The Inn At Ocean's Edge Part 11

"She won't talk about it! I can't believe she stuck with him all those years."

"She wanted to believe he loved her."

"Just like I wanted to believe he loved me. He's nothing but a manipulator. Who knows, maybe he has another family tucked away somewhere else in the country."

Her uncle gripped her shoulder, then his heavy footsteps went toward the house. When the screen door banged, Kate picked up her cell phone. "Sh.e.l.ley, how about we do a little surveillance?"

SIXTEEN.

The hotel lobby hummed with activity as guests arrived for check-in. Claire sat with her grandmother on the sofa in front of the soaring stone fireplace while her father went to have the hotel car take them to the ferry. They were meeting Ric and his family at a restaurant in Winter Harbor for more merger discussions. Her mother and grandfather stood beside her father in front of the big gla.s.s doors, and Claire could speak without fear.

She put her hand over her grandmother's age-spotted one. "Grandma, you've been avoiding me. Why won't you talk to me?"

Her grandmother's hand twitched. "Your father is the one who has to explain it all to you. It's none of my business."

"Are you saying he knows where I was during that year?"

The older woman placed her other hand atop Claire's. "You're not going to pressure me, child. I love you dearly, but this isn't something I can get involved in. Your grandfather would be very upset if I did."

Claire glanced at her grandfather, who had turned the other way to speak with her father. "He's not listening. Where was I for that year, Grandma? And what repercussions do you fear?"

Her grandmother's hazel eyes filled with tears. "I fear this family is about to reap the whirlwind, Claire. The whirlwind." Her voice was low and choked.

The phrase sounded biblical. "What does that mean?"

"Sometimes we dabble in sin and think it will never come back to haunt us, but it does. It comes back so much worse than if we'd just been honest from the beginning. I've told your father this, but he doesn't listen. From the moment I met him, I knew he was hardheaded, intent on having his own way." Her grandmother pulled away her trembling hand. "We must all be strong enough to weather what's coming. Especially you, Claire. Reach deep to find the bedrock of your faith as the winds begin to blow."

"Grandma, you are making no sense at all. Don't talk in riddles. Tell me plainly what's wrong."

Her grandmother's gaze searched hers. "Always remember who you are, Claire. You belong to your heavenly Father and no one else. All that you are is found in him. Don't let anything shake that knowledge."

"You're scaring me, Grandma. What could be so terrible that you won't tell me?"

She looked over Claire's shoulder, and a fixed smile appeared. "They're ready for us, honey."

Claire followed her to the door, held open by the valet. She couldn't even begin to figure this out on her own. Maybe it was time to press the matter with Mom. Her dad always knew how to sidestep every issue, but her mother was bound to cave if she pushed hard enough.

With her newly dyed red hair, Kate hardly recognized herself in the mirror of The Fisherman's Inn bathroom so she doubted her father would give her a second glance. She'd be able to observe him and his precious family.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into following them." Sh.e.l.ley's eyes were anxious in the mirror.

"We won't get caught." After a final glance, Kate crossed to the door and marched toward the dining room with her head high. Sh.e.l.ley followed her.

The Fisherman's Inn in Winter Harbor was practically an inst.i.tution on the Schoodic Peninsula and had been in business since 1947. Though housed in a white wooden building with plain furnis.h.i.+ngs, the food was the real star, especially the smoked salmon spread served as a free appetizer. The restaurant looked out on the harbor at Winter Harbor. The windows were set high at the booths. The scents of seafood and smoked meats teased her nose, and Kate's stomach rumbled. She spotted her target in the back dining room. There were nine people at the far table, and her father, his expressive hands moving as much as his mouth, sat in the center.

She smiled at the hostess, Kathy Johnson, who ran the restaurant with her husband, Carl, who cooked up the fare in the kitchen. "Could I get that booth there, the one overlooking the harbor?" It was the first dining room, but she'd be able to get a clear view of her father since he was just through the opening into the second dining room. She planned to sit with her back to his table. Close enough to eavesdrop, but with her face obscured.

Kathy, an attractive middle-aged redhead, picked up two menus. "Of course. This way please." She led them to the booth and placed the menus down. "Vivian will be your server tonight. Enjoy your dinner."

Kate slipped into her booth before her father looked her way. "He might recognize you. Sit here beside me so he doesn't see your face."

Mumbling under her breath, Sh.e.l.ley slid into the booth beside Kate. "This is crazy, Kate. What do you hope to find out?"

"I just want to know more about all of them."

Harry's father-in-law picked up his wine gla.s.s. "I told Harry that company was ripe for the plucking, and it was. It was really what launched our business into the stratosphere."

