The Lies that Bind, page 10
She nodded, her shoulders now hunched and a worried frown on her young face, and sprayed another window as I turned and walked to the boardwalk, thinking of everything I had just learned.
Josie Cole.
If she was staying in town, I planned to find her.
I headed home next, checking in with Bethany and Caroline and then hurrying upstairs, giving Winston, who was curled up on the couch, a quick belly rub and a potty break outside before opening up my computer. Winston was disappointed in the short outing and stood at the door, whining.
“We’ll go farther later, Buddy,” I said. I’d deal with him… and with Caroline, who still hadn’t tidied up… later.
First I did a search for Josie Cole, but couldn’t find anyone online with that name who resembled the woman I’d seen in Chad Carsten’s Instagram picture.
Then I switched to the Chamber of Commerce website for Snug Harbor and printed a list of hotels in the area, hoping she hadn’t decided to rent a cottage. I picked up the phone and called the first one, the Anchorage Motel, and asked to speak with Josie Cole.
“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name,” responded the desk clerk, so I thanked her and dialed the next on the list.
I had gone through ten of them and was beginning to feel like I was barking up the wrong tree when a young man at the Snug Harbor Inn said, “I’m sorry, but you just missed her; I saw her leaving a few minutes ago. Can I take a message?”
“No, thank you,” I said. “I’ll catch up with her later.” I hung up, gave Winston a treat, and looked up the Snug Harbor Inn. They had a restaurant, I was pleased to see. I called Nicholas.
“How would you like it if we had our dinner at the Snug Harbor Inn tonight?” I asked.
“Is there some kind of special occasion?”
“Well, time with you is always a special occasion,” I said, “but I thought we might plan our next outing over dinner… and maybe run into Charles Carsten’s ex-wife.”
“You mean the ex-wife of the guy who died? Why would we run into her there?”
“She’s staying at the inn,” I told him, recounting what I had learned from the deckhand of the Monkey Business that afternoon. “Her name is Josie Cole, and apparently she and Charles had a bit of a kerfuffle on the Monkey Business last week.”
“What’s the Monkey Business?”
“The Carstens’ yacht,” I said.
“How did you find that out?”
“I’m gregarious,” I said.
“I love your gregariousness. You always keep things interesting.”
I laughed. “You’re pretty wonderful, you know that?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure opposing counsel on the case I’m trying next week agrees with you, but thanks for the props.”
I laughed and hung up, feeling a little bit optimistic about things for the first time since Denise told me she was a suspect.
14
The Snug Harbor Inn was a gorgeous mansion nestled into a cove on the south side of Snug Harbor, a little bit away from the bustle of town. The house was white painted clapboard with a grand porch that extended all along the front, with baskets of red impatiens and dark green ivy and cozy-looking rocking chairs with plump cushions for guests to enjoy the view of the stunning Maine coast.
“Maybe we should get a room here some weekend,” Nicholas suggested as we pulled up in the gravel parking lot a little bit down the hill.
“That would be amazing,” I said.
“Maybe for your birthday. Unless you want to go further afield?”
“How could anyplace be more beautiful than this?” I asked as I got out of the car and smoothed down my dress.
I stopped for a moment to admire yet again the deep blue water, the pearly white of the breaking surf, and the brilliant, sunset-hued sky. A breeze kicked up as I stood there, bringing the faint scent of roses on the cool, salt-laden air, along with just a hint of balsam fir. It was clean and fresh and invigorating, and once again I thanked my lucky stars that I got to live here… and as Nicholas rounded the car and put his arm around me, giving me a squeeze, I added thanks again that I had met this handsome, kind, absolutely entrancing man. He gave me a gentle kiss on the lips and took in my made-up face and styled hair. “Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?”
I blushed; after twenty-plus years of a less-than-ideal marriage, I wasn’t used to compliments. “Thanks,” I replied, feeling a little like a teenager.
He gave me another tender kiss, then took my hand. “Shall we?”
“I’d love to,” I said, and together we walked up the steps and across the front porch to the door of the Snug Harbor Inn.
The lobby somehow managed to be both grand and cozy at the same time. A massive oak staircase was the centerpiece of the room, with ornate carving and a deep blue velvet carpet runner over the gleaming wood steps. Two cozy nooks with overstuffed chairs overlooked views of the front porch and the green, manicured lawn outside, and the front desk was just that: an old-fashioned desk that would have looked at home in a banker’s office, except for the addition of an exquisite bouquet of roses and larkspur in a crystal vase. Mounted on the wall behind the desk was a walnut board of about twenty old-fashioned keys on hooks. I wondered which one belonged to Josie Cole.
“We’re here for dinner,” I said.
“The restaurant is through there,” the young woman said in a pleasant voice, pointing to a pair of open double doors just to the left of the grand staircase. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Do we need one?” Nicholas asked.
“It’s usually advisable, but I think we’ve got some tables open tonight. The host should be able to seat you; he’s right through those doors.”
“Thanks,” Nicholas said, and with his hand on the small of my back, we walked from the hotel lobby into the restaurant.
