Page 8 of The Summer We Kept Secrets (The Destin Diaries #4)

“ M aggie!”

“What?”

“Slow down!” Jo Ellen tightened her grip on the seatbelt and smashed her foot into the floorboard as though she had the brake pedal in front of her and not Maggie.

“I’m going thirty-five.”

“In a twenty-five mile an hour zone.”

Maggie shot her a look. “We told them three o’clock and it’s five of,” she said. “I don’t do late.”

“Do you do tickets? Because you’re going to get one.”

“In a neighborhood like this?” Maggie rolled her eyes. “Please. That speed limit is a suggestion for people who aren’t sure. Plus, it’s not my car. I can’t help it if Vivien’s SUV has a sensitive gas pedal.”

Jo Ellen snorted. “Tell that to the judge, Mrs. Lawson.”

Laughing, Maggie tapped the brake out of deference to her friend.

“Honestly, I just can’t wait to see Betty and Frank again,” she said.

“The last time we paid a visit, I feel like we left on a sour note and in a cloud of distrust. I was a little surprised Betty took my call and agreed to let us come over.”

“We have a lot to tell them.”

“We sure do,” Maggie agreed. “They’re going to be shocked.”

“And relieved,” Jo Ellen added. “I’m sure they’ve spent the last thirty years worrying about the sins of their past coming back to haunt them.”

“Oh, there’s the house,” Maggie said, slowing as she drove down the residential street in Santa Rosa Beach she remembered from the last time they’d visited the Cavallaris. “I recognize that eyesore of a red front door.”

“Betty never was subtle,” Jo Ellen said. “But that’s what we loved about her.”

Pulling into the driveway, Maggie let out a sigh. “We did love her,” she agreed. “I was so uptight and determined to find out the truth when we were here last month, I didn’t take a minute to appreciate the, you know, Betty-ness of her. She’s…bold.”

“And hilarious.”

“And drinks like a fish,” Maggie added, turning to reach for the chianti and flowers they’d brought. “She’ll like this.”

As they climbed out, the door opened and Betty walked out slowly, as if she weren’t sure what to expect. Like always, she wore a blindingly bright top—this time, the color of a tangerine—her white hair puffy, like she’d put a lot of effort in.

But she moved at a snail’s pace, looking slightly unbalanced, and she seemed thinner.

Goodness, Maggie hoped their last unsettling visit didn’t upset her that much. Good thing they’d come with wonderful news.

“We’re back,” Jo Ellen called brightly, rushing around the car. “And we have so much to tell you.”

Of course Jo couldn’t ease into it, Maggie thought with a wry smile.

“We also have wine and flowers.” Maggie reached over to air-kiss Betty, noticing Frank standing behind her.

Had he looked quite that old the last time they were here? Quite that…well, yeah, old.

“These are beautiful,” Betty said, putting her face in the bouquet to sniff it. “But no wine for me. Doctor’s orders.”

“Then you need a new doctor,” Jo Ellen joked, stepping past Betty to hug Frank.

After the greeting and small talk, they ended up on the back porch this time, which was small but only because Frank apparently never met a plant he wouldn’t pot and nurture to three times his size.

“Frank, can you get the tea, honey?” Betty asked as they settled around a glass-topped table for four. “And some pretzels or something.” She turned to Maggie and Jo Ellen. “I’m sorry I didn’t bake. I wanted to make more wedding cookies, but…”

“Are you feeling okay?” Jo Ellen asked.

Betty just gave a slight shake of her head and dismissed the question. “Now what’s this news that has you two all hyped up? I assume it has to do with that…Cotton Ramsey business and the loan Roger took out.”

Maggie waited until Frank was back, then leaned forward. “Cotton Ramsey is dead,” she said.

“Did Roger kill him?” Frank asked, horror in his cloudy eyes.

Maggie had to laugh. “No, but Artie Wylie risked his life, wore a wire, and got that man arrested. He helped the FBI close down the whole Dixie Mafia Ramsey ran.”

They both sucked in surprised breaths.

“Artie did that?” Frank asked, shaking his head. “Didn’t know he had the, um, gumption.”

“My husband had gumption and heart,” Jo Ellen said proudly. “And Roger helped orchestrate the whole thing from prison. They negotiated for Maggie to secretly keep the Destin property?—”

“And Artie made sure we had round-the-clock protection from the FBI,” Maggie added. “We didn’t even know we were in danger.”

Across the table, the older couple wore matching open jaws as Maggie and Jo detailed the whole wonderful story they’d learned from the FBI agent who’d visited the Summer House.

