard the sarcasm, but at this particular moment Sophia couldn’t tolerate her mother-in-law’s supercilious attitude. She was having trouble holding herself together. Although she’d made it through the entire night without a drop of alcohol, she hadn’t slept. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, her head and her stomach ached, and she had some terrible truths to face—truths that would change her whole life. If Skip didn’t come back, if he didn’t straighten out the mess he’d made, she’d have no way to survive, let alone take care of their daughter.

She stared at her naked ring finger. On their tenth anniversary, Skip had replaced her wedding ring with a five-carat diamond that was worth over two hundred thousand dollars. But when she entered rehab, he’d taken it back, saying he wanted to have it appraised for insurance purposes....

In light of what she’d been told during the past two days, she suspected it hadn’t gone to an appraiser.

“I’m sorry.” She hid her hand from view, so she wouldn’t have to be reminded of the ring, and struggled to gain control of her emotions. “I—I’m upset, as you can imagine. Like I said, I have no idea what happened, why Skip isn’t here or where he might be. I hope he’s okay, that everything will end well. But I desperately want to come home. I have to come home. I can wait for him there.”

“It’s been a day—one day. Surely you wouldn’t give up hope and leave your husband so quickly.”

Flinching, she grappled for an explanation that wouldn’t include admitting that the FBI had accused Skip of being a criminal. She knew what that would do to his parents. They thought he walked on water. They’d always preferred him to his brother, who worked as a plumber and had five kids with four different women. “I can’t stay here. There’s been a...a mix-up with our accounts, and I’m not able to cover food and supplies or pay the crew.”

“Good Lord, now you’re talking about money? What’s that got to do with finding Skip before it’s too late?”

“If you could just wire enough for me to get Alexa home... Then I’ll explain everything, or as much as I know, anyway.”

There was talking on the other end.

“Sophia?” The phone had switched hands. This was Dale, Skip’s father.

She gripped her cell tighter. “Yes?”

“What the hell’s going on?”

As a rule, men treated her better than women. That was why she typically preferred them. But her father-in-law was a notable exception. “It...it’s unbelievable,” she said and told him what she’d told Sharon.

“My son would never leave his family high and dry,” he said when she’d finished. “It must be foul play, a—a kidnapping.”

“There’s been no ransom note.”

“Then something else happened. He wouldn’t abandon you and Alexa on that damn boat if he’d had a choice.”

A tear dripped down her cheek because she was pretty sure Skip had done exactly that, and she felt terrible for their daughter. How could he promise Alexa a wonderful two weeks at sea as a family—and then disappear?

“You—you’re probably right,” she said but only to get through this phone call without an argument. The more she considered the timing of Skip’s disappearance, the more she believed he’d gone on the run. He had to have known the FBI was closing in on him. Or maybe some of his investors had been pressing him for the fabulous return he’d promised, and he’d run out of excuses.

“Did he have problems with the crew?” his father asked.

Was he talking murder? “No, none. The crew is great. No one would hurt him.”

“Someone must’ve done something, by God! And now you want to leave, to come home without him? When he’s probably in trouble—maybe even stranded in the ocean? He could need your help!”

The lump in Sophia’s throat made speaking an effort. “I told you, I don’t have the money to stay. I—I can’t even provide the necessities for Lex. Think of your granddaughter, please. I need to get her home.”

“Why don’t you have money? This whole thing stinks, Sophia. What is it? What aren’t you telling us?”

She dropped her head, resting it in her free hand. She realized that this conversation couldn’t wait, after all. “The FBI has frozen our bank accounts, Dale.”

“Let go of the phone,” he told his wife. Then he spoke into the receiver again. “Did you say FBI?”

She sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

“Why would the FBI freeze your accounts? The FBI doesn’t do that unless...unless—”

“Unless they have reason,” she finished for him. “They claim Skip’s been defrauding his investors.”

“What?”

“It’s true. They’ve frozen all the money so they can return as much as possible. But Kelly tells me that’ll be a nominal amount, if any at all.”

“This is bullshit!” he exploded. “My boy would never cheat a soul. He doesn’t need to cheat. Everything he touches turns to gold. You’ve seen what he’s done, what he’s provided for you.”

Had he been breaking the law all along? Or just recently? “I hope he’s innocent, like you say. And I hope we can prove it.”

“You do? Really? Because you sound beaten.” His voice grated. “Don’t you have any confidence in him?”

“I only know what Kelly told me, Dale, and he said the FBI plans to bring Skip up on fraud charges for mishandling the SLD Fund.”

There was a brief silence. “No way. Not the SLD Fund. That fund’s making great money. I saw a report last month.”

A wave of unease swept through Sophia. “Why would you see a report? You didn’t invest in it...” Skip wouldn’t defraud his own parents, would he?

“I sure did,” his father said proudly. “I put my life savings into that fund. So did almost everyone else in Whiskey Creek. And when they see how fast my boy will double their money, they’re going to be damn glad they did.”

Sophia started laughing. And once she started, she couldn’t stop, not until she was crying instead.

“Sophia? Sophia, stop it!” Dale barked. “Are you drunk?”

That got her attention. “No,” she said. “I haven’t had a drop.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

Sniffing, she wiped her eyes. “Whether you want to believe it or not, your boy is gone,” she said. “And so is the money you and everyone else invested.”


4

Two days later, on Sunday, which was as soon as they could make the arrangements, Sharon and Dale met Sophia and Alexa at the airport. Her in-laws were drawn and pale, and Sophia knew she looked no better. She wheeled her luggage out to the car, while her daughter did the same, her hair smashed on one side from when she’d leaned against the wall of the plane, trying to get some sleep.

“Thank you for helping us get home,” Sophia said. “And for sending enough money for the crew to return with the Legacy.” She had no doubt the FBI would confiscate the yacht once it was safely docked. The agent who’d been dealing with Kelly, Special Agent Freeman, had contacted her when she was about to board the plane. She’d told him she couldn’t help find Skip. And he’d told her the government had seized everything of any value except the house. Since there was no equity in it, 910 Wonderland Drive wouldn’t be worth their time.

Thank God for small favors. At least she and Alexa would be able to stay in familiar surroundings until the bank kicked them out. How long that would be, Sophia couldn’t even guess. She had more pressing matters to worry about before she got to that. The way Agent Freeman had questioned her made Sophia believe he suspected her of being a party to Skip’s fraudulent activities—and when they’d hung up, he’d seemed far from convinced that she wasn’t. He kept asking her how much she knew about her husband’s business, implying that Skip couldn’t have done everything he’d done without her knowledge. Because California was a community property state, the law held her accountable for any debts he’d incurred, so her credit was going to be ruined, too.

The DeBussis hugged Alexa, then turned immediately to helping with the luggage.

“Of course we were going to make sure you got home. We would never strand our granddaughter,” Dale said tightly.

Sophia tried not to be hurt by the fact that they hadn’t greeted her quite as warmly. Maybe she hadn’t been the perfect wife. No one admired an alcoholic. But she had been part of the DeBussi family for thirteen years, since shortly after she’d found out she was pregnant with Lex. She felt she deserved a little kindness. “Since I love Alexa, too, I appreciate it,” she said.

Other than a few comments about the weather and the length of the trip, they drove the hundred and thirty miles to “The Heart of Gold Country” in silence. Sophia knew her in-laws didn’t want to discuss Skip’s situation in Lexi’s presence; neither did she. She hadn’t told her daughter that he was wanted by the police. She’d simply said there’d been a mix-up at work and perhaps he’d gone somewhere to take care of the problem.

“Do you think Alexa should come home with us?” Sharon asked when they reached the top of “DeBussi Hill” and pulled into the circular drive.

Judging by the look her daughter shot her, Alexa didn’t want to go. She was probably as eager to sleep in her own bed as Sophia was. Besides, Sophia didn’t want to be alone. All the sudden changes had left her reeling. “Not tonight.”

Sharon twisted around in her seat. “Why not?”

That her mother-in-law would challenge her answer made Sophia grit her teeth for a second. Sharon didn’t show her the proper respect because Skip had always discounted Sophia’s opinion. But she managed to respond in a normal voice. “The trip’s been hard on both of us. We’re worried about Skip and feel we should be here in case he calls.”

“Okay, but you won’t drink tonight, will you? With all the stress you’re under—” she narrowed her eyes “—I wouldn’t want you to resort to your old tricks.”

Tricks? Sophia glanced at her daughter. She hated having Alexa hear that. “I haven’t had a drink since I went into New Beginnings.”

“Or so she says,” Dale muttered under his breath. “If that was true, maybe she’d have a clearer memory of...certain details.”

Like where their son had gone or what had happened to him. She understood that. But she didn’t dignify the remark with a response for fear he’d try to make her look worse. She didn’t want Alexa to blame her, to believe alcohol was the reason she had no idea when Skip had gotten up or where he might’ve gone. “Thanks again.”

When they drove away, Sophia stared after them. If Skip didn’t come back, she’d have to continue dealing with his parents on her own, and she could tell that wouldn’t be any easier than dealing with the FBI.

“You coming?” Alexa spoke as she climbed the steps to the elaborately carved front doors Skip had purchased abroad.

“Right behind you.” Normally, she would’ve stopped to admire the Halloween decorations she’d put up before they left. She loved the holidays, from Halloween to Christmas. But tonight none of that seemed important.

She bumped her suitcase up the steps because she was too tired to carry it, and let them in. The house smelled of grapefruit and mango from the expensive candles Sophia liked to burn.

“Home at last,” she breathed.

“If only Dad was home with us,” Lexi mumbled and, head bowed, started for her room.

“No kiss good-night?” Sophia called after her.

Dropping her suitcase onto the marble floor with a resounding bang, she came hurrying back. “I’m sorry, Momma. I’m just... It hurts. I’m afraid I’ll never see him again.”

“I know.” She held her daughter tight, wishing she loved Skip as much as Lexi did. At least now she wanted him back—for their daughter’s sake and because living with him, difficult as it was, would probably be easier than solving the problems he’d left behind. “Let’s get some sleep,” she said as she straightened.

After Alexa had settled in, Sophia went to bed telling herself that it would all get better in the morning. But the call that woke her in the middle of the night told her it was only going to get worse.

