Butterfly Cove (11 page)

But he couldn’t afford to be irresponsible or take advantage of the passion she had not been able to hide.

“Sorry to hear that. But this is a small force. If somebody gets sick, it puts a strain on the whole department.” She reached for a paper bag, then took out a box of aluminum foil. “This should get you started. Chocolate cake. Leftover lasagna. I’ll put a hot double cappuccino in a thermos. Looks as if it might rain again tonight. I figure this should help.”

Rafe frowned. “Hell, Jilly, I don’t want to eat up all your leftovers. Why don’t you keep them for Walker?”

“Walker will be fed just fine, pal. Take the food and shut up. Now get going. Go drink some coffee and then protect and defend. We’re all glad to have you back here on Summer Island. I know it’s a little awkward for you. I also know that there are people with long memories who may not be too welcoming. But give them time. You could make a good life for yourself here, Rafe.”

Then Jilly shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Who am I to be giving advice? I’ve been the biggest screwup on Summer Island for years. So forget what I just said. You can make your own decisions just fine.” She frowned, glancing toward the stairs. “By the way, did you see Livie? Or is she still asleep?”

Rafe picked up his coat. “Nope, didn’t see her. She’s probably still resting.” The lie came too easily. But at one time Rafe had been a very good liar. “Thanks again for the food, Jilly. It was a good day.” He frowned and looked back at her. “I’m going to be pretty busy over the next month. I’ve got two training sessions in Portland, and I’ll be working double shifts for a while. I think—well, I won’t be around very much. I’ll call you if I get some time off. Then I could help Walker finish his work. But it won’t be for a few weeks. Tell him...I’m sorry about that.”

Jilly crossed her arms slowly. “This seems a little hasty. Is everything okay?”

“Just fine. The new duty schedule was changed, that’s all. I don’t want to make promises and have you counting on me,” he said quietly.

The words seemed to hang.

Rafe felt the weight of them—and the shame. When he was younger, he had made promises. People had counted on him, and he’d let them down.

He was never going back to that way of life.

CHAPTER NINE

A
S THE DAYS
passed, Olivia’s enforced rest felt like torture. She found distraction in her pattern sketches and the task of helping Jilly to catalogue the last of the yarn shipments for the new shop. But anything strenuous was still impossible.

Her one bright light in the day was the afternoon Harvest Fair, one of the most popular events on the island. In addition to a chili cook-off, there were contests for home-brewed cider and molded-gelatin desserts, along with a pie-eating contest (all entries made using local apples, of course).

Olivia was scheduled to judge the wildly popular book-costume contest. All costume entries had to be based on children’s books that had won either the prestigious Newbery or Caldecott medals. Olivia was to choose a winning costume based on originality, design and authenticity to the original book.

Olivia thought that Jilly seemed distracted as they drove back to her house before the fair. When they pulled up to the front door, Olivia frowned to see a dozen boxes and containers stacked on the porch.

“I haven’t ordered anything.” Olivia carefully walked up the front steps and stared at the plastic containers. Each one held food—chocolate cupcakes, handmade bread and walnut scones. Each container was marked with a different label and different handwriting.

Olivia didn’t move, feeling a lump press at her throat. She realized that this was a way of saying thank you, offered by people whose lives had been affected by her moment of courage in the storm. They had responded by dropping off what they could share to show their thanks.

She picked up a loaf of bread wrapped in cellophane and tied with red ribbons. There were no names on any of the containers. All she found were simple, handwritten notes of thanks for the thing that she had done.

Jilly stood beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad they did this, Livie. They owe you. We all do. Don’t ever downplay how much courage that took.”

Olivia forced a crooked smile. “It was mostly desperation. But this is way more food than I can eat. Why don’t you and Walker take the cupcakes? You can share them with Grace. She and Noah are supposed to be back tonight from San Francisco, aren’t they?”

“It will probably be very late. Grace emailed me that she wanted to see you as soon as she could. I’d hoped they would be back for the Harvest Fair, but they won’t be.”

