Secrets on Cedar Key (3 page)

C
hloe and I had both insisted my mother take the next day off from the yarn shop. The two of us were able to handle the customers and any deliveries.

“How's your mom doing this morning?” Chloe asked when I walked in at ten.

“Pretty good, I guess. It's hard for her losing another person in her life. First Sybile, then Saren passed away, then my husband, and now a good friend. She was quiet this morning, but you know my mother. She's resilient. I think she'll be okay.”

Chloe nodded. “I didn't know Miss Maybelle very well, but she was quite the character. She certainly seemed to have a zest for life. How old was she? Do you know?”

“She turned eighty-one in July. She was happy her goddaughter could be here to celebrate it with her. Yeah, Maybelle was one of those people who weren't the life of the party—she
was
the party.”

Chloe laughed. “Berkley told me she was a Copa Girl back in the fifties. She said she got invited with Saxton to go to Maybelle's home for tea last year. I guess Maybelle showed her a lot of the costumes she used to wear as a dancer at the Copa.”

“Oh, yeah. I saw those years ago when I was in my teens. I was so captivated that she offered to let me borrow one of the gowns for my prom. My mother said absolutely not.” I laughed recalling the memory.

We both looked up as the door opened and Worth Slater walked into the shop. God, I had forgotten he was coming this morning. Dressed in jeans, tee shirt, and work boots, he did look like a contractor ready to report for work, but his style of dress certainly didn't detract from his good looks.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said, a cheery smile covering his face. “Is Miss Dora here?”

“No, I'm afraid not. My mother won't be coming in today. A very good friend of hers passed away yesterday.”

“Oh, Maybelle Brewster? I had heard about that. I'm very sorry. Well, I spoke to your mother the other evening, and I'm ready to begin if it's okay with you.”

“Sure,” I said. “Work away. Is there anything you need?”

He shook his head as he walked toward the open space. “No, I'm all set.” He held up a large toolbox. “I'm going to begin with that bay window. I think once we get some natural light in there for you, you'll be able to see the possibilities. Oh, and I have a fellow dropping by to help me in about an hour. His name is Kyle, so just send him in.”

“Will do,” I said and caught the grin on Chloe's face.

I rolled my eyes at her as I began straightening out yarn in the cubicles.

Fridays were generally fairly busy with tourists on the island, so I wasn't surprised to look at my watch and see it was already twelve-thirty.

“Hey, time for lunch,” I said. “Did you bring yours or are you going out?”

“I told Grace I'd meet her and the baby at Pickled Pelican. I'll be back in an hour.”

“That's fine. Take your time. I brought my lunch, and when you get back I'll go to the post office.”

Post office.
I'd almost forgotten about the letter that should be there waiting for me.

I was setting up my sandwich and coffee on the desk when Kyle hollered, “Bye,” on his way out and I realized that Worth might be eating his lunch alone in the next room. I peeked in to see him leaning over a makeshift table—a cardboard box—about to take a bite of his sandwich.

“Gosh,” I said. “There's barely any light in here. You're certainly welcome to join me at my desk. I'm just about to eat too.”

He looked up and smiled. “Oh, thanks. That would be nice,” he said and followed me into the shop.

I cleared a space on the desk for him as he pulled up a chair. Sitting across from him, I suddenly felt awkward. “Oh,” I said, jumping up. “Would you like some coffee? I just brewed it.”

He raised a hand in the air. “No, thanks. I have bottled water, but I might take a rain check on that coffee later this afternoon.”

“Sure.” I sat back down and proceeded to take a bite of my chicken salad sandwich.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said, surprising me. “Your mother told me your husband recently passed away.”

I nodded. “Yes, this past March. A massive coronary.”

Worth shook his head. “Sudden death is a good thing for the victim but difficult for those left behind,” he said, like he had experience.

“Are you married?” I asked and then wondered if I was being too nosy.

“No. My wife passed away ten years ago. Breast cancer.”

Now it was my turn to say I was sorry.

“Children?” he inquired, which assured me I hadn't been too inquisitive.

“Two sons. Grown and gone.” I explained that John and Jason lived out of state. “How about you?”

“Yes, a daughter. Married and living in Paris.”