* * *

Ted Dixon almost didn’t attend Friday morning coffee with his friends. It was a ritual, something he looked forward to all week. As a novelist, he sat in front of his computer for hours every day, didn’t get out of the house very often. And he’d known most of the people he met at Black Gold since he was in grade school. He always enjoyed seeing them. But after the shocking news that had swept through town the past week, he could easily guess what the topic of conversation would be, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to participate. Everyone would be studying him, trying to ascertain his reaction—and although he’d had plenty of practice at pretending he wasn’t interested in anything to do with his old flame, he felt that some of his friends could see through him.

On the other hand, if he didn’t go, they’d likely figure out why. Not showing up might give away more than joining the group as if this Friday was no different from any other.

“Hey, you made it.” Callie Pendleton, a photographer by trade, was the first to greet him. She’d had a liver transplant a year and a half ago, but no one would’ve been able to tell. She looked as healthy and robust as any other woman. Levi, her husband, was in line to order, along with Riley Stinson, a building contractor who had a fourteen-year-old son but had never married.

“Why wouldn’t I make it?” he asked, pretending to be unaware of the added interest he was about to face.

“You haven’t heard?” This came from Noah Rackham, who was nursing a cappuccino while sitting next to Adelaide, his pregnant wife. Noah had recently retired from professional cycling, which had taken him to Europe for half of every year. But he still owned Crank It Up, the bike shop in town. To help her aging grandmother, Adelaide ran the diner, Just Like Mom’s—an institution in Whiskey Creek.

Ted hadn’t known Levi or Adelaide very well until they’d started coming to coffee. The same could be said for Brandon Lucero and his wife, Olivia. They were younger, had been behind them in school. Callie, Riley, Kyle, Eve and Noah were the people Ted had grown up with, as well as several others who normally came but weren’t here today.

“Heard what?” Ted strolled over to the table and slouched into his usual seat. “Don’t tell me Baxter’s not coming back for the Halloween party.” Baxter was one of their closest friends, someone who used to have coffee with them every week, but he’d moved to San Francisco a few months ago.

“This year the party’s at Cheyenne and Dylan’s, isn’t it?” Adelaide asked.

“Last I heard,” Callie said. “I don’t know why they’re not here today.” She glanced at the entrance as if she expected them to walk in any second.

“Chey went to visit her sister this morning,” Eve informed them. Eve and Chey both worked at the B and B owned by Eve’s parents, so they stayed in close touch. “But she and Dylan will be at the Halloween party and so will Baxter. I called him last night. He said he’s coming.”

“How does he like his new digs?” Ted asked.

Noah broke in before Eve could answer. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t charge down that path. You know I wasn’t referring to Bax when I asked if you’d heard the news.”

Ted eyed the crowd at the register. He wasn’t a man with a lot of patience. He preferred to sit and talk until he saw an opening and wouldn’t have to wait, but today he should’ve gotten in line. That might have provided him with a buffer. Maybe they would have covered Sophia’s situation and gotten embroiled in some other gossip before he returned with his usual—a cup of Black Gold’s finest fresh-roasted coffee. “If you’re talking about Skip DeBussi, of course I heard.”

“That his body washed up on the shore of Brazil?” Noah asked.

“It’s in all the papers, isn’t it?” Ted said. “AOL even had something about it online.”

“And?” Noah prompted. “Don’t you have any reaction?”

“I’m sorry for his parents and his daughter, if that’s what you’re after.”

Riley came back from the counter with a giant muffin, a fruit-and-yogurt parfait and an apple. Apparently, he planned to eat it all himself; his son was in school so he wouldn’t be sharing it as he did during the summer. “You’re sorry for everyone but his wife?” he asked, quickly picking up on the conversation.

Ted tried not to picture Sophia’s face. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. She turned heads, including his, wherever she went. He hated that she still had the power to affect him and often reminded himself that her beauty was only skin-deep. “I’m sure she’ll manage. She always seems to land on her feet.”

Callie frowned. “You’re so hard on her. I won’t argue that Sophia was a...a difficult personality in high school, but—”

“A difficult personality?” he echoed. “She was the meanest girl Eureka High has ever seen. She stole other girls’ boyfriends, toyed with the guys she collected, manipulated anyone who’d let her and used her power and popularity to lord it over the less fortunate. You can feel bad for her all you want, but let’s not forget the facts.” He left out that she also had a slew of good qualities. That she’d been sexy and funny and determined and just mysterious enough to keep him guessing. At one time she was all he’d ever wanted. He expected someone to call him on that, but no one did.

“People grow up,” Riley said. “She seemed nice when she was coming to coffee.”

Because they hadn’t given her the chance to be anything else. Ted was glad she’d changed her mind about trying to be part of their group. He didn’t think she should have the right to hang out with them after behaving so badly, and he’d made sure she knew it. “Don’t let those big blue eyes fool you.”

Callie shot him a quelling look. “Ted, she just lost her husband. Can’t you have some sympathy?”

No. He couldn’t. He needed to keep up his defenses, because he knew where any softening would lead. He’d tried to rescue her once before. It’d been years since then, but he’d learned his lesson. “Like I said, I feel bad for her daughter and Skip’s parents. Losing a son or father would be hard, but finding out he cheated almost everyone in town and then died trying to fake his own death so he could start a new life somewhere else...” He’d never liked Skip, but he hadn’t expected him to do anything quite that bad.

“Skip died trying to fake his own death?” Levi sat down with some coffee and a yogurt he slid in front of Callie. “Last I knew, they were assuming it might’ve been an accident—that he fell off the boat and drowned.”

“It was no accident,” Ted responded. “No one ‘falls’ off a yacht with a waterproof bag containing a disposable, non-traceable cell phone, a change of clothes and a hundred thousand dollars in cash strapped to his back. What you saw must’ve been before news of the FBI probe broke. I doubt anyone would’ve been leaning toward ‘accident’ if they’d possessed that little detail. Maybe suicide,” he added.

Brandon poured a packet of sugar into his coffee. “So he meant to go overboard, was prepared for it. Why didn’t he survive?”

Ted shrugged. “No one knows. They’re speculating he had some sort of flotation device that he lost for whatever reason. Maybe he encountered a shark or some rocks or fell asleep and slipped out of it. Or he might have given it up, thinking he could move faster without it. Maybe he underestimated the distance to shore or his ability to fight the currents.”

Noah finished his cappuccino. “I could see him doing that. He’s always been over-confident.”

“What he’s done, to everyone, is terrible.” Olivia wiped the condensation from her orange juice. “Especially little Alexa. How will Sophia ever explain that he died trying to skate out on them?”

Ted shifted to one side so he could cross his ankles without getting in anyone’s way. “I’m just glad I didn’t invest, and I hope none of you guys did, either.”

He’d said it flippantly. He hadn’t really believed any of his friends would be victims, but when Kyle and Noah exchanged a glance, Ted sat up straight. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“He talked a good talk,” Noah said, his face turning red. “I mean, look at his house. Look at the cars he drives and all the trips he takes—or used to take. I thought he knew what the hell he was doing.”

“He did!” Ted said with a laugh. “He got you to invest, didn’t he?”

Kyle’s expression was just as chagrined as Noah’s but he came out fighting. “Don’t be so damn smug, Ted. The only reason you kept your distance was because you didn’t want to give Skip the pleasure of thinking he had anything you appreciated or admired.”

That was true. Like almost everyone else, he’d been tempted by the promise of easy money, especially when so many people he respected seemed to be jumping at the opportunity. It was Skip’s connection to Sophia that had stopped him.

For once his history with her was actually in his favor. “Doesn’t matter what saved me, I didn’t invest.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “So how much did you two lose?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Noah said. Kyle didn’t answer.

“You didn’t give him a lot, did you?”

Obviously defensive of the man she loved, Adelaide put an arm around her husband. “You didn’t do anything wrong, honey. He did. I bet lots of people in Whiskey Creek lost more than you.”

“I hope not,” Noah said, aghast. “What hurts the most is that I turned him down the first couple of times he called. Addie and I have had a rough year, as you guys know. But once our personal problems cleared up, the oily bastard offered me ‘the opportunity’ again. And he made it sound so...safe and lucrative.” He pushed the table, which was crowding him, a few inches away. “I had every reason to believe him. He’s been the richest man in town for years. None of us drive a Ferrari or have our asses chauffeured to work.”

“You want a chauffeur to drive you ten feet from your door to your bike shop?” Levi teased.

“No, but I’ll take one of the Ferraris.”

“Too bad he’s not alive so I could punch him out,” Kyle grumbled.

“Come on, how much did you guys lose?” Ted eyed Noah, since he’d had him in his sights first.

Noah flipped him off, but then relented. “What the hell. I admit I was a stupid sucker. Fifty thousand. I lost fifty grand.”

The way he said it showed how humiliated he was.

Brandon whistled; Callie dropped her spoon. “That’s a lot!” she exclaimed. “Maybe Levi and I should be glad for my medical bills. We didn’t have enough money for him to bother with us.”

Ted turned to Kyle. “And you? How much did you lose?”

“Kiss my ass,” Kyle replied, his nose in his cup.

“Noah just gave us a figure,” Brandon said.

Kyle scowled at him. “So? I’m not telling.”

Ted couldn’t help smiling at his petulant response. That meant he’d lost even more than Noah. “I’m sure there’ll be a list of victims in the paper at some point.”

“Then you can just wait and read about what a damn fool I was,” he said flatly.

Riley leaned forward so he could catch Kyle’s eye. “Your business has been doing great. Why would you invest with DeBussi?”

“The demand for solar panels is going up. I wanted to expand the factory, but I guess I’ll be putting that off for a while.”

Ted tapped Brandon’s calf with one foot to get his attention. “I’m surprised he didn’t come to you, too, Mr. Extreme Skier. I’m sure he knows you made some money in your heyday.”

Brandon’s mouth curved in a self-satisfied grin.

“What?” Kyle said, cluing in.

“He did come to me,” Brandon told him. “Last time he was in town. I passed on the offer.”

“Shit!” Kyle smacked the table, rattling the silverware. “Are you kidding me?”

Brandon rocked back at this unhappy response, but he was chuckling when he did. “What? You wish I’d gotten ripped off, too?”

“Pretty much,” Kyle mumbled.

“Misery loves company, huh?”

Everybody laughed except Kyle. It was always interesting to watch him interact with his stepbrother, to see how they got along, particularly since Brandon married the woman Kyle had wanted. Every once in a while, Ted saw Kyle look at Olivia with a touch of longing. It made him sad because he knew he did the same thing with Sophia, even though he professed to hate her.

