The Bookstore on the Beach Page 4

  Mary heard the anguish in her voice. “I wish I could answer that for you. But only you can decide. It’s whatever you can live with, right?”

  Autumn adjusted her sunglasses. It was too late in the day for there to be much glare, but she probably felt safer behind them. Mary understood the need to have a buffer of some sort once in a while. “I told Olynyk to continue to search for the rest of the month. Then I’m done. I have to make myself let go, have to stop letting Nick’s disappearance tear our family apart.”

  “You’ve done all you could,” Mary said softly. “You’ve worked night and day, investigated every lead, spent a fortune.”

  “I have, and yet...is it enough? There’s always more I could do. The items that remain just don’t come with much likelihood of being worth the time, angst or money. And my children deserve to have at least one parent fully present. At this point, to continue searching almost seems—” she wrinkled her nose “—selfish, I guess. That I’ll be indulging my own broken heart and thirst for the truth over what would be best for them.”

  Mary studied her daughter. The golden brown of her eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, as well as her long, dark hair came from her father. But the oval shape to her face, the way her eyes turned up at the outer edges and her prominent cheekbones were Mary’s. So was her thin build. She looked far more delicate than her own children. Taylor and Caden had Autumn’s eye color and the same thick, wavy hair, which Taylor also wore long, but those features were paired with their father’s stubborn jaw and sturdy build. “What would Nick want you to do?”

  She folded her arms atop her knees, rested her chin on them and stared glumly off for a while, presumably at the ocean and her children—although it was hard to tell because of the sunglasses. “He’d want me to take care of the kids. He was generous that way.”

  “But...” Mary could hear the hesitancy in her voice.

  “As soon as I decide that’s the course I should take, I think...what if he’s alive? What if I’m giving up just a few weeks or months too soon? What if I could’ve found him if only I’d kept searching?” She gestured emphatically. “The possibility nearly drives me insane, keeps me chasing my own tail.”

  Mary adjusted her dress while taking a moment to decide how best to approach what she wanted to say. “I can’t tell you how he’d feel,” she admitted. “But I can tell you how I’d feel if I were him.”

  Autumn looked so tragic and forlorn sitting there on the beach with the wind whipping at her hair. “How’s that?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to be sad, lonely or filled with regret. I’d want you to rebound and embrace the life you have, enjoy every moment of it. And I would want you to be available to Taylor and Caden.”

  A tear slid from beneath Autumn’s sunglasses. She dashed it away with notable impatience, but then she sniffed and said, “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad we came.”

  Mary smiled at the one person who had, once upon a time, been her only reason for living. “So am I.”

  3

  Is everything okay?

  Nick? Are you there? Can you answer me?

  I thought for sure you’d check in by now. Are you all right?

  Please, babe. I’m going crazy. Answer me.

  Seriously? You can’t even let me know that you’re okay?

  WTF?????

  What do I tell the kids? They’re asking about you, can’t reach you, either.

  This can’t be happening!!! Where are you?

  Unable to sleep, Autumn sat in the window seat of the dormer that served as the only window in the small studio above her mother’s garage, scrolling through the text messages she’d sent to Nick a year and a half ago. They started out conversational and friendly, quickly turned frantic, then angry and insistent before hitting heartbroken. The last one she’d sent: Please, babe! I can’t live without you.

  But she was living without him. She had no choice.

  She sighed. It didn’t matter which kind of text she sent, they’d all gone unanswered. So had hundreds of others over the months since then.

  You bastard, she wrote to his FBI handler. She hoped having his phone suddenly light up or ding in the middle of the night might at least wake Richard Jenkins. He deserved it. He knew more than he was saying; she felt it in her bones. Whatever the FBI had asked her husband to accomplish had gone terribly wrong, and now those who were involved in sending him to Ukraine were worried about the liability. She didn’t think they knew where he was exactly, but she believed they could’ve provided information—in the beginning, anyway—that would’ve given her some direction in her search. And that might’ve made all the difference.

  Because she saw no evidence that her text had been received, she assumed Richard was sleeping soundly, as unconcerned as ever. “Psychopath,” she muttered and tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her. Even after he got her message in the morning she wouldn’t receive a response from him. He’d quit communicating with her months ago.

  In order to get her mind off Nick, so that she might be able to sleep at some point, she crossed to the bed and opened her laptop. She was curious enough about Quinn and Sarah Vanderbilt to want to learn more. No one could have predicted this wrinkle in his life; she was completely blown away by it. And thinking about his problems made her own a little easier to bear. She felt guilty acknowledging that, but “misery loves company” was a cliché for a reason. She felt less alone in her own suffering.

  Quinn and Sarah had lived in upstate New York, where she’d heard on one of her many trips to Sable Beach over the years that he worked as a structural engineer. Because some areas of upstate New York were quite rural, maybe the stabbing incident had been remarkable enough to be reported in the local paper.

  Sure enough, after about ten minutes of searching, she found a short article in The Villager, which touted itself as “Ellicottville’s Official Newspaper,” dated nearly two years ago.

