Remember Me (2 page)

He had turned. “Are you sure, honey? I'm just going in for a few minutes. Why don't you just nap?”

“No way.” She'd rushed to him and put her arms around his neck. “When we go to Hawaii next month I want to be able to explore those coral reefs with you. Might as well get some practice.”

Later he tearfully pleaded that he hadn't noticed all the other boats had disappeared while they napped. No, he hadn't turned on the radio to check the weather.

They had been down twenty minutes when the squall hit. The water became violent. They struggled to reach the anchored boat. Just as they surfaced, a five-foot wave hit them. Vivian disappeared. He had searched and searched, diving into the water again and again, until his own air was running out.

They knew the rest. The emergency call was received by the Coast Guard as the full force of the fast-moving squall was at its peak. “My wife is missing!” Scott Covey had shouted. “My wife is missing!”

E
laine Atkins sat across the table from Adam Nichols. They were at Chillingsworth, the restaurant in Brewster where Elaine took all her important real estate
clients. Now, at the peak of the Cape Cod season, every table was filled.

“I don't think you have to eavesdrop to know what they're talking about,” she said quietly. Her hand moved slightly in a gesture that encompassed the room. “A young woman, Vivian Carpenter, disappeared scuba diving a couple of weeks ago. She bought her house in Chatham from me, and we became very friendly. While you were on the phone I was told that her body was washed ashore an hour ago.”

“I was on a fishing boat once when someone hooked a body that had been in the water for a couple of weeks,” Adam said quietly. “It wasn't a pretty sight. How did it happen?”

“Vivian was a good swimmer but not an experienced diver. Scott was teaching her. They hadn't listened to the warning on the radio about the storm. The poor guy is devastated. They'd only been married three months.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds as though it was pretty careless, to go diving just before a storm.”

“Pretty tragic,” Elaine said firmly. “Viv and Scott were very happy. She's the one who knew these waters. Like you, growing up she spent every summer on the Cape. It's such a damn shame. Till she met Scott, Viv was kind of a lost soul. She's one of the Carpenters from Boston. Youngest in a family of achievers. Dropped out of college. Pretty much on the outs with the family. Worked at a variety of jobs. Then three years ago, when she turned twenty-one, she came into the trust her grandmother left her. That's when she bought the house. She worshipped Scott, wanted to do everything with him.”

“Including scuba diving in bad weather? What does this guy do?”

“Scott? He was assistant business manager for the
Cape Playhouse last year. That's when he met Viv. I guess she visited him over the winter. Then he came back for good in May, and the next thing anyone knew they were married.”

“What's his last name?”

“Covey. Scott Covey. He's from the Midwest somewhere.”

“A stranger who marries a rich girl and the rich girl dies three months later. If I were the cops I'd want to read her will fast.”

“Oh, stop,” Elaine protested. “You're supposed to be a defense attorney, not a prosecutor. I saw a lot of those two. I was showing them houses. They were looking for something bigger. They were planning to start a family and wanted more room. Trust me. It was a horrible accident.”

“Probably.” Adam shrugged. “Maybe I'm getting to be too much of a skeptic.”

They were sipping wine. Elaine sighed. “Let's change the subject,” she said. “This is supposed to be a festive occasion.
You
look great, Adam. More than that—you look happy, content, pleased with life. Everything really is okay, isn't it? With Menley, I mean. I'm so eager to meet her.”

“Menley's a trooper. She'll be fine. Incidentally, when she gets up here, don't mention that I told you about those anxiety attacks. She doesn't like to talk about them.”

“I can understand that.” Elaine studied him. Adam's dark brown hair was beginning to show flecks of gray. Like her, he'd be thirty-nine on his next birthday. Long and lean, he'd always had a quicksilver quality. She'd known him from the time they were both sixteen, when his family hired a summer housekeeper from the employment service her mother managed.

Nothing ever changes, Elaine thought. She'd noticed
the glances other women had given him when he joined her at the table.

