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CHAPTER EIGHT

W hy had Gram wanted to see Becca? Max stared at the closed door in frustration. He didn’t trust the woman any more than he trusted Lake Superior in a rowboat. He wished he dared to join them, but he knew better than to upset Gram with her heart condition.

He stalked past the bedroom door and went down the steps to his office. Becca hadn’t been much help with his research yet. He should have known better than to be taken in by her sweet talk on the phone, but the sound of her research paper had been intriguing. He was going to have to put his foot down tomorrow and insist she earn her wages.

This office was a mess. He stared at the jumble of books and papers with disfavor. Wasn’t an assistant supposed to help organize things? It looked worse than before Becca had come. He gathered the books together in a pile and neatened up the desk.

His hand hovered over a computer printout. It looked like an email, not research notes. Knowing he shouldn’t pry but unable to stop the impulse, Max picked it up.

Becca, I wish you hadn’t felt you needed to run off to the island—at least not until I could join you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Be careful. Love, Jake

So the lovely lady had a boyfriend. Max dropped the email back onto the desk and told himself it was a good thing he knew about the man now. Becca was too tempting for his peace of mind. Now that he knew there was another man in the picture, it would be easier to keep his distance.

He jiggled his mouse to activate his computer screen. Staring at the blank screen, he wished he knew where to start this book. So far the beginning had eluded him. The stress of wondering what was happening in Gram’s room upstairs didn’t help his concentration.

“Daddy, I want to see Gram,” Molly said from the doorway. “Her door is closed.”

A smile tugged at his lips. Gram would never turn Molly away. He stood and joined his daughter. “Let’s go roust her out,” he said.

Gram had finally agreed to go along with Becca—if only to protect her. Seated beside her grandmother and sipping tea from Gram’s favorite blue and yellow cups, Becca felt the last fifteen years had melted away.

A firm knock sounded on the door, and Max’s voice echoed. “Gram? Molly is about to wet herself waiting to see you.”

“Come in, my dear boy,” Gram said. She put her cup and saucer on the table beside her chair. “I’m always ready to see my favorite girl.”

Becca used to be her grandmother’s “favorite girl.” She pushed away the slight prick of jealousy. She was grown now, and she loved Molly, she reminded herself.

The door opened, and Molly burst into the room like a shaft of sunlight. She ran to Gram and climbed into her lap. “I missed you, Gram.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” Gram wound a lock of Molly’s hair around her index finger.

Becca sensed, rather than heard, Max enter the room behind his daughter. She could feel suspicion coming off him in waves. Her gaze traveled up to meet his, and she almost flinched at the distrust on his face. Had he heard their discussion? There were places in this old house where conversations could be easily overheard.

“Are you about ready to get back to work?” The question seemed mild enough, but Becca sensed a hidden rebuke in it.

“Sure.” Becca jumped to her feet, nearly spilling her tea. “I’ll talk to you later, uh—Mrs. Baxter.”

“Call me Gram, please. Everyone else does.”

Becca felt heat rise in her cheeks as Max raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Gr—Gram. I’ll see you at dinner. Thanks for the tea.” She put her empty cup on the table and went toward the door.

“If Molly gets too much for you, send her down to me,” Max told Gram.

“Molly is never too much for me,” Gram said stoutly. She adjusted the little girl on her lap and reached for a storybook on the bookshelf beside her chair.

Becca could feel the unspoken questions radiating from Max as they settled in at their respective desks. He drummed his fingers on the desktop, sighed, then typed a few words. He finally leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to look at her.

“What did Gram want?”

Becca bit her lip and kept her head buried in the thick book she’d been making notations on. “Um, nothing really. I think she just wanted to get to know me.”

“That’s not like her to call a private meeting.” His suspicious gaze raked over her face.

She shrugged. “We just had tea, and I told her about visiting my grandmother in a place a lot like this one.” Too late she realized that was the wrong thing to say. What place could be like this?

“I’ve never seen any place like Windigo Manor. Where did your grandmother live?”

“In Indiana,” she said, thinking of her Grandma Phyllis’ big Victorian house in Wabash.

“The cornfields of Indiana are nothing like Eagle Island,” he said. “What did you talk to Gram about?”

Her head snapped and she stood. “Look, let’s just get this out once and for all. What is it you’re so suspicious of?”

