Chapter 13
13
W ith Scout trotting beside him, Jack strolled along the wooden deck of the marina, which was quiet at this time of day. He’d chosen this spot to talk to Blake because of that.
Jack had spent the morning with a contractor and a crew to repair the rear deck. He couldn’t leave Scout outside with them in case he slipped out, and the dog couldn’t be trusted inside on his own. Not after he’d opened the closet door and chewed Marina’s best sneakers to shreds.
Many of the boats were nestled in their slips today. The mayor’s vintage craft was at the end, and Tyler’s sleek boat bobbed near the front. Mitch, who owned Java Beach, looked like he was preparing his boat for one of his afternoon shoreline cruise charters. Jack waved at him.
He walked back and waited near the front, rocking on his heels. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he watched Blake approach. The younger man was dressed like a regular guy in a nice pair of jeans and a collared knit shirt with his organization’s logo.
What Jack knew of him, he liked. Blake seemed intelligent and straightforward. He was well-educated and passionate about ocean rescue. For Heather’s sake, Jack hoped he wasn’t wrong about him.
He’d find out today.
Blake greeted him with a confident, friendly handshake and reached down to pet Scout. “It’s good to see you, but what’s so urgent? Is it Heather?”
“She’s fine for now. But we need to talk. Marina and I met your parents.”
Blake shook his head. “They’re a pair, for sure.” His brow furrowed as he noticed Jack’s serious expression. “Wait, what happened?”
“You haven’t heard from your parents?”
“No. What’s going on?”
Blake looked like he had no idea what had transpired. “Let’s take a walk,” Jack replied. The sturdy wooden deck creaked under their weight as they set off.
Jack hated interrogating Heather’s fiancé, but the news was better coming from him than Marina or Heather. “Your father told us you’re engaged to another woman. Care to explain that?”
Blake’s face paled. “Oh, no. Did Marina tell Heather?”
“Not yet,” Jack replied. “I wanted to give you a chance to sort this out with your parents and Heather. But I’m not sure how long Marina can keep from saying something to her. She’s awfully upset.” He fixed Blake with a steady gaze. “What do you have to say for yourself? Is it true?”
Blake ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “It’s complicated. My father’s partner had a daughter, and we grew up together. Priscilla and I dated for a couple of months in high school, and it was sort of serious, but we went our separate ways for college. That was the end of it. However, our parents made assumptions, and Priscilla never corrected them.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to Heather?” Jack asked, disappointed in his story.
Blake shook his head. “It’s been years now. I thought Priscilla would find someone and get married. I didn’t think it was important.”
“Well, it is now.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess Priscilla is still interested, but I’m not. That’s why I avoid events where I know she’ll be. Our folks still throw us together.”
Jack sighed. “So why are your parents—especially your father—so set on Priscilla for you?”
“Yeah. That’s where it gets complicated. It’s all about money and business.”
Blake’s tone had a bitter edge Jack hadn’t heard before. No, not bitterness. Frustration. “Explain it to me. You’re going to have to tell Heather everything.”
“I see that now.” Blake drew a hand across his face. “Dad’s been working on his estate and retirement plan. There’s a lot of money at stake, along with tax implications. If something happens to either partner, they don’t want an outsider coming in and taking over. Essentially, everything would be easier if Priscilla and I were married. We would inherit equally, and the business would go on.” He shook his head. “Her father isn’t well, so Dad is getting nervous.”
“That’s a lot to consider. I imagine it’s hard to turn your back on that.”
Blake met Jack’s gaze with fierce determination. “I don’t care about the business or the money. I love what I do, and it pays enough for me to be comfortable and have a family. I don’t need to throw money around on fancy cars and airplanes like my father does. I grew up with that. Why do you think I became an aquatic veterinarian?”
“Animals are nicer than people, huh?”
“Many of them. Not Heather, or you guys, though. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Hey, I know how that feels.” Jack nodded, processing this information. “For the record, your mother apologized. She seemed embarrassed by the whole situation.”