The smell of fresh bread permeated the air, and several couples were seated at tables around the restaurant. White tablecloths, candles, and small vases of flowers decorated the tables, and the pleasant-faced young host led us to a table by a window, with a view of the now sunset-gilded water caressing the granite rocks of the cove behind the restaurant. He handed us heavy, leather-bound menus as I scanned the restaurant, looking for any sign of Josie.
“Is she here?” Nicholas asked me.
“If she is, I don’t recognize her,” I said. “I only know her from a photo. We may have to come up with some other plan.”
“Like getting a room?” he asked with a saucy wink. He reached across the table and enveloped my hand in his, and I felt my pulse pick up.
“I was thinking staking out the lobby, but that sounds a lot more fun,” I replied, surprised at the feelings welling up in me in the presence of my new beau. For a moment, I let the rest of my troubles melt away and focused on the handsome man across the table from me… the one who made me feel like I was the center of his universe.
He took my hand and guided it to his lips, planting a soft kiss, and then set it back down on the tablecloth, still folded in his. “Okay. What are you thinking for wine? I’m in the mood for seafood… maybe a nice Sancerre?”
I felt myself tighten; I didn’t have the money for nice wine right now, much less fancy seafood dinners. But we were here on my account. “Maybe just a glass,” I suggested.
“This is my treat,” he reiterated.
“Are you sure?” I asked, opening the menu and glancing down at the prices, which were a bit out of my current budget, to say the least.
“Like I said earlier, you’re building a business. When your empire is up and running, you can treat me.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling myself relax again. “I love Sancerre.”
“Excellent,” he said, squeezing my hand before releasing it and opening the menu. “That’s settled. Now… I’m thinking maybe scallops. And I know how much you love lobster… I’m thinking we should start with Clams Casino, though.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, my mouth already watering at the thought of baked clams on the half-shell, dotted with butter and bacon bits and all manner of good things. It was turning out to be a rather clam-heavy day for me… not to mention calories. Tomorrow would have to involve a lot more salad.
“So,” he said, once we’d placed our order. “Let’s talk about the next steps with our treasure hunt.”
“I feel like all we’re doing is finding places they used to use to store things,” I said. “I’m beginning to think there really isn’t any hidden treasure.”
“Satterthwaite had to do something with his earnings,” Nicholas pointed out. “From everything I’ve researched, your store was the only piece of property he owned, and he didn’t seem to have amassed a public fortune in any other way.”
“Maybe he lost it all in the crash?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I still think we should exhaust all our options. Think of what you could do with a windfall.”
“I could help Denise start her own business,” I said.
“I was thinking more of your business, but that would be great, too. Is she thinking of starting a coffee house of her own?”
“I suggested it today,” I said. “I think there’s room in Snug Harbor for more than one coffee place.”
“It’s a good idea,” he said. “What about the building next to yours?”
I blinked. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s right next to the bookstore, and everyone keeps telling me I need a coffee house. We could market them together, somehow. Although it is a bit off the beaten path…” I mused.
“Put a big deck with a view of the ocean off the back and I’ll bet you get lots of takers. And if she can work it out with one of the tour boat companies to sell tickets at her shop, and then get a discount on coffee…”
“And that would draw a lot more people down to Seaside Cottage Books, too,” I said, feeling excitement well in me. “That’s brilliant.”
“It’s just an idea,” he said. “I have no idea what she’d have to do to make that building workable… or how much it would cost to rent or buy the space.”
“It’s definitely worth checking out,” I said. “She’s always wanted to put her own spin on the coffee house thing; I know she has lots of ideas, but Margaret hasn’t always been open to them.”
“And I’d rather go to a local coffee shop than a chain,” he said.
“I don’t know if everyone would agree with you,” I said, “but that appeals to me, too. I’ll talk with Denise about it.” Then the memory of why she was no longer in line to take over Sea Beans returned, settling over me like a lead blanket. “We still need to figure out what happened to Charles Carsten, though, or she’s not going to be able to do anything other than make license plates.”
“Do they still do that in jail?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want her to have to find out.” As I spoke, the waiter returned with a chilled bottle of white wine. When Nicholas tasted it and gave him the okay, he filled our glasses and left the bottle in an ice bucket at the end of the table.
“To getting Denise off the hook and into a coffee house of her own,” I said, lifting my glass and admiring the pale yellow wine.
“And to finding Josiah Satterthwaite’s treasure,” Nicholas added. Just as we were about to touch glasses, I heard my name.
“Max! Is that you?”
I turned to see Kirsten standing at the host stand, my ex-husband behind her.
15
“Oh, boy,” I murmured under my breath, and then half-heartedly waved back at her. She took that as an invitation and headed our way, Ted—I mean, Theodore—in her wake.
“I’m so glad to run into you. I’ve been dying to try this place, but I forgot to make a reservation and all the tables are full.” I glanced around; while Nicholas and I had been talking, the restaurant had filled up. “Do you mind if we join you? I wouldn’t ask, but there’s nowhere to sit, and Theodore had his heart set on a bowl of their lobster bisque…”
“Well…” I said.
“Max won’t mind, I’m sure,” my ex said, pulling up a chair next to me as Kirsten settled herself in beside Nicholas.