“You’re not who you seem,” he said. “I think there’s a lot you’re hiding about who you are. I don’t want the ones I love to be drawn into something that could hurt them. If someone really tried to kill you, then everyone here might be in danger, including my daughter.”

“That’s ludicrous!” she snapped. But was it? If the person who killed Becca’s parents had done so for Gram’s estate, then would Molly be next? Maybe she should tell Max her fears.

She rejected the idea as soon as it settled in her head. He might be the killer himself. If so, Molly was perfectly safe—it was Becca and Tate who might be in danger. But if Max wasn’t the murderer, then Becca and Molly might be targets. She needed help from somewhere to watch out for all three of them.

She shook her head and shoved her pencil across the table. “Look, Max, I’m here to do a job. Will you please just let me do it? You’re driving me crazy with your groundless suspicions. I’m no threat to you or your daughter or anyone else here.”

“It sounds like you’re saying you’re a threat to someone though. What if he follows you here?”

“No one is following me here!” She stood and stalked to the window. She squinted at the distant boat on the waves of the Lake. “I think someone might be in trouble out there!”

Max joined her at the window and grabbed the binoculars on the windowsill. “It’s Shayna,” he said. “I think her motor must have quit. I’d better get Tate and go after her.”

“Do you need me to come?”

“No, you stay here. Work.” He pointed at the books. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Calling for Tate, he bolted from the room.

After a few minutes, she heard the motorboat pull away from the dock. She diligently took notes for a while then got up to get a soda. Nick was in the kitchen poking through the refrigerator.

His face brightened when he saw her. “Want to scavenge with me? I’m starved.”

“I just want a soda.” She took the one he handed her and popped the top.

“When do you have to go back to school?”

“Not until mid-August. You in a hurry to get rid of me?” He grinned as he took a bite of cheese.

“Of course not. I was just wondering. What do you do all summer?”

He shrugged. “Swim, body surf, lay in the sun.”

“Sounds boring.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words.

“Boring is good after dealing with thirty first graders all year.”

“You teach first grade? How sweet.”

“Don’t say it like that. You make it sound like I’m some kind of pansy.”

He was anything but a pansy. She glanced at his broad shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I think it’s great you can teach kids. I’m not sure I’d have the patience.”

“I’ll make a good dad.” He grinned. “Interested yet?”

She laughed. “Am I supposed to be?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention ever since you walked in the door. So yeah, you’re supposed to swoon at my feet.”

“I’m not the swooning type.”

“Rats. I knew I didn’t have a chance. How about going to dinner with me tonight? I want to make it up to you for having the cancel on Friday.”

“Where? Is there anywhere to go?”

“A greasy spoon in town. But at least we could get out a bit.”

“It’s Gram’s first night back.”

“True. I notice you’re not saying no. How about next week?”

“Okay.” She smiled. “It will be good to get away a bit. You are patient to persist.”

He smiled. “Is Max driving you crazy yet? I would think working with him would take even more patience.”

His tone sounded indulgent. “He can be a slavedriver,” she admitted.

Nick’s smile faltered. “He’s got a good heart though. Don’t take offense and run off.”

“It’s sweet to see that you’re close. I suppose that’s why you’re here this summer—to spend time with Max?”

Nick nodded. “Neither of us are overly close to our parents, but we’ve always been good friends. Max has always been there for me.”

“He seems the type a person could lean on.”

“He is, but don’t be looking at him with an eye to romance. He’s a woman hater, in case you hadn’t noticed. After Mom left, he’s never trusted women.”

“He was married.”

“So? Lots of woman haters get married.”

Becca couldn’t believe Max was really a woman hater. He seemed to relate to Gram and Molly just fine. It was herself he had issues with—and with good reason.

“Were he and Laura happy?”

“Did he actually mention Laura’s name?” Nick’s eyebrows went up. “Usually her name is never spoken.”

Becca thought fast. “Um, no. I’m not sure where I heard the name. Maybe Molly.”

“Molly misses her mother something fierce. Poor kid.”

“What happened?” Becca tensed. The rumors she’d heard before she came whispered that Max might have been responsible.

“Boating accident. The engine exploded.”

“Just like--,” she bit off the final “my parents” before she gave herself away.

Nick looked at her curiously. “Like the Baxters? Yeah, I guess so. Strange things happen in these waters though. Superior is beautiful, but it’s never safe.”