“I’m shocked,” Frank said when they finished. “We were protected, too?”

“And not indicted for your, uh, side business,” Maggie said, pointing playfully at him but not actually saying the word “bookie.” It seemed hurtful, and so long ago. “You’re welcome.”

He sighed as if he’d been carrying guilt and worry for all these years.

“It’s great news,” Betty agreed. “And you two”—she pointed from one to the other—“are back. How did you make up?”

“Our husbands made us promise not to speak to each other,” Maggie said. “For our own protection.”

Jo Ellen nodded. “They thought if we were in contact, it might somehow lead Cotton’s awful men to the other one. Then Roger died—far too soon—and Artie must have thought it was better for me not to talk to Maggie because her heart would break.”

“And Roger died six weeks before the FBI was going to arrange for him to get out,” Maggie said, the realization still a little tough to process. “I don’t know if he’d have survived that heart attack if he’d been home, but I like to believe I’d have been able to save him.”

“You might have,” Jo Ellen said, putting a hand on Maggie’s arm. “But it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Anyway,” Maggie continued, “we left here in a rush last time, because I was quite perturbed to learn that you’d led my husband straight into the clutches of mobsters, Frank?—”

“Well, he?—”

She stopped him with a raised hand. “He committed other crimes,” she finished for him.

“Taking a loan from a man who’d kill him and his family for non-payment was just another of them.

I like to think he made up for it by helping the authorities.

And Jo and I…” She smiled. “We are back, and it feels good.”

“We’re staying in Destin for the summer,” Jo Ellen told them excitedly. “Living in the apartment above the garage in Maggie’s gorgeous beach house.”

“Oh?” Frank’s eyes lit. “That’s nice. So you’re keeping the place?”

“The kids have to decide that,” Maggie said, sliding a glance to Betty who…was falling asleep. “Are you all right?”

Betty shuddered softly and blinked. “Yes, yes. I’m taking some medication, and it just makes me so tired.”

“Medication for what?” Maggie asked.

“Oh, nothing I want to talk about.” She pushed up. “I’ll go make some coffee to perk up.”

“No, Betty.” Frank put a gentle hand on her arm. “You should take your nap.”

“When the girls are here?”

Maggie smiled at the term and pushed away from the table, giving Jo a quick look that she instantly read properly.

“We just wanted to tell you both the good news in person,” Maggie said. “You can rest easy knowing that Cotton Ramsey’s gang isn’t going to rise up and kill you in your sleep.”

“But something will,” Betty muttered, stepping away and into the kitchen.

Maggie frowned. What did she say?

“Is something wrong with her?” Jo Ellen asked Frank on a hushed whisper. “She seems…”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing for you two to worry about. But she does need that nap every day at three.”

“Then she shouldn’t have told us to come over,” Maggie said, bristling a little.

“She’d never say no to you two.” He pushed up, practically as wobbly as his wife. “And you know…life’s short. She didn’t know… Well, she wants to see all her friends before?—”

“Frank!” Betty called. “Where did you put my pills, honey?”

Before what ?

Once again, Maggie and Jo Ellen shared a look.

“We better go,” Jo Ellen said, picking up her glass and Maggie’s. “Just let us clean?—”

“No, no,” Frank insisted. “Give Betty a kiss goodbye and I’ll get her pills. But don’t leave. I want to talk to you privately. I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything,” Jo Ellen gushed, worry contorting her features.

They gave Betty a kiss and Maggie could have sworn her old friend hugged her extra tight.

Was she dying ?

The thought nearly made Maggie sway as she and Jo Ellen walked out into the bright afternoon sunshine to wait for Frank.

“Well, that didn’t go quite as planned,” Maggie said as they followed the walkway.

“She’s not well,” Jo Ellen agreed.

“I think we’re about to get some very bad news.” Maggie took Jo Ellen’s hand. “And I don’t want it.”

“Neither do I, but we need to be strong for Frank. Whatever he wants as a favor, we say yes.”

“Of course,” Maggie agreed.

Frank stepped out of the front door, the sunshine highlighting the deep creases in his face and the lack of healthy color.

Were they both sick?

He made his way down the steps and met them in the driveway.

“Is she okay?” Jo Ellen demanded again.

“She’s…got a dream.”

Maggie tipped her head. “Excuse me?”

“Her whole life, she’s had a dream,” he continued. “A silly thing, maybe, but she wants a car.”

“A car ?” Jo Ellen asked, her voice echoing the disbelief in Maggie’s head.

“I know, I know.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “But I gotta do this for her, girls. All her life, she dreamed about a T-bird convertible—you know, like the song?”