“Paris?” I said with surprise. “How nice.”

Worth took a long swig of water and nodded. “Caroline went there for college, met a Frenchman, married, and the rest is history. I have two grandchildren. Yvette is twelve and Christophe is ten.”

“Oh, how nice, but you probably don't get to see them that often.”

“No, I do. I go over to Paris fairly often, and they try to get to Florida during the summer.”

“Grace's husband, Lucas, is from France. He owns the bookstore in town.”

He nodded. “Yes, I know Lucas quite well. Nice guy. So have you ever been to Paris?”

“Actually, I have. The summer after I graduated college I went with two friends for a couple weeks. I have to say, it was an instant love affair.”

“Ah, but you never went back?”

“Regrettably, no. After I got married, we just never seemed to find the time.” I didn't want to mention the fact that despite my repeated begging, especially after the boys were older, Andrew had no interest or desire to visit France. So, therefore, I didn't go either.

“Are you living on Cedar Key?”

“Yeah, I decided to sell my home in Gainesville and move in with my mother after my husband died. With the boys no longer living at home, the house was way too big for me. Chloe said you're from Ocala. Will you be traveling back and forth every day to do the work here?”

“No, it's an hour's drive each way, so that wouldn't be very convenient. I took a cottage at the Faraway Inn. I have a dog and they're pet friendly. I love Cedar Key. I've thought about selling my place in Ocala and just moving here, but somehow that hasn't happened yet. Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Was it my imagination or did his gaze seem to intensify when he said this? I took the last bite of my sandwich and nodded.

“My mother said you owned your own architecture business. So are you retired now?”

Worth laughed, and I noticed that the laughter seemed to touch his eyes as the sound of it created a happy feeling.

“Well, now, that depends. Officially, yes, I'm retired. I had an office in Ocala and I've given that up. But I'm still open to doing side jobs like this one. I turned sixty-five this year, so I thought it was time I slow down from work a little and enjoy other things in life. But the problem is I also enjoy working. That's why taking a job like this is perfect for me. Nothing too involved or long-term.”

“That makes sense,” I said and thought of Andrew, who had been months away from retiring but never got the chance. “Good for you. I think we all reach a certain age where we should be able to do what we want.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said as he balled up the wax paper from his sandwich. “Well, thank you for sharing lunch with me, but time for me to get back to work.”

“Me too,” I said, standing up, but I was surprised to find that I really could have kept sitting much longer just talking to him.

Chloe returned from lunch and I headed to the post office. In my box was a manila envelope from Mail Boxes in Gainesville. I decided to wait till I got back to the yarn shop to open it, mostly because I was beginning to feel nervous about what I'd find inside. Then again, if Andrew had given my cell number as an emergency backup, whatever it was couldn't be too damaging, could it?

I walked in to find Chloe surrounded by customers all trying to get her attention. She shot me a look that said
help
. I threw the mail on the desk and went over to assist a group of women. More women filtered in over the next couple of hours and more sales were done.

“Wow,” I said, glancing at my watch, surprised to see it was going on four. “That was a busy afternoon.”

Chloe nodded as she went to wash out the coffeepot. “Certainly was. Is there a group or something in town?”

“Not that I'm aware of, but could be.” We often had various boating groups or organizations coming to the island for the weekend. “Hey, you came in early this morning. Go home. I'll stay till four-thirty and close up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. Go.” I could still hear saws and various tools from the next room and wondered how long Worth intended to stay and work. I wouldn't be able to lock the shop till he was ready to leave.

Chloe replaced the coffeepot, got her knitting bag and purse, and said, “Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.”

That was when I was finally able to sit at the desk and open the manila envelope. I removed a business-size envelope and the first thing that caught my eye was the return address. Coburn, Draper & Marshall. Commonwealth Avenue in Boston. It appeared to be an attorney's office.

I reached for the letter opener on the desk and carefully slit open the envelope. Unfolding the white paper, I began to read.

Not able to comprehend what I'd just read, I reread the letter and felt even more confused. My gaze flew to the top, where it was dated May 15—five months ago. What the hell! What the hell
was
this?
Who
were Bianca and Fiona Caldwell? I'd never heard those names in my life. Surely this was some sort of mistake. Surely it was meant for another Mr. Kane.