“I thought she drowned.”

“Well, she did. She was thrown from the boat by the explosion. Max too. He tried to haul her to safety, but started getting hypothermia. He got so cold he couldn’t feel his fingers. He lost his grip, and she went under and never came up again.”

“Poor Max,” she said with feeling.”

He frowned. “I wouldn’t have told you if I’d though it would make him a romantic hero in your eyes. You just agreed to go out to dinner with me, and I want your attention. Leave my brother alone. He’s not for you.”

So in spite of their closeness, Nick had it in him to be jealous. Becca suppressed a smile. “I’m not getting any ideas about him. I’m not in the market for a relationship with anyone,” she said.

“I take that as a personal challenge,” Nick said, grinning.

She found herself smiling back. “Friends only,” she warned.

“Fine. We can start there.” He touched her cheek and went out the door.

Smiling and a little flattered, Becca went back to her desk. Men had never pursued her, and it felt strange for Nick to show his attraction so obviously. Strange but good.

She’d just finished notes on the Ojibwa culture book when she heard a commotion in the hall. Tate was shouting at Shayna, and Max was trying to calm him.

“How could you be so stupid?” Tate raged. “You didn’t even check the gas.”

“We aren’t all obsessive/compulsive like you,” Shayna retorted.

They’d seemed like the perfect couple when she first met them. Now all they did was squabble. Was it Max’s fault? Tate seemed tense every time Max was around, and Becca knew he suspected is wife of having an affair with Max.

She was suddenly sick of this house and these people. She glanced at her watch. Five-fifteen, past quitting time. A breath of fresh air would help clear her thoughts. She grabbed her sweater and went out the office door so she didn’t have to see or talk to anyone.

A stand of birch trees began where the garden ended, and she stepped into their cool shelter. She hadn’t walked in this woods since she was a little girl. There was a tree around here somewhere with their names carved in it. Maybe she could find it.

The trees didn’t seem as big as she remembered, but then neither did the house or the island. The scale of everything was different when she was five-ten instead of four-ten.

She saw the shed where she, Jake and Wynne used to play house. Grams had let them fix it up like a real playhouse. It was nearly falling down now. She would have thought Gram would have fixed it up for Molly, but maybe the little girl had never seen the possibilities like Becca and her siblings had done.

If she remembered correctly, the tree with their initials was just past the shed and to the right. Becca moved through the trees, last year’s leaves crunching under her Sketchers tennis shoes. A brisk breeze blew through her hair bringing with it the scent of wet leaves and wildflowers.

She remembered the crook in this tree. Her fingers ran over the rough bark, and she found the indentations. RLB. Rebecca Lynn Baxter. She still belonged here, even after so many years. Jake’s initials were to the right of hers and Wynne’s to the left.

Glancing up, she saw the tree platform where she and her siblings used to sit by the hour and watch. She often brought a book out here to read. Would it still be safe? Rounding the tree, she saw the rope ladder still attached. It looked like someone had replaced some of the rungs, so maybe Molly still used it.

Or maybe not. Molly was a little young to be up a tree this size. Testing the strength of the rope, Becca put her right foot in a rung and began to climb. Halfway up, she made the mistake of looking down. The ground was a long way. If she fell now, she could easily break a leg.

She’d never worried about that as a child. Why was so fearful now that she was an adult?

Turning from her downward stare, she began to climb again until she finally lay gasping on the platform in the tree’s heart. From here, she could see almost straight into one of the bedrooms at the back of the house. She’d never noticed that before.

A figure passed in front of the window, and she realized it was Tate and Shayna’s room. Shayna pushed back the curtains and sat at the desk in front of the window. Becca felt strange sitting here knowing she could see the other woman so clearly. It felt like she was peeping.

She glanced around the platform. A pair of binoculars lay half hidden by a sheaf of low-hanging leaves. Someone else liked to look through binoculars. Max. Would he spend time up here looking through this pair? And if so, why?

Becca’s gaze was drawn again to Shayna silhouetted in the window. She shivered. Had Max been watching Shayna? She remembered Tate’s accusation about the affair. Was it more than that? Could Max be obsessed with Shayna and stalking her?

The brush rustled from the west. Someone was coming. Undecided about whether to stay hidden, she decided she’d better not be caught up here. She quickly clambered down and turned to face the tall form coming through the hedges.