Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CADEN
I call Noah the next day expecting an update on the letters but there’s no news.
Noah tells me these things take time, and promises he’ll let me know the minute he hears anything back. The police didn’t find anything else in the blue study—they even went out and looked at Mom’s shed again but didn’t come up with anything new. So the letters are all we’ve got. They sent them to a lab in the city and apparently there’s a backlog for processing—there are other cases with families waiting for answers, other evidence needing to be examined. Noah says there’s a good chance there could be fingerprints on one of the letters. Maybe even DNA. Whether Mom had a lover or a stalker or just some random crazy person sending her letters, at least we could get a name.
We had an Everton Siblings Meeting last night and stayed up for hours trying to figure out what it all means. Who sent the letters, why Mom kept them locked up, do they really have something to do with her death or are they unrelated…
I wish I could talk to Isla about this. I’ve opened her text thread a hundred times since yesterday. But I respect her wishes and leave her alone.
Today is the day of the board meeting. I’ve got one chance to present my ideas and hope that Dad accepts them. I’m doing this for Mom, too—the more I worked on my presentation, the more confident I became that she would love this direction for the winery. I feel scattered but invigorated. I pulled my best suit from my closet. I have to look the part of the heir to Everton today. Alistair even let me borrow a pair of his stupidly expensive cufflinks. I study myself in my bathroom mirror: hair slicked back, charcoal Ferragamo suit with a crisp cerulean tie, Patek Phillipe watch on my wrist. Wingtips. It’s like I’ve gone back in time. My newly shaven face accentuates my jawline. The tie brings out the blue in my eyes.
I hear a wolf whistle from behind me.
“Damn brother,” Alistair says. “You clean up well.”
“I’m only wearing this for today,” I insist. “It’s a one-time thing.”
“Sure,” Al says dismissively. “Ready?”
Alistair has work to do at the office today, so we’re going in together. I grab a satchel with the booklets I made for the presentation and as we head down the stairs to meet Alex with the town car, the doorbell rings. I open it and my face goes blank with shock.
Isla stands on the doorstep. She wears a pink sundress and ballet flats, her hair piled up in a bun. It’s like in the few days since I’ve seen her, she’s grown even more beautiful. Like my memory can never truly do her justice.
Her eyes pop as she takes me in. I haven’t worn a suit since I’ve been back.
I can’t repress the hope that she thinks I clean up well too.
“Hi,” she says. Her voice is breathy.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” Alistair says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
Isla blushes. “Hi Alistair.”
“Wait for me in the car, Al,” I tell him.
He bows. “As you wish.”
We stand in awkward silence for a moment. Her gaze keeps flitting down to my chest.
“You look, um, nice,” she says.
“I’m presenting my plan for making Everton sustainable to Dad and the board today,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen even more. “Really? Oh, Caden that’s wonderful!”
“Thanks,” I say. “Do you want to come in?”
“No, no, I won’t keep you,” she says.
“I don’t mind,” I reassure her, even as I see Alistair standing by the town car tapping his watch. I don’t care if I’m late. Isla is talking to me again and I’m not about to fuck things up a second time. She steps into the house hesitantly. I close the door behind her. I’m about to launch into an apology for what I said at the beach, but she speaks before I get the chance.
“I heard you found something that could help your mother’s case,” she says. “So I, um, started looking at the autopsy report and stuff.”
My brain screeches to a halt. “You did?” I assumed she would have deleted the files when she told me to leave her alone. “Did you find anything?”
“I only had a thought. It might be nothing.”
“Go on,” I say.
“Your mom was shot…” Her voice trails off and a dent forms between her eyebrows. “This is kind of explicit.”
“Please. I need to hear it, and…” I swallow. “It’s easier coming from you.”
She shifts from one foot to the other, then nervously tucks her hair behind her ear.
“She was shot directly through the heart,” Isla says. “And at pretty close range. Then the bullet exited her back and went through the window and probably out into the bay somewhere which is why they couldn’t find it.”
I nod. “Noah told me that part.”
“A bullet to the heart sounds very personal to me—not like a random burglar, but more like someone who was angry at your mother, specifically.”
“Oh my god,” I mutter. It feels like things are clicking into place. “I found letters locked in a desk drawer in a study Mom used to use sometimes. They were addressed to her but not signed or dated. The sheriff hasn’t released details yet because they’re still testing them for fingerprints and stuff. But they were kind of creepy.”
“Creepy how?”
“Stalkerish. Like an unrequited lover. Someone pining after Mom. They were aggressive, saying things like she needed to accept they were destined to be together and how could Mom deny their love.”
