The Summer House (39 page)

“Daniel must have had a good reason,” said Liz, the good sister, the trusting sister.

“He was trying to please Father. Which I guess for him was enough. But all these years, Lizzie, I blamed Father …” Her thoughts, her words trailed off into the air.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liz asked.

BeBe shook her head. “I didn’t want to upset you. What a moron I was.”

Liz smiled. “Come on, moron. How about buying me a cup of coffee? And maybe, between us, we can figure out a way to get Michael to change his mind.”

Chapter 34

Hurricane Carol finally blew out to sea. The Chilmark Community Center emptied by late morning—its inhabitants scattered to their respective homes to assess the damage and begin the cleanup of everything from broken tree limbs to swollen streams that flooded basements, from shattered windows to caved-in roofs. Most would, however, return to the community center by nightfall; it could be days before power would be restored and their homes would be inhabitable again.

At twilight, Liz, Michael, BeBe, Roger, Evelyn (who was kept at a precarious arm’s length—orders from Keith, though Liz did not know why), and the Secret Service agents (one and all) came back to the center. Clay had insisted on staying behind at the house in case Danny made it back—so they left him with the Jeep and a warning to bring Danny immediately to the center if he, indeed, showed up.

Liz stood in the food line now and felt muscles ache from her shoulders to her ankles, but she was grateful. Although seven large trees had been uprooted on their property and one had landed on the back porch, severely
damaging it, they had been lucky: a few fallen trees was no great tragedy compared with what might have happened to Danny, what might have happened to all of them. It amazed her how life—and the forces of nature—had a way of putting things in perspective.

Behind Liz in the food line stood BeBe; behind BeBe was Keith. In fact, he’d stayed noticeably close to BeBe most of the day.

BeBe leaned in to Liz. “After this mess is over, Keith wants to take me out for dinner. What do you think of that?”

Michael had overheard. “I think I’d like to know if his intentions are honorable,” he said. “Because you deserve the best, BeBe. And don’t ever forget that.”

Liz smiled and took a cardboard cup of coffee. Then she reached for a bowl of chowder.

“Honey,” Michael said, “I’ll get that.” He took one bowl for himself and one bowl for her, though Father was not in the room and no cameras were around.

Honey
. It was only a word, yet with it came the reforming of a bond, the mending of a heart. They’d had no time to speak today, to hear one another over the symphony of chainsaws that worked at rebuilding their property. They had no time to talk, and yet, working side by side, they had spoken great volumes of what was important to each other, and what was not.

“I’m afraid our date will be on hold until the power’s back,” Keith said to BeBe. “Because only emergency flights are leaving today, and I intend to take you somewhere decent. Like London. Or Paris.”

“Paris?” BeBe asked. “I could do some business while we’re there. These people named Loudet are … well, were, interested in buying my business …”

“You’re going to sell your business?” Keith asked. “Why?”

BeBe picked up a napkin. “Good question,” she said. “Maybe I won’t.”

Just then the door banged open. The slam of wood reverberating against wood echoed through the hall. And then every motion, every sound, every breath among the crowd ceased as heads turned and eyes turned and the tableaux froze on Danny who sat there in his wheelchair.

“Danny!” Liz shrieked, dropping her cup on the table and starting toward him.

“Stop, Mom,” he said, holding up his hand. “Where is Aunt Evelyn?”

Liz stopped. Danny looked tired. Danny looked angry.

“I’m right here,” came Evelyn’s voice. She came out from the kitchen, her straw tote bag over one arm. “Nice to see you, Danny. Glad you made it back.”

“I’m sure you are,” Danny said. “I would have thought you’d be working for Josh Miller by now.”

Liz did not understand what Danny meant. She began to move toward him. “No, Mom,” he said firmly. “Stay right where you are. Evelyn is going to tell us what she did. She’d going to tell us how she tried to sabotage the election by going to Josh Miller. She’s going to tell us how she tried to frame Aunt BeBe over that man in Florida.”

Silence deadened the community center.

Then Evelyn moved forward. “Now Danny, dear,” she said, her voice not much more than a tiny tremble, “this is not the time or the place to air our family’s dirty laundry. Besides, anything I’ve done has been for the good of all of us.”

“Including murder?”

Liz heard the cry from BeBe’s mouth, but, thankfully, her sister did not move.

Evelyn paled. Her eyes flicked around the silent, stone-still crowd. “Danny, you don’t know what you’re saying.” She turned back to the crowd. “Poor boy, he
doesn’t know what he’s saying. He must have been traumatized out there, lost at sea.”

Liz held her breath. She noticed that Keith and Joe and Michael had jockeyed their positions without a word, without a sound. The three of them now flanked Evelyn, though she seemed not to notice. In the split second it took for Liz to wonder what would happen, Evelyn opened her tote bag and pulled out a gun.

A shiny, blue-silvery, hefty handgun.

Even after all these years, Liz recognized it immediately. It was the one Evelyn had given Daniel, the graduation gift that was now pointed at … Danny.

