Page 16 of Return to Whitmore (The Whitmore #2)

“Was that where the rumor of the Whitmore treasure came from?” Charlotte asked, remembering how people used to whisper about the buckets and buckets of gold under the White Oak Lodge.

Jack snorted. “That rumor was around long before Tio Angelo brought his drugs in.”

Charlotte’s thoughts raced. They were nearing the island, the place that had housed and hidden their Whitmore family secrets for decades. Here they floated on the Nantucket Sound, where, the year before her birth, Uncle Ronald Whitmore had drowned and cast her father into the throes of depression.

“I want to film this,” Charlotte said to Jack, remembering her dream of documenting the story of her mother and father, the story of her life.

Jack shrugged. It was clear he didn’t want her to, but since he’d dragged her here, he couldn’t refuse.

It didn’t take long for Charlotte and Jack to find Amos, the ex-drug dealer who now, it seemed, worked as a sort of handyman and odd-jobs man around the island.

From a distance, Charlotte and Jack ate ice cream cones and watched as Amos fixed up a wealthy man’s sailboat, his naked shoulders glistening with sweat and his radio on full blast.

“He’s handsome,” Charlotte said vaguely. “More so than I remember.”

Jack couldn’t agree or disagree. He was too jumpy, searching everywhere for some sign or connection to Tio Angelo.

They’d come all this way to find a path back to Tio, to connect the dots.

But all day long, the only person who approached Amos was a delivery guy on a bike who brought Amos a burger, which he ate in the sun with his feet in the water.

Jack said they had to stay on the island longer.

They had to keep watching. There was a glow in his eyes that meant he wanted to keep going.

But the next day and the one after that found Charlotte and Jack in similar situations, watching Amos and finding no details.

Jack was angular and exhausted, not sleeping well at the hotel they’d rented far off the beaten path.

They were both terrified of being recognized and upped the ante on their disguises more and more as the days passed.

Soon, they would have to return to Manhattan, to their lives.

Maybe Jack was tired of being Seth Green.

Perhaps he wanted all of this to resolve.

Charlotte didn’t know and was too frightened to ask.

Finally, on day five, Jack concocted a plan. He wanted Charlotte to approach Amos and befriend him. “Flirt with him a little bit! Distract him! And then, when push comes to shove, ask him about Tio Angelo,” Jack said, speaking rapidly. “You’ll catch him so off guard that he’ll answer you.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure if she wanted to put herself at risk like that. Then again, she wasn’t hiding behind a fake identity like Jack was. All she knew about their situation was what Jack had told her.

“If I do this,” she said meekly, “can we go back home?”

“We are home,” Jack said darkly.

Charlotte didn’t know what to make of his strange mood.

When Charlotte went off to “meet” Amos, Jack said he had things to tend to and disappeared as well.

A part of Charlotte was terrified that she wouldn’t see him again.

But off she went to the harbor, dressed in her prettiest dress, pretending to be a tourist with a question.

When she finally got up the nerve to talk to Amos, he smiled handsomely at her in a way that made her think that maybe, maybe she could stay on the island and fall in love with him.

Maybe Manhattan and “Seth Green” and Italy and Jefferson Albright were nightmares she didn’t have to maintain.

But when Charlotte finally broached the subject of “Angelo, an Italian man I met a few years back, have you seen him?” Amos’s face transformed to one of rage.

“I haven’t seen him,” Amos blared, turning back to the sailboat and flashing paint across the base. “If he’s alive, if you ever see him again, tell him to stay away from me. He already ruined my life once. I won’t let him do it again.”

Charlotte felt as though she’d been smacked. In a tentative voice, she asked, “How did he ruin your life?”

But Amos no longer trusted her enough to tell her anything.

He wouldn’t look her in the eye when he said, “If you know anything about Angelo, you know he’s in the habit of ruining lives.

Just go look at the White Oak Lodge. It was one of the greatest luxury hotels on the East Coast, and now, it’s a pile of rubble. ”

Charlotte inhaled sharply. “Thank you, Amos,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. Before he could say anything else, she fled, twisting on her heel and running back down the dock. The fire that had lurked behind his eyes had terrified her, drawing her back into the violence of their shared past.

Throughout that time, Charlotte had worked the front desk at the White Oak Lodge, greeting guests, taking them to their rooms, pouring welcome drinks, and maintaining order and unity at her family’s iconic resort.

If she’d known what her uncle was up to, would she have done something about it?

Or would she have protected Tio Angelo and Jack and everyone else in his crime bubble?

Oh, she didn’t know. She felt sick over it.

When she got back to the hotel, Jack waited for her in the rental car and waving, with a serious expression on his face. She hurried over to him, preparing to apologize. “He doesn’t know where he is,” she said. “I’m sorry. I did everything I could to figure it out.”

Was that a lie? She didn’t know. It was her first time going “undercover,” and she didn’t feel like she was very good at it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said with a sigh. “Get in.”

Charlotte had no idea where they were going. But after she slammed the door closed behind her, she realized that all of her things were in the back seat, taken from her motel room. He’d checked them out. Why hadn’t he told her?

As they drove, Charlotte tried to focus on her breathing. Rain pelted the windshield and dropped her into a sort of meditation.

When Jack stopped in front of a little house on Madequecham Beach, Charlotte came to and asked, “What are we doing here?”

Jack’s eyes were stormy. “I bought this place today.”

“What?” Charlotte’s ears rang with alarm. “With what money?”

But Jack was already out of the car and heading up the walkway, a key dangling from his hand. Charlotte hung back, watching until Jack shoved the key into the door, opened it, and waved her in.

They had property back in Nantucket again. Charlotte didn’t know what to make of it. Suddenly terrified of the brother she wasn’t sure she understood, she followed him inside and locked the door behind her. Jack pulled a bottle of champagne from the fridge. “Let’s celebrate.”

Charlotte’s heart spasmed. “Why?”

Jack poured two glasses and handed her one.

“We’re celebrating two things,” he explained.

“One, that I bought this house for next to nothing. And two, that one day, sooner rather than later, I’ll find Tio Angelo and make him pay for what he did to our family.

He ruined us, Charlotte. There’s no denying it. ”