“Not much call for locks on Tawes.”
“Somebody was out there.”
“All right, I believe you. But just because someone was out there doesn't mean you were in any danger.” He crossed the kitchen and pushed open the sliding door to the laundry room.
“The washer's empty,” Bailey said from the doorway. “I did a load earlier.” She handed him the detergent, and he set it on the counter beside the washer. She didn't think Daniel was the whistler, but neither was she going to put herself in a small space with only one way out.
He dropped the T-shirt into the washer, put his jacket in the dryer, and set the timer. “High heat or low?”
“From the looks of that jacket, I don't think that's an issue.”
He grinned. “You're probably right.” He pushed the button and the dryer began to spin. “And you've noticed that I go out a lot late at night.”
“It's none of my business.”
“No, but you've noticed.” He set the washer on the low water level and threw in a small amount of detergent.
“Yes, I have.”
“What's for supper? I take it Emma's not here.” He came back into the kitchen and looked at the empty stovetop. “No chicken tonight.”
“I was going to fix a salad. Would you like me to make extra?”
“Give me five minutes to jump in the shower and put on some dry clothes and I'll see what's in the refrigerator.
I think I want something more substantial. What's your take on spicy stir-fry?”
“Good.” If this was an act, she thought, he deserved an Oscar.
“All right. There's brown rice in the cupboard over the refrigerator. You start the rice, and I'll do the rest.”
When Daniel returned in a clean shirt and khakis ten minutes later, Bailey had the rice cooking and the table set for two. “I found celery, garlic, onions, and green peppers,” she offered.
“Wait.” He motioned toward the back door, stepped out on the porch, and returned in seconds with two bottles of imported beer. He opened the first one and handed it to her. “Glass?”
She shook her head. “I'm a purist.” She took a sip. The beer was cold, with a crisp tang. If she'd had the brand before, she didn't remember. “Good. Where did this come from?” She studied the label of the Dutch imported beer.
“I get off the island now and then. And Emma can be bribed.”
Bailey laughed, beginning to feel embarrassed that she'd suspected Daniel of being the prowler. “Can I help cut the vegetables?”
“Dice the onion. They always make me cry,” he said. “And see if you can find oyster sauce or duck sauce in the refrigerator. Might be Chinese cabbage in the bottom drawer.”
“Pretty fancy ingredients for a âplain country cook'to have around.” Bailey smiled. “Isn't that what Emma says she is?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “You can't always take what Emma says as gospel. Her mother is a plain country
cook. Blind or not, Aunt Birdy still makes the best pies on this island. But Emma . . .” He shrugged. “Emma has her share of secrets. I'd put her up against the chefs at Four Seasons in Boston any day.”
“You've eaten there?”
He nodded as he chopped celery on a wooden board. “I like good food and I like fine restaurants. It's my weakness.” He laid down the cleaver and reached for the garlic.
She peeled an onion and rinsed it off in the sink. “I take it that you must get off the island a lot.”
“Okay, so this is where I come clean, right? It's not exactly a state secret on Tawes, so you may as well hear it from me. I worked as an agent for the CIA for nine years.”
She stared at him. “For real? Or is that a joke?”
Daniel picked up the cleaver and began to smash garlic cloves with the side of the blade. “Sometimes it felt like one.”
“You're serious. You were some kind of James Bond, saving the free world fromâ”
“Nope. Nothing so romantic. The agency simply gathers information.”
“Emma said you traveled a lot.”
“Yes, Europe and the Far East.”
“Collecting information?”
“Exactly. Just the facts, ma'am.” He heaped the crushed garlic on one side of the cutting board.
“But you don't work for the CIA anymore?”
“Nope. Things got complicated, so I resigned.”
“And that big government pension?”
He grinned. “Gone with the wind.”
“And now you're a poor but humble carpenter?” Bailey sensed there was a lot more to the story than he
was telling, but she was unwilling to pry further into his personal life.
“I think I've already given more than my name, rank, and serial number.” He took an oversize cast-iron frying pan from a hook on the wall, added olive oil, and set it on the gas range. When the oil was hot, he began to add vegetables.
