Chapter 27
“A dozen babies?” Benny said, howling with laughter when the four Wags were standing in the private parking lot down the stairs
from the Neelys’ front door. “Sounds like the title of a horror movie.”
Seb groaned and glanced down at me with regret. “I don’t know why I said any of that shit, Paige. I’m sorry I embarrassed
you.”
I shrugged as if I understood completely. “I mean, haven’t we all made a shocking declaration about marriage and kids in front
of our families, only to regret it later?”
“He just gets me so worked up!” Seb argued. “I can’t think straight when he’s scowling at me. Why was that fucker even here?”
Jazmine held up both hands. “Swear to God, I didn’t know he was coming. I would’ve warned you—you know that.”
He nodded. “I know. But damn . . . What was your mom thinking?”
Mr. Neely strolled up to us, catching us off guard. “She was thinking that with the captain getting serious about Katie, it
might make him sentimental and want to repair things with you, Seb. I’m sorry he wasn’t ready. But you shouldn’t let that
slow you down. You’ve done good, and the job isn’t a handout. Sure, maybe I gave you a chance when Jaz begged, but you’ve
proven yourself, and I honestly need you here at the marina.”
Seb swallowed hard and nodded rapidly. “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry about all that back there. Honestly some of it’s my fault. I let him get to me and can’t keep my mouth shut. We’re just oil and water, you know?”
“I know,” Mr. Neely said with a little smile. “Now y’all better clear out because he’s coming down. Seb, just take the afternoon
off. Raj came in today, so we’ve got extra coverage. And I’d rather have you working on the motor of that pontoon tomorrow.
Go home and rest . . . or whatever it is that y’all have been doing over there.” He muttered under his breath, “Both look
like you’ve been wrestling wildcats.”
“Daddy,” Jazmine groaned.
He raised his hands in the air. “See you tomorrow bright and early, Jansen.”
“You’re a real human being, Mr. Neely,” Seb told him. “A real human being.”
It was easy to forget about Pretty Paul’s impending threat against the Wags when you were too busy being blissfully happy.
And for a few days, Seb and I were exactly that.
In a state of bliss.
Everything was new and surprising. The sex. Shopping for groceries together. Teaching Punkin to fetch. Sneaking down to the
beach at night and swimming naked in the dark water.
I didn’t know life could be simple and happy. It was like a revelation, and I wished it could stay that simple forever.
Four perfect summer days after the brunch-gone-wrong at the Neelys, Seb went to work at the marina in the morning, and I was planning to drop off some signed paperwork at the family attorney when I got a call from Benny.
“The tracker alerted me to a location outside of Paul’s normal routine,” he told me.
“Oh yeah? Where?”
Benny hesitated. “In Grand Rapids.”
“Okay . . . ?”
“I looked up the address. I think it might be your father’s house.”
My head emptied of all thought, and a chill raced through my veins. With everything that had happened—the time capsule fiasco,
Seb moving in, finding and losing Mabel’s rings to Paul—I’d pushed the business with my father to the back burner. I hadn’t
wanted to face him, but I suppose I knew it was only a matter of time.
“Paige?”
“I heard you. I just . . . Are you sure?”
He read off an address to me. “Tax records show the owner is Rufus A. Lee. Bought last year for two-point-four mil. Five bedrooms,
one-point-three acre lot, panoramic views, four-car garage.”
Definitely sounded like my father. I asked him to repeat the address and scribbled it down. “What the hell is Paul doing out
there?”
“Dunno, but Paul mentioned your father when he was holding that gun on us at the military encampment, remember? Maybe he’s
trying to squeeze your father for information.”
Or maybe they were working together. Though, I couldn’t see the how or why of it.
My father had everything he wanted, didn’t he?
All the money that had been passed down, generation to generation.
All his now. Why would he need the Golden Venus?
It felt too base, too messy for someone who was living an entirely new life, popping champagne with the other movers and shakers in the city.
“Is Paul there now?” I asked Benny.
“No, this was last night. He was there for only fifteen minutes, then he drove back to Haven Beach. Sorry, I missed the alert
while I was asleep.”
Probably for the best. I didn’t want to run into him.
I thanked Benny, feeling dazed and anxious. When I hung up, anger began simmering. I mean, what the hell was Paul doing at
my father’s, anyway? Meanwhile, I’d been sending emails to his brokerage and not getting any response . . .
Thoughts darkening, I stormed into the kitchen and dug out the financial aid form for Harvard. Then I left Punkin sleeping
on the porch swing, got in the Corvair, and I drove the hour to Grand Rapids, fueled by gas fumes and fury.
