The Weekenders (32 page)

“Don't give me that,” Parrish said. “I saw the look on his face when he saw you, and I saw yours, too. You practically turned green. There's something going on between the two of you, isn't there?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Parrish pushed her plate away. “You can have the rest of those fries if you want.”

“Sweet!” Riley reached for the plate and Parrish grabbed her hand. “First tell me what happened. I know you, Riley Nolan.”

“It was nothing,” Riley insisted. “I mean, he wanted it to be something, but it's not.”

“Spill it,” Parrish said. “You owe me that after what I did for you back at the bank.”

Riley looked around the packed café. “God, I wish you could get a drink in here.”

“Quit stalling.”

“Okay, but it's not exactly earth-shattering stuff. I ran into Nate out at the Holtzclaw place yesterday.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I wanted to see for myself what Wendell was up to. After all, it was my inheritance he used to buy it. And when you see the place, especially from the water, it all makes sense. It's got a ton of waterfront access, at the deepest, widest part of Fiddler's Creek. It's the perfect spot to put that damned marina to go with the hotel Wendell was planning, which explains why he paid so much to buy the property. He didn't care about the house at all.”

“So, what? You rode around and just kinda checked it out?”

“I borrowed Mama's golf cart and went over, but Wendell must have put up a new gate, because it was padlocked tight.”

“Then how'd you get in?”

“Bolt cutters.”

“I wish you hadn't told me that,” Parrish said.

“Anyway, I rode down to the house and went inside.”

“You broke in? Jesus, Riley. You're on some kind of criminal streak, aren't you?”

“No. The back door was standing wide open. I think kids and vandals have been hanging out there. There was trash all over, and you could see where people had made fires. I was walking around, checking it out, taking pictures with my cell phone, and Nate walked in and scared the hell out of me.”

“What was he doing there?”

“He didn't want to tell me at first. He gave me some line about how he used to love to go fishing there as a kid, and he just happened to be riding around in his boat and decided to see the house for himself.”

“And then what?”

Riley shrugged. “He started telling me how beautiful I was and how talented, and he said he'd seen clips of my work from when I was an anchor. Then the next thing I knew, he was hitting on me.”

“Just like that.”

“He said some other stuff.”

“So what, he just jumped your bones right there?”

“Not exactly. He kissed me.”

“Did you kiss back?”

“I don't remember.”

“You are such a liar. How was he?”

“He's definitely improved with practice.”

“I knew it!” Parrish crowed.

“Hush!”

“What happened next?”

“Same old Nate Milas,” Riley said, wrinkling her nose. “One minute he was kissing me, the next minute he was heading for second base.”

“Well I certainly hope you let him have his way,” Parrish said.

“Really? You think I'm that big of a slut? I'd just drop to the floor and do the deed with some random guy in an abandoned house? In broad daylight?”

“Why not? He's single and so are you. He's rich and successful, and easy on the eyes, and you said yourself he's a good kisser.”

“Nate Milas is just another guy on the make,” Riley said flatly. “He finally admitted he'd gone out there because he wants to buy the Holtzclaw place. He even said he didn't blame Wendell for wanting to tear the place down, because that was the smart thing to do.”

Parrish studied her friend. “Riles, you know all that property is going to be auctioned off this week. Somebody is going to bid on it, and the reality is that that somebody is probably going to be a developer. Maybe they won't build a hotel and all that other stuff Wendell wanted to do, but it really is inevitable. Don't you think it would be a good thing if that buyer is Nate Milas? He's a local boy who made good. His family has been on the island almost as long as yours. He's not gonna want to foul his own nest.”

“No,” Riley said vehemently. “That's just the point. Mama always says there's nothing worse than new money. Nate is hot to prove to the world that he's not just Captain Joe's kid. He'll pave the roads, mow down the wildlife sanctuary next door, put in a marina, and God knows what else. It's the perfect spot for another ferry landing. Before you know it, Belle Isle will be like Myrtle Beach or Panama City Beach: pancake houses, golf courses, and high-rise condos. It'll be nothing like what my great-grandfather intended. The island you and I grew up on, the one I thought Maggy would grow up on, will be gone forever.”