  Wife Stabs Husband Over Purported Affair

  Last night police were summoned to the home of Quinn and Sarah Vanderbilt on Longwood Drive where they found Quinn Vanderbilt, a male in his thirties, suffering from multiple stab wounds. He was taken by ambulance to Olean General Hospital, where he was admitted and treated.

  A spokeswoman for the hospital has reported that he is now in stable condition and is expected to recover. Mrs. Vanderbilt was no longer at the scene when police arrived, but one officer found her at a neighbor’s house. When asked why she stabbed her husband, Mrs. Vanderbilt claimed he was sleeping with another woman.

  Mrs. Vanderbilt will be arraigned on Friday. Her lawyer was not available for comment at the time of this printing.

  Autumn scrolled through several other links, hoping to find more information, and located an even shorter article in the same paper, three days later.

  Woman Who Stabbed Husband to be Arraigned

  Sarah Vanderbilt is being charged with attempted murder in the stabbing of her husband, Quinn Vanderbilt, who was taken to Olean Hospital three days ago. Mr. Vanderbilt has since been released from the hospital but has yet to make a statement.

  Katherine Wilson, a neighbor, claims Mrs. Vanderbilt showed up with a kitchen knife covered in blood, screaming that her husband didn’t love her anymore. “She said she’d rather have him dead than lose him to another woman,” Mrs. Wilson reported.

  Mrs. Vanderbilt is expected to plead not guilty. If convicted, she could serve twenty years to life.

  Twenty years? “Wow,” Autumn said on a long exhale as she continued her search and found one final article, written a year later.

  Vanderbilt Gets Ten Years

  Sarah Vanderbilt was sentenced today for the attempted murder of former husband Quinn Vanderbilt. Her defense lawyer argued that she was not guilty by reason of insanity, but the prosecution had several witnesses to testify that she was aware of her actions, including a neighbor who claimed she said she’d rather see him dead than let him leave her.

  It took the jury only three hours to return a guilty verdict.

  Quinn Vanderbilt attended the trial but refused to testify against his ex-wife. In a surprising move, he asked the judge for leniency during the sentencing phase of the trial, claiming Sarah needed psychiatric help.

  Sarah Vanderbilt wept as she heard her husband read his prepared remarks. She called out, “I will always love you,” as he left the courtroom.

  The judge sentenced her to ten years.

  Autumn set her computer on the nightstand and leaned against the headboard. Did Quinn’s actions indicate he had some culpability in what happened? Maybe he had been cheating. It wasn’t legal to stab an adulterer, but if he had gotten involved with another woman and broken Sarah’s trust, the argument could be made that he’d wronged her first.

  She slid down beneath the covers. She’d wanted him so badly when she was in high school that she couldn’t help wondering how different things would be if he’d been interested in return.

  Maybe they’d both be living different lives.

  * * *

  Mary jerked awake, skin clammy, heart racing.

  Breathe. It was only a nightmare, she told herself. It wasn’t as though this was the first one she’d ever had. But it had been a while since she’d remembered the details so clearly.

  She looked around her bedroom, searching for movement or anything that might be out of place. Although she saw nothing alarming, she got out of bed and went through the house to double-check that all of the doors and windows were locked.

  The wind tossed the chimes on the back porch and caused the screen door to creak. Those were familiar sounds during a storm, and yet, tonight th
ey raised the hair on the back of her neck.

  Did she also hear footfalls?

  She moved the drape aside to peer out into the backyard. A jagged bolt of lightning lit the sky. Thunder boomed several seconds later.

  She couldn’t see anyone. But occasionally, on nights like this, she thought she saw his face at the window—

  “Mimi?”

  She jumped and dropped the drape. Taylor had come out. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “Of course I’m okay.” Mary spoke softly so they wouldn’t wake Caden, who was in the living room on the couch, and clasped her hands in front of her to hide a slight tremor. “It’s only a little bad weather.”

  “I know that. I thought I heard—”

  “Someone trying to get in?”

  As soon as Taylor’s eyebrows snapped together, Mary regretted answering so impetuously. She hadn’t given herself enough time to get over the residual effects of the nightmare.

  “What? No! It sounded like you were crying out for help. I thought maybe—” she fell silent, raked her hair back off her face and drew a deep breath before finishing with a reluctant “—you were having a heart attack or something.”

  No one had ever accused her of crying out in her sleep before, not even when Autumn lived with her. But like Caden, Autumn had been a deep sleeper. Mary had always been grateful for that. Things would’ve been much worse if that hadn’t been the case.

  Mary gestured at the window. “Are you sure it wasn’t the thunder?”

  “I’m positive. I’ve been up watching the storm. I heard the thunder, too.”

  Since she was unable to convince Taylor that it wasn’t her, she could only try to minimize the truth. “Well, then. I must’ve been having a bad dream. Because I’m fine.”

  “You thought someone was trying to break in?”

  “No.” She waved her granddaughter’s concern away. “That must’ve been what I was dreaming about. Don’t mind me. I’m still a little groggy.”

