The Secret Sister (28 page)

“What's wrong?” Nancy asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “You're very talented. You know that?”

Tears filled Nancy's eyes. She muttered a quick thanks and turned away so Maisey wouldn't see them, but Maisey stopped her. “Are you going to tell me what happened with Keith?”

“He doesn't love me,” she said. “You knew it all along—and you tried to warn me, but I...I didn't want to listen.”

Maisey pulled her close for a hug. “Some of the hardest things are for the best,” she told Nancy, and she had to wonder if that same advice applied to her.

27

K
eith was waiting for her when she got home. But Maisey wasn't happy to see him. He was the reason Josephine had shown up out of the blue this morning—when Maisey was the least prepared to deal with her—and made that nasty ultimatum regarding Rafe. He'd also hurt Nancy, as Maisey had feared. It'd taken some prying, but before she left the flower shop, Maisey had managed to get out of Nancy that Keith owed her close to two thousand dollars, most of which he'd borrowed in the past ten days. So not only was Nancy grappling with the harsh reality that he didn't care about her the way she'd hoped, she was out a lot of cash.

Reluctantly, Maisey got off the scooter. Then she paused to stare up at him. How was she going to handle this meeting? She didn't want another argument, but she couldn't see how she'd avoid that—until he came toward her and she saw the slump of his shoulders and the sheepish expression on his face. For the time being, he was contrite.

“I'm sorry about this morning,” he said.

He had more to be sorry for than that. But he seemed to forget his own mistakes almost as soon as he made them, seemed to expect everyone else to disregard the damage he caused. Because of that, and all his other problems, it was impossible to know how to be a good sister to him. Maisey didn't want to discourage him; she wanted to help him gain control of his life. But was she helping him? Or enabling him? Did her love and support just allow him to continue acting like a human wrecking ball?

“You're not going to say anything?” he asked as he met her on the steps.

“I don't know what to say,” she replied. “You complain to me about Mom almost nonstop, but then you turn on me and run right to her...”

“I didn't turn on you,” he broke in. “I was trying to protect our family. I told you I felt we had to destroy those pictures and letters—even tried to do it myself. I knew one of us would be hurt if we didn't.” He shrugged. “But I thought it would be Mom. That's ironic, don't you think?”

Ironic, yes. But did he feel any remorse for what he'd done to Annabelle?
Should
he?

“And now?” she said. “Do you still want to wipe out all trace of our sister?”

“I don't want anyone talking about what happened, that's for sure.”

She sent him a sharp look as she let them in the house.

“What?” he said. “Would
you
? Why do you think Mom and Dad went to so much trouble to keep this quiet? It's not an easy thing to live with! For me—or for any of us...”

“So you honestly weren't aware that—that it wasn't Mom.”

He grabbed her arm. “Of course not!”

She wished she could accept that as the truth. But her trust was so battered... “Keith...”

“Maisey, listen to me,” he said. “I have my problems. I can't argue with that. No one knows how fucked up I am more than you do. But you have to believe me when I say I don't remember seeing Annabelle fall, let alone pushing her. I would
never
purposely hurt her—or you.”

“How do you explain almost running me down the other night?” she asked.

“I didn't almost run you down. If I'd meant to hurt you, I would have. You don't think I could've stopped you if I'd been willing to go that far?”

“No, because Rafe was there to prevent it.”

“I mean before he came out! I wanted those pictures, but it wasn't as if I was beating you up to get them. I could've knocked you out with one punch if I didn't care about hurting you. And I never locked you in the attic. I didn't even know that Mom did until she admitted it today.”

His grip on her had loosened as he spoke. Maisey pulled away to put her purse on the counter. “What about Nancy?”

“What about her? She has nothing to do with this.”

“I just saw her at the shop. She's heartbroken—not to mention you borrowed money from her you can't repay.”

“I'll pay her back. She's not the right person for me. You've known that all along. And now she does, too. That's what you wanted, isn't it? For me to break it off?”

