Last Chance Harbor (18 page)

“Of course they did. She knew that. God, the woman was a major-league manipulator,” Ryder decided. “That’s a helluva pressure cooker to find yourself in on a daily basis and not be able to get out.”

“The thing is Layne made even less money working for his father than he had teaching which led to even more fights.”

“Ah. That probably just made her verbally abuse him all the more.”

“The guy just couldn’t seem to win with her, no matter what he did or how he tried to make her happy. As to why he stayed in that miserable living arrangement, Layne adored his children. He wanted to make absolutely certain they had a chance at success without the stigma of divorce.”

“There are no guarantees in life, certainly not with kids. You want a guarantee buy a waffle iron,” Ryder grumbled. “Two-parent homes are idyllic. Everyone’s onboard with that. But some relationships can’t be resurrected and shouldn’t be. People make mistakes. They get with the wrong people. What are they supposed to do, stick it out? In my opinion, living in a verbally, physically abusive atmosphere hurts kids more because they end up thinking that’s the way adults resolve their conflicts. Relationships like that are far more toxic to them than splitting custody.”

“You speak from experience. Back then, I don’t think you could get anyone in town to believe Layne and Eleanor were ever a good match.”

“That’s just sad. So why didn’t she let Layne go? And why didn’t he stand up for his kids? Don’t give me that crap about the stigma of divorce. Those kinds of people usually assume kids like me are headed for prison because my parents split up. That’s ridiculous thinking just because my parents chose not to share a home. From my perspective having to deal with a mother like Eleanor is what put the kids at risk in the first place. Not some archaic idea of living apart. And what about Eleanor’s erratic behavior, her wild mood swings, and a lot of the other shit she pulled? Her antics had to stick with those kids for life. People should’ve taken that into account back then instead of tiptoeing around the problem.”

“I’m with you there. That continual hostile environment between two adults couldn’t have been good for the kids.”

“Layne was obviously stuck. I actually feel for the guy. But why should the sane parent have to put up with a mean-spirited spouse because of some antiquated label? And why stick a label on the poor kids as failures before they have a chance at life, at proving anyone wrong? What about the kids who lose a parent to war? Is that okay to raise kids in a one-parent home? Or car accidents? What about cancer? Cancer takes its toll and leaves plenty of kids with only one parent. How about heart attacks? I lost my dad to one. After that, I just had my mom. She never remarried. Was she supposed to walk down the aisle just so she could say, ‘okay, now Ryder has a father figure in his life.’ Was I scarred because I grew up with only one parent? I don’t think so. Some circumstances are simply beyond a father’s or a mother’s control. Yet kids from divorce are considered at risk. Why is that?”

“You’re angry.”

Ryder ran both hands through his hair, realized he was livid. “Damn right I am. It irritates me when I hear couples say they’ll stick it out for the sake of the kids. I remember my parents fighting about everything. I’ve spent time as a soldier in a war zone and felt less static. But after the divorce the calm settled in. I might’ve had to shuttle between two homes but it was a damn sight better than listening to them hate on each other. Even at five years old I knew neither one was happy.”

“That’s why you’re having second thoughts about Julianne?”

“Not at all. I need to get my head clear of Bethany first, that’s all.” The silence that generated had him looking up at Scott. “Okay, maybe there’s still a degree of trust issues with me.”

“You can’t possibly believe Julianne is anything like Bethany?”

“No, but look at Layne Richmond. Did he know he was marrying a bitch upfront? I doubt it. Did she turn into one after the ceremony ended? Maybe. Was he a dickhead and that’s what turned her into the wife from hell? All I’m saying is there’s a chance Julianne might be hiding the fact she’s a despicable human being, hiding her true self.”

Scott gave him a hard look. “That’s total bullshit and you know it.”

“Yeah. I do. I’m crazy about Julianne. That’s why I hope to God she isn’t hiding an Eleanor Jennings persona behind that adorable face.”

Next door at
the B&B, an eager Julianne had no idea Ryder was having misgivings about them spending the day together. Had she known, she might have been tempted to call the whole thing off. Instead, she ate an egg and veggie omelet on the terrace, lingering over her third cup of coffee as if she had all the time in the world—no traffic to deal with or rush to reach her class.

That’s why she took the opportunity to take a leisurely pass under the blossoming magnolias, picked a few drooping daisies that had not fared well in the coastal wind. This weekend had accomplished one thing. It put to rest any remaining doubt about the move. She couldn’t wait to put down roots here.

As she headed upstairs to get ready for her date, she tried to figure out how long it had been since she’d gone out with anyone. As she put on her makeup, she counted the months. It had been last summer when Brian Kramer, a math teacher, had asked her to go to a local music festival held on the boardwalk. She couldn’t remember why that had been their only date. Then it hit her. Brian had had an odd habit of droning on about movie facts, probably trying to impress her. It hadn’t worked. Even his voice had grated on her. Then, there had been Ron something-or-other around Christmas. Ron had taken her to dinner. He’d been eerily quiet over his fish until they’d gotten back to the car where he’d developed a serious case of octopus hands. Ugh.

She heard her cell phone ding with a text message.

Pulling up in front now. Ready?

Yep. On my way down.

The minute he caught sight of her in a mint-green knit dress, his uncertainty faded.

