Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
FORD
I stirred the pot of chili on the stove, taking a deep inhale of the fragrant scents of cumin, chilies, and tomatoes. It was one of the relatively small repertoire of recipes I could make reliably, and I’d been delighted to find out that my kid shared my affinity for spicy food. We’d invited Mom and Mimi over for family dinner tonight. The first one in our new place. The house still looked a little spartan, as none of my stuff had arrived from my last duty station, and the truck with Peyton’s stuff was still working its way across the country. But we had the essentials. A table and chairs we’d also picked out at Beachcomber Bargains, and I’d ordered a full set of new cookware.
Peyton was putting ice in glasses for tea when I heard the front door open. “Where are my babies?” Mimi sang out.
“Kitchen,” I called.
Mimi bustled into the room, a large wrapped box in her arms. “Something smells amazing in here.”
Mom was right behind with a second box.
“Chili. The cornbread’s just about to come out of the oven.” I replaced the lid on the pot. “What’s all this?”
Mimi beamed. “Housewarming presents.”
Peyton perked up. “Really?”
“Really. Come unwrap.”
We all watched as she tore into the paper, revealing a collection of handmade pottery in her signature deep blues and greens. Dinner plates, salad plates, bowls, and mugs, each one unique but clearly part of a set. She must’ve started on these the day she found out about Peyton.
My throat got tight. “Mimi, you didn’t have to do this.”
“Of course I did. Every home needs proper dishes.” She lifted out a bowl, showing Peyton the wave pattern carved into the rim. “I made these special for you both.”
“They’re beautiful.” Peyton ran her fingers over the glazed surface. “You made all of these yourself?”
“That’s what I do, sweet girl. I’m a potter. Well, it’s one of my mediums, anyway.”
My daughter looked intrigued. “Can you show me sometime?”
She squeezed Peyton’s shoulders. “I’d love nothing more.”
I had to turn away for a moment, pretending to check the cornbread in the oven while I got myself under control. My moms had always known how to make a house feel like home. Even this sparse rental with its bare walls and empty spaces felt warmer already.
Mom touched my shoulder. “You okay?”
I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. “Yeah. Just… thank you.” Clearing my throat, I opened the cabinet. “Well, let’s set the bowls on the table and put the rest away.”
I began loading plates onto an empty shelf, and the timer went off. “Chili’s ready, and there’s the cornbread.”
“Got it.” Mom snagged a potholder off the hook on the side of the fridge and pulled the cast-iron skillet from the oven.
Peyton stood at the door to the backyard, peering out toward the neighboring yard. “Hey, Bree’s home. We should invite her to dinner.”
Mom and Mimi exchanged a look. I did my best not to react. “You’re welcome to walk over and issue the invitation, but it’s quite possible she’s got plans, or she’s just home to let Keeley out before heading back to the Brewhouse.”
“I’ll go ask.” She’d bounced out the door before any of us could blink.
I wondered what excuse Bree would offer, because no way was she going to be up for a family dinner. Not when I was involved.
No one was more surprised than I was when Peyton came back a few minutes later with Bree and Keeley in tow. Judging by the faintly confused expression on Bree’s face, she wasn’t quite sure how it had happened either.
“Hey.” I flashed a smile I hoped she found welcoming rather than manic. “Thanks for joining us.”
“Hi.” Bree hovered just inside the doorway, looking as if she might bolt at any second, much as my daughter had the day we’d met. Keeley trotted past her to investigate the house.
Mimi swept into the awkward like a welcome breeze, scooping Bree into one of her signature hugs. “It is so good to see you, darlin’. It’s been too long.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, Bree squeezed her back, her face relaxing. “It has. Great to see you, Mimi. You, too, Mama Flo.”
“You can sit by me,” Peyton announced as she set a fifth place at the table.
The corners of Bree’s mouth tipped up. “Sounds good.”
A few minutes later, we all settled at the table with our food.
Bree crumbled her cornbread into her chili. “So how’s school going?”
“Everybody was talking about the dead guy today,” Peyton announced.
Mimi frowned. “I’m not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation, baby girl.”
“We’re all wondering, though,” Mom conceded.
Peyton shrugged. “I mean, I’m sorry somebody died, but I’m not sorry they’ve got something else to talk about besides me.”
Angling her head, Bree added some shredded cheese to her bowl. “Fair point.”
I knew the conversation wasn’t likely to veer toward anything else. “Did you hear anything at the Brewhouse today?” The bar was such a hub for gossip, I figured there was a solid chance Bree had heard whatever there was to hear.
“It was David Galef and definitely a homicide.”
I frowned. “David Galef. Why do I know that name?”
“Few years ahead of us in school. In Caroline’s class, I think. He works—worked—in the fishing industry during the season. Odd jobs during the off. He was a grade A douchecanoe.” Bree said it easily, as if she were describing the weather.
But I knew her. “He give you problems?”
Her gaze flicked up to mine. “None I couldn’t handle.”
Damn if that didn’t incite a million more questions.
“They said at school that this was the second body found in the past year. What was the deal with the last one?”
Shit. This really probably wasn’t an appropriate topic for a teenager. But I’d rather her talk about this with us than anyone else. “We had a hurricane last year. There were some old remains discovered in the aftermath. Our friend Willa and her husband Sawyer found them. Turned out to be a guy who was involved in… well, some not good things.”
“Did the police figure out who killed him?”