“Preferably
before
you took her money, but...yeah, leading her on would be wrong.”

“See? I'm not leading her on. It's over.”

Exhausted from being on her feet at work all day, Maisey dropped onto the couch. “Coming home to Fairham has been nothing like I expected.”

“You're blaming me for that, but it's not my fault. I'm fighting an addiction that has such a hold on me I can't shake it. The other stuff I do...that's our childhood and all the crap we went through.”

“Which you had no control over. I get that. But how long are we supposed to hang on to the possibility that you'll get on top of your addiction? How long are we supposed to hope you'll get over the past?”

“I'd do it
now
if I could! You have to believe that. Or are you giving up on me?”

Was she? And would that be fair, when she knew so many of his problems were due to his emotional makeup—and his childhood—as he'd just said?

“No. Of course I'm not giving up on you.”

He lowered his voice. “You believe I pushed Annabelle on purpose, don't you!”

She couldn't quite meet his eyes. It would be a lie to claim she hadn't wondered. But now that he was putting a voice to her doubts, they sounded outlandish again. She felt terrible for allowing her mind to go in that direction. Her return to Fairham hadn't gone as smoothly as she'd hoped. She hadn't been able to rely on Keith for anything. But she'd known he wasn't emotionally stable, which was why she'd come back to help him in the first place. And he was right—he could've hurt her when he burned the pictures. He could've hurt her countless times over the years, and he'd never done so. Did she really have reason to doubt him
that
much?

“I'm in a difficult transition, and having all of this come up in the middle of it... I admit I'm confused.”

“Dad believed it,” he said flatly.

“Did he ever say that?”

“Of course not. Mom and Dad didn't talk about Annabelle, to either of us. But he wouldn't have paid that woman, that Gretchen Phillips, so much money if he didn't believe in his heart that Annabelle's death wasn't an accident.”

“That's not necessarily true. There's a stigma either way. He obviously didn't see any point in putting you through the wringer of public opinion when he had the money to make the whole thing go away.”

“But secrets don't remain secrets forever.”

“This one might have, if Mom hadn't decided to remodel the bungalows.”

He thrust his hands in his pockets. “I can't get my shit together, Maisey. I've tried. I have. There's something wrong with me, something I can't overcome. I make life worse for everyone around me.”

“Don't talk like that,” she said.

“It's true! Even you've lost faith in me. And if I don't have you, I don't have anyone.”

She stopped him before he could leave. “I haven't lost faith, Keith. I've just been...dealing with my own problems.”

“I wish I could remember what happened that day on the cliff,” he said. “I wish I knew
why
I did it.” He paused for a few seconds. “Why that should matter, I don't know. In fact, I don't know why I do half the shit I do.”

What Dinah had told Maisey popped into her mind. Had everyone blindly accepted as truth something that might have been a calculated misdirection? She hesitated to tell Keith what Lindsay Greenberg had to say about that day. She didn't want to hold out false hope. But her brother looked so depressed, she felt he needed
some
encouragement. “Maybe you didn't do it.”

He lifted his troubled gaze. “What are you talking about? You heard Mom.”

“I heard her. But she wasn't there.”

“Which means...”

“Annabelle could've fallen on her own.”

“If she did, why would Gretchen Phillips point a finger at me?”

“Maybe she didn't like you.” He hadn't been popular with many of his caregivers, teachers or other authority figures, so that wouldn't be unusual. “Or she wasn't paying enough attention to where Annabelle was walking or playing and was afraid she'd get blamed for being negligent.”

“Would she blackmail Dad if she was really the one to blame?”

“Why not? It was a way to get money, to survive. And we know she was struggling financially.”

He looked hopeful, but then he shook his head. “You'd be better off without me,” he said. “Everyone would.”

Again, he moved to go, and again, she stopped him. “Don't overreact. That's all I'm saying,” she told him. “Let me see what I can find out before you decide you're some kind of deranged psychopath.”

