To Promise, page 5
“Speaking of boats, we still don’t know what happened to Lucy Tate.” Jemma let out a sigh. “I’m so bummed. I really thought Jeremy would be able to come through for us.”
Jake frowned, not understanding what his sister was talking about. “Who on earth is Lucy Tate?”
“The girl who died the night our dad took her and several of his friends out on Lake Michigan,” Jazz said. “She drowned after falling overboard.”
“Our dad?” He still wasn’t getting it. “Was Mom on the boat, too?”
“No, silly.” Jemma smiled. “We’re talking about well over fifty years ago, when Dad was seventeen and Lucy was sixteen. He and Mom didn’t meet until college. Didn’t we show you the letter?”
“No.” He felt marginally better knowing that whatever happened between his dad and Lucy was before his father had met and married their mom. His parents had been very much in love, and losing them six years ago had been hard. The only thing that helped him get through it was knowing they’d gone to heaven together.
“I’ll get it,” Jazz offered. She jumped up from the table, returning a few minutes later with an old Bible. She set it in front of him and opened it to reveal a yellowed slip of paper tucked inside. “Jemma found this in the attic a few months ago, and we’ve been working on unraveling the mystery around Lucy’s death ever since.”
“What does it say?” Bree leaned over his arm as if to get a better look at the letter. Even after a long day of travel, she still smelled amazingly like an Irish breeze.
He cleared his throat and began to read out loud:
“Dearest Lucy,
My world is dark without you in it. I don’t understand how this happened, and I’m finding it difficult to move on without you.
Life is so precious yet so brief. In one fleeting moment it’s gone, as if it had never been. I’ve searched the Bible for answers but have found no solace to ease my pain. Some would say I haven’t tried hard enough, and that may be true. It isn’t easy to dissect one’s mistakes, holding them up to the glaring light of day.
This suffering is my price to pay.
Always, J.”
“Wow,” Bree said on a sigh. “Terribly romantic, isn’t it?”
“It’s more confusing than romantic.” Jake looked at his sisters. “Why are you so convinced this was written by Dad?”
“Because we already know that Dad and Lucy were dating the summer she died. And because Leon Tate, Lucy’s older brother, has made it clear he blames the McNallys for his sister’s death.” Jemma eyes were earnest as they met his. “When Jazz first started the renovations on the B and B, Leon Tate and his daughter Mary were prime suspects related to all the vandalism we experienced. Remember how the gazebo had been damaged with a sledgehammer?”
Jazz nodded. “But it turns out they were innocent of that crime.”
“And Tom Duris, Jazz’s former fiancé, is in jail where he belongs,” Dalton said with a deep scowl.
“And don’t forget Carla’s mother, Irene Templeton confirmed our dad and Lucy were together that summer,” Jazz said, ignoring Dalton’s comment about her former fiancé. “According to Irene, Lucy was pregnant and our dad pushed her off the boat that night because of it.”
“Pregnant?” For some reason that shocked him. “Really?”
“That’s the theory.” Jazz shrugged. “We haven’t proved anything, yet.”
“I don’t think Irene still believes our dad killed Lucy on purpose that night though,” Jemma interjected. “Carla’s mother has finally come around to tolerating the McNally family.”
“Only because Carla’s daughter, Cassie, is a McNally, too.” Jazz grinned. “Irene dotes on her granddaughter.”
Jake raised a brow, wanting to get back on track. “Why on earth would anyone believe our father would hurt a young girl? He was the nicest guy on the planet. If anything, it was our mom who had the temper.”
“True.” Jemma smiled. “But she didn’t let her anger get too out of hand with me and Jazz, it was you boys that pushed her buttons more often than not.”
Jake couldn’t deny he and his three younger brothers had gotten into their fair share of trouble. His smile faded when he realized that fateful night twelve years ago had been one of those times. At least for him. If only he hadn’t broken into the Bombay Pub and Grill to steal a six-pack of beer. He hadn’t just broken the law that night, he experienced something far worse.