Brandon polished off his second doughnut, which he must’ve bought on the way in, because Black Gold didn’t sell doughnuts. “Yeah, well, thanks for that, big brother.”

Kyle didn’t have a chance to respond. Olivia spoke up. “Do you think...”

When she paused, everyone waited expectantly. “What?” Riley asked.

She winced as if she hated saying what she was about to suggest. “Do you think Sophia could’ve known what Skip was doing?”

“No.” Callie shook her head, adamant. “Sophia wouldn’t go along with him cheating anyone, especially the people here in town.”

“I don’t think so, either,” Riley said. “It was all Skip. The guy had no shame. I heard he scammed his own parents. Took them for their retirement, their savings, everything.”

Olivia shoved the tinfoil lid of her orange juice into the plastic cup. “That’s tragic, but I’ve never been a fan of the DeBussis.”

“Who could be a fan of his brother?” Brandon asked. “That dude’s a mess.”

“I wasn’t talking about Colby,” she told him. “At least Colby doesn’t act as if he’s better than everyone else. It’s Skip’s parents who swagger around this town like they own it. You’ve seen them—in the Fourth of July parade, showing off their fancy cars.” She took a bite of the coffee cake she’d been sharing with Brandon. “Still, I would never have wished anything like this on them.”

“What’s Sophia going to do?” Callie asked, her voice filled with concern. “From what I’ve heard, Skip took all the money they had left, and now that the feds have his cash, they won’t give her a cent of it. How will she get by?”

Ted got the impression she was asking him—maybe because she glanced in his direction. “How would I know?”

“She’ll have to go to work to support her daughter,” Kyle said.

Riley disagreed. “No, her in-laws will help.”

“I don’t think they can,” Eve said. “Not after this.”

Levi set his cup down. “He ripped them off that badly?”

Eve gave him a helpless look. “From what I’ve heard. I doubt Sophia has many options. That’s why I encouraged her to apply for Ted’s housekeeper position.”

Ted nearly fell off his chair. “You what?”

“Well, I didn’t actually speak to her,” Eve said with a sheepish expression. “I just...left a message telling her that might be an option.”

“Well, it’s not an option,” Ted snapped. “That position’s not open to her.”

“Why not?” Callie asked, immediately taking Eve’s side.

“Forget it.” He waved her off. “She’s been a kept woman her whole life. She probably doesn’t know the first thing about scrubbing toilets and making dinner.”

“I don’t think she’s ever had a housekeeper,” Callie pointed out.

She’d had the money to hire an army of domestic servants. “I bet she’s had one all along,” he argued. “Besides, I’m offering $2,500 a month. That wouldn’t even cover her spa treatments.”

“You wouldn’t give her a chance if she applied?” Eve asked.

“I don’t have to answer that because she’ll never apply. I’m sure she’ll find another sugar daddy before life gets too grim, even if it means moving away.” He hoped she would leave town. Then there’d be no more risk of bumping into her when he went out. He’d spent years trying to avoid her.

Thankfully, Olivia shifted the focus of the conversation. It was a slight shift but at least his friends were no longer suggesting he employ his ex-girlfriend. “Does anyone know when the funeral will be?”

“Skip only washed up a couple of days ago,” Ted replied. “I doubt they’ve set a date, considering it’ll take some time to get the body home from Brazil.”

Kyle hooked an arm around the back of his chair. “If anyone’s interested, the funeral should be announced in the Gold Country Gazette.”

“That’s a weekly,” Noah said. “It wouldn’t be the place to go for information if they decide to have it soon.”

“Word spreads like wildfire in this town,” Brandon told them. “I’m sure we’ll hear about it.”

Riley gazed around at the group. “Who’s planning to go? Kyle and I aren’t. That’s for damn sure. I bet Noah won’t, either.”

Noah confirmed that with a muttered, “Hell, no.”

“What about the rest of you?” Riley asked.

Ted raised both hands. “Don’t look at me.”

“I’ll go, to support Sophia.” Callie wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Me, too. It’s not like any of this is her fault.” Eve sent Ted an accusing glare.

“You don’t know that,” Ted insisted. She’d certainly stirred up enough trouble in high school. She’d also stirred his heart—and a lower part of his body—but he didn’t like to acknowledge that these days.

“We’re giving her the benefit of the doubt,” Callie said. “You should try it sometime. Anyway, I’m guessing Gail will go, too.” Gail DeMarco-O’Neal had grown up in Whiskey Creek, but she’d left for college and never moved back. After starting her own PR firm in Los Angeles, she’d married one of her clients—box-office hit Simon O’Neal—and was so busy she didn’t visit often.

“Since when did Gail become friends with Sophia?” Ted didn’t remember any type of rapport between them. Sophia had been part of a rival clique, was actually the leader of it—until the girls who were part of her posse moved away.

Eve cocked an eyebrow at him. “Gail invited Sophia to her wedding, remember?”

Seeing that the line to order food was gone, Ted stood up, intending to get his coffee. “I remember, but I thought it was strange then, and I think it’s strange now.”

Callie folded her arms. “Why?”

“Because Scott Harris was her big brother’s best friend. She knew him well.”

“I don’t think you can hold Sophia responsible for what happened to Scott,” Callie said. “She didn’t force him to drive drunk.”

He pulled out his wallet. “If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have left the party.”

Callie wasn’t about to back down. “She was sixteen or seventeen, Ted. She made a mistake.”

“Oh, well. Actions have consequences. Ask Scott’s family about that the next time you see them, okay?” He’d given in to Callie’s kind of thinking once before, and Sophia had made him sorry he had.

“She probably never dreamed her actions would lead where they did.” Callie crumpled the napkin she’d used and dropped it on her plate. “Haven’t you ever done anything you regret?”

He was already on his way to the counter, so he left her question unanswered. But he had done something he regretted.

He regretted ever getting involved with Sophia.


5

As Sophia had expected, hardly anyone attended the funeral. And those who came didn’t have much to say. They filed past the casket, somber and subdued. Some managed a nod for her or Skip’s parents. No one smiled but neither did anyone cry. Even Sophia didn’t know how to act. Should she behave like the grieving widow? Or the hurt and angry spouse?

She told herself to behave as she honestly felt for a change. She was done with pretending. But Agent Freeman was there, watching her every move, every expression, and it made her nervous. How would he interpret what he saw? Would something she said or did make him decide that she was as guilty as her husband? He couldn’t understand how Skip could do so much without her knowledge, but he had no idea what their marriage had been like.

Now she regretted telling the Brazilian police that they’d been happy together, that they’d been close.

When she twisted around to see who might’ve come in late, her eyes met Freeman’s almost immediately, and she turned back. She hated having him there. But she couldn’t have been honest with her emotions, anyway, or she would’ve seemed crazy—because she felt a little of everything. There were moments when she mourned the fact that she and Skip hadn’t been happy together, that it had come down to this. Moments when she was grateful he was gone, that she no longer had to fear him. Moments when she felt so incredibly angry that she hoped he’d spend an eternity in hell for betraying them, especially after getting her hopes up with such beautiful promises of change and fresh commitment.

She’d muddled through the past ten days by focusing on doing what she could to shield Alexa, and by staying busy making arrangements for the return of Skip’s body. She’d tried to arrange the funeral, too, but his parents hadn’t liked some of her decisions, so they took over. That bothered her—they were always bossy and superior. The way they treated her made her want to drink. But her concern for her daughter had kept her off the booze. Her concern for Alexa had also enabled her to tell Agent Freeman that his interrogation would have to wait until she’d given Lex the chance to say goodbye to her father. She wanted to commemorate the things Skip had done right in his life, so the young girl he’d left behind wouldn’t have to be completely devastated by his shortcomings and mistakes.

Unfortunately, however, the eulogy offered scant comfort. The clergyman, Rudy Flores, had known Skip all his life. This was where they’d gone to church every week, mostly at Skip’s insistence. He’d demanded she attend whether he was home or not. But the reverend was obviously as disappointed in him as everyone else. Flores kept his comments almost entirely generic. Although he didn’t refer to Skip’s illegal and unethical activities, neither did he spare him any praise.

Sophia sat in her black Chanel dress, Manolo Blahnik heels and the Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses she’d put on to hide the redness of her eyes, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. With her hair slicked back in a bun at her nape, she knew she looked like an ice princess. But she was doing her best to cope, didn’t want anyone to know that she was shaking inside. If they understood how vulnerable she was, they might set on her en masse, like vultures. After what Skip had done, there were plenty of people in Whiskey Creek who were looking for a target. She had the feeling they’d be more than happy to pick her bones. Her own reputation wasn’t helping. Thanks to her past mistakes, there was no one to champion her, no one to insist that she was too good a person to have cooperated with Skip.

“...just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in the newness of life....”

Reverend Flores’s voice droned on, but Sophia tuned him out. She didn’t want to hear what he was saying, didn’t want to think about Skip being resurrected. She doubted anyone here—even his brokenhearted daughter and parents—would be too pleased to see him in the afterlife. She wouldn’t. This was one time she wanted to believe that dead was dead. The sight of Alexa sitting beside her with tears dripping into her lap convinced her that Skip had had enough second chances. How often had she forgiven his violent outbursts and agreed to try again?

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

When Alexa nodded, Sophia slid an arm around her. She wished she could’ve kept her from learning the ugly truth, but there’d been no way to preserve her innocence, not with the whole town talking about how Skip had used and tricked and cheated everyone. It was in the papers. It was on the news. It was on the internet, where strangers with various screen names like “chubbydate” and “village-itch” had posted nasty comments about how “vain” and “arrogant” she and Skip were to think they could “get away with it.” “The wife has to be involved,” some claimed. “It takes money to keep a woman as beautiful as that. He probably figured he’d lose her if he didn’t give her the world.”

Their lives had been torn apart in the most public manner possible, the wreckage strewn for all to see. Some kids, or maybe adults, had even thrown eggs at their house two nights ago.

“We could move,” she whispered in Alexa’s ear. The idea of a fresh start gave Sophia hope, but this suggestion just elicited more tears from her daughter.

“No, Mom. Please!” she begged. “I—I don’t want to go. I can’t leave my friends, and Grandma and Grandpa, and Uncle Colby and my cousins.”