“That is not going to happen on Belle Isle, and you know it,” Parrish said. She signaled the waitress for their check. “This is just you, panicking and throwing up roadblocks to your own happiness.”

“No, this is me trying to save my own life,” Riley retorted. “I've already let one man ruin it. I'll be damned if I'll give Nate Milas a second chance.”

 

37

Aunt Roo looked around at all the somber faces gathered at the big mahogany dining room table at the Shutters. Evelyn sat at the far end in her customary Chippendale chair, and Riley sat opposite her in the chair where Roo's brother, W.R., had presided. Billy sat across from Roo, and Parrish sat beside him.

“This better be something good,” she said, stirring the ice in her Manhattan. “I'm missing poker night.”

“Roo is right,” Evelyn said. “Dinner was very nice, so, Parrish, thank you for bringing that delicious lobster. But why all the urgency, Riley?”

“I'm thinking it's bad news,” Billy said. “Why else would we all be here on a Wednesday night?”

Riley looked desperately at Parrish. They'd settled on a game plan for this dreaded meeting, but Riley was already starting to chicken out.

“I realize I'm an outsider here tonight,” Parrish said finally, “but Riley asked me to come because she's got something really difficult to discuss with all of you.” She looked pointedly at Riley, who nodded.

“Okay, here goes,” Riley said. “You all know that Sand Dollar Lane has been foreclosed on, and is going to be auctioned off by the bank on Friday, along with all the other land Wendell bought for the north end development. And, well, the thing is, I can't bid on the house, because I'm broke. It turns out that Wendell not only took out a new mortgage on our house without telling me, but he also emptied my trust fund to buy some of that land.”

“Now, Riley,” Evelyn said, frowning.

“It's true, Evelyn,” Parrish said gently. “From what we can tell, Wendell went on a spending spree assembling all the land for the marina, hotel, and golf course he was planning. He closed down Riley's trust account at Wells Fargo, and used some of the money to buy the old Holtzclaw property on Fiddler's Creek. I've seen the bank records. Wendell really did take out a two-million-dollar mortgage on Sand Dollar Lane, then defaulted on it, which is how the foreclosure came about.”

“Two million dollars!” Roo exclaimed. “I didn't know the house was worth that much.”

“It's not,” Riley said. “He must have bribed some appraiser to give such a wildly bloated value. Daddy gave us the lot, but we only paid four hundred thousand dollars for the house when we built it.”

“Can't you go to the bank and tell them it was all a mistake? That Wendell had no right to take your money?” Roo asked.

“Afraid not, Aunt Roo,” Riley said. “The bank that made him all those loans actually went out of business when Wendell defaulted, and they've been taken over by a new bank. That bank, Baldwin Community Bank, is liquidating those bad loans and selling the whole portfolio at an auction in Southpoint the day after tomorrow. My house will be auctioned off then.”

“It's definite, then?” Evelyn asked, looking at Parrish.

“I'm afraid so.”

“Well, I'm sorry to speak ill of the dead, but I never trusted that husband of yours,” Roo told Riley. “He had shifty eyes.”

“Roo, for God's sake,” Evelyn said.

“Well, he did,” Roo insisted.

“The thing is,” Riley interrupted, “I don't know where else to turn. I've started to look at going back to work in Raleigh, in the fall, when Maggy's school starts. The new house will be ready by then. But in the meantime, I was wondering if maybe you all might be willing to loan me the money to help buy back Sand Dollar Lane.” She turned pleading eyes to her mother. “If it were up to me, I'd just let it go. But it's Maggy's home.”

