A Holiday Yarn (24 page)

Chapter 29

I
t was a sad group that caravanned to 26 Ravenswood Road, to the comforting warmth of Mary's kitchen.

Tears fell copiously as they took turns filling Mary in on Nancy's terrible, heartbreaking story. All the deceits.

They laid the facts out on the kitchen island, one following after another, small invisible lines connecting the flowers, Dean's death, Nancy's vigilance over the goings-on at the bed-and-breakfast.

"Mary," Nell asked presently, after the facts of the day had been lined up along the island like cups of tea, "why were you so late meeting us the night that Pamela was murdered?"

"Nancy had planned for us to meet at the Ocean's Edge. But then she was late getting there. She called and said to wait; she'd be there soon."

"So she made sure you stayed away."

"And the night Troy was killed, it was Nancy who decided we needed a night off. She had Ed and me over for dinner that night."

"After she'd made sure the ladder would collapse beneath his weight," Izzy said.

"She was handier than any of us," Kevin said. "She knew how to use those tools better than I did. But she made sure I was the one who moved them around, who carried out the ladder, who sent the good ladder back with the work crew."

"I wanted to fire Troy after Pamela died," Mary said. "Kevin and I didn't trust him, but Nancy convinced me we needed him."

"She needed him close, where she could watch him," Nell said.

"I always thought her insistence on Troy painting the eaves was a bit silly, but she paid such close attention to detail, I bought it."

Kevin sat at the island, listening to Mary, his eyes offering what comfort he could. But they had both befriended Nancy. And in the end, her betrayal was too enormous to get their arms around immediately.

"In time," Ben said, seeing emotion cloud Kevin's face.

He nodded.

Sam arrived then, his arms filled with platters of Gracie's special lobster rolls, a heaping salad, and several bottles of wine.

"Fortification," Mary whispered, pulling herself up as high as she could to embrace the tall photographer.

"Nancy was a victim, too," Nell said. She took the platter of lobster rolls from Sam's bag and passed them around, encouraging everyone to eat.

"Imagine losing your husband because he couldn't live without another woman," Izzy said.

"I think Dean cared deeply for Nancy--but he was . . . "

"Obsessed," Izzy said. "How many times did we hear that word these past weeks?"

Cass nodded. "Obsessed . . . it was like an addiction."

"So terribly sad."

"It's hard to understand unless you've walked in those shoes." Ben passed around glasses of wine. Outside, the sky was dark, and the wind picked up.

"I think Nancy sensed we were beginning to pull it all together. Trying to focus the blame on Kevin was a last-ditch effort," Cass said.

"She was frightened," Nell said. "Nancy is such a bright woman. She must have known that things were closing in on her."

"She overheard one of you talking about the man Pamela had an affair with," Mary said. "She told me it was absurd. But I sensed concern in her voice."

They finished off the platter of lobster rolls and the arugula salad, surprised at themselves that they enjoyed the food so thoroughly.

And then the group of friends began to slowly drift off, first Cass to meet Danny at the Gull.

She glanced at her phone message. It was the third time he'd texted her in the past hour. "The news is traveling along Harbor Road. Danny just needs to see my gorgeous face." She laughed roughly and sorted through the pile of coats, finding her jacket.

Sam stood next, stretching his arms above his head.

Nell watched his movements. She'd seen the great relief that had flooded his face when he entered the Hughes house earlier and found Izzy all right. Now she saw something else.

Resolve.

"Hey, Iz," he said, looking across the island where she sat on a leather stool. "Any chance I could give you a ride home? It's been a long day. I could use a cup of your horrible coffee."

Izzy looked up. Her face lacked the grin Sam seemed to be hoping for.

The day had affected them all in different ways, Nell thought. Thoughts tumbled over thoughts. Emotions grasped for meaning. Lives were examined.

"Okay," Sam said, shrugging. "How about a glass of wine and a fire? I need some time with you. Please?"

Izzy didn't answer, but she slipped on her boots and shrugged into her jacket. The two of them walked silently out the back door, along the porch. Nell watched as Sam pulled her close, lowered his head. And then they disappeared into the blackness of the night.

Ben drew her attention back.

"Let's polish off these last couple inches, Kevin," he said, emptying the bottle of cabernet into the glasses. "Better than Nyquil."