Isla’s mouth forms a round O. “Caden,” she breathes. “That goes along with the autopsy findings. I mean, shooting someone directly through the heart? That sounds like something a jilted person would do.”
My own heart kicks into high gear. “Exactly,” I say. How did the police miss all of this? How did they not see the autopsy the way Isla did? Why did they have to be so goddamn certain it was a random attack?
“I had another thought,” Isla adds. I could kiss her. She’s so good at this. “It’s really precise shooting too. So I was wondering if this was someone who had firearms training. Not just some petty criminal but a person who knew how to hit a target.”
“This is incredible,” I say. I want to pick her up and spin her around. “I can’t believe the police didn’t think of that!”
“It seems like they were laser-focused on the burglar theory,” she says. “Like they didn’t want to consider the evidence in any way that didn’t fit with their assumption. They never even thought of your mom being targeted.” She cocks her head. “What made you think to look in that drawer?”
I give her a sheepish grin. “Grace.”
“Grace?” Isla says surprised.
“Victimology,” I say with a shrug.
Isla half smiles.
“Feels like the town is doing a better job solving this case than the police,” I say. “Hey, maybe I should ask Mrs. Greerson if she saw Mom doing anything suspicious at the party. I didn’t even think to ask about Mom’s behavior when I was talking to her before.”
Suddenly, Isla gasps. “Caden. I just remembered something.”
“What?”
“The night of the party, when they were bringing out the desserts, I was…” She flushes, her cheeks turning seashell pink. “I was looking for you and I ended up getting lost in the house a bit.”
“Understandable,” I say, as a pang of longing hits me once again, to go back, to do everything differently.
“I walked by a room and heard your mom talking to someone. She sounded mad. She said something like, I told you that’s not appropriate. Then when she came out, she looked upset. The room was empty but there was a door on the other side that was open. Like whoever she was talking to had just left.”
My pulse is pounding as Isla looks up at me, her gaze intense.
“I thought it was Alistair,” she says. “You know, he’s always?—”
“Doing something inappropriate,” I agree.
“But what if…”
“What if it was the stalker,” I finish. “What if he was at the fucking party.”
We both stare at each other.
“I’ve got to tell the sheriff,” Isla says.
“I’ll come with you,” I say.
“No.” She puts a hand on my arm and shivers erupt over my skin. “You’ve got to get to your presentation. Your ideas are important, Caden.”
“I’m surprised you remember them,” I say.
Isla’s blush deepens. “I remember everything about that night,” she says. The ache to wrap her in my arms is so strong I have to clench one hand into a fist. The spot where her palm rests on me has its own heartbeat.
“Why do you keep helping me?” I ask.
“I cared about your mom too. And I—I was there. I was your alibi. It all feels…personal, I guess. I know it’s not the same, but I’ll do anything I can to help find who killed her.”
She pulls her hand away and I can’t stop myself from grabbing it—just once, just one more touch. One last apology. Then I’ll let her go forever.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I was inappropriate the other day. It was selfish of me to say all of that. I know you would never marry someone for money—I never should have cheapened you, or your relationship with Luke, that way. I was angry and jealous and lashing out, but that’s no excuse. What I said to you was just plain wrong, and I’m truly sorry.” I take a breath, pushing down all my cravings for her, all the memories I’ve kept so close. “I’m happy for you. And I…I wish you and Luke all the best. I really do.”
I find it’s actually true. She’s found happiness and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. Luke is clearly a good guy who cares about her. I can’t deny that any longer. I’ve been letting my own jealousy cloud my judgement. It’s time to release Isla, like the string of a kite. She’s not tethered to me anymore.
It’s time for me to move on as well.
“I appreciate that,” she says.
I let go of her hand and watch as she walks to her car. My chest aches as she pulls off down the driveway and out of sight.
“We’re going to be late,” Al says as I get in the town car and Alex starts to drive.
“Did you get in a fight with Mom on the night of the party?” I demand.
“Huh?” Alistair says.
“Did Mom take you into a room and yell at you for being inappropriate?”
“No,” Al says. “We all knew how important that night was for her. I wasn’t about to fuck it up. Why?”
I tell him about Isla’s revelation.
Alistair whistles. “Holy shit,” he says.
“Isla thought Mom was talking to you,” I say.
Alistair shakes his head. “I had fun, but I kept it above board. Besides, Isla said that was when they were bringing the desserts out right?”
I nod.
“I was hooking up with one of the catering waitresses in my room then.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you were.”
“What?” Al grins. “She was cute.”
“Do you ever think about having a real relationship?”
“Ha,” Alistair says. “You’re one to talk. You’re looking at an engaged woman with hearts in your eyes.”