“Well, not so much the police as Willa.” Bree dipped cornbread into her chili. “The killer came after her.”
Peyton’s eyes went wide.
“No, no. She’s okay. He was killed.” Bree winced. “I’m making this worse.”
I shook my head. “You’re the one who was here.” Of course, Mom and Mimi were, as well, but they hadn’t been involved. Bree and Willa were tight.
“They also said it had something to do with a girl who disappeared a long time ago,” Peyton added.
Mom picked up the conversational baton. “Gwen Busby.”
It seemed like the ghost of her was never far away these days.
“She was only fifteen—little bit older than you when she went to the end of school bonfire. It’s been a tradition on the island for a long, long time. She disappeared from the party, but nobody realized until morning because a big storm blew in and ended things early. The whole island mobilized to look, but no trace of her was ever found.”
Mimi laid a hand over Mom’s. “So tragic.”
“What do they think happened?”
I was not about to admit to my kid, who wasn’t that much younger than Gwen had been, that the current suspicion was that she’d been a victim of human trafficking. “Something bad.”
I’d known it was bad at the time, even before that possibility had been raised. But now? Looking at it through the lens of a parent of a teenage girl? I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if anything happened to Peyton, and she’d only been mine for a matter of weeks. Now the island I’d always believed was safe had a murderer on the loose. It was nothing to do with us, and there was no reason to believe anyone I cared about was in danger, but the idea of it still made me nervous. Especially as I needed to leave the island for a couple of days.
“Not to change the subject precisely, but I need to go out of town for a couple of days.”
Conversation came to a screeching halt, and Peyton immediately froze up.
“I just have to be gone overnight. Two days at the most. I have to head to Norfolk to formalize the arrangements to transfer the remainder of my naval contract to the Reserves instead of active duty. It means I can stay here on Hatterwick and work remotely.”
She relaxed at that. “Oh. Okay.”
“You’ll be staying with your grandmothers for the night until I get back. But under the circumstances, I want someone picking you up and dropping you off from school until this murder is solved, just as a precaution.”
“When do you have to go, honey?” Mimi asked.
“Day after tomorrow.”
Mom frowned. “I’m gonna be up at Nag’s Head for a meeting. Delilah also has a meeting with a distributor up there.”
Mimi waved that off. “I can reschedule.”
“I can do it.” Bree wasn’t looking at us when she said it, just continued to eat her chili, and if Peyton hadn’t been staring at her in hope, I might’ve thought I’d imagined the offer.
My daughter immediately turned pleading eyes in my direction, hands folded in supplication. “Can I? Please?”
Oh damn, I was gonna have to work on developing some kind of immunity to this look, or we were gonna end up with a dog sooner rather than later. Was this how she’d convinced my former best friend to come to dinner?
I looked at Bree. “Are you sure?” We definitely weren’t at a place where I felt like I could ask her for much of anything. Certainly not to keep my kid.
One shoulder jerked in an easy shrug. “Sure. She can stay with me, and I’ll handle pick up and drop off. It won’t interfere with my schedule at the Brewhouse. I did my homework in a booth up there growing up. She can, too.”
“Well, if you’re sure, we’d really appreciate it.”
“I’m sure.”
Peyton did a fist pump. “Yes! Did you ask your pop about those photo albums?”
Bree’s flinch was almost imperceptible. “I did. Have the whole pile of them at home.”
“Sweet! Please tell me you have lots of embarrassing photos of my…” Peyton hesitated. “Of Ford.”
So far, Peyton had been very careful not to call me anything in particular. I couldn’t blame her for not being ready to call me Dad. Still, I felt a vague pang of disappointment.
Bree caught my eye, and I saw the flash of empathy before she smirked. “Oh, his middle school years are going to give you fodder to tease him for years to come.”
Taking the olive branch, I adopted a mock stern expression. “That’s a dangerous game you’re starting, Cartwright. I was there for all of your embarrassing moments, too.”
She sipped her tea, totally stone faced, but I didn’t miss the sparkle in her gray eyes. “Some of us were smart and ruthless enough to destroy the evidence.”
“I distinctly remember a certain someone wearing their hair in tiny butterfly clips all through seventh grade.” I couldn’t help needling her.
“At least I never tried frosted tips.” Bree’s mouth curved into a wicked smile.
“That was a dare from Sawyer!”
“And you kept them for three months.”
“They grew on me.”
“Like a fungus.” She turned to Peyton. “Your father thought he was going to be the next Justin Timberlake.”
“I had moves.”
“You had something. Pretty sure it was a medical condition.”
Mom snorted into her chili.
“Don’t encourage her,” I protested. “She pushed me into the pool at my own thirteenth birthday party.”
“Because you put a snake in my beach bag!”
“It was rubber!”
“I didn’t know that until after I’d already screamed bloody murder in front of half the eighth grade.”
The easy back and forth felt so natural, like we’d stepped through time to before everything went wrong. Before I’d screwed everything up. My chest ached with how much I’d missed this. Missed her.
Peyton’s head swiveled between us like she was watching a tennis match. “I need to see these pictures.”
Bree’s eyes danced with mischief. “I’ve got you, boo.”
I groaned, but this was the longest conversation Bree and I had managed without her walls slamming back into place. I didn’t want to do anything to break the spell. So I merely dropped my head into my hands and gave a theatrical moan. “I’m doomed.”