The Things We Knew (3 page)

L
ynette pressed her back against the leather chair and tried to gauge the thoughts of the man seated on the other side of the wide mahogany desk. She'd debated coming here to see Nick at the bank. Surely Nick could help, at least advise her on what to do next.

Because she was all out of answers.

“So, Lynette.” Nick sat forward, elbows propped, long fingers intertwined beneath his chin. “Good to see you again. How's your dad?”

“He's all right.” Her cheeks began to prickle and she prayed he wouldn't dwell on the matter. Dad was nowhere near all right, but she didn't know how to explain that. And her father's health issues were not what she'd come here to discuss.

“He seemed a little . . . off that night.”

“That's one way of putting it.” She blew out a breath and shrugged. “You know he's always been a bit eccentric. He's fine, really.”

“Okay.” Nick's expression said he wasn't buying it, but he glanced down at a pile of papers, pushed them aside, then looked back at her. “I have to admit, I was a bit surprised to get your call. What can I do for you?”

Oh, nothing, just give me a million dollars.
“Well, I was hoping for some advice.” She tried to look confident. “Um. Financial advice. I think I might need to talk about a loan.”

“Then you're in the right place.” Nick's warm smile didn't put her at ease as much as it should have. He tapped a pencil against the folders in front of him. “I took a look at your files when I heard you were coming in.” His knitted brows said their finances were in worse shape than she'd thought. “You have . . . let's see, a savings account in your name and a checking account in . . . oh . . . yours, your brother David, and Liz's names, correct?”

“Yeah. They usually deal with all this.” She'd tried to reach Liz on the phone last night after David didn't pick up, but the call went straight to voice mail. Her two eldest siblings seemed to be MIA of late, and she couldn't wait any longer.

“And you had your father's signing privileges revoked on all accounts a couple of years ago. Why was that?”

Here we go again. “Because he was spending money unwisely.” Lynette shifted, and the leather squeaked under her. “I don't think there's a whole lot left in the account, is there?”

Nick tipped his head and studied her through the startling blue eyes that had earned him a constant following of giggling girls in high school and college. “It does seem to be dwindling.”

Lately, Lynette was shelling out more money than she was earning, and that terrified her. She curled her fingers around the seat bottom of her chair. “We had some unexpected expenses with the house last year.” The big storm had knocked over a large oak in the backyard, clipped the roof of the back porch, and narrowly missed the rest of the house. She'd needed to hire a crew to fix the roof and remove the tree. “And with my dad not being . . . quite himself . . . there's health care down the road.” A lump formed in her throat. This was harder than she'd anticipated.

Nick cleared his throat and looked like whatever he'd eaten for lunch had come back to bite him. He loosened his tie. “So your father's pension is your only source of income? Do you have a job?”

She crossed her legs, the white cotton skirt sticking to them.
The green silk blouse she rarely wore felt like a straitjacket. “I'm an assistant at a day care. The salary's not much. Covers groceries and gas, that's about it.”

“And I gather your dad isn't working?”

“He hasn't sold any paintings recently.” She didn't expound on what
recently
might mean.

Nick nodded, still wearing that serious expression. “I have to say there would be concerns with giving you a loan. How would you pay it back?” His mouth formed a thin line and he tapped his little finger against the back of his other hand.

Despite the cool air blowing through the vent above her, the elegant office with its potted palms and dark blinds was stifling. “I don't know.” She'd suspected this was how the conversation would go, but hadn't prepared as well as she should have.

Nick shuffled through the papers on his desk. “So, you're working at . . . which day care?”

“Kiddie Kare. Over on Hinsdale. I've been there a couple years.” But if she kept taking time off to deal with Dad, she might not be much longer. Joanne had called her in for a meeting, worried. Her boss was wonderful and caring, but she could only put up with so much.

Nick tapped at his keyboard. “The cost of upkeep on a house the size of Wyldewood is significant. How have you been managing?” His smooth brow wrinkled to match his cautionary tone.

The room lost a little more air.

It was a valid question, but she didn't need the reminder of the dire straits they were in. “We've closed up most of the bedrooms. We only use a few rooms in winter. We get by.” Lynette didn't want to admit the truth. The old house was drafty, frigid in the colder months, and firewood wasn't cheap. The radiators worked when they wanted to, not often. With the price of oil today, she welcomed summer's approach.

“Who looks after your father when you're at work?”

“He doesn't need looking after.” Lynette clamped her mouth shut and looked away.

Of course he did; any idiot would know that within minutes of meeting him. She faced Nick again and saw reality in his eyes. “I mean . . . he's okay most days. When he's having a bad patch, I call Mrs. Wilkinson down the road. She's pretty good about coming over and never takes any money.”

Nick studied the files again. “David is the executor of your mother's estate, correct?”

“Doesn't it say that in there?” Lynette remembered the last real conversation she'd had with Nick Cooper and it hadn't been this difficult.

He sighed as though he was thinking the same thing. “Look, I'm sorry, but I'm just . . .”

Lynette nodded. “Trying to do your job. I know.”

He lifted his chin. “And if we agree to a loan and you can't make the payments?”

She traced the floral pattern on her skirt and watched a shadow skip across the floor. “You're the banker, Nick. You tell me.”

Nick drew his lips together. “You might qualify for a
Chapter Thirteen
. I can get you the name of a bankruptcy lawyer.”

Bankruptcy.
The word choked her, made her want to spit it back at him. “My father would never declare bankruptcy.” Why had she said that? Dad wasn't in any shape to understand much of anything these days. And it wasn't up to him anymore.

“Have you and the family thought about selling the house?”