Bailey washed and chopped the Chinese cabbage. “Anything else I can do to help?”
“Finish your beer before it gets warm.” He opened the refrigerator, rustled around inside, and came out with a package of raw shrimp, a few stalks of broccoli, and two large mushrooms. “I thought there were some of these in here.” He took a drink from his bottle, retrieved some spices from another cupboard, and turned the rice down. “It should all be ready together.”
The scent of pepper filled the kitchen as Daniel sprinkled it onto the vegetables. “How hot?”
“If you can stand it, I can.”
“Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.”
Another five minutes, and Daniel scooped the stir-fry onto a bed of rice and placed it in front of her. “Chopsticks or forks?”
She laughed. “In for a penny . . .”
He went back to the porch for another two bottles of beer and joined her at the table. When she reached for her napkin, he raised his bottle toward her.
“What are we toasting?” she asked.
“Your farmhouse. Cathy tells me I'm being blackmailed into doing your repairs.”
She touched her beer to his with a clink. “And you're all right with that?”
“I owe Jim a big favor. You're doing Cathy a favor by helping with summer classes at the school, so I'm
trapped between a storm tide and the marsh.” He flashed a crooked grin. “I'm not happy about it, but I'll do it, and I'll do it cheap and right. Island justice.”
Bailey was still smiling as she walked to school in the morning. The evening before, which had started so frighteningly, ended on a much more pleasant note. After Daniel's delicious stir-fry, topped off with some of Emma's homemade strawberry ice cream, which they found in the freezer, they had sat on the porch swing and talked until Emma came home at midnight. Daniel hadn't touched her, but the night air had been charged by more than the storm's electricity.
Bailey couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed talking to someone more, or when the time had passed so quickly. With Daniel beside her, she'd felt safe in a way she could never remember experiencing. For the most part they'd chatted about silly things, movies, a used-book store in Newark, ethnic food, and bands from the eighties. They hadn't discussed her uncle Will or the inheritance or what she intended to do with Elizabeth's house, and Daniel had said nothing more about his travels with the CIA or why he'd quit.
Despite the casualness of the evening, Bailey couldn't deny an intense sexual attraction to Daniel, and if Emma hadn't returned to the house, she wondered if the evening might have ended differently. Daniel Catlin was an enigma, one who intrigued her. She definitely wanted to know more about him.
She'd intended on taking the bike to school, but the back tire was soft, so she'd changed into athletic shoes and capris and set off on foot. Forest stopped her on the street a short distance from his house.
“Good morning,” the attorney said. “I was hoping to
catch you early. Could you stop by the office after class? I have some information to share with you.”
“I'll be glad to.”
Forest McCready appeared as dapper as ever in brown leather deck shoes, khaki trousers, and a white knit three-button henley with blue piping, but the lines around his mouth seemed more pronounced, and his eyes were red-rimmed. “I just can't get over what happened to poor Creed.”
“I understand you were friends. I'm so sorry.”
“Friends, yes, but cousins, too. In so many ways, his life was wasted, but we had some good times. Not to mention poor Ida.”
“Is it definite that hers was the other . . . the other body?”
Forest shook his head. “No, nothing official. Reports on accidents like this can take weeks, sometimes longer. You come by as soon as you can. And don't worry about lunch. I'll have a loaf of wheat bread hot from the oven, some delicious crab bisque, and fresh strawberries and cream.”
“Stop, you're making me hungry, and I just finished Emma's French toast. By the time I go home I'll be twice my size.”
Forest chuckled. “I don't think we need to worry about that for some time. I hear you've contracted Daniel to do the repairs to the house.”
“Already? Who told you that?”
“Never mind. It's fine. There's no question about your right to have the work done and to choose whomever you like to do it. There are no other heirs to contest the will. The house and land will be yours, once I have these bugs ironed out.”
“I don't understand the problem,” she said.