“She is,” Blake admitted. “She knows Priscilla isn’t right for me, but she has to live with my dad. Their marriage has been rocky for years. It’s a primer on what not to do in a relationship.” Blake scrubbed his face in irritation.
A heavy silence fell between them, broken by waves lapping the boats. Scout panted patiently beside them.
Finally, Blake asked, “So, will you tell Heather?”
Jack shook his head firmly. “That’s your job, my man. But you’d better do it fast and let her hear from you. This isn’t the kind of secret that stays buried for long.”
“I’m seeing her tonight.” Blake’s shoulders slumped with the weight of the task ahead.
If the younger man’s words were true, Jack was truly sorry for him. He’d hear about it soon enough.
Watching Blake’s retreating figure, Jack made a mental note to check in with Marina. They would have a difficult conversation ahead, deciding how to tell Heather if Blake didn’t come clean soon. Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a complicated situation.
“Come on, Scout,” Jack said. “We have another stop.”
After leaving Blake, Jack drove to Ginger’s house for an afternoon working session. He opened the van, and Scout rocketed toward the garden. He let out a sharp whistle, catching the dog’s attention. “Don’t you dare, buddy.”
Ginger swung the door open with a bright smile. “Good afternoon, Jack. May we stop by the Hidden Garden first? Leilani and Roy have some items ready for me to pick up, and I’d like to speak to them about an idea. Do you have enough space in that van for a few items?”
“Absolutely, happy to help,” Jack replied, giving her a warm smile as he helped her into the van.
Scout gave him a puzzled look but hopped back in with enthusiasm.
After driving the short distance and parking in front of the nursery, Jack opened the door for Ginger. Scout hopped out, and Jack snapped a leash on the dog’s collar.
Once past the entryway filled with fountains and flowers, they saw Leilani and Roy Miyake, the proprietors.
A squirrel darted ahead, and Jack pulled on the lead to restrain Scout.
“Leilani, dear,” Ginger said, taking the other woman’s hands. “Thank you for arranging my order for me. I’d also like to discuss reserving your lovely nursery for a special party. I spoke to Heather this morning, and she likes the idea.”
Jack’s gut churned at that. Depending on Heather’s reaction, that engagement might be short-lived.
“Excuse me,” he said to Ginger. “Would you like to have a look around first?”
“In a moment,” Ginger replied, waving him off.
Leilani said, “We’ve had parties here before. We string fairy lights in the trees, and the garden looks magical.”
Ginger nodded. “I attended one here. Now, about Heather and Blake.”
Concerned, Jack tried again. “Ginger, if I might have a word first.” He had to buy time for Blake to talk to Heather.
Ginger ignored him, so he was left with little choice. He dropped Scout’s lead.
The Labrador retriever streaked after the squirrel, scattering potted plants as he careened through the outdoor nursery with his slightly off-kilter gait.
Leilani waved her arms at her husband. “Roy, would you stop him?”
“Slow down, old boy,” her husband called back, gripping Scout’s collar.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said to Ginger. “Scout is easily excited. I’ll load your purchases, and we can return another day.”
To Leilani, he added, “I’m happy to pay for the damage here.”
“It’s not the first time,” Leilani said, shrugging off his offer. “Plenty of people bring dogs. Plants grow back.”
“You should control that dog in public places.” Looking a little annoyed, Ginger sighed. “Perhaps this wasn’t fair of me. I know we have work to do.”
“Roy is happy to deliver whatever you need,” Leilani said.
She smiled at that. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll check the dates.”
After loading the van with Ginger’s purchases—supplies for the sprinkler system, plant food, a new rake, and a selection of indoor plants—Jack returned with her to her cottage.
On her private patio, Ginger relaxed under a coral canvas umbrella. Scout stretched out on the stone pavers beside her while Jack opened his notebook, ready to hear more of her story.
“I’d like to hear about when you lived in Washington, D.C. I understand you met scores of interesting people there.”
As Ginger sipped her tea, her gaze rested on the outdoor fireplace decorated with colorful Mexican Talavera tiles, and her memories began to flow.