Sophia could understand why. Whiskey Creek was all Alexa had ever known. It was all Sophia had known, too. But that made it harder to face the many people Skip had wronged, especially when the presence of Agent Freeman seemed to signify that she might be as guilty as Skip. The longer he remained in town, asking his insidious questions, the more convinced everyone became that she’d been living the high life at their expense. Someone online had even accused her of having a “bundle” tucked away.

She wished she did have some money in a safe place. Then she really could move, providing she could persuade Alexa. As it was, Sophia wasn’t sure how she’d be able to scrape together the funds that relocating would require. She could sell her household furnishings and her wardrobe. They’d been expensive to begin with, but used items of that kind didn’t retain their value. In any case, as soon as she sold her belongings, there’d be people lining up to get the money.

“Okay,” she murmured, reassuring Alexa with a quick squeeze. “I just... I thought I’d make the offer.”

“So we’ll stay?” Alexa confirmed. “You promise?”

“We’ll stay.” At least as long as she could hang on to the house. The cars would go first. She had no way of making the payments. She’d learned this past week that every single one had a loan against it. So did the yacht. Sophia had tried to track down her wedding ring, but there was no record of where Skip might’ve taken it, and it was nowhere to be found in the house or the cars.

Alexa smiled her gratitude and Sophia managed to smile in return, but when she glanced around, she realized that more people were watching her than the preacher. Would the funeral never end?

Fortunately, Reverend Flores seemed to sense the unrest. He finally finished the service. Then the organ music swelled, and Sophia stood, eager to get out of the church and away from the expensive floral sprays his parents had insisted on ordering—since no one else was likely to send flowers. There was the graveside service still to go, but even fewer people would join her at the cemetery, and her time there would be limited to a short prayer. Soon she’d be able to go home, where she could find refuge from the prying eyes....

“I’m so sorry, Sophia. I’m sure that what you’re going through is just...awful.” Gail DeMarco-O’Neal approached her first, with her movie-star husband, and gave Sophia a tight hug. It was a testament to how glum everyone was feeling that they weren’t making a big deal of Simon’s being in attendance. But, of course, they’d seen him around town on a number of occasions.

“Thank you.” She swallowed hard, hoping to stave off the tears that burned behind her eyes now that someone had shown her some kindness. “It’s nice of you to come. Truly.” In recent years, she’d tried to join Gail’s circle of friends, had loved having coffee with them. She would’ve kept going if not for Ted. Although she longed for his forgiveness, he’d made it clear that he couldn’t or wouldn’t forget the past.

“Is there anything we can do to make things easier?” Gail murmured.

Sophia had a feeling she’d need a good attorney and she had no idea how she’d pay for one. Even filing bankruptcy, which was inevitable, cost a couple thousand dollars. But that was none of Gail’s concern. Although Gail and Simon were rich, Sophia had no right to ask for a loan or anything else. She and Gail had connected briefly one night before Gail got married. It wasn’t as if they’d been friends for life. They hadn’t been friends at all—until then. “No, but thank you.”

“You’ll call if something comes up?” Gail prompted.

What else could go wrong? She’d already lost everything. “Of course,” she lied.

“Good. I’m afraid we can’t stay for the graveside service. Simon has commitments in L.A. And we left the children at home. But I wanted to see you in person, if only for a few minutes.”

“I appreciate it. I really do. I know you don’t like to leave your babies.”

“Ty is hardly a baby. He’s almost eight! But he had school and the other two are more of a handful—definitely hard to manage on quick trips. Anyway, you’re worth it.” Gail handed her a sympathy card before moving on so that Simon and Levi, Callie’s husband, could offer their condolences. Eve Harmon was with them, too, which was nice of her, given that Sophia was fairly certain her sympathies leaned more toward Ted than her.

They each spoke to her, but it was Callie who turned back. “I’m here for you, you know. I don’t have the millions you need but...if you’d ever like to talk, you’ve got my number, right?”

“I do. Thanks so much.” After accepting another hug, Sophia held her head high and let them go. Since they’d been the friendliest people at the funeral, she wanted to cling to them, to beg them to save her from the despair that threatened to consume her. Maybe she would have, if she felt she deserved their help, but she knew they had almost as many complaints against her as Ted did.

Although Agent Freeman didn’t speak to her, he stood close enough to make her aware of him. When she’d been in Brazil and heard his deep, resonant voice over the phone, she’d assumed he would be young and maybe even attractive—not that it mattered—but that didn’t turn out to be the case. Close to fifty, he had gray hair and sharp features, which contributed to a rather severe look. And his attitude reminded her of Javier, the police inspector from Les Misérables.

But that might just be her fear talking. Arms folded and lips pursed, he eyed the procession with obvious skepticism. The way he glared at the casket left little doubt as to how he felt about Skip. He’d spent two years pursuing the evidence he needed to punish a criminal, only to be denied the pleasure of seeing justice done. She figured that was why he wanted to believe she had some culpability in the fraud. Then he’d be able to prosecute at least one of the “bad guys.”

In addition to Gail, Simon, Callie, Levi, Eve, Gail’s brother, Joe, and the FBI, some of Skip’s former schoolteachers had come to pay their respects. Apparently, he hadn’t hit them up to invest. Or they hadn’t had the money. Or maybe they just remembered him from a far more innocent time. His assistant, Kelly Petruzzi, had driven over from San Francisco, along with a handful of coworkers. Besides those with a connection to the business, there was the gardener who’d cared for their yard the past five years, Marta, who came in once a month to do the deep housecleaning (Skip prized his privacy too much to have anyone come more often), and the man who washed their cars. Sophia thought it was a sad state of affairs that a large proportion of the people in attendance were employees probably hoping to save their jobs by showing some support.

The rest of the funeral party comprised Skip’s immediate and extended family, and they seemed eager to pretend she wasn’t there. They looked past her, focused strictly on Alexa as if Sophia wasn’t standing by her daughter’s side. Or they spoke quietly among themselves, trying to console Dale and Sharon, acting as though Sophia wasn’t entitled to their sympathy.

“I’m not willing to believe Skip did what they say. He wasn’t the type.”

This came from the cousin who’d pulled out a chair for her once, spurring Skip to hit her so hard she’d had to have emergency dental surgery.

“The FBI’s got to be wrong,” an uncle agreed. “They’re after his money or...something. We got a damn liberal for president. Maybe it’s a new way of stealing from the rich to give to the poor.”

“Then why did he go on the run?” his aunt asked.

“Because he knew they were setting him up,” his brother said. “He knew they were after him.”

“But if he was innocent, why wouldn’t he have come to us for help?” This was the aunt again. “Or hired a good attorney? Instead, he put $100,000 in a waterproof pack and tried to swim to Brazil.”

Finally, someone less blinded by love and loyalty.

“Or so they say,” the cousin responded, once again infusing some doubt.

They had no idea that the real Skip bore no resemblance to the image he portrayed. And Sophia knew they wouldn’t believe her, even if she tried to tell them.

“We’d better head over for the graveside service.” Dale said this but as he looked up, he caught Sophia’s eye and glanced away as if the mourners who’d be driving over together didn’t include her. “Let’s go.”

Since the family had only been able to come up with four pallbearers, including Skip’s father, they’d decided to have the mortuary provide this service so that wouldn’t be obvious. But as anxious as Sophia was to be done with this day, she waved them off and lingered with Alexa after everyone had left. She thought that her daughter might need some private time to pay her last respects.

“Would it help to have a few minutes to...to say goodbye to your father?” she asked.

More tears spilled over Alexa’s eyelashes, but she shook her head. “No. Daddy’s not here. I don’t even know who that man in the casket is.”

“I’m sorry.” Sophia hugged her again. No one knew him. Except maybe her. But she didn’t add that.

Sharon poked her head into the church. “Alexa, would you like to ride over with Grandma and Grandpa?”

Lexi seemed hesitant, but Sophia gave her a nudge. “It’s okay. You go. I’ll join you in a minute.”

With a sniff and a nod, her daughter hurried out, leaving Sophia alone with her husband’s body.

“How could you?” she whispered when Alexa was gone. He’d always told her how vain and selfish she was. She’d allowed him to defeat her with that because she’d known in her heart it was true. She’d caused a lot of heartache in her teens. A young man had lost his life because of her immaturity and thoughtlessness. But no one could be more vain or selfish than Skip.

She was still clutching the card Gail had given her when the pallbearers came back. Needing a little more time before she could bring herself to join the others in the cemetery, she waited for them to carry the casket out to the hearse but stayed behind to open the card. She’d expected to find nothing more than a few words of consolation, but a check fell out and fluttered to the floor. No one else had given her money. She assumed everyone thought she’d already “taken” enough.

When she bent to retrieve it, she saw the amount. Five thousand dollars! She returned her attention to the card. “We all need a little help now and then,” Gail had written. “I hope this will come in handy.”

The words blurred before Sophia’s eyes as, for the first time that day, she broke down and started to cry. “Thank you,” she said.

Gail couldn’t hear her but maybe God could.


6

Agent Freeman knocked at Sophia’s door two days after the funeral. She was impressed he’d waited that long. She figured she was lucky he hadn’t followed her home the day they’d laid Skip to rest, hoping he’d get her to reveal something she might not have had she been emotionally stable.

“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

A knot of anxiety formed instantly in her stomach, or maybe it had been there since Skip first disappeared. Lately, she seemed to flinch at the slightest provocation. She didn’t know when the next blow would hit or where it would come from, but almost every day held another nasty surprise, from news of the FBI probe, to the discovery of Skip’s body, to the large number of people who’d been cheated, especially here in Whiskey Creek, to the unexpected coldness of his family.

Knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to put off this interview, Sophia stepped back. “Come in.”

He didn’t react to her invitation right away. He angled his head up, as if he was taking in the size and grandeur of her home. Skip had spared no expense when he’d had the mansion built. He’d wanted to inspire jealousy and admiration, and he’d succeeded—which was coming back to bite her now that there was nothing to be admired.

“Is your daughter here?” Agent Freeman asked when he finally moved past her.

“No.” That provided Sophia with a small measure of relief. She’d been careful to say nothing disparaging about Skip; she couldn’t see how depriving Alexa of her father on a completely different level—destroying all the good memories she still had—would make anyone’s life easier. But in the past week her daughter had heard plenty. Still, there was no need for Lexi to get another earful, especially in her own home. “She’s back in school.”

“So soon?”