What in the name of God was he talking about?

“I know,” Jo Ellen said excitedly. “‘And she’ll have fun, fun, fun…’” she sang woefully off-key. “That one? The Beach Boys?”

“Yes, that one,” Frank said with a sad smile. “You know how she loves The Beach Boys.”

Maggie did remember that about Betty, always playing those songs on her record player.

“And look what I found.” He showed them a computer printout with a color picture of a red convertible.

“This one is 1957, the classic year for Thunderbird. Fully restored down in Miami Beach. I can wire the dealer the money, but I just can’t go get it.

” He glanced toward the house. “I can’t risk leaving her. ”

“You’d buy her a car?” Maggie practically sputtered. “Now? When she’s?—”

“If not now, then when, Mags?” Jo Ellen asked, obviously following Frank’s insane logic.

“Exactly,” he said. “What better time than when she’s…” He looked over his shoulder to the house, letting his voice trail off.

Oh, no. Maggie’s heart clenched. Should she ask how much time Betty had left? Was that appropriate or?—

“Could you two go get it for me?” he asked.

What did he say?

“In Miami Beach?” Maggie scoffed. “No.”

“Mags! We can do it,” Jo Ellen insisted.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You can take my old truck down and leave it there,” Frank powered on, seeing an ally in Jo Ellen. “The car dealer agreed to take it as a trade-in for part of the payment. The T-bird isn’t ready yet, but will be in about a week or so. Could you do it?”

Drive a truck from here to South Florida? And come back in a sports car? She could barely drive down Highway 98 in Vivien’s high-end SUV.

“Frank?” Betty was at the door. “I think I need you.”

Frank looked from one to the other. “Will you just think about it?”

“Non-stop,” Jo Ellen blurted out.

“The answer is no,” Maggie interjected. “We are not driving your bucket of bolts God knows how many days to Miami Beach and coming back in a Thunderbird!”

“Work on her, Jo,” he whispered as he hugged them both, then shot back into the house, leaving them in the driveway alone.

“Maggie, we?—”

“No, we’re not doing it.”

“She could be dying!”

“Then he’d tell us that, Jo Ellen. She could also have a headache from a hangover, which would be much more in character, if you ask me.”

“She deserves joy,” Jo Ellen insisted. “And if a car will bring her happiness in her final days, who are we to deny it?”

“We are seventy-eight-year-old ladies who can’t see at night, are afraid of left turns, and don’t know how to pass on the highway.”

“Oh, Maggie, that’s not true. You can do anything!”

Once, maybe. Not anymore. “Rope one of your daughters into this trip, Jo, but I won’t risk my life for a car.”

Jo Ellen looked glum as they opened their doors and climbed in, silent in the blazing heat of the SUV.

“We could find a route with only backroads, no left turns, and no night driving,” Jo said softly.

“And you’ll put a hole in that clunker’s floor pressing a fake brake.”

“You could pick all the music,” she added.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Beach Boys? No, thank you.”

“You could get an audiobook of Gone With The Wind and listen to it the whole way.” She reached over. “I’d let you recite the parts you know by heart.”

Maggie almost smiled, but she had to stand firm. “Frankly, my dear…” She gave a smile. “I am still saying no.”

Jo Ellen huffed out a breath.

“Can’t you just see the headlines?” Maggie asked as she backed out. “‘Two seventy-eight-year-olds killed on I-95.’ And people think, ‘What were those two old bags doing behind the wheel on the interstate?’”

Jo looked at the house and her shoulders sank. “Oh, Betty. The world won’t be as bright without you.”

Maggie stared at the road ahead and remembered the last time she’d been on an interstate highway. One heart attack after another. She had too much to live for now—including a great-grandson.

“Come on, Mags.” Jo Ellen actually whined. “It would be so much fun. We’d be like Thelma and Louise.”

She gasped. “Have you seen that movie?”

“No, but the ads always looked like so much fun.”

She slid a withering look at her poor, deluded, always optimistic friend. “They die in the end.”

“Oh.” She shifted under her seatbelt. “I thought they just, you know, got friendly with a young Brad Pitt.”

Maggie snorted. “We can watch the movie together, Jo,” she said, trying to make her voice a little gentler to ease the disappointment. “But that’s the closest we’re going to get to a road trip.”

Jo Ellen turned and looked out the window, clearly sad about the decision. She didn’t even use her pretend brake when Maggie got too close to a truck.

Her silence was unfortunate, but Maggie was certain this was the safe and sane decision, and she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter how hard Jo tried.

And she would try, so Maggie had to have resolve.