She bit her lip. “The other night I went into her bedroom to check on her, and she was gone. I tried calling her cell phone, but she didn't answer. Just as I was getting ready to start calling her friends, I caught her sneaking back into the house. It turns out she's been riding her bike over to the house late at night, after we've all gone to bed, and crawling in through a window in the laundry room. Maggy admitted that she sleeps in our bed, because she said the pillow smells like Wendell. She misses him dreadfully, and that house, and its memories, are all she has left of him. You've been wonderful letting us stay here, Mama, but it's such an imposition.”

“Oh, Riley,” Evelyn started, then she burst into tears.

“Well for goodness' sakes,” Roo said.

Billy knelt by his mother's side, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Now, Mama,” he started, “I know you thought the world of Wendell, but you heard what Parrish said. It really is true. I think we have to find a way to help Riley, if we can.”

“That's just it,” Evelyn sobbed. “There's nothing I can do. I—I don't have any money either.” She buried her face in her napkin. “I've been such a silly old woman.”

“Mama?” Riley rushed over. “Please don't cry. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I'm so stupid,” Evelyn insisted. “I've ruined everything. Everything your daddy and granddaddy worked for.” She lifted her head and looked around at her family.

“He told me it was a sure thing. That I would get my money back, with interest, and nobody would have to know. And, like the old fool I am, I believed him.”

“Who, Mama? Who told you that?” Billy asked, patting her hand.

But Riley knew, of course.

“It was Wendell, wasn't it?”

Evelyn nodded, too overcome for a moment to speak.

Parrish got up and silently fetched the bottle of wine she'd brought from the kitchen, refilling all the empty glasses at the table.

*   *   *

When she'd downed a glass of Parrish's Silver Oak cabernet, and after she'd gone upstairs to repair her makeup, Evelyn sat back down at the head of the table.

“Wendell came to me, last fall, and said he had finally managed to talk the Holtzclaw boy into selling him their house and land. It was something my daddy, and then W.R., had been working on for as long as I can remember. Miss Josie strung W.R. along for years, but she never would sell. And after she died, one son wanted to sell, but the other boy didn't. Then the son who was the holdout died of a heart attack. I don't know how Wendell did it, but he finally got that Holtzclaw boy to agree to sell. But he wanted an awful price! Fifteen million! Wendell said this was the chance of a lifetime. But the bank would only give him so much, and he was still short. He said another buyer was waiting in the wings, and if he didn't come up with the money, we would lose out, and some other developer would swoop in and get that land.”

Evelyn looked around the table. “Belle Isle Enterprises has always been the majority property owner on this island. When W.R. married me, my daddy made him promise he'd never let the island get taken over by an outsider.” She shook her head. “I thought of Wendell like my own son. He came from such a nice family. I can't understand what happened to him.”

“How much money did you give him, Mama?” Riley asked.

“Not as much as he wanted,” Evelyn said. “He told me he needed another five million, which was preposterous! I went to my stockbroker, and asked him to sell some of my stocks, but he said the market was down and it was a terrible time to sell. So, then, Wendell had another idea. He said I should take out a mortgage on Shutters.”

“If you did that, you really are an old fool,” Roo said, draining her wineglass and sliding it across the table to Parrish for a refill.

Riley's stomach twisted, knowing what would come next.

“Wendell said I should take out a balloon note. I'd never heard of such a thing. So I went to the manager at Wells Fargo, and he explained it. The bank would lend me three million dollars, and I would pay the interest only on that amount, for three years, but then, at the end of that time, the balance of the mortgage would be due.”

Evelyn took a deep breath. “Wendell showed me the plans for the marina and the condominiums and the new subdivision. The lots on the creek would sell for nearly a million apiece, and he said he already had commitments from three buyers. He promised I'd have my money back in a year—with interest. And, in the meantime, he'd help me pay the monthly interest on the loan.”

“You really did it? You mortgaged Shutters?” Billy asked, looking queasy.

She nodded. “For the first three months, Wendell did what he said. But then in April, he said he couldn't come up with the money, because he'd had some kind of a shortfall, due to expenses. He promised to make it up the next month, but May first came and went, and he didn't send my check. And then, well, you know. He was dead.”

“What did you do?” Riley asked. “How did you pay?”