“Because of the trip, she was off for over a week before Skip went missing. She brought her homework and was keeping up, but she and I both thought it might be better for her to jump into her usual routine as soon as possible. Circulating in town is...hard, with the way people are feeling toward us, but there’s nothing for her to do here all day except remember her father and be sad.” She motioned to the soft leather couch Skip had purchased in Belgium and had shipped over. “Would you like to sit down?”

She perched on the edge of a nearby chair while he took the couch, which afforded her less space than she’d anticipated when he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Are you sad, Mrs. DeBussi?”

She didn’t want to be called by Skip’s last name anymore. She wasn’t about to say so quite yet, but she wasn’t a DeBussi and, in her heart, she hadn’t been one for a long time. The way his family had behaved during the past couple of weeks convinced her that she’d never had anything in common with them, never shared anything, least of all love. “I look so unaffected that you can’t tell?” she responded glibly.

He didn’t smile at the joke. “You seem...disengaged, if you want the truth.”

Because she had to be disengaged and stay disengaged or she’d never be able to tolerate the fear and uncertainty of the future. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

“I would have to agree with that.”

“Considering what my husband did, how would you expect me to feel?”

He rubbed his chin. “Betrayed, for one.”

“There is that.”

“What about brokenhearted?”

She was tempted to be honest and say she wasn’t brokenhearted in the way he meant, but decided to keep that information to herself. She preferred to be sensitive to the fact that her daughter and Skip’s family still loved him. Publicly breaking ranks with them would only leave her more isolated. She already felt like she was living on her own island. Besides, she’d rather be hated by the citizens of Whiskey Creek than pitied by them. If they knew how Skip had treated her, how unhappy she’d been since marrying him, her humiliation would be complete.

“Does this have any bearing on my guilt or innocence, Mr. Freeman?” she asked. “How sincerely I mourn the death of my husband? Don’t tell me you think I strapped that money to his back and pushed him off the side of the boat.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. She was putting up a fight and he hadn’t expected it. “I’m merely trying to get to know you better. Opinions of you here in your hometown vary...greatly.”

“You’re saying I’m not well-liked. Your sympathy for my situation overwhelms me.”

He shrugged off her sarcasm. “I’m not your friend, either. I have a job to do.”

“And that includes making this week even worse by speaking to everyone I know about me on the heels of my husband’s death?”

“You mean on the heels of your husband’s fraudulent activities. He stole over $60 million from innocent investors, Mrs. DeBussi. These interviews help me build an accurate picture.”

“How do you know it’s accurate?”

He studied her. “The secret is not to rely too much on any one opinion.”

But no one knew the whole truth. She couldn’t see how the people of Whiskey Creek would have anything of value to contribute. She was no longer the girl she used to be, and they didn’t know the woman she’d become. She’d been active in various charities and other community events, yes. But she’d been playing a role, fulfilling her duties as the wife of the richest man in town. She couldn’t let anyone get close to her, despite Skip’s absences, for fear of his jealous reaction once he got home. There’d even been a brief period when he’d hired a private investigator to keep an eye on her.

“What is it you’re really after?” She wished she didn’t have to suffer this intrusion. She felt as if she’d been violated—not physically but emotionally.

“How much did you know about Skip’s business dealings?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she replied without hesitation.

“Yet you told the Brazilian police you two were close.”

She stared at him without blinking. “There are different kinds of close.”

He cocked his head to one side. “The two of you never fought?”

She never fought back. She couldn’t, or it would make things that much worse. “Our arguments weren’t serious.”

“Even the ones where he was upset about your drinking?”

When she stiffened but didn’t attempt to explain, he continued, “Your mother-in-law told me you recently spent a month in rehab.”

Her mother-in-law? Skip’s family had acted so strange since his death. As if she was somehow to blame for what he’d done. As if she’d driven him to it. And now they were creating suspicion and undermining her credibility with the FBI? “I guess they need someone to blame besides their beloved son.”

“What Sharon said isn’t true?”

She sighed. “It is true. In case you haven’t verified it, I completed a program at a clinic in Los Angeles right before our trip.”

“Why so far from home?”

To minimize the embarrassment to the family, of course. But Agent Freeman didn’t understand the dynamics of the DeBussis like she did. “Skip chose the facility. He always chose everything.”

He paused when she said that but didn’t follow up on it. “And have you remained sober since then?”

She remembered the long days of rehab, the hours spent in group therapy, the journaling, the reading. She’d missed Lexi terribly during those weeks, and yet she’d felt protected at New Beginnings. Skip was unlikely to bother her there for fear she wouldn’t complete her stay. “I haven’t had a drink since.”

He seemed disappointed by her answer. “Are you sure?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I spoke to a checker at Nature’s Way.”

Agent Freeman was nothing if not thorough. “And she told you that I came in the other night and bought several bottles of wine.”

“Yes.”

She’d almost broken down so many times. It was hard to walk the floors at night, worrying about what she was going to do without a drink to ease the anxiety. But every time she’d been about to uncork that first bottle, she’d thought of Lexi. “I dumped them out this morning. You can check the cupboards in the kitchen if you don’t believe me.”

He slid toward her until their knees almost touched, as if he wanted to make sure he had her full attention. “I hope that’s true. I have no respect for a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” she said. “I wanted to drink them, but...”

“But?” he echoed.

“My daughter needs me.”

“Yes, she does.”

She wiped the sweat beading on her upper lip. Skip would’ve found that so unattractive. She was supposed to be perfect at all times. “If you think I had anything to do with Skip’s business, you should talk to his employees instead of the townspeople,” she said.

“I’ve done that, too.”

“And?”

“I’ve taken notes.”

“They told you I was rarely at the offices, didn’t they? That I never gave an opinion or helped make a decision? I am exactly what I appear to be, Agent Freeman.”

“And that is...”

She spread her arms with a dramatic flourish. “A trophy wife.”

“Yet you claim you were happy.”

“It doesn’t matter now that he’s gone.”

He glanced around once again. “Mrs. DeBussi, would you be willing to allow me to search the house?”

Her mind flitted through what he might come across. She couldn’t think of a single thing that would be incriminating. But she didn’t know how he might interpret what he found. What if Skip had planted some papers in his home office designed to implicate her? He wouldn’t like the idea of her moving on without him regardless of whether he was sunning himself on a beach halfway around the world with someone else.

“Do you have a warrant?” she asked.

“Do you have something to hide?” he replied.

“No, but since you could misconstrue what you find, I’m not taking that risk unless I have to. As I said, my daughter needs me. I can’t go to prison.”

“I see.” He stood. “That will be all, then.”

She hadn’t expected him to accept her answer quite so easily. “Will you be coming back with a warrant?”

“Not unless there’s some indication I need to go that far. For now, my business here is finished.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked in surprise.

“I am.”

“Just my house or...Whiskey Creek?”

“I believe I’ve learned all I can in this town.”

Could she finally be catching a break? She wasn’t sure whether she could rely on that as she followed him to the door. “May I ask you one more question?”

He nodded.

“Is it reasonable to suppose I’m in the clear?”

“That’ll depend on what turns up,” he said. “But if you’re as innocent as you say, you can relax. So far, I’ve seen nothing that leads me to think you played a significant role in your husband’s illegal activities.”

She sagged in relief. “I’ve made my share of mistakes in life, Agent Freeman. But I had nothing to do with what Skip did. I swear it. I was as blindsided as anyone.”

“I hope that’s true.” He gave her another long, assessing look. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time.”

She held the door while he stepped outside, but then he turned back.

“Mrs. DeBussi?”

Her heart beat a little faster. Was this when the blow would come? “Yes?”

“Although it’s none of my business, you need to be aware of a certain reality.”

She tensed. “What is it?”

He softened his voice when he saw that she’d clenched her hands, bracing for the worst. “You have to stay off the booze.”

Drawing a deep breath, she nodded rigorously to show she understood that. “Yes, yes, of course. I will. I came close a couple of times, like I said, but...I made it. I poured it all out.”

“You can’t buy more. You can’t slip up even once.”

Why was he making such a point of this? What concern was it of his? Whether or not she had a drink now, after the fact, couldn’t relate to the case. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“That daughter you love so much?”

“Alexa.”

“If you end up back in rehab, your in-laws will sue for custody.”

The air rushed out of her. “They—they told you that?”

“They tried to convince me you weren’t a good wife, and you’re no better as a mother.”

She felt her jaw drop open.

“Be careful of them.”

“But...I do have a drinking problem. I told you as much. So...why...” She choked up, finding it impossible to finish.

“Why did I warn you? From what I’ve seen, you’re the one who loves Alexa best.”

She blinked rapidly to stem the tears. “How can you tell?”

“I have a kid of my own,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Just hang in there. If you really didn’t know what your husband was doing, you’re the biggest victim of all. What happened isn’t fair, but you have to stay sober or you’ll lose the only thing you’ve got left and the one thing that matters most to you.”

“Thanks.” She watched him stride to his car, feeling shocked that he’d try to help her—and hurt that a complete stranger would show more compassion than her in-laws.


7

Ted sat in front of his computer and read what he’d just written, then proceeded to edit it. Nothing he wrote seemed any good today; he couldn’t concentrate.

Shifting restlessly in his chair, he tried to devise a more believable method of getting his protagonist out of the building that contained the bomb. But every idea he came up with seemed so...contrived. It’d all been done before and, in his current frame of mind, he was pretty sure it had been done better. Hot Pursuit was turning out to be his weakest book—and yet he’d loved the premise when he first started the story a month ago.

What was wrong with him?

His cell phone rang, but he didn’t bother to get up and find it. He didn’t answer calls during the day. Refusing to be distracted was the only way he could finish his page quota and have any hope of meeting his deadlines. But someone had been trying to get through to him for the past hour. And after what Kyle and Callie had said at Black Gold Coffee last week about the possibility of Sophia DeBussi applying to be his housekeeper, he was afraid of who it might be. She had to do something to support herself and her daughter, didn’t she? What else could she do except go after any menial job that might be available? In high school, she’d partied so much she’d barely graduated. She had no college credits, no work experience.

He supposed she could model. She was pretty enough. But she couldn’t do that here in Whiskey Creek. And if her situation was as dire as he suspected from all the news reports, she wouldn’t have a car—at least not for long. She wouldn’t even have a house once the bank foreclosed.