“After Bertrand was recalled to the States, we settled in Virginia with a townhouse in Washington. Near Embassy Row in Georgetown, to be exact. As quiet and orderly as my work was during the day, Bertrand’s career was often the opposite. We attended several functions every week, and he often had dinner meetings, leaving me at home with Sandi, though I never minded.”
Jack sensed a certain reticence now. His journalistic instincts were on high alert, and he suspected she was holding something back.
“Your life will read more like a novel than a biography,” he said, trying to loosen her thoughts. “The people you’ve known, the circles you’ve moved in. It’s extraordinary.”
“A novel, indeed.” She smiled at the idea. “You flatter me, Jack. But a life well lived should be a page-turner, don’t you think?”
“I’ll do my best.”
While he waited for her to continue, he glanced at Scout, still lounging contentedly beside the table. The dog’s ears perked before he relaxed again.
Jack tapped record on his phone. “During that time, you and Bertrand met some of the most influential people of the 20th century. Care to drop a few names?”
Ginger’s eyes gleamed at his question. “In Washington, D.C., we met with several presidents. In France, Bertrand knew President de Gaulle. And later, we met Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher at numerous events on both sides of the Atlantic—she was quite accomplished.”
She continued, recalling encounters and friendships forged with other heads of state, politicians, and celebrities. “Everyone adored Bertrand and gravitated toward him. He was a natural leader and communicator.”
“I would say the same about you.” Jack considered how he might weave these vignettes into a narrative as he listened. Ginger’s life was a tapestry of personal triumphs against world-changing events.
How could he capture the essence of this remarkable woman without losing the intimacy of her journey or the gravity of her professional accomplishments?
Jack tapped his pen thoughtfully against his notepad. “In your work, you’ve mentioned developing a deeper motivation. Can you tell me more about that?”
Ginger’s eyes looked distant, as if she were gazing into the past. “My work was often critical to world affairs—at home and abroad. What mattered to me was making a difference in a rapidly changing world. The Cold War was at its height, and I felt a strong responsibility. Not just to my country, but to the shared future we were all trying to shape.”
Jack leaned forward, intrigued. “So it wasn’t only about the intellectual challenge?”
“That was certainly part of it,” Ginger replied. “But there was an urgency, a sense that what we were doing could tip the scales of history. Every pattern uncovered and every code we broke fed into the larger picture of diplomatic relations. We were on the front lines of a silent war fought with information. Correspondence sometimes revealed other serious issues.”
She expanded on that, mentioning a high-profile trial for espionage. Jack was surprised; he hadn’t known of her involvement behind the scenes.
“And how did Bertrand factor into all this?” Jack asked, scribbling notes even while the digital time on the recorder flashed.
Ginger’s face softened. “Bertrand was my anchor through the storm. Our townhouse in Washington became a hub of activity—cocktail parties for visitors, diplomatic soirees, meetings disguised as dinner parties.”
“Sounds like something out of a spy novel.”
“Art has imitated life since Plato’s time,” Ginger said. Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Sometimes, it’s the other way around, for better or worse.”
Jack noticed a touch of regret in her voice and made a note. “It sounds like an intense time.”
“It was,” Ginger agreed. “But it was also exhilarating. We were part of something bigger than ourselves. And yet...”
“And yet?” Jack asked, prompting her.
Ginger turned back with a guarded expression. “Life has a way of dishing up the unexpected.” She glanced at her watch. “That’s a story for another time.”
Jack nodded, recognizing the subtle shift in Ginger’s demeanor. He knew better than to push too hard. Instead, he jotted down a few more notes, weighing options for structuring this complex narrative.
Ginger reached across the table, patting his hand affectionately. “Thank you for listening. I trust you to tell this story.”
They sat in companionable silence, sipping the last of their tea. Jack was determined to do justice to Ginger’s life story. Still, between her recollections and his research, he had a nagging feeling that the two might not mesh.
It wasn’t what she said, but what she held back. Somewhere was the truth, and he would find it. After all, that’s what he did.