Ghost Moon (8 page)

For a moment Olivia stood beneath the shelter of the veranda, looking past the fluted columns and hanging ferns at the sun-drenched grounds. Not so much as a blade of grass seemed to have changed in nine years. Once a vast sugar plantation that had been reduced over time to forty acres of scrub woods and swamp and five acres of lawn, LaAngelle Plantation stretched out around her as far as the eye could see on three sides. On the fourth, past the bluff, she could see part of the lake, glimmering silver in the morning light. Deliberately she made herself look at it. It was no more or less than a body of water, with nothing inherently sinister or evil about it. Certainly no voices called to her from it. Any ghosts from the night before were either the product of her imagination, or had been burned away by the rising sun.

Crossing the veranda, Olivia headed down the wide stone steps, running a hand lightly over the hard surface of the wrought-iron rail. She stopped for a moment on the flagstone path that led to the driveway, glancing around, uncertain of where she wished to go. Birds chattered and called. Insects droned. In the distance she could just faintly hear the sound of some sort of farm machinery, like a tractor. The pair of giant magnolias that were the centerpiece of the lawn were as magnificent as she remembered them, with white waxy blossoms the size of dinner plates bursting through glossy green foliage. The sweet olive and jasmine near the gazebo were in bloom, as was the rose garden. Tendrils of pale yellow honeysuckle vine twined with the deeper yellow forsythia bushes that formed a hedge around the property. Closer at hand, crimson amaryllis was massed in glorious profusion in front of the neatly clipped thicket of dark green boxwoods that circled the house. The air was redolent with the scent of flowers; just breathing in was a pleasure.

Although the grounds were beautiful, the reminders of last night’s party were not, and they were everywhere. The Christmas lights were turned off, but they still hung from the eaves of the house and gazebo and clung to the bushes and trees. Festive the night before, this morning they made the property look unkempt, like a just-wakened woman who had gone to bed without washing off her makeup. At the far end of the lawn, a quartet of workmen labored. Two of them, toting black plastic garbage bags, were engaged in picking up trash, while the other two wielded rakes. Plastic cups and forks, napkins, the remnants of balloons, and other odds and ends littered the ground near Olivia’s feet, and she assumed it was as bad everywhere.

As she looked around, a peacock strolled into view from around the side of the house.

Leaving the path, Olivia walked across the grass toward the bird, watching with a smile as it lowered its head and grabbed something in its beak. As the object disappeared down a feathered throat to the accompaniment of enthusiastic head bobs, Olivia realized to her dismay that the peacock had just swallowed a cigarette butt with as much avidity as if it had been a bit of leftover cracker. With no obvious ill effects, the bird then continued on his dignified way. Behind him came the two peahens Olivia had seen earlier, still pecking busily at the grass, and a second peacock, strutting with his head up and his tail fully extended.

All iridescent greens and blues, he was a beautiful sight on a beautiful morning.

LaAngelle Plantation was just the same as it had always been, Olivia thought, as she rounded the side of the house and headed toward the backyard: a place that belonged more to the past than to the present. But on this morning, with the perfume of flowers in the air and her rebellious teenage years a wry memory, that seemed like a good thing rather than a bad one.

A movement of some sort on the very edge of her peripheral vision drew her attention, and Olivia glanced toward the house. A huge white Persian cat was walking delicately along the rail of the upper gallery, its tail waving plumelike through the air. One false step would send it plunging about twenty feet to the ground, but it kept on its way as serenely as if it walked on solid earth. Only at the last minute did Olivia see its goal: Chloe, still wearing her blue nightgown, her blond hair in two ponytails caught up by elastic bands at either ear, leaning over the railing at the far end of the upstairs gallery, something cupped in her hands. As Olivia watched, the child let go.

The object plummeted downward, glittering brilliantly in the sun as it fell, and landed in the sweet bush below with no more than a faint disturbance to the leaves.

Chloe straightened and saw Olivia at the same moment that Olivia glanced up at her again. Olivia was too surprised to call to the child, or even to wave, and Chloe did not speak, either. Shooting Olivia a baleful glance, Chloe snatched up the cat that had by now almost reached her, disappeared into the shadowy depths of the gallery and from there, presumably, into the house.

Curiosity piqued, Olivia moved to the sweet bush and peered in and beneath it. The delicate vanillalike aroma that gave the bush its name wafted around her. Its fragile white flowers and umbrella-shaped foliage concealed an inner hollow that, Olivia remembered from her own childhood, was an ideal hideaway. Stooping, pushing aside the fragrant canopy, and keeping a wary eye out for the bees and wasps that liked to drink from the blossoms, she ducked beneath the leaves and looked around. Almost instantly she spotted it: a bracelet. It dangled from a branch just a few inches off the ground.

