The Things We Knew (13 page)

“Do you want me to call someone?” Nick asked, mussing his wet hair.

“Oh, could you?” Gray widened his eyes. “Get the cops out here and fire up the press for an exclusive, okay? Seriously, Cooper, that's a great idea.”

“Just trying to help.” Nick's fight seemed to have left him.

“Okay. Why don't we all just take it down a notch?” David took charge, like always. “Guess we should at least say hello first.” He lifted an eyebrow and opened his arms. “How are you, Shortstop?”

“Hi, Davy.” Lynette moved into her eldest brother's embrace, gave him a hug, and stepped back. He was thinner than she remembered, his almost black hair sporting some gray at the temples. But his smile said everything would be okay. Somehow.

“Don't you have a spare key under the urns by the front door, Lynnie?” Gray asked. “That's where Mom used to . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked away.

“I forgot about that.” Liz clapped her hands like she was commanding the dogs. “Now, can we get on with unlocking the door before we get blown away?”

Lynette couldn't move, paralyzed by another clap of thunder. “I don't know if it's there anymore.”

“Helpful, Lynnie.” Liz pursed her lips and finally threw up her hands. “Okay, why don't we go find out?”

“I can look,” Nick offered.

“A brilliant idea, Nicholas.” Liz gave a conciliatory smile and flicked water off her black leather jacket.

Lynette caught Nick's sympathetic glance and sucked in a breath. “It's all right, Nick. We can manage. You should probably go.” Not that she wanted him to, but with the way Gray was acting, having him here wasn't helping.

“That's the first intelligent thing I've heard you say since I got home.” Gray lit a cigarette and blew smoke high into the air.

Nick rolled his eyes, but kept his gaze on her. “Call me when you get inside.”

“She'll be fine,” Gray growled. “She doesn't need to call you.”

“Shut up, Gray.” Lynette glared at her brother. He'd tested her patience to the max. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Okay, well, I'll see you guys.”

Nobody acknowledged his departure. And apparently nobody really wanted to go see if there was a key out front or not. Liz was too busy checking her smartphone, Gray was trying to jimmy the lock on the screen door with a hairpin Liz produced, and David stood with his back to them, staring out at the waves. Lynette watched Nick jog across the back lawn and disappear down the steps, and a little of her hope went with him.

“Not working.” Gray tossed the pin to the ground a minute later and took another cigarette out from the pack in his shirt pocket.

“Gray, you just finished one.” Lynette had asked him a hundred times already not to smoke around her. The last thing she needed was her asthma kicking in.

Liz hurled a few choice words their way and flung her purse onto the patio table. “Since nobody seems to care whether we all catch pneumonia, I will risk life and limb to see if I can find the key.” As her sister tromped down the steps, Lynette caught sight of Dad in the kitchen. She went to the door and rapped on the glass.

“Dad! Let us in, it's Lynnie!”

He turned toward her, eyebrows raised. In another moment he slid the door open and peered out at them. “Good heavens, you're a bunch of drowned rats! What are you doing outside in this weather?”

“Getting a sunburn,” Gray muttered, pushing past them to get inside.

“David, come on.” Lynette waited for her brother to move, but he didn't. Just stood, staring out at the churning waves.

“David?” Dad cleared his throat. “Is that you?” He blinked a couple of times, definite recognition in his eyes as he raised a trembling hand to his mouth.

David slowly turned and settled his gaze on their father. “Hi, Dad.” He walked toward him, stopped, gave a smile that didn't hold much warmth, then hurried into the kitchen.

Dad's face registered surprise and confusion, but he said nothing. Lynette was almost grateful when she heard the sound of banging on the front door and Liz screeching for someone to let her in.

Guess there hadn't been a key out there after all.

N
ick pulled his wet sweatshirt over his head and dropped it in the laundry room on his way through the house. Lynette texted to say they were inside, and he breathed a little easier. The storm now raged, rain beating against the windows.

He'd come so close to actually kissing her—if the others hadn't shown up, he totally would have. He'd been dreaming about it for days. Still, part of him said he was asking for trouble. That he'd only be further complicating his life. Another part of him said Lynette Carlisle might be the best thing that ever happened to him.

Nick toweled off and grabbed a fresh T-shirt before going in search of his father. He found him in his study, standing in front of the window nursing a drink.

“Not quite noon yet, Dad. Something bothering you?”

“Yes. You. You are bothering me.” His father swiveled on his heel and settled a cool gaze on Nick. “I thought you were going to talk her into selling, Nicholas.”

Nick fended off the blazing arrows that shot from his father's eyes. “I told you, she doesn't want to. But I'm sure with the others here now, she won't have a choice.”

“I want that house, Nicholas. As soon as possible.”

Nick felt rooted to the rug beneath his feet. “You want to buy Wyldewood? Since when?”

“Nicholas.” Silence said the rest.