  “Oh.”

  Mary peered out the window again, this time craning her neck to be able to see the detached garage. “I wish there was room for your mother to stay in here with us.”

  “I do, too. But she’s okay where she is, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just texted her to see what I should do, and she told me to get up and check on you.”

  “She’s awake? It’s after two. I worry about her getting enough rest. But it’s daytime in Ukraine, so I guess that makes sense after all the late nights she’s put in the past eighteen months.”

  “Are you saying she’s still searching? She’s not giving up on finding my father?”

  Mary hated seeing the pain in her granddaughter’s eyes. “I’m saying her internal clock has got to be a little mixed-up. That’s all.”

  “Then she is giving up.”

  “Without new information, fresh leads, there’s only so much she can do, right? And she’s torn. She still loves your father very much, but she feels as though you and Caden have lost two things—Nick and the normal life you were living before he went missing. She can give one of those things back to you, if she lets go of the other.”

  Taylor walked to the window and gazed out for a long time. “Have you ever felt so helpless you wanted to rant and rave and tear everything apart around you?”

  Mary was thinking about her own nightmare—not the one that had awakened her tonight but the one she’d lived through at twelve years old—when she went over and pulled her granddaughter in for a hug. “Absolutely.”

  “How did you get through it?”

  “I decided I wasn’t going to let anything destroy me.”

  Taylor pulled back to look at her. “And that worked?”

  Mary cupped her cheek. “Sometimes determination is all we have.”

  * * *

  Autumn slept in for the first time in ages. With her kids having finals and the many events involved in ending the school year, they’d all been especially busy. She’d just come off several weeks of early mornings to go with her late nights, so although she’d slept until ten, she was still too tired to drag herself out of bed. It was a relief to know that her mother was with her children. Even if she didn’t go in right away, they’d be greeted with a smile and offered something to eat. Coming home meant she had some support. She could always count on her mother, and she was eternally grateful for that.

  She told herself she’d walk over to the house in a few minutes. She wanted to lie in bed, hearing nothing and feeling no pressure, for just a little longer. But she fell back to sleep, and it was after noon when she stirred again. She might’ve continued to nap the day away except she heard footsteps on the stairs coming up to her room.

  “Hello?” she called out and shoved both pillows against the headboard so that she could sit up and lean against them.

  Her mother appeared, carrying a tray of food. “You’re still in bed?” she asked in surprise. “Should I come back later? I thought you might like something to eat.”

  “No need to leave. I am hungry. But you could’ve called, and I would’ve come in. You didn’t have to bring breakfast all the way out here.”

  “I don’t mind. I bought this little tray at an antiques shop not long ago and wanted to use it. Isn’t it cute?”

  The white wicker tray held a china teapot and teacup with sugar and cream as well as a plate with a metal cover to keep whatever her mother had made warm.

  “This is fancy.” There was even a vase filled with roses and the local newspaper had been tucked into one of the side receptacles.

  After settling the tray over Autumn’s lap, Mary went to open the drapes.

  Sunlight flooded the room, and Autumn closed her eyes and turned her face eagerly toward it. She felt as though she was rising from the dead—coming back to life after a long, dark period during which she hadn’t even noticed if the weather was good.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” her mother commented.

  “I love summers here.” Drawing a cleansing breath, Autumn opened her eyes and took the embroidered cloth napkin off the tray. Mary put such a nice touch on everything. Autumn was less whimsical and more practical in her approach to life. She was all about getting things done. But maybe that was why she admired her mother’s careful attention to beauty and detail. Coming to stay in Sable Beach was almost like visiting a bed-and-breakfast. She’d been so busy being a responsible mother to her own children she’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be her mother’s child—which, once again, brought a wave of guilt for wanting to find her father. Searching for him would feel so disloyal, which was why she hadn’t done it yet.

  “Why aren’t you at the bookstore? I’m not keeping you from work, am I?”

  “No. Laurie insisted I take the day off to spend with the three of you.”

  “Where are the kids?”

  “Taylor’s reading on the couch, and Caden’s already down at the beach.”

  “Without you there to save him from drowning?” she asked wryly.

  A scowl indicated her mother wasn’t amused. “I offered to go watch him swim, and he laughed at me. He said he can’t take me with him every time he goes to the beach or there wouldn’t be a girl within fifty miles of here who’d even look at him.”

  Autumn lifted the lid off her plate to reveal her mother’s sourdough waffles with fresh-cut strawberries and whipped cream. “So you’re allowing him to risk his real life to save his love life?”

  “One has to have priorities.”

  That her mother had decided to join in on the joke made Autumn chuckle. “He’s a strong swimmer, Mom. He’ll be okay.” And even if there was trouble, she doubted her mother would be capable of pulling such a large boy—the size of a man, really—out of the crashing waves. “This looks delicious. I bet the kids were excited.”

  “Fortunately, I had a feeling they’d request my waffles, so I was prepared.” She sat on the edge of the bed while Autumn ate.