When Olivia pushed open the heavy wooden door, the house felt cold and unwelcoming. This house had never really felt like a home. Growing up, she had spent as many hours as she could at Caro’s house or with Jilly. On the weekends the group had spent time with Grace, working at her grandfather’s animal clinic. By silent agreement, the friends had never gone to her house. It had never been comfortable.

Her father had seen to that.

But Sawyer Sullivan was dead and there would be no way to find out what had made him so cold and judgmental to his only child. Maybe it was the desertion of his wife while Olivia had been so young—or maybe some other disappointment she would never know.

Right now the only thing she needed to focus on was healing her own life.

She walked slowly through the silent house, her heels tapping on the expensive wooden floor. Jilly followed her, piling the boxes in the kitchen.

“I’ll take half of the cupcakes for Walker. The man does love chocolate. I’ll take half the loaf of bread, if you want. In exchange, you have to come over for breakfast for the rest of the week. It’s that or no deal.”

“You always drive a hard bargain. Fine, it’s a deal. But let’s sort this out fast. I don’t want to be late for the judging.”

Once all the food cartons had been split between them, Olivia ran a hand through her hair. “Thanks again for everything, Jilly. I really do appreciate—”

They both jumped at a sharp beep. Frowning, Olivia dug out her cell phone. “Voice mail? The phone didn’t even ring. All my calls have been going right through to voice mail lately.” Olivia frowned at the number. “It’s my father’s lawyer.”

Olivia listened to the message twice. The lawyer needed to speak to her as soon as possible in connection with her father’s estate. Judging by his voice, the news was not going to be good. Olivia listened to the terse message one more time, wishing he had left her more information.

“Don’t brood. It’s a waste of time. Call him right now and find out what it is. If you need to go see him, I’ll drive you over there,” Jilly said flatly.

Olivia forced a smile. “He probably just needs more signatures. I’ve had to sign at least twenty documents already.”

When Olivia called the lawyer back, she didn’t beat around the bush. “I got your message, Harrison. What have you found out?”

“I’m afraid my news is not very good, Olivia. We haven’t found any other accounts in your father’s name.”

“None? You went through all my father’s banking records and his business papers?”

“We did, and everything that you wrote down is accounted for. As I understand it, there were two savings accounts set up for you as a legacy from your grandmother. There was also a bequest and items of a sentimental nature from your grandmother that were left for you in an additional safe-deposit box.” He cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. “So far we have not found any of those accounts.”

“My grandmother’s legacy is gone, too?” Olivia swallowed hard. She had hoped to use her grandmother’s bequest to meet her expenses until she found a job. How did you manage to make fifty thousand dollars disappear?

“Isn’t there some way to track those things? Don’t banks keep a list of depositors? I thought that was a security requirement after 9/11?”

“In the case of very large cash deposits, yes. But not in the matter of safe-deposit boxes. The contents are not examined or recorded by the bank. Privacy is respected.” Harrison Monroe cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’ve done everything I can. Of course, you might consider other measures. Possibly you can check your father’s personal letters. If that is unsuccessful, I would suggest you hire a private investigator.”

“To find what? My father wasn’t a criminal. He was the mayor for two terms. His real estate business was in solid shape and he paid all his bills on time. What would an investigator do to help me?”

“An investigator might find details of accounts that we cannot trace. He might locate the transfer and/or sale of any items that are missing. He might determine business partners that your father never mentioned or other people who had access to your father’s account. As I understand it, your father was fairly disorganized at the end of his life. His records appear to be incomplete.”

Disorganized?
Olivia knew now that her father had been in the early stages of dementia. He had good days that could fool her and all his friends, but in the end his decline had come with shocking speed. If only he had asked Olivia for help...

But of course that was out of the question. Sawyer Sullivan would
never
stoop to ask for help from his daughter.

Olivia refocused her thoughts with an effort. “So how much money is left?”

The lawyer cleared his throat again. “There is one account. Its balance is thirty-four dollars.”

“That’s
all?
Everything else is...gone?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“This won’t even pay your own bill.” Olivia felt angry. Even worse, she felt helpless. “Thank you for your help. I will pay your bill in installments, if that is acceptable. As you know, my finances are very thin right now,” she said stiffly.