The waiter brought over menus. Adam studied his. “Steak tartare, well done,” he suggested with a laugh.

She made a face at him. “Don't be mean. I was a kid when I pulled that.”

“I'll never let you forget it. ‘Laine, I'm awfully glad you made me come up to see Remember House. When the other place fell through I didn't think we'd hit on a desirable rental for August.”

She shrugged. “These things happen. I'm just glad it worked out. I can't believe that rental I found for you in Eastham turned out to have all those plumbing problems. But this one is a real gem. As I told you, it wasn't occupied for thirty-five years. The Paleys saw the place, realized it had possibilities and picked it up for a song a couple of years ago. They'd finished the worst of the renovating when Tom had the heart attack. He'd put in twelve hours on a hot day when it happened. Jan Paley finally decided it was too much house for one person, and that's why it's on the market. There aren't that many authentic captain's houses available, so it won't last long, you know. I'm hoping you two will decide to buy it.”

“We'll see. I'd like to have a place up here again. If we're going to continue to live in the city, it makes sense. Those old sailors knew how to build a home.”

“This one even has a story attached to it. It seems that Captain Andrew Freeman built it for his bride in 1703 and ended up deserting her when he found she'd been engaged in hanky-panky with some guy from town while he was at sea.”

Adam grinned. “My grandmother told me the early settlers were Puritans. Anyhow I won't be doing any renovating. This is vacation for us, although it's inevitable that I'll be going back and forth to the city for a few days at a time. I've got to do some work on the
retrial of the Potter case. Maybe you read about it. The wife got a bum rap. I wish I'd defended her in the first place.”

“I'd like to see you in action in court someday.”

“Come to New York. Tell John to bring you down. When are you getting married?”

“We haven't quite set the date, but sometime in the fall. Predictably, John's daughter is less than thrilled about the engagement. She's had John to herself for a long time. Amy starts college in September, so we figure around Thanksgiving would be about right.”

“You look happy, 'Laine. And you also look great. Very attractive and very successful. You're skinnier than I've ever seen you. Also your hair's blonder, which I like.”

“Compliments from you? Don't ruin our relationship.” Elaine laughed. “But I thank you. I am very happy indeed. John's the Mr. Right I've been waiting for. And I thank the gods that you look like yourself again. Believe me, Adam, last year when you came up after you and Menley separated, I was worried about you.”

“It was a pretty rough period.”

Elaine studied the menu. “This one is on Atkins Real Estate. No arguments, please. Remember House is for sale, and if you decide after renting it that it would be a great buy I get the commission.”

After they'd ordered, Adam said, “The phone was busy when I tried Menley before. I'll give a quick call now.”

He returned a minute later, looking troubled. “Still busy.”

“Don't you have Call Waiting?”

“Menley hates it. She says it's so rude to keep telling people ‘wait a minute' and going off the line.”

“She has a point, but it still is mighty handy.”
Elaine hesitated. “All of a sudden you seem worried. Is she really okay now?”

“She seems to be fine,” Adam said slowly. “But when those anxiety attacks come, they're hell. She's practically a basket case when she relives the accident. I'll try her again in a minute, but in the meantime, did I show you a picture of the baby?”

“Have you got a picture with you?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?” He reached in his pocket. “Here's the most recent. Her name is Hannah. She was three months old last week. Isn't she a knockout?”

Elaine studied the picture carefully. “She's absolutely beautiful,” she said sincerely.

“She looks like Menley, so she's going to stay gorgeous,” Adam said decisively. He returned the snapshot to his wallet and pushed back his chair. “If the line's still busy I'm going to ask the operator to interrupt.”

Elaine watched him wend his way through the room. He's nervous about her being alone with the baby, she thought.

“Elaine.”

