Page 3 of The Summer We Made Promises (The Destin Diaries #3)

“It’s really not like us to bring in outsiders on the subject,” Maggie said to start things off as she put her little Yorkie on the ground and Pittypat scampered inside. “In other words, everything we discuss is private.”

Peter just smiled and slid a look to Vivien.

“Considering I spent all seven summers with you right here on this property, Mrs. L, I don’t think I qualify as an outsider.

My last name might not be Wylie or Lawson, but I’m a brother to your children and a cousin to yours.

” He nodded to Jo Ellen. “Maybe not by blood. You can trust me. I assure you.”

Apparently believing him, Maggie nodded. “Good,” she said simply. “But can you help us?”

“I can try. I know that putting together pieces of the past can be daunting when you’re dealing with the police and ancient, closed cases. As I understand it, you want to know if Artie was the anonymous tipster who launched the investigation into your husband’s crimes.”

“I know he is,” Maggie said.

“We don’t know that for an absolute fact,” Jo Ellen countered. “Artie never went into detail?—”

“Because he was ashamed of what he did!” Maggie spat back.

“He never did anything shameful in his life, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Maggie underscored that with one of her many withering glares. “He stabbed his best friend in the back. Roger told me?—”

Peter held up two hands with the flair of a referee. “Ladies, ladies. Please. Let’s stay focused.”

Amen to that, Vivien thought as she looked at the two women and considered how far they’d come from the old days. This wasn’t going to be a peaceful summer if it took too long to get the answers they wanted. This needed to move and get resolved—fast.

“What we really want to know,” Jo Ellen said softly, “is why both of our husbands made us promise—separately—not to ever speak to each other again. At least, that’s what I want to know.”

Maggie just flicked her brow in silent agreement. They needed to know why—and if they should keep that promise. After all, the men who’d forced them to make it were both gone.

“While I begin to do more research,” Peter said, “you two can do a lot, too.”

“Like what?” Maggie asked.

“How about a conversation with the attorney who helped you put this property in a trust?” he suggested.

“That attorney, John Waverly, died several years ago,” Maggie said flatly.

“His son, also an attorney, Justin, took over the work of managing the property and handling any legal issues. He was the one who helped me discover a loophole that said I could give the house to Roger’s children because he died in prison.

But Justin has nothing to do with this. He was a kid when all this happened. ”

Peter shrugged. “He should have the files from when the house was purchased and Roger was arrested. Something in there could be a clue.”

“That’s a waste of time,” Maggie said.

“Maggie!” Jo Ellen leaned over the table, her frustration visible. “You can’t shoot everything down.”

“I can shoot that down. Artie didn’t even know we bought the house, so?—”

“Yes, he did,” Jo Ellen said.

“He…did?” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Roger told me he didn’t tell a soul he’d put the house in my name. He wanted me to keep it and didn’t want anyone to know I had it.”

Jo Ellen shrugged and gave a “you don’t know everything” look that had Vivien bracing. No one gave that look to Maggie Lawson and lived.

“When I was going through Artie’s things, I found an envelope,” Jo Ellen explained. “Roger’s obit was in it, from the Atlanta newspaper, along with a picture of the cottage after the hurricane hit in 1995. It wasn’t completely destroyed, but wrecked.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Maggie said. “He spent seven summers in the house. He probably saw it in the newspapers after the storm?—”

“On the back off that picture was one of those yellow sticky notes with Roger’s handwriting,” Jo Ellen continued, undaunted. “It said something like, ‘I should have waited and gotten it for half as much. Thanks, pal.’”

Vivien sucked in a breath at this revelation. Artie had known her father bought this property? That was news.

Maggie looked just as shocked. “You’re lying,” she announced, pushing up like she wanted to stand up and run.

But Jo Ellen reached across the space and put a hand on her arm.

“Maggie.” She angled her head and sighed. “You know me better than that.”

