Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense) (2 page)

“Are
you referring to Nina's own artwork?” Cedric asked.

“Yeah,
of course.  Plus, you know, if there's other artwork in her house that's worth
a lot.”

An
awkward moment settled on the room.  There was tactlessly mercenary—and then
there was this. 

Nina
Corday had been a successful painter in her own right, as well as something of
a collector.  Despite her long career, she had not painted any new pieces since
becoming sick.  Was her boyfriend now hoping for some kind of posthumous
windfall?

Narrowing
her eyes, Nicole assessed him. 
Abel Kelling: graspy
.

Cedric
explained, “It's my understanding that Nina's own body of work—that which is
thus far unsold—is the property of the Goliath Gallery here in
Boston
, where the
pieces were commissioned.  As far as any paintings that Nina may have owned
separately, those would fall within the contents of the house, now belonging to
her niece, Nicole.”

Abel looked
like he was going to say something more, but didn't.  Instead, he shifted in
his seat and visibly tightened his lips. 

Meanwhile,
Nicole struggled to absorb all of this.  Her inheritance was not truly sinking
in yet—it was still more a swirl of words, floating outside of herself. 

Cedric
folded his hands on his desktop and addressed her directly.  “Now, what this
means is that the deed will be turned over to you.  You can keep the house,
obviously, or, more likely, you'll want to sell it.”

“I
can help you with that, sweetheart,” her father offered.

Cedric
continued, “Before you sell the house, you will want to inventory everything
inside and have some sort of auction.  I will be happy to help you where I
can.  At this point, do you have any questions?”

“Um...wow,”
Nicole said finally, feeling a little stupid as she said it. 
Wow
was
always such an insipid thing to say.  “I never expected this.  I'm so...I'm
overwhelmed.  I mean...that Nina would entrust me with so much.”  A timid smile
broke from her lips.  “I'm just stunned.” 

She
would never have expected a gift this size from anyone.  Was it because she and
Aunt Nina had always been similar to each other?  More fascinated by books than
by people; more inclined to listen than to talk.  And each was the middle girl
in a trio of sisters...they had always had sort of a connection.

Over
the past few years, Nicole had become “busy.”  After college had come graduate
school, and after that, work—and, well, there was always a multitude of
self-absorbed excuses for letting someone drop off your radar.  In fact,
looking back, she had only made it down to the
Cape
a handful of
times in the last several years. 

When
Nina had become sick, she should have made more time for her.  It was
inexcusable, Nicole knew now with sudden disgust (Regret making its usual late
entrance to the party).  Now, with this bequest, Nicole was beyond flattered. 
But also naggingly uneasy, because any excitement was muddied by guilt. 
Honestly?  She didn't deserve a gesture like this. 

Cedric
reached inside the brown envelope that had contained the will and pulled out
several smaller envelopes.  “She left you each a note.”

Envelopes
tore and papers rustled.

Nicole
broke the seal on her envelope and pulled a slip of paper from inside.  She
unfolded it and read:
My darling, you are so special to me.  Please
understand why... 
“Oh—” she said suddenly, and turned around.  “This one
is yours, I just realized.”

Impatiently,
Abel rose from his seat and snatched it from her.   As if it were an
afterthought, he passed off the note that had been intended for Nicole. 

He
clutched the page with both hands and read eagerly.  His eyes scanned back and
forth as if searching for something specific.  Meanwhile, Nicole turned her
attention to her own note: 

Nicole,
when you girls were little, I told you stories of castles and pirates and
buried treasure.
 
It wasn’t all make-believe
, the note went on. 
It
turns out that there are pirates and there is a treasure—but the treasure is a
house.  You'll know what to do.

Slowly, she re-folded
the paper.  The tip of her nose burned, as her vision blurred.  The more she
tried to keep from crying, the more insistent her tears became, until hot water
like acid pooled in her eyes.     

The
treasure is a house. 