Once she’d situated herself, she turned to Nicholas. “Where are my manners! We haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m Kirsten Anderson,” she said, “and this is my boyfriend, Theodore. He and Max used to be married, although I’m sure you know that.”
“Nice to see you,” Nicholas said politely.
“How do you know Max, again?” Ted asked, narrowing his eyes a hair.
“We knew each other growing up, actually,” Nicholas said.
“That’s wonderful.” Kirsten, who was looking glamorous as usual in a leather pencil skirt paired with a silky blouse, leaned forward, her French-manicured fingers toying with the gorgeous gold pendant she wore. It brought out the glow in her tanned skin, and I found myself experiencing a small rush of jealousy. Had Ted bought it for her? I wondered, stealing a glance at him. Even though I’d picked out one of my best dresses, I found myself feeling frumpy next to Kirsten, and nervously checked to see if my earrings—small pearls—were still in place. “Did you stay in touch over the years, or did you recently reconnect?” she asked.
“We recently reconnected,” Nicholas said, putting his arm around me and pulling me in toward him. The gesture relieved some of my anxiety, and I turned to give him a grateful smile. “I can’t believe I let her get away the first time; I won’t make that mistake again.”
“That’s so romantic,” Kirsten gushed, but I couldn’t help noticing her long-lashed eyes flickering briefly to Ted, whose eyebrows were almost all the way up to his receding hairline. Which did look like it was a little sparser than it had been when we were together, I noted. “Don’t you think, sweetheart?” she asked, putting a possessive hand of her own on his knee. But Ted was focused on Nicholas.
“So, you’re dating?” he asked with his customary tact.
“We are,” Nicholas said, giving me another squeeze. “I’m glad she decided to take the risk and move back to Snug Harbor. And keeping the bookstore going is a bonus.”
Ted sniffed. “With technology moving on, I don’t see how a bricks-and-mortar bookstore is ever going to be a long-term game plan for success, but it’s good she’s pursuing her dreams,” he said, as if I weren’t even at the table. “She always was more of a dreamer than a businesswoman, though.”
“Really? That hasn’t been my experience at all,” Nicholas said. “I think she’s doing an amazing job at the bookstore.”
My ex-husband gave him a tight grimace. Beside him, Kirsten was still smiling, but her face looked brittle, and there was a hardness around her mascaraed eyes that told me Ted was about knee-deep in hot water and wading deeper. “How about you, Nick? What do you do for a living?”
Nicholas smiled politely and said, “I’m an attorney, actually.”
“So you sue people for a living,” Ted said.
Before Nicholas could respond, our waitress appeared at Ted’s elbow. “Welcome,” she said. “Can I get you two something to drink? Do you need the wine list? Or should I bring two more glasses?”
“Well, since you already have the bottle… why don’t you bring some more glasses?” Ted said, without consulting Nicholas or me.
“If that’s okay with you two, of course,” Kirsten said, putting a hand on Ted’s arm.
“Of course,” Nicholas said politely, but I could hear the chill in his voice. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, or get up and just go to another table, but the restaurant was full. Kirsten telegraphed something like an apology to me with her eyes, and I grimaced in response. As I was fishing for a topic of conversation that did not involve my budding relationship with Nicholas, Kirsten came to my rescue.
“Have you found out anything else about that man who died?” she asked.
“Actually, I have,” I said as the waitress returned with two extra glasses and filled them both, almost draining the bottle. “And that’s why we’re here.”
“What?” She leaned forward, eyes alight. “Tell me.”
I leaned toward her, talking in a low voice, as Ted took a hearty swig of wine. “Apparently he does have an ex-wife, and she’s in town… or at least she was last week. Her name is Josie Cole, according to a deckhand on his yacht, and when I called around town, they said she was staying here.”
“So you’re here to try to spot her,” Kirsten said. “Do you know what she looks like?”
“I found a picture of her on her son’s Instagram,” I said. “At least I think it’s her; he posted it on Mother’s Day and said she was the best mom ever.”
“It had better be his mom, or he’ll have some explaining to do,” Kirsten said as I pulled out my phone and pulled up Chad Carsten’s Instagram feed, scrolling through until I found the photo.
“This is her,” I said, showing her the picture.
“What are you going to do if you see her?” Kirsten asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I’d like to talk to her, but I don’t really know how to broach it. ‘Hi, I heard you were married to the guy who fell off a cliff the other day’ just doesn’t seem like the ideal ice-breaker.”
She laughed, a throaty, guttural laugh that made her more likable, somehow. “No, best not to lead with that. Maybe get to talking about your recent divorce?” she suggested.
“To get her talking about her own divorce,” I said. “That’s a great idea.”
“Just because she’s staying at the hotel doesn’t mean she’s going to eat at the restaurant,” Ted pointed out unhelpfully.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I gave him a tight smile and sipped my wine, trying to release the tension that had built in me since Ted and Kirsten had sat down across from us. It bothered me how little it took to get a rise out of me. I looked forward to a time when he was no longer able to get under my skin with such ease. It was a little embarrassing, actually, having Nicholas as an audience to those old, automatic responses. I wanted to move into a new life, not stay mired in old patterns.