Maggie shook her head. “No. It’s impossible. Hurricane Opal hit after he was arrested. He would never have sent a picture of the house to the man who turned him in. You’ve got your facts mixed up, Jo.”

Jo Ellen inched back, creases deepening on her forehead. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong, but I could have Kate find the note and take a picture. We should leave no stone unturned if we’re going to solve this mystery.”

“You’re right about that,” Peter said. “Have Kate look. And please contact the lawyer to get the oldest files out of storage. I’ll have another conversation with my contact at the Atlanta PD, too, and report back.”

Maggie just took a deep breath, silenced.

Jo Ellen smiled at him. “And I’ll be sure there’s mint chocolate chip for you, Peter,” she said sweetly.

He thanked her with a warm smile, and stood when it was clear Maggie was completely done with this meeting.

Vivien walked him to the door in silence, but as they stepped outside into the morning sun, he put his arm around her and pulled her close.

“I’ve been in prison interrogation rooms with more love,” he whispered.

“Right?” she scoffed. “Can I borrow a bulletproof vest for the next few weeks?”

“You may need it, sadly.”

“It is sad,” she said. “They used to be such good friends, remember?”

“I do,” he said. “Thick as thieves, always joking and cooking and doing some secret sorority handshake. It’s a shame to see them like this.”

She rubbed her arms despite the heat. “With Eli gone and Crista leaving, I’m the only Lawson child to bear the brunt of Maggie’s wrath.”

“I think Jo Ellen’s bearing most of it, but you always have a shoulder to fall on.” He got a little closer to her ear. “Mine.”

She smiled up at him and put a hand on that shoulder, which was broad and strong. “I’ll take you up on that, Detective.”

“Can you sneak out for that dinner this week?” he asked. “Another trip to the rooftop in town or somewhere else?”

“I’d love that,” she said. “Assuming you don’t have anything come up with your case.”

He grunted in frustration, his usual reaction when he talked about the missing person case that had brought him to Destin in the first place.

“Dead ends daily,” he told her. “I’ve been looking for one clue for this guy for, what?

A month? But someone claimed to have seen him over in Seaside, which means he could still be around.

In the meantime, I gotta eat dinner and I really gotta eat dinner with you.

” He gave a wry grin. “You’ll need the escape. ”

“Will I ever,” she said. “I do have a new client starting up this week, but nothing that will stop me from seeing you.”

“You do?” His face lit up, obviously happy for her. “I know you went back to Fiona the Fearsome. Did she send you someone else?”

“Fiona’s far less fearsome brother. Remember the guy we thought was conning her but turned out to be her brother? You looked him up and found out he is a hedge fund manager, not a hapless handyman.”

“Oh, I remember.” He gave a smirk. “I saw him tailing you every time you moved at that fashion show.”

She inched back, not sure what part of that to react to. That Danny was tailing her—or Peter was…jealous?

“He was trying to get me to reconcile with his sister,” she told him. “And remodel some rooms in his Destin house.”

He gave her a “get real” look. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it, Viv. Come on. The dude could barely wipe his drool around you.”

Peter was jealous. She gave him a purposely coy smile, unnaturally tickled by the reaction.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she said, keeping a tease in her voice because it was fun. Come on—Peter McCarthy jealous ?

Take that, fourteen-year-old Vivien.

“I’m not worried,” he said with the same cool confidence he’d exhibited with the feuding mothers on the deck. “But that guy’s slick. I’d get paid up front if I were you.”

Danny Sullivan wasn’t slick. He was good-looking, loaded, and charming, yes. Was that slick ? Maybe to Peter.

She gave his arm a playful jab. “I will. And I’ll take you out to dinner with my first client fee just to prove it.”

“Can’t wait.” He stole the lightest, fastest kiss and headed down the stairs to his car, leaving her standing in the hot Destin sun thinking about him…and Danny.

Well, it was going to be an interesting summer.