I can’t really argue with him there.
I take out my phone and text Isla.
It wasn’t Alistair.
It looks like Isla holds another piece of the puzzle.
“Well,” my father says after my presentation, as the board members gather up my materials, talking quietly among themselves, “I will admit you are certainly thorough.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say.
“This Argentinian seems to have taught you well.”
“Sebastian,” I say. “And yeah. He did. He’s a phenomenal winemaker and an ardent conservationist.” Then I can’t help adding, “Mom would have liked him.”
Dad glances up at me. There’s no chill between us for once. He nods. “Yes,” he says. “I believe she would have liked this,” he holds up my presentation packet, “very much.”
Then he snaps back to business mode. “All right. I’ll look these over and give you an answer by next week.”
“Okay,” I say. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out, hoping it’s news from Noah or an update from Isla about how her talk with the sheriff went. But it’s Alistair.
Congrats, big bro! Meet me in the lobby. Put your party pants on!
Then he sends a series of gifs of people popping champagne. I chuckle.
When I get to the lobby, Alistair is waiting for me. “You ready to celebrate?” he says.
“Where are we going?” I ask warily. You never know with Alistair.
“The Minton Club. It’s their Vegas Night. Champagne, caviar, drop dead gorgeous women, roulette, the works.”
“Gambling is illegal,” I point out.
Alistair pats my face. “You’re so cute. Have you forgotten what it’s like to be an Everton in this city?”
There’s a car already waiting for us in front of the building. The Minton Club is in Tribeca, so we slouch through midtown traffic as I tell Alistair about how my presentation went.
“I hope Dad greenlights this,” Al says. “I’ve already floated the idea around to some of our buyers and investors and people are interested. I really think this could change the trajectory of the winery, Cade. And if Mom’s murderer is found…that’s good PR too. Makes us sympathetic.”
“Don’t sound so much like Dad,” I snap. “Mom’s death isn’t about the brand.”
Alistair holds up his hands. “I know,” he says sincerely. “I want this asshole caught just as much as you do.”
As the car pulls up outside the club, I see other well-dressed New Yorkers entering. The building is smooth gray stone with a long green awning out front. Inside, we are led into a cushy elevator with some couple from the society pages who Al knows. There’s a legit bellhop who pushes a button for the top floor. When the elevator doors open, it’s like I’ve stepped into small casino. Roulette tables dot the floor, along with tables for blackjack and poker. Waitresses dressed like Playboy bunnies wander through the crowds with trays of drinks, and big band music plays through the speakers.
“Come on,” Alistair says, heading over to the long, curved bar that spans one side of the room. “Let’s get a drink.”
He orders us both negronis, then we head to play some roulette. Al gets an enormous stack of chips and pushes a bunch toward me.
“Let’s have some fun, brother,” he says with a grin and I laugh.
After a few rounds of roulette, I’ve lost nearly all my chips, but have had a great time hanging out with my brother. There’s an irresistible energy around Alistair—he draws people to him like a magnet. Women, especially.
“God, you’re bad at this,” Alistair says, laughing.
“It’s a game of chance,” I insist. “There’s no good or bad. It’s just luck.”
“Seems like I’m the lucky one tonight,” Alistair says as his eye catches on a beautiful blonde woman at another table. She smiles at him and he cocks his head, inviting her to join us.
I don’t feel like being a third wheel or a wingman.
“I need a refill,” I say, holding up my empty tumbler. But Al is focused on the blonde, now making her way over. I chuckle and head back to the bar, ordering another negroni and sitting on one of the plush leather barstools.
Women are shrieking with delight at the craps table off to my left and a few men puff on cigars at a nearby poker game. As fun as playing roulette with Alistair was, this is absolutely not my scene. I’d rather be at the Crooked Screw with Noah.
My throat tightens as I think how my days in Magnolia Bay are numbered. It’s a good thing, though. Isla has found her happiness with Luke. It’s time for me to find mine. Maybe I’ll start dating when I get back to Argentina.
I’ll miss Noah though. And working in the garage with Cody and Reggie. And I’ll miss my siblings most of all—even Von.
I finish my second drink and decide I am all partied out. I stand and weave through the crowds, looking for Alistair. I find him at a craps table, the blonde and another woman hanging off him, his tie loosened, his shirt undone at the collar.
“Caden!” he cries when he sees me. “Ladies, this is my older brother, Caden.”
The women giggle. “Hi Caden,” the blonde says.
“Hi,” I say. “Al, I’m heading home.”
“What? But we only just got here.”
“Yeah, play a game with us,” the other woman pouts.