That was what Chloe had dropped from the gallery. Olivia’s earlier perception of an object that glittered like fire in the sun resolved itself into this sparkling piece of jewelry. Disentangling the bracelet carefully, Olivia ducked out into the sunlight again, prize in hand. Straightening, she looked at it as it lay across her palm.

It was a watch, not a bracelet. A delicate woman’s watch, with a braceletlike band made of linked diamonds, and a face encrusted with them. The numerals were indicated by tiny rubies. Olivia turned it over in her hand, wondering where Chloe had found something so obviously expensive, and why on earth she had chosen to drop it into a bush.

Made of platinum or white gold, the casing of the watch face felt cool and smooth beneath Olivia’s fingers as she smoothed them over its hexagon shape.

There was engraving on the back in delicate script. Olivia had to hold the watch closer to her eyes and tilt it into the sun so that she could read what was written there:
Mallory Hodges
.

CHAPTER 13

FROWNING, OLIVIA TUCKED THE WATCH INTO the front pocket of her cutoffs and continued on her way, pondering what to do. Obviously the watch had to be returned to its owner, but her every instinct shrank from describing the circumstances that had led her to discover it. Whether Chloe was difficult or not—and from every indication that was the only word to describe her—the child was just a child, after all, and was having a rough time.

Perhaps she could simply say that she had found it on the lawn?

Olivia walked along the pea-gravel path that led to the garçonnière, the small, two-story frame lodge at the edge of the property that had once housed the single, young adult males of the family, and, more recently, was used as a guest house. She paused at the perennial garden, stepping through the trellised archway that served as a garden gate, and spent a moment admiring the beauty within. The white bells of the yucca that had been trained to grow over the arch and around the fence served as a perfect frame for the profusion of colorful flowers that bloomed with abandon around the garden’s centerpiece, a five-foot-tall marble angel that looked as if it had been lifted, at some time in the distant past, from one of New Orleans’ raised cemeteries, or cities of the dead.

Butterflies floated over the garden, looking like fluttering blossoms themselves, and a pair of glossy-winged blackbirds perched on the edge of the fence, watching a third peck at the rich black earth below.

Sara’s going to love all this, Olivia thought again, and then turned back toward the house to see if her daughter was awake yet. Sara did not usually sleep past eight o’clock, even on weekends, but yesterday had been physically and emotionally exhausting for both of them.

At the back of the house, the driveway widened into a paved area that could, in a pinch, provide parking for as many as twenty cars. It also served as a basketball and shuffleboard court. Seth was walking across the pavement toward the stone carriage house that had been converted into a four-car garage at its far end. He had changed into loose khaki slacks and a dark green polo shirt, and was busy talking into a cell phone that he held pressed to his ear.

They saw each other at the same time. Olivia paused, loath to encounter him again so soon, but he didn’t so much as check his stride, even as his gaze slid over her. Neither acknowledged the other by so much as a wave.

If it had not been for the diamond watch in her pocket, Olivia would have given him a wide berth. As it was, she thought crossly, she might as well go on and hand the thing over and get done with it. As Chloe’s father and Mallory’s fiancé, Seth was the person to whom it should be given.

She started walking toward the carriage house just as he closed the phone and slid it into a pocket. Reaching down to grasp the handle of one of the four separate garage doors, he paid no attention to her approach.

‘‘Seth, wait a minute!’’ she called, when the heavy metal door had rattled to its apex and he headed into the shadowy depths of the garage.

He stopped just inside the garage and turned to look at her as she came past the edge of the building toward him.

‘‘What?’’ The question was faintly impatient. His hand rested lightly on the trunk of his car, a dark-colored Jaguar.

Olivia moved out of the bright sunlight into the relative darkness near where he stood, and blinked. Until she felt the skin around her eyes relax, she had not realized how she had been squinting. Even so early in the morning, the Louisiana sun was blinding.

‘‘I—I need to give you something.’’ Not having expected to see him so soon, she had not really thought out what she was going to say. Consequently, she stumbled over her words a little.

‘‘What?’’ The impatience was more pronounced as he met her gaze. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw that he had shaved. His eyes were still bloodshot, though, and he looked tired and irritable.

‘‘This.’’ Olivia reached into her pocket and drew forth the watch, which she held out to him. It sparkled even in the dim light.

‘‘Mallory’s watch.’’ His tone changed to one of surprise. He took it from her and looked down at it as it lay across his fingers, then glanced up at her sharply. ‘‘Where did you get this?’’

Here was the tricky part. ‘‘I found it outside.’’ Which had the merit of being the literal, if not the whole, truth.

His eyes narrowed at her. ‘‘It was on top of the bureau in my bedroom not more than an hour ago. Mallory left it in the car last night.’’

‘‘So what are you implying?’’ Olivia bristled at the accusation she thought she discerned in the words. The sound of running footsteps distracted her, and both she and Seth looked around to try to identify the source.