“Both Gretchen and Annabelle are dead, Maise. And you and I don't remember. There was no one else there. So how are you going to find out anything?”

If he had any recollection of that day, he'd also remember that Lindsay Greenberg had come upon the scene...

Gaining renewed conviction from that detail, Maisey drew a deep breath. “Gretchen had kids, family and friends she interacted with. She must've said
something
to
someone
through the years. Perhaps she confessed on her deathbed.”

He stared at her for several seconds, as if he wanted to hope she was right. But then he said, “And what if all your research convinces you it
was
me?”

“I'll stand by you even then. I believe you're trying to be a good person. You were only four when this happened. If you were responsible in some way, it could've been a simple misjudgment. But let's not accept anything blindly. Let's get to the bottom of it, find out everything we can and then figure out what to do.”

“Go for it,” he muttered, “but I'm sure you won't be happy with the results. Considering all the shit I've done wrong in my life, I'm probably guilty as sin.”

“You deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

“I lost the benefit of the doubt a long time ago,” he said.

Maisey stood at the railing and watched as he left. He was so down on himself that she worried he might give up on getting that fresh start and do something drastic again.

If she could prove he hadn't killed Annabelle, it would boost his morale and might help him get past the assumption that he was so deeply flawed nothing he did would make any difference.

She just hoped that what she learned would help instead of hurt.

* * *

The flowers arrived at ten to five, as Maisey was heading out. She was going to town to see if she could track down Lindsay Greenberg. But she took the gorgeous bouquet Rafe had bought for her, and Nancy had so carefully arranged, and put it on the coffee table first. Then she sat down to read and reread the card.
I can't quit thinking about you. —Rafe.

She couldn't quit thinking about him, either. That was the problem. She wished this could be easy. That she could pull away for a while until she felt stronger. Maybe she'd be able to build a relationship with her mother so Josephine wouldn't be opposed to seeing her with a man like Rafe, as long as he made her happy. But what she and Rafe felt was so urgent and immediate and...there didn't seem to be any toning it down.

Before lunch, he'd texted her to see what she was doing for dinner and invited her out. She'd told him she had plans. But she knew that as soon as she got home tonight she'd go over to his house. Already, she couldn't wait to see him. So what good would it do to pretend otherwise?

With a sigh, she picked up her phone. She had a weakness for Rafe; that was all there was to it. Even if it cost her entire inheritance, she couldn't seem to stay away from him—and these gorgeous flowers and his thoughtful note only made her more aware of the power he held over her. “Why can't you ever play it safe?” she asked herself as she texted him.
What time are you getting Laney?

Going over there in a few. Why?

Can I catch a ride into town?

Will you let me take you to dinner if I say yes?

She chuckled as she shook her head. He was obsessed with getting her to go out with him. In his mind, that would legitimize the relationship, assure him she was interested in more than what went on between them at night.

But what if they ran into her mother?

Where do you want to go?

The Grotto?

The Grotto was expensive. Given the flowers and that elegant a dinner, she guessed he was also trying to prove that he could manage a few of the finer things in life.

It wouldn't be fair to turn him down, then hurry over to his bed after dark. Maybe
she
felt more comfortable keeping their relationship out of the public eye, but he was equating her willingness to be seen together with her level of interest.

How about something simpler? A salad? What does Laney like?

I wasn't planning to bring Laney.

Why? I'm sure she'd love to go with us. Let's take her to that pizza place with all the games. We can help her play Skee-Ball and she can go in that pit with all those plastic balls the kids jump in.

He didn't text back; he called instead. “Your plan doesn't sound too romantic,” he said, but she could tell he was happy that she'd included his daughter.

“The flowers are romantic enough,” she said.

“They arrived?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Nancy said that kind was your favorite. I'm not even sure I've seen them before.”

“I can almost guarantee you have. You just never paid attention to what they're called.”

“How was your day?” he asked.

“It got a little complicated when my mother showed up this morning and found out I was at your house.”

There was a long silence. “What'd she have to say about that?”