“Drake will never agree to that.” It was the first thought that came into his head, but his father's snide expression forced him to acknowledge the absurdity of it.

“Drake doesn't have a say anymore. And from what I hear, he's not always on the same planet as the rest of us.” Dad drained the dark liquid from his glass and strode across the room to the cedar bar. Ice clinked against fine Baccarat.

“I thought you weren't supposed to be drinking.” Correcting his father was never smart, but Nick seemed to be sailing on the wrong side of stupid these days.

Dad walked back to his desk and sat, holding up his glass in silent salute. “Do you think I care what a few doctors say?”

“Obviously not.” Dark shadows lay under his father's eyes. Once again, Nick reminded himself why he'd come home. “But don't you think that you should—”

“What I think, Nicholas, is that you should mind your own business. I've told you, we don't need to talk about it.”

“Dad—”

“When do you anticipate them putting the house on the market?” His father's glare muted Nick's concern.

“I don't know.” Nick forced his thoughts back to the future of Wyldewood. “What's the latest with that hotel chain—Loxton?” He took a seat, his mind blurring. “Why bring that up if you want to buy the house for yourself?”

“Who do you think happens to be a major shareholder in Loxton, Nicholas?”

Ah, truth. “Let me guess. Oh, you. And your best friend, Senator Vanguard, no doubt.” Of course Mindy's father would be involved. Dad often depended on Maurice's deep pockets for business deals.

“I stand to make a fortune if this deal goes through.”

“You already have a fortune.”

“Don't be smart.” His father's thin smirk chilled him.

Nick began to feel a little ill.

“A small boutique hotel on this side of the island would be lucrative.” Dad swirled ice cubes around the bottom of the glass. “Can't you see it?”

Nick wound his thumbs together, his throat dry. “This is about Drake, isn't it? About you finally getting something from him.”

Veiled amusement played over Dad's face. “They'll get their money. And I'll get the house.” His chuckle bounced off the walls and made Nick shiver.

Nick sat forward. “Don't you think you've done enough?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.” He searched his father's ice-blue eyes for the slightest hint of humanity and came up wanting. Fear worked its way into his already hurting heart. “Stay away from Lynette. I won't let you hurt her. Not again.”

Dad cursed and downed the rest of his drink. “The past is dead and buried, Nicholas. Let it stay there.”

That was exactly what Nick intended. “I'll talk to David. Just leave Lynnie out of it.”

Dad leaned over the desk and nailed him with a pointed look. “You're awfully protective all of a sudden.”

Nick stared down at his feet. He looked up again at the sound of his father's laughter.

“Please don't tell me you still have feelings for that girl. Your loyalties lie elsewhere. Don't get involved with those people again.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Now, I have some calls to make. Get packed. We're flying to New York in two hours, weather permitting.”

“What?”

Anthony tossed him his classic I-can't-believe-this-imbecile-is-my-son look. “We arranged this last week. The banquet? Miss Vanguard is anticipating your arrival. It's formal, bring your tux.”

Nick stood, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Make up some
excuse for me. I don't want to go.” Spending an evening with Mindy and her parents was the last thing he wanted to do.

“That's too bad. We need Mindy happy. When Mindy is happy, Maurice is happy.” His father rounded the desk and came to stand in front of him. “And when Maurice is happy, we're all happy.” He patted Nick on the cheek. “Two hours, or the next time I talk with Miss Carlisle, I might tell her why you really left Princeton.” A flicker of warning flashed over his father's face.

“That was a long time ago, Dad. And I was innocent.”

“So you say.”

“Forget it.” Nick refused to argue. He was a marionette, and his father pulled the strings.

Dad nodded, his eyes hinting of victory.

Lynette woke Monday morning to the sound of hammering. Somehow her father was still sleeping soundly, so she got ready for work and went downstairs to investigate.

David was at the front of the house, perched on a ladder, fixing a shutter that had come lose during the storm. He pounded on a nail like his life depended on it. Since his arrival, he'd gone through every room, making a mile-long list of repairs. Dressed in old jeans, a tattered muscle T-shirt, and a red bandana tied around his head, he looked like he was actually enjoying himself.

Lynette had to yell to get his attention.

When he finally turned around, she laughed at his startled expression. “You'll have a few more people yelling at you in a minute if you don't keep it down.” Lynette smoothed her khaki shorts and tipped her face to the sun. The weather had cleared and the forecast predicted a warm week. Perhaps they could take the kids to the park.

David clambered down the ladder. Dirt smeared his flushed
face and beads of perspiration dotted the dark stubble above his upper lip. “Gray up yet?”

“That was a joke, right?”

They shared a smile, and David took a drink from a water bottle perched on the front steps. “Who's that Victoria chick anyway?”

Lynette grinned. Gray hadn't welcomed his older siblings with open arms. In fact, he'd spent most of the weekend in his room. Hiding.

“Apparently she's his manager. Seems more to it, since she's here. But she's in her own room, so . . .”