Pushing away from his desk, he got up to stretch his legs, spotted his cell on a side table and scooped it up. The call he’d missed had come from his agent. Damn. He should’ve taken that one. But he’d deal with Jan Andersen in a minute; he had another call to make first. He’d limped along without any domestic help for the past ten years, since he started writing. He figured he could manage for a few more months, until whatever was going to happen to Sophia DeBussi happened, and he could interview applicants without fear that she might knock on his door.

Ed down at the Gold Country Gazette answered on the first ring. “What can I do for you, Ted?” he asked.

Caller ID, no doubt. “I’d like to cancel my ad.”

“But it hasn’t even run yet.”

So far, he’d posted on Craigslist, but hadn’t received much interest. A woman named Marta, who’d actually used Sophia as a reference, had applied; however she had a slew of other clients and couldn’t focus strictly on him. Besides, she didn’t cook, and she didn’t know how to use a computer. He wanted someone who would act as maid, cook and secretary. An all-in-one assistant wouldn’t be easy to find, especially since he didn’t have time to sift through applications. So it wasn’t just that he was afraid Sophia might apply for the job, he told himself. Delaying the process meshed better with his schedule.

“I’m aware of that,” he said. “I’m planning to hold off until after the holidays.”

“But the holidays are the busiest.”

“I don’t have time to interview, Ed. And I don’t have time to train anyone. Just yank the ad, okay?”

“Does that mean you’re pulling it from Craigslist, too?”

“Of course.” He was walking to his computer to do that this very second.

“I’ll take care of it. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Another call was coming in. Ted said goodbye and switched over. He wasn’t getting any writing done, anyway. “Hello?”

“Ted?”

It was his mother, Rayma, who’d raised him as a single parent after his father left them for his female law partner. He and his mother had moved to Whiskey Creek from affluent Atherton, south of San Francisco, when he was three years old and she was offered the position of vice-principal at the elementary school. She was principal now, and had been for twenty years, but recently she’d been talking about retiring and moving back to the Bay Area to be closer to her mother and sisters.

“What’s up, Mom?”

“Rough day,” she said. “Since when do sixth-grade students bring guns to school?”

“A twelve-year-old showed up with a gun?”

“The nephew of those trashy people in the river bottoms. Carl Inera and his clan.”

“Drugs have a lot to do with Carl’s situation.”

“Chief Stacy said the same thing.”

“So...what? Are you planning to retire even earlier than we talked about?”

“No. Nothing’s changed there.”

“Something’s different. You don’t normally call me while you’re at work.”

“Mrs. Vaughn over at the middle school wanted me to hit you up for a donation.”

“For what? You usually reserve my resources for your own school.”

“She’s aware of how much you’ve done here and hoped you might see your way clear to helping over there, too.”

“What do they need?”

“They’re raising funds for a new gymnasium.”

How could he say no? The school system had provided the job that’d enabled his mother to make a living and provide for him. And with the way schools were hurting these days, he helped out whenever he could.

“How much?” he asked.

“Could you do $10,000?”

“That’s not exactly pocket change, Mom.”

“Is it too much?”

He considered his bank account; he could afford it. “No, I’ll do it.”

“I’m proud of the man you’ve become, of your accomplishments. I hope you know that.”

He smiled. “What are you talking about? You don’t even like my books.”

“All that murder...it’s too graphic for me, but I can appreciate your talent.”

“I’m glad. Because I’m proud of you, too,” he said, and it was true.

“Have you seen Sophia since the funeral?”

He’d been heading to the window overlooking the same river that ran past Carl Inera’s shack some miles away. But at this, he froze. “No. Why would I?”

“Just checking.”

His mother was an attractive, strong, capable woman. Unfortunately, she was also highly opinionated and often stuck her nose in his business, which he didn’t appreciate. “You mean you’re worried that I might take up with her again now that she’s available.”

“I remember how much you loved her.”

“Loved, past tense, being the key word. There isn’t much I even respect about her these days.”

“But let’s face it. You’re a sucker for a damsel in distress. And she’s attractive. I can’t deny that. Please don’t feel you have to swoop in and save her from her misdeeds, though.”

There was so much he wanted to respond to in what she’d said he hardly knew where to start. “You believe she’s to blame for what Skip did?”

“She’s the one who married him to begin with. I thought she was certifiable at the time. Just like her mother.”

Ted winced. “That’s kind of a low blow, don’t you think? She can’t help that her mother has mental problems. Even her mom can’t help that.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never liked Sophia, and I’ve never made any secret of it.”

He scratched his neck. “Because you were afraid I’d marry her before completing my degree.”

“And because her values are all screwed up.”

“How do you know she hasn’t changed? Grown up?” God, he was sounding like some of his friends. Only his mother could push him to the other side of an argument that easily. He loved her, but they were too much alike—both of them opinionated, take-charge people.

“It’s obvious.”

“A lot of people choose the wrong marriage partner.”

Although he hadn’t meant to imply anything about her own decision to marry his father, the silence that followed indicated she’d taken it that way.

He opened his mouth to clarify, but she spoke before he could. “At least I didn’t marry for money,” she said. “And it’s how she went about getting engaged. Leading you on while she was seeing Skip on the side. She agreed to marry him before she broke things off with you. We were almost the last to know!”

“Sophia and I were young. I was away at school so we could only see each other on weekends, and with all my extracurricular activities, even those visits were few and far between. Anyway, she was pregnant and probably felt trapped. And it’s time to let go of the past.” He was glad Callie couldn’t hear him now....

“You’re defending her?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “No, of course not. Just trying to keep it all in perspective. We were together for a couple of years almost a decade and a half ago. That’s long enough to carry a grudge.”

“I don’t care how long it’s been. Her character is flawed, and you need to remember that when she sets her sights on you again.”

“How do you know she’ll try to get me back?”

“She needs money, and I’m sure it hasn’t escaped her notice that you’re now a wealthy novelist. I’d like to see you get married, but I don’t want you to end up with her. She caused you enough heartache the first time.”

“You’re being overprotective again. I’m an adult and perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thank you. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. I haven’t seen her and I don’t plan on seeing her.”

“Good.”

Before he could respond, someone entered her office—he could hear it in the background—and she had to go. Which was fine by him. That interruption might’ve prevented an argument. Although Rayma wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already believe, he didn’t like her talking about Sophia.

His mother should’ve remarried and had other kids, he thought. Then she would’ve had to spread her attention around.

Determined to finish his pages for the day, he decided he’d get hold of his agent later and returned to the computer. But when he clicked over to check his email, as he often did before starting, he found a message that was being forwarded all over Whiskey Creek. Several of Skip’s investors were trying to connect with others so they could band together and meet Sophia tomorrow night to talk about how they might recoup some of their losses. They mentioned the two Ferraris and how much they were worth. The Mercedes that Sophia drove. The art and sculptures in the house. When someone piped up to say that Skip had probably taken out loans against it all, another member of the group mentioned Sophia’s clothes and jewelry.

Ted told himself to stay out of it. He hadn’t invested, so this didn’t pertain to him. But the idea of everyone ganging up on her bothered him enough that he called Kyle.

“Are you planning to attend the meeting with Sophia about her remaining ‘assets’?” he asked.

“No,” Kyle replied. “I don’t want to take what little she still has. Her husband screwed her over. How’s piling on going to make things better for any of us?”

“What about Noah? Will he be going?”

“I doubt it. He doesn’t hold her responsible for what Skip did any more than I do.”

Ted’s mood improved after he hung up. His friends weren’t party to the next evening’s plans. But the image of Sophia being confronted by twenty or thirty angry men demanding her clothes and jewelry troubled him for the rest of the day.

* * *

Sophia had been grateful for Agent Freeman’s understanding and advice. She’d resolved to take advantage of it. But the depression that set in the following week proved so debilitating she could hardly get out of bed. She would force herself to get up and fix Alexa breakfast, then crawl back under the covers and sleep until Alexa came home.

At least her daughter talked about school as if it was going well. Considering how cruel kids could be, that came as an unexpected relief. Alexa insisted she was being treated kindly and that her friends rallied around her whenever she wasn’t. She seemed to be making the difficult adjustment. But the worry in her eyes whenever she took in Sophia’s bedraggled appearance spoke volumes. It said: You’re all I have left and I’m terrified I can’t rely on you. Look at you! I’ve never seen you like this. Maybe it even said: I guess Dad was right.

Sophia could remember all the times Skip had told her she was a bitter disappointment. Part of her believed she deserved to hear it. Perhaps that was what had stolen the fight out of her; she’d essentially defeated herself by giving him so much ammunition. But, regardless of the reason for her depression, she wasn’t going to the gym anymore. She couldn’t bring herself to clean the house. She couldn’t even face showering on a regular basis or brushing her teeth.

Although she scolded herself whenever she was awake, pleaded with herself to do better—for Alexa’s sake—she fell further and further into despair and self-loathing, and that made the craving for alcohol worse. She hadn’t succumbed, but only because there was no alcohol in the house, and she wouldn’t go out for fear of running into yet another Whiskey Creek citizen her husband had defrauded.

Soon they had very little food in their cupboards and were surviving on canned soup. But no one knew that the “Queen of Whiskey Creek” had fallen quite so far, because no one came to check on her. Although she didn’t normally get a lot of visitors, there’d always been the domestic help. Now even they weren’t coming since she’d had to let them all go.

Sharon had been her only visitor, and she didn’t come because she was concerned. She came to collect Alexa that first weekend after the funeral. Fortunately, Sophia hadn’t looked quite as bad then. Still, while waiting for Alexa to finish gathering her things, Sharon had stood in Sophia’s doorway, shaking her head in disgust.

“This can’t continue, Sophia,” she’d said, her voice harsh and low.

Sophia had ignored her. She’d just been grateful Alexa had a safe place to go for a couple of days, so she wouldn’t have to get out of bed at all. Part of her hoped Sharon would come back and take Alexa this weekend, too. If so, it might be possible to get a bottle of gin or tequila—anything. She could walk over to the liquor store late at night....

But when Friday rolled around again, Sharon didn’t come. She didn’t come the next day or the day after that, either. Alexa told her Grandma and Grandpa were putting their house up for sale and moving into a condo in a retirement village at Rancho Murieta fifty minutes away, so Sophia figured they were busy dealing with their own disappointments and concerns. Maybe they were being hounded by bill collectors, too. Although Sophia rarely answered the home phone—her cell had probably died; she didn’t even know where it was—she could hear voices on the answering machine in Skip’s office when someone left a message. Apparently, her late husband had been several payments behind on everything, including the mortgage.