Kate wrinkled her nose. She had no real interest in hearing of her father's wealth and power. That wasn't anything new. She wanted to know what made the man tick, why he would abandon his own daughter and treat her so coldly.

Footsteps came her way, and she looked up, expecting to see the server. She gasped. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

Her mother's hair was disheveled and out of its usual ponytail, her face furious. Mud stained her pink T-s.h.i.+rt, as though she'd heard what Kate planned and immediately dropped what she was doing. "Keeping you from destroying our lives. Come with me right now," she hissed.

"I'm not going to talk to anyone. I just want to see what his family is like."

Her mother's face crumpled, and tears slipped down her cheeks. Kate nudged Sh.e.l.ley out of the booth. "We'd better step outside before he notices us." The women quickly went out the front door and stood in the salty breeze off the water.

Her mother stepped to her car. "Your father is not someone to mess with. He can destroy our lives. You don't know what he's capable of doing. You have no idea how he's hurt all of us."

Something in her mother's tone caught at Kate's heart. "All of us?"

Her mother hesitated. "Us-you and me. Harry Dellamare holds what's his with an iron fist. He's ruthless, and he doesn't care who he hurts." She hugged herself. "I'm afraid he might take you away from me."

"How did you even get mixed up with him, Mom? Didn't you know he was married?" Kate didn't mean the words to sound so accusatory, and her mother winced. Kate reached to take her mom's hand. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

"Of course I knew he was married, but I thought . . ." She bit her lip and looked down. "Men will tell you whatever they think will get them what they want. I was starry-eyed."

Kate calculated her mother's age at the time. Twenty-five wasn't all that young. Maybe desperate would be a better word. "Did you get pregnant on purpose?" She whispered the question before she stopped to think.

Her mother's green eyes widened, and she wrung her hands. "Did he tell you that?"

Kate read the naked truth in her mother's face. "You really thought he'd leave his wife if you were pregnant? Mom, that's so . . . naive. What did he say when you told him you were pregnant?"

Her mother lifted her chin. "He laughed, thinking it was a joke. It was terrible timing. He'd just found out that she was expecting-his wife. I knew then he'd never leave her."

Kate filed that information away. She had a sibling. "What did you do?"

"He offered to provide for me. What else could I do? I had no other job, no way of providing for a baby. I had to accept his terms. And I still held out hope that he'd realize he loved me, not her."

"But he never did. He'd never intended to leave his wife for one minute."

The entire situation sickened her. Kate's head was pounding, and her limbs felt heavy and weak. A trip to see the doctor was long overdue with the way she'd been feeling. She dug into her purse for her keys. "Let's go, Sh.e.l.ley. This was a stupid idea."

SEVENTEEN.

Luke's dad looked a little brighter on Monday morning. His mouth didn't sag much at all, and his pale-blue eyes were clear and alert. Color bloomed in his face, and he didn't list to the side in his chair.

Claire sat on the sofa beside Luke. She'd said she was tired, but she didn't look it. Her hair was up in its usual French twist, and her blue silk top made her eyes sparkle. "You look well, Mr. Rocco. Thanks for seeing me today." A small painting leaned at her feet against the sofa.

"That physical therapist won't let me be, but her torture appears to be helping." Pop's hand shook a little as he lifted a cup of coffee to his lips. "I'm planning on ditching this wheelchair as soon as possible. She let me use a walker around the house today."

Luke leaned forward. "I didn't know that. Be careful you're not moving too fast, Pop."

"I've got to get well before you take it into your head to go back to your post. When's your leave over?"

Luke saw the calculating glint in his dad's eye. He'd dodged that manipulation too many times over his life to fall for it now. "I'm due back in another three weeks." His dad didn't need to know he was considering his options or he'd push even more. "Claire, tell my dad what's happened to you so far." He leaned against the back of the old plaid sofa, smelling of years of pipe smoke and cranberry candles.

He didn't want to eye his father with suspicion, but he'd agreed to Claire's request because he wondered if his dad might know this guy. What if he'd hired the hunter to kill Mom all those years ago? It felt wrong to worry about something so horrific, but Luke couldn't get it out of his head.

"Someone has attacked me twice." Claire leaned forward. "You've lived in this area all your life. I wondered if you might recognize this man." Reaching down, she seized the canvas and turned the painting around so his father could study it. "This man is a frequent visitor in my nightmares." She pointed out the bright-red figure in the corner. "And I sleepwalk and paint this dead fox into every painting. It's very bizarre."