After she clicked her seatbelt in place, he smiled and said. “Just so you know, I took your advice and contacted CID. I was surprised when they told me what happened to me occurs on a fairly regular basis to many soldiers. They added her fake name to a database they keep on people who run scams on service members. On the off-chance she uses a variation of that, they might get a hit.”

“See, you have to cover all the angles. I’m thinking of doing something crazy.”

“If it involves you wearing whip cream and a black teddy, I’m in.”

Julianne threw back her head and laughed. “That could be arranged.”

“Really? I’m there already. How crazy do you want to get?”

“I was thinking of poking my nose into who owns that box. While Brent does his thing, I’m thinking of starting with what we know.”

“We know it has some connection to the Richmonds. Otherwise why would the deed be inside?”

“Good, we’re on the same page there. I say we slide the bar over to the Jennings family. A Richmond married a Jennings. That alone gives us a point of reference. I say, when I close on the house, we go through it for anything that might indicate who owns the box. Are you game?”

“Or, here’s a thought, we could just ask one of the kids or both.”

She grinned. “Definitely the more direct approach. I like it. Jordan told me this morning Drea owns the florist shop. I could stop in, even though I don’t think a girl owned that box. I could be wrong of course. But I could go in, browse, then ask her using your direct approach, get to know her, tell her something about me. Maybe she’d open up enough, see how it goes and then get her to tell me about her older brother, Cooper.”

“Meanwhile, I could approach Caleb. I see the guy around town at least every other day making deliveries or working at the garden center in some capacity or another. We’ve always stuck to safe subjects like the weather and seedlings. It might be interesting to get his take on how he grew up.”

“Then it’s a plan.”

“If that’s your idea of crazy though, I’m a little disappointed.”

“You were envisioning the whip cream and black teddy.” She lifted her eyebrows up and down. “I’ve been known to work with both.”

“Now you’re just getting me hot and bothered. And while I’m driving no less.”

She ran her finger down the side of his cheek up to his ear. “It’s mean of me, huh?”

Ryder thought of Layne and all the crap Eleanor had dished out over the years. “If that’s the meanest thing you ever do, I’d be shocked.”

“I’ll work on my darker side, how’s that?”

“As longer as darker equates to hot and sweaty sex instead of mean or mentally unstable…”

“Oh, Ryder. You’re thinking of Eleanor and Bethany now. Stop it. My dark side consists of a temper now and again just like everyone else. I’m not a menacing person, not even very mysterious. I’m just a regular person.”

Trying not to take his eyes off the road, he found her hand, squeezed it in his. “That’s me, too. Scott showed up this morning.”

“Really? How’d that turn out?”

“I’m beginning to get a better handle on the guy.”

“How so?”

“For one, he gave me insight into Layne.” Ryder went into an account of their conversation. He noted the stricken look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m having second thoughts about approaching Drea because I’m convinced Layne and Brooke never left town.”

“Wow, where did that come from? Why would that pop into your head?”

“The most obvious reason of them all. Layne would never leave his kids behind with Eleanor. Everyone said so last night. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me until now.”

Ryder mulled that over. “I’m suddenly getting a sick feeling in my gut. If the couple didn’t leave town, then where are they?”

“That’s the number one question these days.”

About that time, Ryder pulled into the lane leading to the Atkins farmhouse. Junk lined the rutted pavement—two rusted-out Chevys, a slew of old tractor tires, broken discarded furniture sat among knee-high weeds. It looked like a rural version of
Sanford and Son
.

“This is where our desks have been stored?”

“Looks like.”

The man who greeted them looked as ancient as the barn itself. But there was a smile plastered across his worn face as if he was happy to have the company.

“You the folks that called about the stuff I salvaged from the school?”

“That’s us,” Ryder replied.

“I’m Cleef Atkins. Glad to meet you. Hear you’re reopening the place up, ’bout time.”

Julianne introduced herself. “We’re interested in anything you have left that’s in good enough condition that we might be able to reuse or repurpose.”

“I got it all, desks, chalkboards, lockers, light fixtures, water fountains, you name it, I kept it. My son and I hauled it out of there ourselves. Nobody wanted the stuff till now, although I did sell the display case to a retail shop over in San Sebastian five years back or so.”

Cleef slid open the barn door. “Been gathering dust all these years, that’s why I’m in a position to make you a good deal on all of it.”

Julianne looked around at the treasure trove of antiques amassed floor to ceiling. Sneezing in rapid succession while turning sideways to make it through the labyrinth of furniture, she called out, “Ryder, you need to see this.”

He followed the trail she’d blazed through the jumble of junk upfront to get to the back and the reason they’d made the trip. There, in the massive vault of barn, the old desks were lined up and stacked on top of each other, hundreds of them.

Spotting the nest of desks, Julianne said, “Look at this, two different kinds. The one-piece units are for the upper grades, fifth and sixth. The single desks with chairs are used in kindergarten through fourth grade. Most are in good shape. The legs might need recoating but it beats blowing the budget on new. Nick and Logan will be delighted.”

“The tops could be replaced with new wood or Formica.”

She ran her fingers across the finish where the kids had gotten creative with carving their initials into the grain. “How old do you think some of these desks are? Looks like they reused items from the fifties. The teachers’ desks are even older. But that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with refinishing them.”