“I’m good, thank you,” I say politely. “I’ll see you later, Al.”
I turn and have only taken two steps when suddenly, a familiar face catches my eye. The world seems to slow, my vision narrowing, blocking out the rest of the crowd.
Luke is sitting at a small table in the corner of the room. One of the Playboy waitresses sits on his lap. She whispers something in his ear, and he laughs.
I watch, almost in slow motion, as his hand slides up her thigh to cup her ass. Then she leans down and kisses him.
My vision goes red and there’s a dull ringing in my ears. I feel paralyzed as I watch Luke’s hand move from the woman’s ass to her breast. He gives it a squeeze and she squeals with delight and kisses him harder.
Something inside me snaps as the image comes together in my head.
Luke is cheating.
He’s cheating on Isla.
Alistair is following my gaze. “Oh shit,” he says, extracting himself from the blonde’s grasp. “Is that Luke Richards?”
But I’m already storming across the room.
“Caden!” Alistair calls, but there’s no stopping me.
How dare Luke. How dare he.
Luke notices me just before I reach him and his eyes pop. He hurries the woman off his lap. She looks disgruntled but when she sees the expression on my face, she quickly takes several steps back.
“Caden,” Luke says nervously. “Hey, um?—”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl.
Luke glances toward the woman. “It’s not what you think,” he sputters.
“It’s exactly what I think. How could you do this to Isla?”
Luke bristles. “This is really none of your business.”
“You bet your fucking ass it’s my business,” I snarl. I feel Alistair hovering behind me, backing me up. “Isla is my friend and I won’t tolerate her being disrespected like this.”
Luke scoffs and I catch the scent of whiskey on his breath. “Your friend? Please. I know you used to bang her.”
“Excuse me?” I hiss.
There’s a glint in Luke’s eye, perhaps drunken overconfidence. “You want her back, right? I could see it when I got to her apartment that day. She picked me, dude . ”
“You sound awfully confident for someone who just got caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar,” Alistair says lightly.
Luke seems to think Alistair is on his side—maybe because Luke is drunk or maybe because everyone knows Alistair’s reputation as a player. Luke grins at him. “I’m just having a little fun. We all do it, right? When you’re like us, marriage is just…you know. The same rules don’t apply.”
I feel another snap inside me. In a flash, I’ve grabbed Luke by his collar and yanked him out of his chair, slamming him against the wall.
“What the fuck, bro?” Luke cries.
“I’m not your fucking bro,” I snarl.
“Whoa, Cade, relax,” Alistair says, but I’m burning with a feverish rage. I can’t believe I was just thinking Luke was a good guy. That he would make Isla happy. This worthless piece of shit isn’t fit to breathe the same air as her.
Luke struggles against my grasp but my hold is like a vice. I’m not letting this motherfucker wriggle out of it.
“I’m nothing like you,” I snap. “I would never cheat on the woman I love. Never .”
“Isla likes her freedom too,” Luke croaks.
My grip on his collar tightens. “You think she’d be okay with this? Is that seriously your excuse?”
Luke’s mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water.
“How many?” I demand. “How many other women have there been?”
I know men like Luke. It’s never just one affair.
“Caden,” Al says, grabbing my arm.
“Find someplace else to get married,” I snarl. “Because you’re sure as shit not using Everton.”
He can’t be marrying Isla at all. She needs to know about this.
Luke’s eyes bug like he’s read my thoughts. “You can’t tell Isla.”
“Watch me,” I growl.
“She won’t believe you,” he insists. “I’m very convincing when I want to be.” A sly smile creeps across Luke’s face. I want to smack it off. “Who do you think she’ll listen to? Her loyal fiancé or the jealous ex-lover who can’t let her go?”
“Shit, security is coming,” Alistair says.
I glance to one side and see two burly men in black making their way toward us. I take a breath and release Luke. He stumbles and rights himself.
“My lawyers will hear about this,” he warns, pointing a finger in my face.
“Are you threatening me?” He must be out of his goddamn mind. Von would eat his lawyers for breakfast.
“Sir,” one of the security guards says to me. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
Luke looks smug. As I turn away, I hear him say, “Just remember—Isla is mine .”
The third snap inside me is like an earthquake. All these weeks having to swallow the fact that Isla is engaged to him. Trying to want what’s best for her, trying to accept her engagement to this cretin. He’s a monster who is disrespecting her in the worst way possible.
I whirl around and my fist connects with Luke’s nose in a satisfying crunch.
“What the fuck?” Luke wails as he grabs his face, blood spilling between his fingers.
“Caden, come on,” Alistair says as one of the security guards grabs my elbow and hauls me out of the club.