Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“ I ’ve been looking all over for you!” Rose said as Sean approached her table, his smile curious and handsome, so handsome that it tugged at something Rose thought was dormant inside her.
It occurred to Rose that she’d thought of Sean quite often over the past few days. Due to the impending investigation, he’d been a consistent name on her cell phone screen. She’d listened to his voicemail messages, grateful for his tireless efforts. Someone who is honest and respectable in this crazy world.
Brenda arched a perfectly drawn eyebrow at both of them and tapped her notepad with her pencil. “What can I do for you, Sean?”
“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Sean said.
“Burger and fries and onion rings?”
“Apparently so,” Sean said, his smile widening. “So much for my diet.”
Rose laughed. “It’s been a crazy day. I needed to coat my stomach with grease.”
“I’ve had that kind of day, too,” Sean said. He removed his hat to show puffs of strange-looking curls that he attempted to flatten with his hand. “I wish I could share more news about your sculpture.”
Rose shook her head, surprised that she’d spent so much time not thinking about the robbery at all. Sean remained standing at her table, glancing around. Did he want to sit with her? Or had he come here for a bit of privacy and deep thought, as she had?
“You can sit down if you want,” Rose stuttered.
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
“I told you already,” Rose said. “I’ve been looking for you. It’s fate that you came in here.”
Sean hesitated before dropping into the opposite side of the booth. Rose touched the plastic-wrapped diary with the tips of her fingers and told herself not to spring too much on him at once. He’d had a hard day.
Soon after, Brenda brought them two glasses of Diet Coke. She hadn’t asked. She knew what they liked.
“How often do you come here?” Sean asked.
“I haven’t been in a few months,” Rose admitted. “But I came here my first week in Nantucket thirty-one years ago. It’s been a favorite since then.”
It was where she’d first read Natalie’s obituary. It was where she’d learned that so much of the island assumed Oren had been the one to start the fire—and kill Natalie.
I shoved that into the back recesses of my mind for years, Rose thought. I need answers now.
“Do you come often?” Rose asked because she was too frightened to dive immediately into the darkness.
“Once or twice a week. They take care of me here.”
Rose smiled and glanced at his ring finger to find it empty. She wasn’t sure why she’d assumed he was single. He was probably just a little bit older than she was. Maybe he’d been married before. Perhaps he had grown children.
It was easy to assume many things about a person. Those assumptions were often never correct.
Sean sipped his Diet Coke and held her gaze for a steady moment. Rose’s heart thumped.
“Why were you looking for me?” he asked.
Rose reached for the diary and placed it on the table between them. Her vision blurred with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, cursing herself for showing her hand.
“You know I bought the old Grayson Estate,” she said, fingers splayed over the diary.
Sean nodded and remained quiet. His eyes were impossible to read. Maybe that was what made him a good cop.
“I’ve been going through everything,” she said. “Throwing things out. Seeing what might be of value. I want to refurbish it and open a hotel or bed-and-breakfast. Something like that.”
“You’ve never been inside?” Sean asked.
Rose shook her head, although she was surprised at the question. What does Sean know about me? Then again, Sean hung out here at the diner. Sean was a resident of Nantucket. It meant he was privy to all sorts of gossip.
I wonder what the island says about me buying that old place. The judgment never ends.
“A lot of the house was sealed off like a tomb,” Rose said. “It means a lot of the books and art were saved. But today, I discovered a room on the second floor that seems to have belonged to Natalie.” Rose’s voice warbled when she said Oren’s first wife’s name. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said the name aloud. Natalie had always existed as a character in her mind. The diary made her real.
Rose paused for a beat to make sure Sean knew who Natalie was. He didn’t ask any questions.
“This is her diary,” Rose said, pressing the little book across the table. “I read the last entry and knew I needed to talk to someone immediately.”
Rose filled her mouth with Diet Coke and watched Sean read Natalie’s neat and beautiful handwriting. She half expected his jaw to hang open with surprise. But Sean was a professional. He kept his face stoic.
“It forced me to remember that first summer I was here,” Rose said when Sean raised his head. “Everyone was so sure that Oren started the fire. That he was the one who killed Natalie. The gossip was everywhere. If you were here, you remember it.”
Rose lowered her voice. Across the restaurant, Brenda’s eyes continued to flit over, taking stock of her, listening. Rose knew that whatever she said now would be used as gossip for later. But right now, she didn’t care. People could say whatever they wanted about her, about her life.
“But Oren spent the summer at the Walden Estate in 1993,” Rose continued. “I don’t remember any kind of investigation being conducted. I can’t understand why. Why didn’t the cops go through the Grayson Estate? Why didn’t they look through Natalie’s things? Why didn’t they arrest him or question him?”
Rose felt breathless. “If they’d read that entry, there would have been a trial. Right? I mean, he hurt her. She was terrified of him. Isn’t that reason enough for a trial?”
Rose was on the edge of her seat, hands spread flat across the diner table. Sean remained quiet. Contemplative. For a moment, Rose was terrified that she hadn’t said anything aloud. That her thoughts were turning tight circles, but she hadn’t opened her mouth at all.
Brenda appeared with their burgers, fries, and greasy onion rings. Her voice was overly bright, proof that she wanted to linger and listen to their conversation.
“It looks great, Brenda,” Rose said. She felt on the brink of tears.
Justice for Natalie! I want justice for all the women in Oren’s life!
Brenda disappeared into the kitchen. Sean folded his hands in front of him. He seemed not to notice the burger, the melting cheese, or the bright tomato planted on top. He looked captivated by Rose.
And then he said something that startled Rose out of her skin.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
How was it possible that Rose had forgotten?