He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And had witnessed a murder as a result of his youthful arrogance and stupidity.
“Don’t worry”—Jazz patted his arm as if sensing his inner turmoil—“I think Irene only said that because she was poisoned by Leon’s hatred of the family. No one really believes it’s true, although we’d love a chance to prove what really happened that night.”
He nodded but wasn’t sure what else to say about something that transpired more than fifty years ago. Bad enough that he’d been haunted by the murder he’d witnessed twelve years ago. Since that night, he’d made it his life’s goal to forget about the past, focusing only on moving forward.
No reason to start looking back now.
He turned his attention to George’s boat, wondering how quickly he could get a good look at it. Likely not tonight, but maybe in the morning.
He glanced at Dalton. “Do you have contact information for George? I’d like to set up a meeting with him as soon as possible.”
Dalton laughed. “The man practically lives in Bombay. He’s there when they open at ten thirty in the morning until nine or ten at night. Best catch him early, though, he won’t remember anything you talk about once he’s downed a few beers.”
Bombay. Why did it have to be Bombay? Jake felt his stomach knot and pushed his plate away, his appetite having vanished. He hadn’t been to the pub in twelve years and had no desire to return.
Maybe he could find another boat. There had to be more than one for sale in the area. But even as the thought formed, he dismissed it. Finding something else would take longer to investigate, and the buyer may not be as motivated to sell as George reportedly was.
As everyone opened their fortune cookies, reading the various canned slips of paper inside, he mulled over the possibility of meeting George at his place, wherever that was, instead of meeting up with him at Bombay. The man had to live somewhere nearby, right?
Bree stood and began clearing the table, so he did the same. The way she avoided his gaze made him think she was upset with him.
Again.
“I just received an email from Jeremy, he’s not going to be able to return to McNally Bay until after the wedding next weekend,” Jazz announced, looking up from her phone. “That means we have to finish the plans for Autumn Fest since he’s tied up.”
“That doesn’t give us much time.” Jemma frowned. “And I was hoping he’d meet with the medical examiner to ask about Lucy’s autopsy since the clerk of courts has refused to release it.”
“I know, it would be good to have proof that the bruise on her temple had in fact happened pre-mortem, making it clear her death wasn’t an accidental drowning. And we’d know for sure about her pregnancy, too.”
Autopsy? Jake froze, reliving the words he’d overheard between the two men at the mini-mart.
“That nosy family is looking for evidence.”
“They won’t get it.”
“You’d better hope not.”
“It doesn’t matter, we’ll be fine as long as we keep our mouths shut.”
“You have more to lose than I do.”
Was it possible the evidence they’d been discussing had something to do with Lucy’s autopsy? But if so, why?
What did a young girl falling or being pushed out of a boat more than fifty years ago have to do with the here and now?
5
Scrubbing the kitchen helped dissipate some of her annoyance toward Jake, but not all. The moment things were set to right, she slipped away, retreating to her room.
As exhausted as she was, Bree didn’t find it easy to fall asleep. The more she thought about Jake’s attempt to give a relationship a try, the more she wished she’d told him to take a long walk off a short pier. Didn’t need this kind of turmoil in her life, did she?
But when she awoke bright and early the following morning, she felt better about being there for Jemma. She hurried into the kitchen and began making brown bread and the other sides for the upcoming breakfast. Jemma was already there, doing her best to assist with one-handed tasks. When Jazz joined them about an hour later, she sniffed the room with appreciation.
“The cranberry and walnut muffins and lemon-poppy seed bread smells delicious.”
“Thank you.” Bree wiped her hands on her apron. “Three couples for breakfast?”
Jazz nodded. “Those are the guests, but don’t forget we need to feed Jemma, Garth, Trey, Dalton, Jake, and the two of us.”