Aunt
Nina's words seemed to linger only briefly in front of Nicole's eyes—and then
pirouette and twist away, vanishing for a time into the air.

***

The restaurant
was crowded but the man in dark glasses concerned himself only with the party
of five seated in the center. 
Three twenty
-something girls and their parents, out
to eat.  From the sidewalk, he’d seen them walk in; he’d followed from a
reasonable distance.  Got a table for one, between the bar and the hallway to
the restrooms.  Of course it was really a table for two; they didn’t make
tables for one, did they?  They made you look at the empty chair across from
you.   

Casually,
he observed the family.  Particularly, he paid attention to the girl in the
middle with the dark hair and green eyes, wrapped up in a thick turtleneck
sweater.  Nicole was her name.  She didn’t appear to be doing much of the
talking at the table.  And now she stood.  Soon she was walking.  Away from her
table—and straight toward him.  Instinctively, he averted his gaze. 

He
could see and sense that she was walking right up to him.  Because of his
sunglasses, she could not have known that he was watching her.  Automatically, he
focused on his open menu, pretending to study it as he felt her coming right up
beside his table. 

Out
of the corner of his eye, he watched her until she continued past him. 

He
sighed with relief.  If she saw him, it might all be ruined.  And then he heard
a clatter near him and turned. 

“Oh
shoot!” Nicole murmured, and knelt down to pick up her cell phone that had
dropped out of her bag.  Briefly she glanced up at him and said, “Sorry” with a
deprecating kind of smile.  He didn’t know what she was apologizing for;
“shoot” wasn’t exactly the worst he’d ever heard.

He
didn’t say much back, because he couldn’t.  Instead, he offered a brief
close-mouthed smile and turned his face back to his menu.  She gathered up her
bag and continued on to the ladies’ room.  The man decided that when she
returned, he would be gone.

The days and details that followed the reading of the
will were like bricks of mud at the base of pyramid.  Sturdy, essential,
practical. 

Nicole had paid her rent for the month, packed a few
bags and prepped for her trip to
Cape Cod
. 
She didn't have to request time off from work—she had lost her job at Hill
House Library only a few weeks earlier.  Much to her lingering disappointment, she
had been laid off pretty unceremoniously along with a few others. 

And then were the inessentials—like a dinner out with
her family, when Aunt Nina's will could be discussed in the privacy of an
overcrowded restaurant, where unsolicited parental advice could flow like the
wine and be, in theory, digested with the food.  As an investment banker,
Anthony brought a complex financial perspective to Nicole's inheritance. 
Nicole tuned out a lot of what he said, and Gwen cut off the rest—injecting
various bits of unvarnished “truth” according to her own gospel. 

For one, Aunt Beth should have been there. 
“Unforgivable,” Gwen had said more than once, as she'd cut her steak with sharp
precision.  As an ER nurse, Gwen was used to precision.  And to blood—which
pooled in a crimson puddle on her white plate, and slid in red rivulets across
the china with each measured stroke of the knife. 

For another, that Abel Kelling's “grotesque” behavior
was likely the result of bitterness.  According to Gwen, Abel had proposed to
Aunt Nina several times over the years, but for some reason, she had never said
yes.  (“Too busy saying no,” Anthony had offered as a quip that died instantly
on the vine.)  As for Cedric, Gwen remarked that he looked different—to which
Alyssa replied, “He's a bald, paunchy lawyer—where's the change?"

Linda was unusually quiet throughout the meal, as if
something were bothering her.  Nicole assumed it was just the overall sadness
of the day that had colored her older sister's mood.    

The only thing their mom had been ambivalent about
was what Nicole should do about Aunt Nina's house.  It wasn't like Gwen not to
have an iron-strong opinion on a subject, especially one as personal as this.