Liz screamed.

Danny ducked; Michael lunged forward and flung his body on top of the wheelchair, covering Danny. The trigger clicked. And the blast shook the timbers of the old community center. The gasps from the crowd were as loud and as the gunshot itself. And when Liz found the courage to pull her hand from her face, she turned just in time to see blood spurt from Evelyn’s temple, to watch her sister-in-law crumple to the floor, the gun still in her hand, still pointed at her own head.

Chapter 35

Liz had insisted on a proper funeral, though, thankfully, Roger chose to have it on the Vineyard, not in Boston, not in the Second Congregational Church with the traditional “reception” at the Beacon Hill townhouse.

For Roger’s sake—and only for Roger’s sake—BeBe agreed to attend.

So two days after Hurricane Carol departed and twenty-eight years after Daniel was killed, the Adams/Barton family gathered on the back porch of the summer house in Chilmark and said good-bye to Evelyn Carter-Adams, or at least to her ashes. The service was brief: they could not mourn long, because Michael had decided to go on with the campaign—Danny had talked him into it. But the polls didn’t lie: the gap was narrowing. Tomorrow they would be back on the road.

After the ceremony, BeBe said “No, thanks” to iced tea, and strolled across the lawn, down to the thicket where Daniel’s skunks had once been. Stooping, she peeked into the brush: there were no skunks today; maybe they were gone, too, like so many people, so many years.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said a voice behind her.

She stood up quickly, surprised to see Michael. “I was looking for Daniel’s skunks,” she said. “I guess they moved out.”

“Or they moved on,” Michael said with his presidential smile.

She grinned and wrapped her shawl around herself more closely, the early autumn chill creeping into the sunset. “I’m glad you’re going to fight this, Michael,” she said.

He shrugged. “They want me to,” he answered. “My family.” Last night Mags and Greg had arrived for Evelyn’s funeral. Liz and Michael told them the truth about Danny’s birth. There were no more secrets among those who mattered. Well, only one.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I’m your family, too.”

He put his arm around her and stared off to the pink- and peach-and navy blue-colored sky. “Thank you, BeBe.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For never saying anything all these years. For having the class to never mention what happened that night before graduation.”

She thought for a moment, then frowned. “What graduation?” she asked. “West Point?”

“Yes. Of course, West Point.”

She followed his gaze out to the horizon. She thought about the years that had passed. The years and the life she’d had, which hadn’t been so bad, not really. She thought about how unhappy she would have been tied to someone as stable as Michael, someone whose life was preplanned, ordained by children and commitment and responsibility, without deviation. She smiled, then shrugged. “I don’t remember much about that night,” she said. “I know there was a party. I know I had way too
much to drink.” They stood in silence, then she added, “I must have blacked out. Because I don’t remember anything else.”

Michael leaned down and kissed the top of her head, the pile of her still-orange hair. “Are you really going to Paris for dinner with Keith? Are you going to fall in love with a Secret Service agent?”

“Who knows? He’s nice. He was a friend of Daniel’s.” As if to herself, BeBe nodded. “There are worse choices I could make. Hell, there are worse choices I
have
made.”

“Well, he’s trustworthy. We know that much.”

“And he already has a kid, so I don’t have to worry about him wanting to start a family.”

Michael laughed, and rubbed her arm. “No matter what happens in the election, Beebs, I want you to know you are welcome to be as much of a part of our lives as you want. Always. Forever more. And there’s another thing I have to tell you. It’s about Father.”

As much as she hated it, she felt herself stiffen.

“When all was said and done,” Michael continued, “he didn’t think you were so bad, either. In his will, he left Liz the Beacon Hill house and some cash; he left Roger his investment portfolio. And to you, my dear sister-in-law, he left about half a million.”

“Dollars?” she asked.

“No. Clamshells. Of course, dollars. And something else, too.”

“What?”

“He left you this house.”

BeBe turned and looked back to the lawn, where her family was still gathered, where her family belonged. “He left me this house?”

“The one and only.”

She unwrapped her shawl around her, then wrapped it again. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said as tears came to her eyes.

It was after midnight before everyone had settled in for the night. Liz tried to sleep; she could not. Daniel was gone; Mother and Father were gone; Evelyn was gone. The summer house would be in BeBe’s hands now; this would be the last night when Liz would feel free, free to roam, free to … be free.

She waited until she was sure Michael was asleep, then tiptoed past the room the agents were using, out onto the porch and down to the lawn. Then she walked, slowly. There was no moon out tonight, but that did not matter. Liz knew the way. She had never forgotten.

She went to the cove. She stumbled along the undergrowth; she pushed aside the cattails, the sassafras, the Queen Anne’s lace. And then she was there.

Standing by the water, she listened to the night sounds: the high chirp of the peepers, the deep gulp of a bullfrog. She’d never heard a bullfrog there before; she took it as a sign that things had changed, that life continued.