He reached out a shaky hand. "Hand it here, missy." When she put it in his hands, he held it up to the light streaming through the window behind him. "Never seen him before, but he looks like a hunter."

"He's been in hunting clothes every time I've seen him."

"This isn't trapping season for fox, though. That's not until fall. He had a fox when you saw him? There're a lot of fox down the road apiece just outside Summer Harbor."

"He didn't have a fox when I saw him. But I think I might have seen him when I was four. My birthday is October 30, so that would make sense."

Pop handed the painting back to her. "There's a place in Bar Harbor that buys pelts. You might show the painting there. Trappers can make a decent living. This here fellow looks like a serious trapper or hunter. He's even got a knife attached to his belt."

Luke hadn't noticed that detail, but he looked closer when Claire sat back down with the painting in her hands. "It looks like his vest is fur lined too. And those boots look like Rocky Max. See the design of the camo mixed with tan? So this is a serious hunter."

"I remembered details about the incident at the top of the cliff in the woods," Claire said. "The boots looked like these, and the sole was loose."

Claire put the painting back down by her feet. "We could check outfitters in the area."

"Good idea. And gun sellers." Relief settled over him like a warm blanket. Pop hadn't seemed taken aback by the picture in any way, and he hadn't tried to evade the questions.

Maybe Luke had it all wrong. He rose, and Claire took his cue that it was time to leave. She grabbed her purse and thanked his father. Her heels clattered on the wood floor as she followed him onto the porch.

She slung her purse strap over her shoulder. "Are you okay? You seemed tense and worried in there."

He hadn't told her his fears. "I have to admit I was wondering if my dad might have been responsible for everything that happened twenty-five years ago, even your disappearance. I'd hoped having you in there talking to him might tell me for sure about his guilt."

She followed him to his truck. "And what did you decide?"

"I don't think he's guilty." His heart felt lighter with the words. "Now we just have to figure out who did have a hand in all this." He opened the truck door for her. "Now where to?"

She glanced at her watch. "I have to meet the Castillos for merger discussions at seven, but I think we have time to run to the mainland. It's only one."

"Who are the Castillos?"

"Business friends." She slid onto the cracked and worn seat, then pressed her lips together. "We both own small aviation firms. A merger would make us one of the bigger players. Ric's father is opposed to losing autonomy, and I think he's not too sure a woman at the helm of Cramer Aviation is a smart idea."

"He doesn't know you."

The warmth in her eyes ratcheted up a notch at his words. "It will take some work to convince him."

He leaned against the open door. "So no boyfriend in the wings?"

Her lips tipped up, and she shook her head. "I don't trust men easily. You never know what they're after."

Those direct blue eyes seemed to see his thoughts, and it was all he could do to keep from blurting out that he hadn't thought of her money even once in the few days he'd known her. If other men saw her bank account first, they were blind.

Claire blinked in the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne bouncing off the harbor dotted with white boats. The strong scent of the sea mingled with the stench of car exhaust and the perfume of pa.s.sersby on the crowded sidewalk. "Now what?"

They'd struck out in the outfitters they'd hit in Ellsworth. No one recognized the man in her painting.

He pointed out a Victorian building across the street. "Let's get a coffee. I need to think. There are half a dozen outfitters sprinkled around the area."

She followed him across to the Rooster Brother coffee shop. Luke opened the door for her. The rich aroma of espresso teased her nose and made her mouth water. The wood floors gleamed with welcome, and the cheery turquoise color lifted her spirits. She ordered a mocha with whip, and Luke got straight black coffee from the dispenser by the door.

She closed her eyes at the first rich sip. "Coffee solves every problem."

He grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "We have enough of them at the moment, so we'd better have seconds."

She followed him to the stoop outside looking onto the busy Ellsworth Street. They leaned against the railing and sipped their coffee. When she turned her head, she found him staring at her. "What?" It was impossible for her to look away from those dark, dark eyes and that devil-may-care grin.

Smiling, he leaned over and ran his thumb over the corner of her mouth. "Whipped cream."

He licked it off his thumb, and something stirred in her chest, a wanting for more of that intimacy. "Thanks."

"Anytime." The moment wiped away his smile and left an expression of tenderness on his face.

She looked down at her coffee, twirling it in her hands. "I don't think I have the time to stop at any other outfitters."

"I'll run you to the ferry, then check the rest of them out myself. We'll get a copy made of your painting and I can show it around." He took a gulp of his coffee. "I took a picture with my phone, but it's not big enough to see well."

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was as if they'd known one another forever and were content to just stand and look at each other.

She broke the silence first. "You told your dad your leave is over in three weeks. It sounded like he was hoping you'd say you weren't going back."