That wasn’t good news. It shortened the time she and Alexa would be able to live in the house and Sophia had no idea where they’d go.

“Mom?”

She had to fight to drag herself out of the black abyss. She was pretty sure this was a Wednesday but maybe not. “Yes?”

“We’re out of food.”

“I’ll get some,” she mumbled.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“You always say that.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why not now?” Alexa asked.

“I don’t feel well.”

“You’ve been sick for two weeks.”

“I’ll be okay soon. Have some more soup.”

Her daughter let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m tired of bean with bacon.”

“It’s better than going hungry, isn’t it?”

Alexa didn’t answer. She’d obviously heard the irritation in Sophia’s voice. “Will you let me go?”

“By yourself? It’s too far to walk.”

“Nature’s Way might be too far, but Mel’s Quickie Grocery isn’t.”

Sophia didn’t have the energy for this conversation. “They don’t have much.”

“They have more than we do! I could get bread, milk, cereal, cheese...”

She was so adamant. Why not let her go? Whiskey Creek was as safe a place as any. And Sophia wanted to be left alone. “Fine. But hurry back.”

“What money should I use?”

Money. God, just that word made Sophia freeze in terror. Soon they wouldn’t have a dime....

Alexa clasped her by the shoulder. “Mom? Did you hear me? Should I get your purse?”

Dragging her brain back to the problem at hand, Sophia thought of what she had in her wallet. Since she couldn’t use her bank accounts, she’d cashed the check Gail had given her. But the gardener, the young man who washed Skip’s cars and Marta, the once-a-month housecleaner—they’d all needed to be paid. Once Sophia had seen to that, there hadn’t been much left—maybe fifteen hundred dollars.

Knowing it wouldn’t last forever made the anvil of worry sitting on her chest feel even heavier, as if it would crush her.

“Take a hundred from my purse.” She rolled over because she couldn’t bear to face what her daughter had to be thinking.

Once Alexa was gone, silence fell, allowing Sophia to drift in and out of sleep. Then the phone rang, but instead of leaving a message, whoever it was hung up and called back, over and over again.

“Alexa?” Sophia wanted her daughter to put a stop to the noise. But then she remembered that Alexa wasn’t home.

Rousing herself enough to move, she crawled across the bed to Skip’s side and grabbed the handset from its base. She intended to set it down and ignore it, but the thought that her daughter might need help made her bring it to her ear.

“Hello?” God, she sounded drunk even though she hadn’t had so much as a drop.

“Mrs. DeBussi?”

“Yes?” It was the piercing voice of Clarence Halloway, the undertaker who’d handled Skip’s funeral.

“I haven’t received a check from you for your husband’s service,” he said. “Can you tell me when I might expect to be paid? Or do you plan on ripping me off like you did everyone else in town?”

She managed to shove herself into a sitting position. “Ripping you off! It’s Dale and Sharon who owe you. They made the arrangements.” She hadn’t wanted that expensive casket and headstone, or all those flowers. She’d wanted to have Skip cremated and be done with it, but her in-laws had taken over, and she’d let them because she didn’t have any money to insist one way or the other.

“I called them. They told me it’s your responsibility. I guess Gail DeMarco-O’Neal gave you some money while she was here? Sharon said that was supposed to cover Mr. DeBussi’s burial costs.”

What? Anger flooded Sophia’s system. She should never have told her in-laws about that kind gesture. Gail hadn’t given her that money for any such purpose. It wasn’t enough, anyway. Skip’s parents were the ones who’d ordered everything. Sophia had been shocked by how much they were willing to spend, considering he’d cost them their life’s savings, but she’d chalked it up to habit and that fierce DeBussi pride. They could never be honest about anything. Appearances were all that mattered. Perhaps she’d been guilty of the same thing earlier in her life. But she hadn’t been guilty of racking up nearly $15,000 in funeral expenses!

“I’m afraid most of Gail’s money is gone, Mr. Halloway,” she said. “I—I had to pay the people who were working for me. And what’s left is all I’ve got to take care of Alexa until...until I find a job.”

“I have a family to support, too,” he pressed. “I told you in the beginning I wouldn’t perform the service unless you paid me in advance.”

“Exactly. And you didn’t change your mind until Skip’s parents got involved. You were dealing with them.”

“They’ve been part of the community for so long I never dreamed they’d do this to me, but it seems Skip inherited his dishonesty from them.”

Sophia didn’t want to be seen as a crook. She supposed it was a good sign that she still cared enough for that to bother her. But he was just one of many who were clamoring for money. She couldn’t possibly satisfy them all. “I’m sorry, I really am, but...I can’t help you.”

“I don’t feel it’s fair for me to take the loss,” he said. “I buried your husband, didn’t I? Now I’d like to stop by and pick up at least a partial payment.”

She had so little left. But how could she say no? It wasn’t fair that he shouldn’t get paid for the funeral. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.

“I can give you a hundred bucks,” she told him.

“That’s better than nothing. I’ll be right over,” he said and hung up.

With a sigh, she slumped onto the pillows. She had such a blinding headache, couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten and was beginning to feel dehydrated.

She hoped Alexa would get home in time to handle Clarence, but the doorbell rang while her daughter was still gone. Summoning what remained of her strength, Sophia managed to get up and force her leaden feet to move. She pulled on a robe, collected the money from her purse on the kitchen counter where Alexa had put it, and went to the door.

The undertaker raised his eyebrows when he saw her, but he glanced away and took the money. “I’ll come by next month,” he said tersely and turned to leave without another word.

Sophia stood in the doorway, watching until she couldn’t see his black Cadillac anymore. Next month? Fine. That sounded like an eternity from now. She had no idea how she’d survive until then—and part of her hoped she wouldn’t.


8

“What are you looking at?”

Eve Harmon glanced over as Cheyenne Amos came to stand next to her at the window. Since Chey had married Dylan, she didn’t usually work late at the B and B, not like she used to. When she’d been living with her sick mother and troubled sister, she’d taken advantage of any reason to stay out of the house.

“I thought you’d gone home,” Eve told her.

“I wanted to finish the new brunch menus.”

“Dylan must be working overtime at the body shop.”

“Aaron’s closing tonight. Dylan’s at the house, making dinner.”

“God, he cooks, too?” Eve grinned. She often teased Cheyenne about her sexy husband. She was happy for her best friend—she’d never seen Cheyenne happier—but she couldn’t help feeling left out, maybe even a trifle jealous. She’d never believed she needed a man in order to be fulfilled, but with so many of her friends marrying, she wished she could find someone to share her life with.

“It’ll be steak,” Cheyenne said. “That’s what he makes whenever he cooks.”

“There could be worse foods.” Eve almost said something about inviting her over next time Dylan’s brother, Aaron, would be there. She’d thought of mentioning it before. But Aaron had anger management issues. As gorgeous as he was, she’d be stupid to get involved with him, especially when Cheyenne’s sister had already traveled down that road and it had ended in a broken heart.

“True,” Cheyenne agreed.

Eve felt her smile wilt as she returned her attention to the scene outside the window.

Cheyenne looked out, trying to follow Eve’s gaze, but the lonely figure Eve had noticed a few minutes earlier was sitting too far to the right, in the shadow of a large headstone.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Cheyenne said. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of Little Mary again.”

Six-year-old Mary Margaret had been strangled in the basement over a century ago. She was their resident ghost—maybe. Eve wasn’t convinced that Mary hadn’t moved on. “Not this time.” She pointed to the newest plot in the Whiskey Creek cemetery. “Alexa DeBussi is out there.”

Cheyenne frowned as she finally located the young teen, who had a grocery bag at her side. “Poor girl.”

It was obvious that Sophia’s daughter was crying as she sat there, huddled against her father’s headstone.

“I wonder if Sophia knows she’s here,” Cheyenne said.

“I haven’t seen Sophia for the past couple of weeks. Have you?” Eve had placed a few calls to Sophia’s cell phone, including the one in which she mentioned the job Ted had available, but they hadn’t been returned.

Cheyenne shook her head. “No. I sent flowers since I couldn’t attend the funeral. And I’ve stopped by twice, but no one answered the door.”

The fact that Cheyenne hadn’t been able to come to the funeral reminded Eve of Wyatt. “How’s your nephew doing?” she asked. Cheyenne’s sister had the cutest little boy. He meant everything to his mother. He meant a great deal to Cheyenne, too, which was why she and Dylan had been at the hospital in Fresno, where Presley lived, instead of at the funeral.

“He’s fine now. The pneumonia’s gone. Thank goodness. I can’t imagine what Presley would do if anything happened to him.”

“Do you think his father will ever be part of his life?”

“I doubt it. How could she ever find him? You know he was just some loser she met in Arizona,” Cheyenne said.

“It’s just sad to think the guy’s walking around out there and he doesn’t even know he’s a father.”

“I don’t think he’d be the type of guy we’d want in Wyatt’s life, anyway.”

Pulling her sweater closer around her—it felt as if the weather was about to turn—Eve shifted her attention back to Alexa, whose mother was only sort of their friend. Half the members of their group seemed to have forgiven Sophia for her past. But others, like Ted, definitely had not. Eve wasn’t sure how she felt. She had bad memories of various catfights and backbiting incidents instigated by Sophia, but she hated to be the kind of person who harbored resentments. “What should we do about her?” She indicated Alexa. “We can’t leave her out there alone.”

“Maybe she needs time to grieve,” Cheyenne said. “I know she was close to Skip.”

“Death is so hard.”

“Sometimes.” Cheyenne’s voice was thoughtful when she made that comment. The woman who’d raised her had also been laid to rest in that cemetery, but her death had been more of a release than anything else.

“Maybe I’ll walk down and say hello, see how she’s doing,” Eve said. “You head on home to Dylan. You wouldn’t want him to burn your steak.”

“He doesn’t burn meat. He barely cooks it,” she said with a chuckle. “But it’s so tender it melts in your mouth.”

Once again Eve suffered a twinge of jealousy. “You’re lucky to have someone who loves you so much.”

Cheyenne touched her arm. “You’re thinking about getting older, aren’t you?”

“I’m thirty-four, Chey. And I want kids.”

“It’ll happen.”