“With Gray, who knows, right?” David rolled his eyes. Lynette followed his gaze to the shutters, blue paint peeling off them. “The place is falling apart. I had no idea things were this bad.”

“How would you?”

If her comment meant anything, he didn't show it. “I've made a preliminary list, but I'm sure there'll be more to do. We can manage the minor repairs ourselves. Gray can help. Maybe we can find some kids looking for work. Are those twins still down the road? Oh, have you heard from Ryan?”

“No.” Lynette marveled at the way her brother's brain seemed stuck on overdrive. “Mail takes awhile. I don't have a phone number. He moves around a lot. Africa's a big place—he could be anywhere.”

David squinted in the sunlight, put up a hand to shade his eyes. “What if we can't reach him?”

“I don't know.” She glanced at the house again, then back at David. “Did you know Gray was taking drugs? I mean, before it all came out.” Lynette watched her brother's eyes narrow.

David shrugged and rocked back on his heels. “I heard something from Liz.”

As usual, she was the last to know. “And nobody thought to tell me?”

“Lynnie, Gray has to sort this out on his own. I don't know what got him started, but you can't fix this for him.”

“I'm not trying to fix it. I'm trying to understand it.” She worked to keep the anger out of her voice. “He was doing so well. I mean, it's not like he was super famous or anything, but—”

“But maybe he wanted to be.” David's eyes clouded over. “I don't know. From what I hear, that business is the toughest out there. Maybe our definition of ‘doing well' doesn't come anywhere close to his.”

“I guess.”

“Well, he's home now. Let's try to support him. And if you really want to know his story, why don't you ask?” He squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “I guess we've never been all that good at talking, have we, Shortstop?”

Lynette blinked and gave a shrug. “I always felt like nobody wanted to hear what I had to say.”

“That's not true. And before you say it, I know I've been avoiding your calls. Things haven't been so great for me lately.”

“What do you mean?”

David tossed his hammer onto the grass and wandered around the perimeter of the rose garden. The bushes were overgrown, the ground around them hard and weed-infested, yet every year they stubbornly produced a riotous display that perfumed the air for weeks. New buds formed on every bush.

He stopped to pick off the deadheads, tossing them toward the old sycamore at the side of the driveway. “Josslyn and I have been having problems.” David dropped his voice and kept his back to her.

“Davy?” Lynette went to him, took hold of his arm, and pulled him around.

“We're taking some time apart. We've been to counseling and . . . I think we can get through this, but . . .” He rubbed his face. “Life is never what you think it'll be, huh?”

“Davy, I'm so sorry.” She thought of the two little faces she'd squealed over in the photos he'd shown her.

“We still love each other. But the past year . . . well, I've also
been let go.” His shrug said it had been unexpected. “The company changed hands. We knew there would be casualties. I didn't think I'd be one of them.”

“Oh no.” Lynette rubbed his arm. “You'll find something else.”

“Hopefully. The comp package was decent. We'll get by for a while.” He shook his head, clasping his hands behind his head. “I'm thirty-two. Not exactly ready for retirement.”

Nothing she could say would make things better. “I appreciate you coming home, Davy. If I'd known . . .”

“What?” He flung an arm toward the house. “This has to be dealt with. We have to make a decision about the house, you know that. Then there's Dad . . . What are we going to do with him?”

“I don't know.” Lynette kicked at the white stones beneath her feet. “I've been asking that for a long time.” And haven't gotten any answers.

He sucked in a breath. “What were you thinking, keeping it to yourself? You should have said something before now.”

“I tried! And each time I called, you were too busy to talk.” Lynette's temper started to simmer. “Like you said, you've got your own problems.” She turned back toward the house.

“Lynnie, stop.” David blocked her path. “I'm sorry. I just . . . It's a lot to take in, okay? He needs a doctor.”

“You think I don't know that?”

“Then . . .”

Lynette fiddled with a bracelet around her wrist. Counted to ten. Twice. “You'll have to figure out how to get him there, David, because I'm fresh out of ideas. You seem to have all the answers. You deal with it.” She swiped at her cheeks and hated the animosity she felt toward her siblings since they'd come home.

“What are you mad at me for?”

Lynette stared, openmouthed. “Are you kidding? I'm doing my best. I've been doing my best, alone, for years. But I can't fix any of this—the house, Dad, all our issues.” She blinked and lowered her
voice. “I hate the thought of selling our home. And I hate that it's the
only
reason you're all here now.”

David was the most even tempered of her siblings; she'd never talked to him that way. Never had to. Her oldest brother had always been her protector. Someone she went to first when things were desperate. He hadn't been there for her this past year.

“You let me down, Davy.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I needed you a long time ago. It's a little late to ride in and try to save the day now.”

For a moment she thought he would walk away.

He let out a ragged breath and stared at her through glassy eyes. “I hear you. I'm sorry. I'm a jerk, okay? You can punch me if you want.”