With shaking hands I dialed the Boston number and asked for Mr. Coburn.

“I'm terribly sorry,” a thickly Boston-accented voice said. “Mr. Coburn will not be back in the office until next Wednesday. May somebody else help you?”

“No,” I mumbled. “Thank you.” I hung up the phone as I sat there numbly staring at the papers in my hand.

“Everything okay?”

I heard Worth's voice and jumped.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

“No . . . no, it's okay. I'm okay. It's okay. Really.” I knew I was talking ragtime and couldn't help it. All of a sudden I felt like I had no control over anything. Not even my voice.

I felt Worth's hand on my shoulder, and that was all it took. One small gesture of kindness and I began sobbing. I utterly and completely broke down as he stood there helplessly trying to soothe me with words.

After a few minutes I began to get control of myself, hiccupped, and reached for a tissue to blow my nose. I shook my head back and forth, swallowed, and said, “I'm sorry. I've just received some rather shocking and upsetting news. I feel like a fool.”

“No, no. Don't be silly,” he said and placed his hand on my shoulder again, but this time it didn't bring forth a torrent of tears. It felt comforting.

“Thank you.”

“Tell you what. I'm finished for the day and I'd say you are too. How about you join me over at the Black Dog for a drink. I think you could use one.”

“Oh, no. I couldn't. My mother is expecting me,” I said and realized I sounded like some silly teenager with a curfew.

“Under the circumstances, I'm sure she won't mind. Give her a call to let her know you'll be late.”

And I did.

W
e were seated at an outside table on the deck of the Black Dog, a glass of wine in front of each of us, and I let out a deep sigh.

“Feel like talking about it?” Worth asked.

I took a sip of my cabernet. “I'm not even sure where to begin.”

He nodded and remained silent as I gazed out over the water. I had grown up on this area of the Gulf, fishing, boating, being a kid, then a teenager. Yet all of a sudden it looked foreign to me. After reading the letter from the law firm in Boston, I felt like everything I thought I had known about my married life was a fraud. As much as I wanted to deny it, I was pretty certain there was no mistake that the letter had indeed been intended for Andrew, but I had no idea what the contents were about.

I took another sip of wine, reached into my handbag, removed the letter, and passed it to Worth. “Read it,” I said.

He put on reading glasses, read the paper, raised his eyebrows, and put the letter down. “Do you know who these women are or what this is about? How did you get a letter like this that was sent to your husband?”

I proceeded to tell him about being contacted by Mail Boxes and how the letter had been forwarded to me.

“And, no, I have no idea who these people are. I've never heard these names in my life.”

Now it was his turn to let out a deep sigh. “And how much money are we talking? What did the bank statement say?”

It was then that I realized I hadn't even bothered to look at that. I reached in my bag and removed the statement. I felt my eyes widen. Fifty thousand dollars. Wordlessly, I passed it to Worth and heard him whistle.

“Yeah, that's a significant amount. I thought maybe it would be a small sum. Have you contacted this attorney?”

“Fifty thousand dollars that I knew
nothing
about, and yes, I called him as soon as I read the letter this afternoon. He's out of the office till next Wednesday.” A wave of nausea shot through me. Whatever this was about, I knew it wasn't going to be good.

“Well,” Worth said, and I looked up to see concern on his face. “I think at this point we can assume a few things. It's apparent that your husband made specific instructions, and one of those was the fact that if something happened to this Bianca Caldwell, the balance of the account was to go to Fiona Caldwell. Are they relatives? Nieces or maybe cousins?”

I shook my head and took another sip of wine. How is it that when the bad things in life happen, when we look back in retrospect, many times we realize our gut feelings were usually correct? And I had a gut feeling now.

“No,” I said. “No nieces. No cousins.” I could feel moisture burning my eyes and reached into my bag for a tissue. “But maybe a lover and a daughter.”

“You knew your husband,” Worth said softly. “Do you think that's possible?”

I let out an angry chuckle. “I'm beginning to think I didn't know him at all . . . and anything in life is possible.”