Treasure or no treasure, I wasn’t going to let my father take away Harvard from me. I had to get him to sign this form. No
ifs, ands, or buts. After I did that, I’d find out what the hell he’d been doing with the Vanderburgs.
The address Benny gave me was in a picturesque, quiet neighborhood around Reeds Lake—lots of trees, lots of mansions, lots
of black Mercedes parked in long driveways. Nicer than Benny’s neighborhood, and twice the price. I spotted my father’s house
when the GPS on my phone alerted me that I was approaching my destination.
Two stories tall, and made of stone and cedar shake, it looked pristine, standing in a manicured yard with a winding drive that was blocked with a big black gate, like he was some kind of Hollywood star who needed protection from clamoring fans. It made me more furious than I already was.
I drove into the mouth of the driveway, pulling up to a small keypad that stood sentry outside the gate and pressing the call
button. “Um, hello? I’m here to see Mr. Lee. I’m his daughter.”
There wasn’t a video screen. I couldn’t tell if anyone had even heard me. But the black gate clicked and started opening, so I supposed someone had. I drove through and headed up the drive to park near the entrance. No other
cars here. Guess they were all tucked inside the four-car garage. After grabbing my Harvard form and taking a deep breath,
I got out of my car and quickly approached the front door before I lost my nerve.
I didn’t have a chance to knock. The door swung open, and a fortysomething white man in tailored khakis and a pale blue button-up
stood barefoot on the other side, loosely holding a beveled lowball of whiskey by the tips of his fingers. Graying, overlong
hair curled around his ears, and his five-o’clock shadow was moving into six-o’clock territory.
“Paige,” he said in a voice that sounded like a pack of cigarettes. Instantly, I remembered it from childhood. Rough and boisterous,
a big laugh that turned heads. “It really is you, isn’t it?”
“Hello, Mr. Lee.”
“I can’t believe it,” he said, leaning against the doorway casually as he looked me over from head to foot several times.
“Last time I saw you, you were . . .” He held out his whiskey glass, measuring the air at a point near his waist. “This high.”
I could remember the last couple times I’d seen him.
Once was at the lawyer’s office, a year after my mother had died.
Then, when I was sixteen, after Seb left the Wags: Jazmine and I found Rufus’s old home address in Nana’s things, drove there, and parked outside until I spotted him exiting.
I didn’t try to talk to him then, just drove away.
And I couldn’t say why I did it, only that it felt like my life was falling apart.
Seeing him then didn’t help. I doubted seeing him now would, either.
He gestured toward me. “Look at you, now, grown into a beautiful young woman. How wild is this? But where are my manners?
Come inside, please.”
I stepped into a foyer with granite slab floors and tasteful but boring decor, like a Four Seasons hotel lobby. A big, modern
chandelier hung near the balcony at the top of the staircase, where there was a perfect view of the lake through a tall window
facing his backyard. Of course he had a pool. The lake wasn’t enough, apparently.
He led me into a small sitting room that had some seating anchored around a contemporary fireplace. He sat on a love seat,
and I took a wingback chair across from him, perching on the edge like a flighty bird.
I couldn’t feel any less comfortable. Sweat blossomed over my brow.
“Been a few years,” he said, leaning back with both arms spread across the tops of the back cushions. “Talk to me. I take
it you did the work to find me for a reason. Clearly weren’t in the neighborhood.”
“Clearly.” I fished through my purse for the form I’d brought. “Mr. Lee—”
“Come on, Paige. Call me Rufus.”
“How about I call you Hound Dog?”
He chuckled. “Haven’t heard that in a long time. Folks still call me that around Haven Beach?”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to feed his ego. “Rufus,” I said, trying to be as professional as possible. “Perhaps your office has informed you about my messages and voicemails? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks.”
“Really? I had no idea, sorry,” he said, shrugging casually. “Why?”
“I’m going to school out east—”
“Nice. Which one?”
“Harvard.”
“Look at you,” he said, lifting his glass. “Very nice, indeed. You always were a bright little thing. I work with a man from
Harvard at the brokerage. A lot of our clients have Ivy League degrees.”
Bully for him. I wished I could punch him right in his puffed-up chest.
A dark-haired housekeeper appeared in the doorway, dressed in a black polo shirt and matching pants. “Mr. Lee, can I get you
anything?”
He raised a dismissive hand. “Not now, Ester.”
“What about the lady?” Ester lifted her brows in my direction. “Coffee or tea?”