“That's why you have me to worry about it.” He smiled again. “Don't let it give you a moment's trouble. It will be fine. I can fill you in on the details later, if you like.”
“I would,” Bailey said. “Have you found out anything else about my mother's death? That's what Iâ”
“Yes, I have.” He lowered his voice. “She died of complications of her pregnancy, but this isn't the place to discuss it. I'll answer whatever I can this afternoon. I'll be looking forward to seeing you, and I'm so sorry to have put you through all these delays.”
“Thank youâthank you for everything.”
“It's my pleasure, Miss Elliott.”
“Bailey, please.”
“Very well, Miss Bailey Elliott. Then I insist you call me Forest. Everyone else in Tawes does.”
The morning hours passed quickly. Bailey found her new pupils shy, but refreshingly uncomplicated and well behaved. For the past four years she'd been teaching in an overcrowded school with needy students. The Tawes children weren't all working up to grade level, but they displayed a warmth and innocence that surprised her. One girl, Rebecca Somers, had Down syndrome, and another boy, Roy Love, was mentally challenged, but both seemed completely accepted and protected by their classmates. One student or another was always at Rebecca's side, encouraging and praising her, and Roy received an equal amount of attention from his peers.
When Cathy came to tell the class that they'd worked fifteen minutes past dismissal, Bailey was as surprised as anyone else. Cathy invited her to share a picnic
lunch with her and the children on the playground, but Bailey had to refuse.
“Mr. McCready asked me to stop by the office. I'm afraid that I've already accepted his offer for lunch,” she explained.
“Tomorrow, then,” Cathy urged. “I should have told you. Everyone brings a bag lunch, the teachers provide lemonade or iced tea, and we trade sacks. And some lucky person gets a free âget out of trouble' pass to be used any day in the coming school year. Joshua has a standing offer to trade his best fishing rod for that pass, and every boy in my class and most of the girls want to win that fishing pole.”
Bailey laughed. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“I might as well tell you the rest,” Cathy confided. “We have a school garden in the back. First we water all the vegetables and gather the ripe ones, and then we eat. So come dressed to crawl in the dirt tomorrow.”
Forest's lunch was as delicious as Bailey had imagined. After the attorney had cleared away the dishes and poured them both tall glasses of sparkling water with slices of lemon, he took the big leather chair next to her. The dogs lay sprawled at his feet.
“Now, what can I tell you?” he asked.
“My mother. I want to know everything.”
Forest took a sip of his sparkling water and set the glass on a coaster on the table between them. “I've obtained a copy of her medical records. Don't ask me how.” He smiled as one of the dogs nuzzled his ankle. “We country lawyers have our ways,” he said, as he leaned down and stroked the animal's head. “But I warn you, it isn't pleasant.”
“Please tell me.” She leaned forward in the chair.
“Beth hid her pregnancy from everyone. She went through the entire eight and a half months without any medical care. Apparently her guardian, your great-uncle Will, knew nothing about her condition. On the day before her death, an accident or a scuffle with a person or persons unknown caused her to go into premature labor. You were born in Elizabeth's house with only your great-aunt and -uncle present. Afterward, your uncle summoned medics from Crisfield. Sadly, Beth had lost so much blood that she slipped into a coma and died that day in the hospital without ever revealing how she came by her injuries or the identity of the father.”
Bailey's eyes widened as the enormity of the truth sank in. “She never told anyone?”
“No.” Forest shook his head. “Will was in a rage. He feltâand perhaps rightly soâthat whoever fathered Beth's child had contributed to her death. He doted on her. The shame of her pregnancy and the loss of her life were almost too much for him to bear. But what came next was even worse.”
“Worse?” Bailey felt light-headed. “How could it be worse? And everyone knows everything on Tawes. How could she have had a boyfriend without anyone being aware of it? Surely somebody must have known.”
Forest leaned forward and patted her hand. “Your mother was just sixteen when she died. You would have been conceived when she was barely fifteen. Will would never have allowed her to have a boyfriend at that age. And if he'd found out who had seduced her and gotten her pregnant, the chances are he would have shot him.”