“Here in Whiskey Creek?” Eve gave her a doubtful look. “I know all the eligible men. Just about the only guy I haven’t seriously considered is Aaron. Dylan’s other brothers are too young for me.” She laughed as if it was a joke, but she was secretly wondering how Cheyenne would react.

“I love Aaron, but...you don’t want to get involved with him,” she said.

Eve forced a smile. “Of course not.” She jerked her head toward the window. “I’d better go.”

“Would you like me to go down with you?”

“No need to overwhelm her. One adult she hardly knows is enough.”

Cheyenne hugged her. “You’re so good.”

Eve missed the old days, when she’d had more time with Chey. Now Chey, Gail and Callie were all married. Even Noah had a wife and a baby on the way. Eve had never dreamed the biggest playboy in the group would settle down before she did. She felt like the last person to leave a party....

But she wasn’t the last. Ted hadn’t married. He hadn’t even been serious with anyone since Sophia. Riley, Baxter and Kyle were single, too, but they didn’t really count. Riley had a kid—he’d actually been the first to have one. Baxter was gay and in love with Noah, who wasn’t. And Kyle had been married. His wife had revealed herself to be the spawn of Satan so they’d divorced within months, but at least he’d known some kind of romance. Actually, he was still in love with Olivia, who’d married his stepbrother. So why was her love life so uneventful?

She’d survive, she told herself. She shouldn’t wallow in self-pity when there were people suffering from much bigger problems than a bout of loneliness. People like Sophia. She’d once been the most popular girl in school, the daughter of the mayor. And she’d married the richest guy in town. How would it feel to suddenly become a pariah after having all that? The reversal alone had probably given her whiplash. And what about poor Alexa?

Eve had such great parents. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to find out her dad was a total douchebag.

Alexa was sobbing by the time Eve made it down to her. She was crying so hard, in fact, that she didn’t hear Eve’s approach.

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?” Eve asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Alexa was too distraught to even be startled. She hiccuped and wiped her cheeks as she looked up. “Am I—” she glanced around the cemetery “—am I not supposed to be in here?”

Eve knelt beside her. “It’s perfectly fine for you to visit your father’s grave. I just didn’t want you to be alone if you needed someone to talk to. You don’t know me very well, but I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

“You are?” She sounded skeptical, and for good reason. Eve had never even been to Sophia’s house. They’d had coffee together a few times at Black Gold with the others. That was it.

“We went to high school together,” she said to bolster her claim.

With a sniff, Alexa again dashed a hand over her wet cheeks. “Oh.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Eve gestured at the flowers adorning the grave. “I know it’s hard to lose someone you love.”

“Do you think it’s true?” she asked.

Eve lowered her head to meet Alexa’s eye. “Do I think what’s true?”

“That he did all those terrible things? That he didn’t love us like he said he did?”

Oh, boy... Eve took a deep breath as she tried to come up with an answer that would help instead of hurt. “Sometimes, when things go wrong, people panic and make foolish mistakes. I bet your father wasn’t in the best frame of mind at the end. I’m sure he would’ve regretted his actions, had he lived. He loved you. There’s no question about that.”

“But he did steal everyone’s money? And he was leaving us?”

Alexa’s expression grew more beseeching. She seemed to be pleading for the truth, so Eve felt she had to be honest even if what she said would be painful to hear.

“That’s what the evidence seems to suggest, sweetheart.”

Two more tears slipped from her pretty blue eyes, eyes that were so much like her mother’s. “And now I have no one,” she said as if the world had just stopped turning.

Eve feared she’d gone too far. “You have your mom. She’s not going anywhere.”

Alexa’s tears started to fall faster and she had to gulp for breath as she blurted, “My mom’s not the same. She needs help.”

“In what way?”

“Maybe she’s drinking again. I don’t think so because there’s nothing in the house, but...she could be hiding it from me.”

Eve felt a new measure of alarm. “You’re saying she’s drunk?”

Alexa shrugged. “She can’t get out of bed.”

Did Sophia have a drinking problem? If so, she wouldn’t want anyone to know about it, which made Eve feel like some nosy, intrusive bystander, gawking at the scene of a car crash. “She’s grieving, like you. The process affects us all differently.”

“It’s more than that,” Alexa insisted. “She won’t eat, won’t let me open the drapes, hardly ever talks to me.” She plucked a blade of grass. “I’m going to have to call my grandma, but—” she turned her watery gaze to her father’s elaborate marble headstone “—then she’ll make me come and live with her.” Getting to her feet, she picked up her bag of groceries. She seemed so weary she could hardly move.

Eve couldn’t let her go home by herself. “Why don’t I come with you?” she said. “I’ll check on your mom, see if there’s anything I can do.”

She’d expected Alexa to be relieved to have reinforcements, but her lips slanted into a frown. “Thanks, but...you’d better not. No one’s supposed to know,” she said and started off, all but dragging those groceries along.

Eve wasn’t sure what to do. She stood where she was and watched her for a few seconds, then jogged to catch up. “Lexi, I’m your mom’s friend, as I told you. And it sounds like she could use a friend right now.”

“But then she’ll find out I told you,” Alexa said.

“You only told me because you love her and you want to get her the help she needs.” Eve took the bag of groceries. “So let’s put these in my car and drive over together, okay? We’ll do what we can to get her back on her feet.”

Alexa looked as if she was afraid to even hope, the poor girl. “You think it might work?”

“Sometimes we have to fight for those we love. What I think is that we need to stage an intervention.”

Alexa remained skeptical. “Is an intervention like rehab? Because she’s already done rehab. That lasted the whole month of September.”

Eve secretly winced at the information the innocent Lexi had revealed. But at least it enabled her to view Sophia in a far more sympathetic light. Sophia had always been the girl who had it all. But maybe she was just more skillful at hiding her troubles. “It’s not rehab. It’s where your loved ones get hold of you and shake some sense into you, get you turned around and heading in the right direction.”

For the first time since Eve had confronted her, Alexa lifted her chin and seemed to overcome her tears. “Will it work?”

“We won’t know until we try.”

Her sniff sounded more decisive than before. “Yes,” she said with a nod, “I want to stage an intervention.”

Eve reached out with her free hand. “Let’s do it,” she said, but before they left the inn, she checked the sack, found it full of cold cereal and snack items and decided to grab a few ingredients from her own pantry.


9

Voices carried up to Sophia. At first she imagined she was still in rehab, that some of her fellow “inmates”—as they’d jokingly referred to themselves—were talking in the hall outside her room. But when she opened her eyes and blinked at the ceiling, she realized she was at home. Then the rest of what had happened during the past month came rushing in on her. Skip was dead but he hadn’t just stepped out of her life like she’d long hoped he would; he’d done everything he could to ruin her first. She had a thousand dollars or so to her name and no way to earn more. Alexa needed her but she was turning out to be as terrible a mother as Skip had always accused her of being. And all of that reminded her of why she didn’t want to wake up. She was going to lose her daughter. Agent Freeman had warned her. There didn’t seem to be a damn thing she could do about it, though. Except sleep. Sleep was her only escape.

She almost drifted off again, but Alexa was talking to someone in the cathedral-like entrance of their house, and curiosity got the better of her.

Had her daughter brought home a friend from school?

No, she’d come back a while ago. Alone. She claimed she was being treated as well as ever, but Sophia hadn’t seen any proof of her life returning to normal. Where were the girls who used to hang out with her? The girls who liked to come over and play in the game room? Or visit the garage to see the two Ferraris Skip owned? Or make an ice-cream creation at the soda fountain in the basement?

Sophia couldn’t think about that, wouldn’t think of it. It hurt too badly to suspect that her daughter might be suffering more than she said. That she might be hiding her pain because she was worried about Sophia.

She’d left after school to go to the store. She must’ve run into someone there.

“Alexa?” Sophia called.

The talking quieted for a moment, then her daughter responded. “What?”

“You got home okay?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s with you?”

“I brought a...a friend.”

Good. She needed one.

When they moved into the kitchen, Sophia couldn’t hear them anymore, so she pulled the blankets over her head. At least her daughter was safe. At least Lexi had something besides soup to eat. Now Sophia didn’t have to regret letting her go out alone.

The pungent smell of garlic and tomatoes woke Sophia some time later. She didn’t think she’d been sleeping long, but she knew her daughter didn’t have the cooking skills to create such a delectable smell—like an Italian restaurant. Maybe her friend was helping her.... She was about to call Lexi’s name, to find out what was going on, when she heard a light tread on the stairs and saw a woman, not a girl, poke her head into the room. “Hey.”

Sophia squinted, trying to identify this person, but it was too dark to see. She’d been keeping the blinds shut. The sun had set since the last time she’d fallen asleep, anyway. The digital clock on the nightstand told her that. “Who is it?”

“Eve.”

“Ted’s friend?” Sophia definitely didn’t want anyone connected with him to see how badly she was faring.

“Your friend.”

That couldn’t be true. She didn’t have any friends. She’d alienated them when she was a teenager, right before making the biggest mistake of her life by marrying Skip. But she didn’t want word of her diminished state to get back to Ted, so she struggled to put some energy into her voice. “Oh, hey. Sorry I’m not feeling well. Maybe you could come back another time.”

“But then you’d miss the amazing dinner Alexa and I cooked for you. Where’s your robe?”

“What?” She’d expected Eve to apologize and excuse herself. That was what most people would do. It wasn’t as if they knew each other all that well.

“You have a young lady downstairs who’s setting a beautiful table, just waiting to show her mother all the wonderful things she helped make. So I’m going to wrap you up in your robe and walk you down the stairs. And you’re going to have dinner. Maybe once you’ve got some food in your stomach, you’ll have the strength to shower.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I—I’m sick.”

“Then we’ll take you to a doctor.”

She didn’t want a doctor. She was terrified of what a doctor might tell her, terrified she’d wind up like her mother. She just wanted to continue hiding from the world until she could get back on her feet. “I’ll get up later. Maybe another day.”

“You can’t put it off, Sophia.”

She raised her head. “Why not?”

“Because it’ll only get harder.”

There was truth in that. Sophia knew it. How had she even arrived at this dark place? It was humiliating to feel so lost, so helpless. Skip would never have stood for it. She was embarrassed herself. She had so many enemies who would take pleasure in seeing her crushed and broken and, for all she knew, Eve was one of them. “You don’t have to trouble yourself,” she muttered. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”





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