“I'm sorry,” he said and reached out to pat my hand. “I'm sorry you have to go through this.”

The words were kind, but what I noticed most was that they sounded very sincere.

“Thanks. Somehow I just have to get through the next five days, which won't be easy. I want answers now.”

“That's natural. Another glass of wine?”

“I think I will. I told my mother not to wait dinner for me.”

After the waitress brought the wine, I found myself telling Worth about how Andrew and I met and surprised myself because I normally didn't open up to somebody I'd known for only a few days. But it felt right.

“So you met at UF in Gainesville,” he said. “Majoring in the same program?”

“No. I was English lit and Andrew was a science major, but we didn't meet as students. We were both on the faculty teaching there. I was already twenty-seven, dating different guys but nothing serious. Actually, the first few months after we met, it was a platonic relationship. We were just friends, and then he asked me out. After that we began to get serious. We got engaged a year later and married two years after that.”

“So you weren't a kid.”

“No, I was thirty when we got married. We both had our positions at the university, so we bought the house in Gainesville. We were married two years when I had Jason, and then John two years later. So I gave up my teaching position.” I didn't mention the fact that Andrew wouldn't even consider me working part-time. He wanted me home, raising the boys and being a professor's wife.

“Oh, I thought you said the other day you were a retired English professor.”

“Right. When the boys were in high school, I did return to teaching,” I said, recalling the problems it created with Andrew. “I'd probably still be there, but the university began downsizing a few years ago. I figured I could keep busy for a year, because Andrew was supposed to retire this past summer and we had plans to travel.”

“That's a shame that didn't work out,” Worth said.

I nodded. “I guess so. We were still disagreeing on the travel when Andrew died. He wanted to get a motor home and drive cross-country. I wanted to return to Paris and then take time to travel throughout France. But none of it was meant to be.”

I took the last sip of wine and looked at my watch. “Oh, my God. I can't believe it's seven-thirty. I really have to get going.” How had the time flown so fast just sitting there talking to him?

“Could I interest you in joining me someplace for dinner?”

I had to catch myself before saying yes. “Gosh, I'd love to, but I really should get home. Oh, by the way, I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything about this letter to anybody. I'm still not even sure what it's all about, and, well, you know . . . in a small town news travels fast.”

Worth stood up and placed some bills on the table. “You don't need to worry. Your information is safe with me.”

“Thanks,” I said, heading toward the stairs. When we got on the sidewalk, I said, “Thanks for listening.”

I walked toward my car and realized that while I was feeling far from great, maybe there was a possibility that I'd be able to get through whatever was ahead for me.

 

I walked into the house and found my mother in the family room knitting and watching TV.

“Did you and Chloe go out for dinner?” she asked.

“Actually, no,” I said, then paused. I wasn't sure how she'd react to where I'd been. “Worth invited me to the Black Dog for a glass of wine.”

She looked up at me with surprise on her face. “Oh, that's really nice. Did you have a good time? He seems like such a nice fellow.”

I smiled. Leave it to my mother. Never one to judge anybody.

“You don't think it's too soon?”

Now her expression looked confused. “You mean since Andrew passed away? You only went for a glass of wine in public, Marin. Nothing wrong with that.”

She was right. I realized I was hungry. “Any leftovers?”

“Yes, just heat the tuna casserole in the microwave, and there's salad in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” I said and headed to the kitchen.

I poured myself a glass of sweet tea while I waited for the casserole to heat. I had made the decision on the drive home to not tell my mother about the letter. I still wasn't sure what it was all about, and quite honestly, I didn't feel like discussing it with anybody yet. Except for Worth.

I set up a TV table in front of the sofa and sat down to eat.

“Oh, Saxton called me earlier,” my mother said. “Victoria called him today. She's planning a memorial for Maybelle sometime next month, before Thanksgiving. He'll keep us posted with the information.”

“That's good. How're you doing?”

“I'm okay. When you get to be my age, I think you become more accepting of the fact that each year you're going to lose more friends.”

After I finished eating, I put my dishes in the dishwasher, got into my nightgown, and settled on the sofa with a cup of herbal tea and my knitting.

My mother retired to bed at ten, but I sat up knitting and thinking.