“I’m certain we can work out a delayed-payment plan. I’ll have someone from our accounting department call you.”

Olivia’s face reddened. She hated to be in anyone’s debt. Growing up, she had always known her father was highly respected, a key figure in Summer Island’s hierarchy. No important decision was made on Summer Island without his participation.

How had he left her this kind of financial disaster?

She hung up and then said nothing, crossing to pour herself a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, she drank it slowly.

“You look white, Livie. What is it?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.” But the words came as a rush, too fast and too flat. Olivia looked through the window, watching the flow of cars and bikes and kids and families headed to the Harvest Fair.

In the distance she could see blue cruisers pull into the police station and wondered if Rafe was driving one of them.

“Now try telling me the truth,” Jilly said quietly.

“Okay. You may as well know. I didn’t get a vacation—I was fired.” Tears backed up, burning her eyes. “And now I find my father took all his money and most of mine, but we can’t find any of the accounts. So I’m broke.” Olivia closed her eyes, fighting her embarrassment and anger, but somehow relieved to share the truth with her friend. “Everything is gone. All except for thirty-four dollars.”

Jilly just stared at her in shock. “That’s all?”

“Afraid so. Aren’t you going to tell me it was my bad management or my decadent lifestyle?” Olivia gave a hoarse laugh. “I guess it was all those trips I made to Ibiza and Monte Carlo and that month I spent in Paris.”

Except Olivia had done none of those things. She had never taken a break beyond a long-dreamed of trip to Italy. Beyond that, her life had been pure work. Architecture school. Internship and then two high-pressure jobs in Oregon. She had loved architecture—right up to the day she had been fired without preamble or explanation.

She didn’t regret the long years of graduate study and the internships, but she hated that she couldn’t pull her weight now, when the Harbor House was so close to opening.

“Livie, I don’t understand. We all assumed that you and your father were in good financial shape. I mean, this house has to be worth a lot. And he always had great cars. Everything new for Sawyer Sullivan.”

Olivia gave a grim laugh. “Yes, he always loved a grand lifestyle. And the house should be worth a good amount. But my father didn’t keep up with the repairs. I didn’t realize until the end how confused he had become. He took money out of one account and put it in another account. He had at least a dozen different bank accounts, and he didn’t keep good records. The lawyer and I have been going through his papers, trying to figure things out, but it doesn’t look good.”

“When you said thirty-four dollars, you meant that he spent all his money?
Yours, too?
” Jilly blurted out.

“It looks that way.” Olivia rubbed her neck as pain radiated along her shoulder. “If I had known he was so confused and that things were in such chaos, I would have demanded answers from him. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. He hid everything from me. He was always good at that.” Olivia looked out the window at the gray line of the sea, where white breakers hammered against the cove.

“We’ll help you. You know that,” Jilly said fiercely.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll manage. First off, I’m going to fix the house up and sell it. It’s way too big for me anyway.”

Jilly studied the big ornate staircase that climbed in a dramatic spiral up two flights. “I always liked this house. It was always so perfect, so well organized and clean. Even the floors gleamed like mirrors. Growing up, I told myself I’d have a house like this of my own one day.” Jilly gave an embarrassed laugh. “Surprised?”

“Trust me, the
last
thing you want is a house like this. It’s a terrible money drain.” There was no point in telling Jilly that a place like this was also filled with loneliness. Too pristine ever to be comfortable. “But,” she continued slowly, “if you like it so much, you and Walker should buy it,” Olivia said firmly. “I’m putting it up for sale next week.”

Jilly stared at her in shock. “You’re really going through with this?”

“Absolutely. The real truth is, I
hate
this house. It’s about time that I started making some changes, and I may as well start right here. A place this size should go to someone who will use every room and fill the whole house with children.” This was something that Olivia never meant to do. “Until I’m solvent again, I need to be very careful about my expenses, Jilly. That means I can’t pull my weight at the Harbor House. I only wish—”