Kevin took the wine with a half smile.

Weariness spread through his body as he drained his glass. His expression was grave and thoughtful at once.

"I suppose I was the likely person for her to try to divert attention to," he said. "The police already had reason to suspect me because Troy had planted that wallet in my locker. He wanted them looking at me, not him, so he could go about his business of blackmailing Nancy. I guess he wouldn't have wanted them looking at Nancy, either. She was his ticket out of here."

"You were around all the time. It was easy to assume you'd know where tools were, what people's schedules were," Nell said. "She was frightened. Nancy so rarely couldn't control things. She was beginning to unravel."

Ben reached for their coats and handed one to Nell, then Birdie.

Birdie slipped hers on and walked around the table to Kevin. She stood between Mary and Kevin and wrapped Kevin in a hug, her arms barely circling his shoulders.

"It happens to all of us, sweet Kevin," she whispered in his ear. "It's been a long haul. But it's over."

Chapter 30

N
ell stood next to Ben in front of the fireplace, looking up into Enzo Pisano's wide gray eyes. A roaring fire crackled, heating their legs and arms.

"You're blushing," Ben said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Nell lifted a hand to her warm cheek. "The fire. The evening. You."

"It's good to know I can still bring fire to your cheeks."

Nell smiled and leaned into his side. "Enzo would love all this."

"Every minute of it."

"It's good, isn't it? All of it."

Ben looked down at his wife of nearly forty years. He nodded. "Yes, it is." Ben understood the touch of sadness in his wife's voice, intrinsically mixed with joy.

It had been a long week, from putting a murder behind them--to celebrating the living. With the Pisanos' tragedy put to rest, they could concentrate more fully on those they loved.

Ben had known about Sam's journey for a few days, but Sam had asked him not to talk about it. It was the way Sam handled things, Ben said. He was careful. But it was probably more about caring than anything else. Caring for Izzy. Once you see your life taking a turn, he'd said to Ben, you check all directions to make sure there's nothing bad around the corner. Surprises you don't want in your life--or in someone else's.

He loved Izzy, he said, although no one needed to be told that.

And if they were ever to consider an honest future, he needed to know more about himself. History, medical things, like the genes he carried. So he'd gone back to Kansas and Colorado, pulled out records, asked lots of questions. He found out little about his birth parents. Hippies, he was told. Lived in communes. Came from California. But nothing that answered the pressing questions in his head.

So he'd checked himself into Boston General and subjected himself to every test known to man. Hereditary predispositions. Carrier testing. Sperm counts. All sorts of things he'd never thought about, not until Izzy became the center of his life.

"Why didn't you tell her what you were doing?" Nell had demanded, her relief tangled up in Izzy's anguish.

Ben had shushed her and told her to listen.

"Because I know your niece so well," Sam had answered quietly. "Izzy would have said it didn't matter. That she only cared about me. And she would have believed it. But I needed to know for myself what I had to offer her. Alone. It's my way."

It wasn't the words, really, but the emotion behind them that convinced Nell he was right. We all needed to be true to ourselves, whatever that meant or how it worked. She thought of Izzy's love for babies, the look in her eyes when she held them. Maybe Sam knew a part of her that even she hadn't been privy to.

When the final tests came back, he'd sat Izzy down and shared his journey. He didn't know his parents, but he knew he had good, decent genes, as far as medical science could report, anyway.

Nell brushed her head against Ben's shoulder. She could stay right here in Enzo Pisano's living room, the flames crackling, the music playing, for a long, long time, and be happy.

Mary had flung open the doors to Ravenswood-by-the-Sea to the whole town. It was a joyous Christmas Eve. Soon guests would begin filling the rooms of the bed-and-breakfast. Tonight it was all about friends and neighbors, about the holidays, and Mary had pulled out all the stops.

Across the room, the Scaglias sat with the Wootens, Mayor Stan Hanson was there with his wife, Roberta. Willow Adams and Pete Halloran were engaged in deep conversation, their heads inclined toward each other. A lovely sight, in Nell's mind.