At twenty-seven, with barely five thousand dollars in
the bank and no job at present, the notion of owning a house seemed ludicrously
premature to Nicole.  It made more sense to sell it, especially as her life was
in
Boston
, not in
Chatham
,
Massachusetts
.

Now, after a two-hour-plus drive in her sister’s car,
she had arrived.

Finally—as the wheels crunched over a blanket of
leaves, and slowly rolled to stop—it sank in.  With a hard swallow, Nicole
hopped out of the passenger seat and onto the curb.  For a long moment, she
looked at the house before her.  One where she had spent a few summers as a
little girl.  How could it be?  This wide, two-story house with the gray
shingles and pink shutters, the one with the slate sidewalk and bright green
shrubbery—Number 18, Orchard Street—was
hers
. 

Once inside, she dropped her duffel bag on the floor
of the foyer, as the sunlit glow of Nina's house absorbed her.  The familiar
feel of the place instantly pulled on her senses, bringing with it the ambiance
that was uniquely its own.  It was poignant but comforting how the feeling of a
place lived on.

Since Nicole planned to stay a couple of weeks, she'd
packed just enough to get her by—computer, clothes, novels and DVDs.  She had
also brought some office supplies to help her stay organized when she
inventoried the house.

“Thanks again, you guys,” she said to her sisters, as
she dropped her coat down at her feet.

Alyssa
said, “If you thank us one more time we're leaving.”

“No,
please!” Nicole said with a laugh.  “I have a sickness.  You know how some
people are over-thinkers?  I'm an over-thanker.”

Narrowing
her gaze, Alyssa assessed her.  “Actually you're both.”

“Where
do you want this?” Linda asked, rolling Nicole’s small, wheeled file cabinet into
the foyer.  Linda also had a duffel bag slung on one of her shoulders, which
appeared to be pulling at her long, blackish hair.  She sounded irritable as
she added, “This weighs a ton,” and then hefted it hard onto the floor. 

“Nic,
how long do you think you will stay?” Alyssa asked.    

“Three
weeks at the most.  I need to go through the bulk of Nina's things—furniture,
books, dishes, artwork, all that—and catalog it for tax purposes—”

“
'For tax purposes,' ” her younger sister repeated, as if the expression tickled
her. 

“Then
I'll see what mom wants to keep.  And then I'll have an estate sale, I guess. 
Dad said he'd help me with that.”

“What
about us?” Linda said.  “Do we get to pick, too?  Or do we just get to be
customers at the estate sale?”  Her fake-kidding tone of voice failed to be
convincing. 

Nicole
wasn't sure why Linda was annoyed.  It wasn't particularly like her to be petty
or materialistic.  Yet, she had been kind of aloof ever since the reading of
the will.  Was there something specific that she had wanted that she didn’t
get?  Nicole couldn’t imagine what it would be.  Her older sister had always
been mercurial.  But this seemed different.  On most of the drive down today she
had been almost sullen. 

“Sure,
of course,” Nicole responded now.  “Just tell me if there's something you
want...”  She felt awkward, because the words made her sound as if she had some
kind of authority over her sisters, and that just seemed wrong.  “You seem
mad,” she added.

“I'm
not mad,” Linda protested.  Clearly defensive, she said, “Why would I be mad? 
You've always been Aunt Nina's favorite.  I have no problem with that.”

“No I
haven't...”

“Sure
you have.  Remember that emerald pendant she got you for college graduation? 
She didn't give Alyssa or me an emerald.” 

“You
guys got nice necklaces—”

“Nicole,
it's fine, you're making a thing of it,” Linda said, turning it all around on
her.  “I'm just saying—you really didn't spend much time with Nina toward the
end.”  Affected by the words, Nicole swallowed a hard lump.  “I mean, we didn't
either.  You know, we saw her a few times—just like you did.  Yet, she leaves
you practically everything.”

Alyssa
broke in, “Linda, come on, Nina was always generous with us.  But
someone
had to get the house.”

“Let's
drop it,” Linda said.