Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
Ian
It seems like half of the island shows up to pay their respects at Dad’s funeral, plus a significant contingent of businesspeople, politicians, and other VIPs from all over the East Coast. I get it that Dad was a big deal.
His money gave him the kind of power and influence that makes the news and drives people to want to see and be seen.
But there’s one person I’m looking for, and I can’t find her anywhere.
Maybe Josie is around here somewhere, but I’m stuck in a sort of receiving line, shaking hands, nodding and thanking everyone for their condolences.
Normally, this would be Mom’s domain, but she’s lying down on a couch in the back room, woozy and medicated with whatever her doctor gave her to get through the funeral without having a breakdown in front of all of our friends and acquaintances.
Which means it’s up to me and Dad’s brother, my uncle Jim, to deal with the crowds.
I steal a quick glance at Uncle Jim. He’s tall and dark-haired like Dad, but with a little less silver around the temples since he’s five years younger.
For a second, I wonder if Uncle Jim could take over Langley Capital, but I know that’s just wishful thinking on my part.
He’s a doctor who flew in from Miami, and he has a family and a thriving practice back home.
It’s looking more and more like I’m going to have to take over Dad’s business, a fact that’s highlighted every time a new person steps up to tell me how sorry they are for my loss.
Alan Quain, who owns the largest lumber supply business in the state, just came through the line, and he asked a few not-so-subtle questions that suggested he’s worried about whether Langley Capital will honor its contracts.
Next up, I see a group of electricians employed by the company, and my stomach begins to churn.
At least half of Langley Capital’s workers have made their way through the line at this point, and I can see the anxiety on each person’s face.
Will we have a job in a couple of months?
Will we even have a paycheck next week? It’s ridiculous that I’m supposed to be the person who knows.
Most of them have been employed by the company since before I could walk.
But I nod and smile and reassure everyone that things will transition smoothly using the talking points the company’s PR manager emailed me.
The truth is, I don’t have any idea how things will transition, and it sounds more and more hollow every time I say it.
So, when I spot the company’s head carpenter step into line, I’m not sure I can keep up appearances anymore.
I quickly turn and lean in to whisper to Uncle Jim. “I’m going to go find a bathroom.”
He nods. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
I head across the room, keeping an eye out for Josie. She said she’d be here. Maybe she got held up, or maybe she saw the line of people and decided to come back later. I bypass the bathroom and slip out an emergency exit to the alley in the back of the building.
Next to the door is a stool and a bucket of cigarette butts where one of the funeral home employees clearly comes for a break.
I sink down on the stool and pull out my phone.
Josie and I haven’t talked since a few days ago when she came by the house to see me.
I’ve been so wrapped up in meetings with Dad’s lawyer that I haven’t had a minute to call her, but I’d hoped maybe we could go somewhere quiet this evening. Just the two of us.
I find Josie’s number in my phone and hit the button to call her, but instead of ringing, a recorded message picks up. “This number has been disconnected and is no longer in service.”
I drop the phone from my ear and stare at it. Disconnected?
I hang up and hit the call button again, but I get the same message. Did she forget to pay her phone bill? I click over to the internet browser. I bet her mom still has a landline, and if so, it will be listed in the island directory.
I scroll and find the name Annabel Sullivan. Clicking back to the phone screen, I dial the number and press the phone to my ear.
“This number has been disconnected and is no longer in service.”
I blink. Did they forget to pay all the phone bills?
Maybe it’s a problem with the phone company. I’ll go over to her house to find her in person as soon as I can get out of this funeral.
An hour later, I pull Dad’s Audi in front of a blue-painted bungalow with a wide front porch.
The house looks cozy and comfortable, exactly like the sort of place where we’d sit around the table having dinner, and the neighbors would stop by, and Josie’s sister would interrogate me.
Suddenly, I want that more than anything.
I park the car and am about to head up the path to the door when my attention is drawn to a For Sale sign hanging on a post in the yard.
That can’t be right. Josie would have told me if her family was moving, wouldn’t she?
Unless they’re only moving to a house nearby, and she didn’t think to mention it with so much else going on.
At that moment, the front door swings open and two big guys exit carrying a dresser between them. They set it on the front porch to rest for a minute.
“Hey,” I call up to them. “I’m looking for someone who lives here. Is the family home?”
“Nobody lives here,” the bigger guy in a New York Mets T-shirt calls over to me, wiping the sweat off his brow. “The family moved out of state. We work for the realtor who was staging the house.”
I feel lightheaded, and I back up toward the car to lean against it. Out of state? Josie would have told me if her family was moving out of state. But this is the address that came up when I looked up Annabel Sullivan.
“Where did they move?”
The other mover smirks. “Sorry, dude, we can’t tell you that.” He and the first guy go back to the dresser, carrying it down the steps to the pickup truck I now realize is parked in front of my car.
I pull out my phone and dial Josie’s number again.
“This number has been disconnected and is no longer in service.”
I can’t believe this is happening. But what other explanation is there? Josie wasn’t at the funeral. Her phone is disconnected. Her family moved out of state.
She’s gone.