“I won’t forget.” Bree tried not to dwell on Jake’s plan to buy the boat, the project he’d claimed they’d do together.
Soon the meal was in full swing. Bree made eight of the full Irish and six French toast breakfasts. She and Jemma and Jazz ate theirs last, once the guests had left the dining room.
Jake lingered over his tea, eyeing her as she dug into her French toast. “Everything was amazing, Bree.”
“Thanks.” She tried not to let his praise go to her head.
“Everyone raved about the meals,” Jemma said with a contented sigh. “I cannot thank you enough, Bree, for coming to my rescue.”
“I don’t mind.” Bree tried to think of a way to shift the attention away from her. “Tell me more about your plans for the Autumn Fest fundraiser.”
“We’re holding it the last weekend of September,” Jemma said. “So far we have most of the small businesses in town chipping in.”
“Except for Abe Crowley.” Jazz let out an annoyed snort of disgust. “He gave me a flat-out no thanks, not interested the last time I approached him.”
“Who is Abe Crowley?” Jake asked.
“Owner of the McNally Bay Boat Rental,” Jemma said. “I know he’s seen an increase in tourism business since we opened our B and B, but he doesn’t seem to care about us or the fact that Clark County needs a drug-sniffing K-9 cop.”
“Does he own the boat slips, too?” Jake asked.
Bree knew he was thinking about the boat he wanted to buy from George Amos.
“Yeah.” Garth nodded. “He’s okay, just old and cranky.”
“Not as cranky as Leon Tate,” Dalton added.
“Do you think Crowley would open up to someone who isn’t a McNally?” Jake asked. “Like Bree?”
Hearing him say she wasn’t a McNally shouldn’t bother her. After all, it was true. And they’d only dated for a total of two months, between trips to England. Yet the McNally twins had been so welcoming, she’d almost felt like a part of the family.
Almost.
She finished the last of her French toast and quickly rose to her feet. “Excuse me.”
“What did I say?” Jake asked as she disappeared behind the swinging door that separated the dining area from the kitchen.
She filled the sink with soapy water and went to work, scrubbing the dishes as if she could scour Jake McNally out of her life. A more obtuse man she’d never met.
“I’m sorry.” Jake’s low husky voice caught her by surprise. The hinges on the door were so well oiled that she hadn’t heard him come in.
“For what?” She didn’t turn to look at him but continued scrubbing as if her life depended on it.
“For being a jerk.” He came closer, and she caught a whiff of his musky aftershave. Ironically enough, it reminded her of spring in Ireland. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “You never do.”
He leaned over the counter in an attempt to capture her gaze. “I’ve never been in a relationship like this, Bree. I’m bound to make mistakes.”
She let out a sigh, pulling her hands from the sink and drying them on a towel. For some unknown reason, she had trouble staying mad at him. But she wasn’t about to be a doormat either. “It’s not just what you said this morning. It’s how you act every day. You decided to buy a boat as your next project, one you said we’d work on together, without asking my opinion.”
He grimaced and slowly nodded. “I didn’t buy it yet, but you’re right, I should have included you.”
She tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. “And what do you know about boats?”
He grinned. “Nothing. But that’s never stopped me before. I didn’t know anything about horse racing either, until I met you.”
She reluctantly smiled. “Truth be told, I still can’t figure out how you’ve managed to find so many ways to make quid.”
His grin faded, his dark eyes probing hers. “Bree, will you go with me to see George about buying his boat? It’s not a done deal until we negotiate a good price.”
If she was smart, she wouldn’t go. Keeping her distance from Jake would be in her own best interest. Yet she couldn’t summon the strength to say no. “Once the kitchen is cleaned.”
“Great. Thanks.” His smile seemed lighter somehow, as if knowing he’d hurt her had weighed on him in some way. “I’ll do better.”
“Sure you will.” She turned back toward the sink to finish up the rest of the dishes while thinking that he couldn’t very well do much worse.