She looked up. It was Carolyn March, a fiftyish New York advertising executive to whom she'd sold a house. March did not wait to be greeted. “Have you heard how much Vivian Carpenter's trust fund was?
Five million dollars!
The Carpenters never talk money, but one of the cousins' wives let that slip. And Viv told people that she'd left everything to her husband. Don't you think that much money should dry Scott Covey's tears?”

T
hat must be Adam. He said he'd call around now. Menley juggled the baby on her shoulder as she reached for the phone. “Come on, Hannah,” she murmured. “You've finished half the second bottle. At this rate you'll be the only three-month-old in Weight Watchers.”

She held the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she patted the baby's back. Instead of Adam, it was Jane Pierce, editor-in-chief of
Travel Times
magazine. As usual, Jane did not waste words. “Menley, you
are
going to the Cape in August, aren't you?”

“Keep your fingers crossed about that,” Menley said. “We heard last night that the house we were supposed to rent has major plumbing problems. I never thought chamber pots were cute, so Adam drove up this morning to see what else we could get.”

“It's pretty late to get anything, isn't it?” Jane asked.

“We have one ace in the hole. An old friend of Adam's owns a real estate agency. Elaine found the first place for us and swears she has a terrific replacement. Let's hope Adam agrees.”

“In that case, if you do go up . . .”

“Jane, if we do go up I'm going to research another
book for the David series. I've heard so much about the Cape from Adam that I may want to set the next one there.” David was the ten-year-old continuing character in a series of novels that had made Menley a well-known children's book author.

“I know this is begging a favor, Menley, but it's that special way you weave in historical background that I need for this piece,” the editor pleaded.

When Menley hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, she had been talked into doing an article about Cape Cod for
Travel Times.

“Oh well, Hannah,” she said as she gave one final pat to the baby's back, “Jane did give me my first break ten years ago. Right? It's the least I can do.”

But Hannah was contentedly asleep on her shoulder. Menley strolled over to the window. The twenty-eighth-floor apartment on East End Avenue afforded a stunning view of the East River and the bridges that spanned it.

Moving back to Manhattan from Rye after they lost Bobby had saved her sanity. But it would be good to get away for August. After the first terrible anxiety attack, her obstetrician had encouraged her to see a psychiatrist. “You're having what is called delayed post-traumatic stress disorder, which is not uncommon after a frightful experience, but there is treatment available, and I'd recommend it.”

She'd been seeing the psychiatrist, Dr. Kaufman, weekly, and Kaufman wholeheartedly endorsed the idea of a vacation. “The episodes are understandable and in the long run beneficial,” she said. “For nearly two years after Bobby's death, you were in denial. Now that you have Hannah, you're finally dealing with it. Take this vacation. Get away. Enjoy yourself. Just take your medication. And, of course, call me at any time if you need me. Otherwise, I'll see you in September.”

We will enjoy ourselves, Menley thought. She carried the sleeping baby into the nursery, laid her down and quickly changed and covered her. “Now be a love and take a nice long nap,” she whispered, looking down into the crib.

Her shoulders and neck felt tight, and she stretched out her arms and rotated her head. The brown hair that Adam described as being the color of maple syrup bounced around the collar of her sweat suit. For as long as she could remember, Menley had wished to grow taller. But at thirty-one she'd reconciled herself to a permanent height of five feet four. At least I can be strong, she'd consoled herself, and her sturdy, slender body was testimony to her daily trips to the exercise room on the second floor of the building.

Before she turned out the light she studied the baby. Miracle, miracle, she thought. She'd been raised with an older brother who had turned her into a tomboy. As a result she'd always scorned dolls and preferred tossing a football to playing house. She was always comfortable with boys and in her teens became the favorite confidante and willing baby-sitter of her two nephews.

But nothing had prepared her for the torrents of love she'd felt when Bobby was born and that were evoked now by this perfectly formed, roundfaced, sometimes cranky infant girl.

The phone rang as she reached the living room. I bet it's Adam and he was trying to get me while I was talking to Jane, she thought as she rushed to answer.