“Selling?” The question jolted her. It shouldn't have. In her darkest moments, the option loomed foremost in her mind, much as she loathed the idea. Liz had suggested it last year, but Lynette had shut her sister down.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he raised an eyebrow. “It is something you should seriously consider. You don't have a
mortgage, but without substantial income—an old house that size—I don't see how you can live there much longer.” He shook his head, his expression softening again. “I'm sorry.”

Lynette pushed her sandaled feet against the fine Persian rug, pushed against his words. She inhaled and forced her eyes back to his. “The last few years have been difficult. I didn't think we'd get to this point.”

He frowned and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. “Sooner or later the money runs out.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. Drake Carlisle's gambling habits and penchant for alcohol were no secret. Shame she'd lived with since she was twelve years old snaked around her, tightened its hold, and tried to squeeze the air from her lungs. “It's true my father incurred some rather large debts a few years back. We were able to pay those off.” Just. And without that money to fall back on . . . Nick was right. How could they keep the house?

“Lynette, I need to ask . . . Does your dad still have those problems?”

“No. He got help. He's changed.”

A smile inched up the corners of his mouth. “I believe you.”

“Really?”

Dad hadn't touched a drop, hadn't been near the casinos on the mainland since she'd come home from college at the end of her freshman year, and with David and Liz's help, checked him into rehab. And that cost more money. But it had been worth it. He'd been doing so well until the spells started, even coming to church on occasion.

“Does he have any idea how bad things are?” Nick asked.

“No.” She fiddled with the strap of her purse and studied him. “You really think selling is our only option?”

Nick placed his palms down on the desk. “The market is picking up. I doubt you'll get an offer right away, but you could always
list it, see what happens. Like I said, without a steady source of income greater than what you're making, I'm not sure how you're going to manage.”

Sudden tears stung and she blinked them back. “I can't imagine not having Wyldewood, Nick.”

“I know.” His eyes filled with concern as he leaned back in his chair. “How do you think the others would feel?”

“They'd probably jump at the idea.” Lynette pressed two fingers against her forehead and tried to think. “My mother's will states that all decisions about the house have to be unanimous. So if I don't want to sell . . .” She wound her thumbs together. They had never all agreed on anything.

“Lynette, you're going to have to be reasonable.” Nick moved across the office, poured water from a carafe at the bar, and offered her a tall glass. “Selling is a viable option.”

She took a few sips and put the glass on the floor beside her chair. “I don't have to like it.”

“No, but I'm afraid you do have to consider it.” He sat again and took a long gulp from his own glass. “Wyldewood is one of the most beautiful estates on Nantucket. But everyone else has left. Why postpone the inevitable?”

“It's my mother's house. She'd hate this.”

“She would, but . . .” Nick sighed. “Lynnie, maybe it's time to let go. Look, I know how you feel—”

She sucked in a breath. “You have no idea how I feel.”

“Fair enough. I'm sorry.” That look of pity settled over him again.

“So you've said.”

A sudden chuckle lit his eyes. “I have to say I don't remember you being this stubborn.”

The somber mood lifted a little and made her feel better. “You've been away too long, Nick. I'm a Carlisle. Arguments heard clear across the island ring a bell?”

“Right.” His face cracked into the handsome smile she remembered. Actually, more handsome than she remembered, but she wouldn't go there.

“Well, we could have a problem,” Lynette went on while she still had the nerve. “My mother also stipulated that all discussions would have to take place here, in person, before any plans to sell Wyldewood could be finalized.”

“Seriously?” Another deep chuckle filled the room. “I always did like your mother.”

She managed a smile. “The feeling was mutual, Nicholas. She used to say you were her favorite stray.”

Nick stayed silent a minute. She missed those days, when he was just as much a part of the family as any of them.

“You don't think the others will come home?”

“Only if they have to.” And only if something was in it for them.

“Well, I can tell you this, if you do sell, you should end up with a handsome profit. I'd say your property, the size of the house, acreage and waterfront combined, is worth more than a few million, even in today's market.”

Lynette swatted at a fly. She should probably close her mouth before it flew right in. Millions? Sure, the house looked deceptively grand from the outside, but the place was falling down around them. The weight of the moment sat heavy on her shoulders. He was giving her the answers she'd come for, but now she wasn't so sure she wanted them.

Nick drummed his fingers on the desk. That smile came out again. “If I can be honest, this isn't exactly how I wanted our first real conversation in years to go.”

“Me either.” Lynette fiddled with the emerald solitaire on her right hand. Her mother's ring. Dad had given it to her on her nineteenth birthday, the last time she'd spent any time with Nick.

“Lynnie?”

She blinked, her cheeks growing warm too quickly. She reined in her vagrant thoughts. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Will you be all right talking to the others about this?”

“Sure.” Lynette watched him grow silent. “What, Nick?” He shrugged and she rolled her eyes. “You've got that look. Like you need to say something but don't know how. So, what?”

Nick coughed and drank more water. “Well, if you did decide to sell . . .” He sighed and set his gaze on her. “There is a hotel chain scouting a couple properties in the area. My father has had a few meetings with them. I just thought—”

“Absolutely not.” How could he even mention it? The very thought of the home she'd grown up in being bulldozed to the ground made her want to flee for the nearest bathroom.

“Keep it in mind.” Nick stood and walked around the desk. “You've got a lot to absorb, plans to make. But you will need to make a decision. Soon.”

She got to her feet, wanting to run, but manners kept her in place. “Thanks for seeing me, Nick. I appreciate your honesty.”

He placed a hand under her elbow as they walked toward the door. “I'm sorry things are so rough right now.”

And about to get a whole lot rougher. “We'll figure something out.” Lynette dragged her eyes upward.

“I'm glad you came in,” Nick said. “I wish I had better news for you.”

She gave an involuntary shiver. “Yes, me too.” She should leave, but his interested expression cemented her feet to the floor.