They waved to the Garozzos and Brandleys, to Annabelle Palazola cradling her grandbaby as her daughter Liz and husband Alphonso looked on, not letting the baby get far from their sight. Mary Pisano moved from group to group, welcoming everyone, thanking people for the cards and generous housewarming gifts they'd sent--the dozens of poinsettias filling the hallways, silver and crystal ornaments dripping from the branches of the enormous tree. But it wasn't the gifts; it was what they meant, why they'd been sent; that's what Mary said.

Nell and Ben moved through the crowded living room, through the halls, and beyond the winding staircase. They spotted Ham Brewster in the den, and he met them at the door, kissing Nell beneath the mistletoe hanging from the wide doorway. Jane, holding Henrietta O'Neal's arm, waved at them from a table across the room. It was filled with Kevin's bacon-wrapped figs and enormous mushrooms stuffed with crab and arugula, fruit plates and Christmas cookies, tiny roast beef sandwiches with horseradish dressing, and heaped platters of lobster rolls.

The paneled room had been Enzo's library, and still held his comfortable leather chairs and collection of books. The eight-foot-high ceiling had walnut beams crossing from side to side. French doors opened up to the porch.

A waiter appeared, a tray of champagne glasses balanced in his hands.

Jane beckoned them over to the food table. "An amazing spread. Ham and I went to the kitchen to tell Kevin as much, but we left when Danny Brandley and Kevin began discussing which one of them makes the best chowder. It looked like it might turn into a duel."

"It's fortunate Cass has found a man who cooks," Nell said.

"I heard my name," Cass called out, weaving around Elliott Danvers, heatedly discussing football play-offs with Jerry Thompson.

"Of course I found a man who cooks. It was the number one priority--well, next to being witty and good-looking and charming and kind to dogs and an amazing mystery writer." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug and grinned. "They're a dime a dozen."

"So where are the other kids?" Henrietta asked, causing another chorus of chuckles.

"The kids? Wellllll," Cass drew out the word for effect. "Two of the kids have disappeared." She turned and looked through the French doors, waving her arms dramatically. "I think they've gone off into the winter night. Two lost souls."

Beyond the windows and the porch, the lawn's pathways were lit with low lights, a winding maze from the porch all the way back to the woods. Spotlights beneath the enormous trees cast beams up into the snow-crusted branches. It was a winter wonderland.

As her eyes adjusted to the night, Nell spotted two figures walking toward the house, their arms looped around each other, their gait as slow as if it were the sunniest of summer days.

At first, taking in the scene playing out in front of her, Nell was oblivious to the weather. But then the white flakes grew plump, dancing in the icy air, twirling around, touching the ground.

"It's snowing," someone behind her said.

And then the flakes began to fall in earnest, growing in size and number, until the sky was white with wonder.

The couple drew closer to the house. Sam and Izzy, their hair flecked with snow, their faces lifted to the sky, tongues catching dancing flakes. Rich laughter.

Jubilant laughter.

Nell opened the French doors, and they all crowded in the opening, caught up in the wonder of the night--the snow falling in front of them, the crackling fire at their backs. In the distance, the bells of Our Lady of the Seas began to ring, rolling down the hills and narrow streets, filling the town with joy.

Izzy and Sam walked up onto the porch.

Izzy walked over to Nell and wrapped her scarf around her aunt's neck. "You're crying, Aunt Nell."

Nell brushed the moisture away, oblivious of the cold. She held Izzy's gaze fast. "Izzy--"

Izzy's laugh was as light as the snowflakes and as rich as the emotion swirling around inside Nell. "I'm crying, too."

She lifted one hand in front of Nell's brimming eyes. A deep blue diamond sparkled. "Do you think Mary would like to have a wedding here? They say it brings good luck. Peace and prosperity. But then, I'd always thought your backyard would be nice. . . . "

And then she melted into her aunt's arms.

Sam stood beside Ben a few steps away. He watched the two women for a minute or two. And then he crossed the distance in an easy stride, and his big arms collected Izzy and pulled her close as if he'd never let go.

In the distance, the music changed. The CD quieted, and live guitars, drums, and the keyboard of the Fractured Fish filled the rooms and hallways of the bed-and-breakfast.

The partygoers hushed as Pete's and Merry's voices blended together, and their hearts belted out the familiar words, words about friendship, about being together. Magical words. And by the song's end, a chorus of robust voices, young and old, joined in and filled Mary Pisano's Ravenswood-by-the-Sea with holiday joy:

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.