Jake told himself the best thing he could do for Brianna was to set her free. He was lousy with relationships and had spoken without thinking.
When Jemma and Jazz had both glared at him, he hadn’t understood what he’d done wrong. Jazz had smacked him on the shoulder and Jemma had kicked him beneath the table.
The truth was that he’d been alone for a very long time. Thinking about someone else, getting their advice, opinions, and even approval, did not come naturally.
Yet now that Bree had agreed to come along to his discussion with George, he felt calmer about heading over to the Bombay Pub and Grill to meet with him. Especially since it appeared no one had a clue where the guy lived. Jazz had told him to contact Jeremy because his girlfriend and soon-to-be K-9 officer, Trina Waldorf, likely knew the location, but he’d decided that might raise too many red flags.
It was well past time for him to put his old fear about McNally Bay to rest. He wasn’t a scared kid any longer. The murder he’d witnessed was a long time ago.
But the two men involved were still here. And may hold a grudge against his family.
“Jake?”
Jazz’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, making him realize he was standing in the middle of the dining room. “Sorry, what?”
“Are you all right?” Jazz came over and lightly clasped his arm. “You’re awfully tense.”
Jake figured he wouldn’t really be able to relax until McNally Bay was in his rearview mirror. Which wouldn’t be soon enough. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just anxious for something to do.”
“Gee, I thought you’d never ask.” Jazz’s green eyes twinkled. “Come on, I’ll show you what we’re working on next door.”
“Oh, but”—he glanced at the door leading to the kitchen—“as soon as Bree is finished, we’re heading over to talk to George Amos.”
“I’ll tell her to meet us at the house. Besides, George won’t be at Bombay until they open. You’ve got a couple of hours to help us out, right?”
“Right.” He tried to sound enthusiastic. “Let’s go.”
As Jazz and Dalton showed off their work, Jake couldn’t help being impressed. The upstairs master suite was stunning with a beautiful view of the lake and gave him a good idea of how well the rest of the house would turn out. Dalton had a lot of design talent, and combined with his and Jazz’s hard work, they were well on their way to creating something amazing.
They put him to work painting the upstairs hallway. It wasn’t a lot of wall space, but his muscles were screaming in protest after an hour.
No wonder Jazz looked as if she pumped iron all day. Disconcerting to acknowledge his younger sister might have bigger biceps than he did.
The thought had him adding more elbow grease as he swiped the paint roller up and down the walls. The pale blue looked nice against the white painted wood trim.
Bree showed up just as he was finishing the last wall. “Need help?”
He wasn’t about to admit how much his arms ached. “I’ve got it. Give me another fifteen minutes.”
“Your sister and her husband are brilliant.” Bree peeked into the various rooms. “Are they planning to open another Bed and Breakfast?”
“I don’t think so.” Although honestly, Jake wasn’t sure what his sister’s plans were. The house was awfully big for two people. He finished with the roller, then went to work with the brush, filling in along the taped edges of the woodwork. When he finished, he stepped back, appraising his work. “Not bad.”
“It’s lovely.” Bree came up to stand beside him. “It’s a bit like cooking a meal, standing back and appreciating the results of your work.”
Jake thought it might be a little easier to cook a meal than to paint a hallway, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. “We can leave as soon as I clean up.”
“Hey, nice!” Jazz came up behind them. “I wasn’t expecting you to finish the entire hallway.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug, glad now that he’d pushed himself to finish the task. “We’re heading out as soon as I clean up the brushes and roller.”
“I’ll do that,” Jazz offered. “Go on, I know you’re anxious to find out about George’s boat.”
“Thanks, sis.” He gave her a quick one-armed hug, then hurried into the bathroom to wash up. He made sure not to make a mess, then joined Bree. “Ready?”
She nodded, and he gestured for her to precede him down the stairs to the main level. Soon they were outside and walking through the row of trees that separated the two properties.
“Would you like to drive?” he asked as they reached the rental car.