‘‘Daddy, wait!’’ Twin ponytails flying, wearing short white shorts and a navy-and-white striped T-shirt and carrying a tennis racket, Chloe darted across the pavement into the garage, where she came to an abrupt stop, her gaze swinging from her father to Olivia and back. After that single hard glance, she ignored Olivia to address Seth. ‘‘Where are you going? You promised to take me over to Katie’s so we could play tennis this morning!’’

The impatience in Seth’s face lessened only slightly as he looked at his daughter. ‘‘Chloe, I can’t. I—’’

‘‘Where did you get that?’’ Chloe interrupted, her voice suddenly shrill as she spied the watch that lay across Seth’s hand. Her gaze, narrowed with suspicion, shot immediately to Olivia. ‘‘Did you give it to him? What did you tell him? Did you make up some big lie about me?’’

Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘‘No, of course not. I—’’

‘‘Watch your manners, young lady!’’ Seth’s voice was low and furious.

‘‘Whatever she told you, it’s not true!’’ Gripping the tennis racket in both hands and holding it in front of her body like a shield, Chloe looked appealingly at her father. With her wide blue eyes and the long blond ponytails streaming over her shoulders, she was the picture of childish innocence. ‘‘Are you going to believe her or me?’’

‘‘Chloe . . .’’ Before Seth could continue, Chloe’s lower lip trembled.

‘‘You’re going to believe her, aren’t you? You always believe everything everyone else says about me! I hate you!’’ she choked out. Bursting into noisy tears, she ran from the garage, still clutching the tennis racket and shooting Olivia a venomous glance as she bolted past.

For a moment afterward there was silence as the two adults gazed after the departing child. Then Seth looked at Olivia.

‘‘I apologize for my daughter,’’ he said heavily. His face was flushed dark with anger or embarrassment, or some combination of the two, and his eyes were hard. ‘‘She’ll apologize for herself later.’’

‘‘It’s all right.’’ Olivia felt a spurt of sympathy for both Seth and Chloe. Obviously theirs was not an easy relationship. ‘‘My theory is you haven’t really put in your time as a parent unless your child embarrasses you thoroughly at least once a month.’’

Seth’s gaze moved over her face. His lips compressed into a thin line as he closed his fist around the watch in his hand. ‘‘My ex-wife spoiled Chloe rotten. Then she married again, and apparently her new husband didn’t want a stepdaughter as part of the deal. So she sent Chloe back to me, as if the child were no more than a pet she’d grown tired of. It hurt Chloe badly.’’

‘‘Your mother told me.’’

‘‘I figured she would.’’ Seth’s expression changed, grew wry. ‘‘Now, suppose you tell me what Chloe obviously thinks you’ve already told me. Where did you really find the watch?’’

Olivia stood silent for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, thinking the matter over. ‘‘I’d rather not say,’’ she said finally. ‘‘I think you should ask Chloe.’’

‘‘Livvy . . .’’ He broke off at the stubborn expression on her face, and shook his head impatiently, shoving the watch into his pocket. ‘‘I don’t have time for this right now. I have to be at the hospital at nine thirty to talk to Big John’s doctors. I’ll deal with Chloe—and you’’—he shot her a dark look—‘‘later.’’

He opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later the engine turned over with a purr and a burst of exhaust. Olivia moved out of the way, into the sunlight and toward the edge of the pavement. The Jaguar backed out of its bay, maneuvered around so that it was facing the driveway, rolled forward a dozen feet, and then came to a sudden stop. It was, Olivia saw as it wheeled into the light, gunmetal gray with a cream interior. The engine died, the car door opened, and Seth got out, looking grim.

‘‘Damn it to hell and back.’’ He slammed the door with considerable force. His gaze met Olivia’s. ‘‘Did you see where she went?’’

‘‘Toward the front yard,’’ Olivia offered.

Seth swore again, pinned Olivia with an evil look, and headed toward the front yard. Watching him go, Olivia had to smile. Having Seth stomp off in a temper brought back memories. Years ago, she had been the object of his wrath more often than she cared to remember.

He had called her Livvy, as he used to when she was a child. That he could use the nickname gave her hope that perhaps he was ready to forgive and forget. It would be nice to be on friendly terms with Seth again. As a little girl, she had thought her big stepcousin hung the moon. Even when she was older, for all she had butted heads with him at every turn, somewhere underneath it all she had still admired, respected, and, yes, loved him.

Now they were both adults, divorced, with daughters the same age. For the first time in their lives, they were on more or less equal footing. Except, of course, that Seth was rich, successful, and sure of his place in the world. While she . . .

Another car pulled into the parking area next to the Jag. This was a white Mazda Miata, a sporty two-seater convertible with the hood down. Mallory, sunglasses in place and a white silk scarf tied around her blond head, was driving. Olivia spared an envious glance for the car. She possessed an ancient Mercury Cougar with more than one hundred thousand miles on the odometer and bad tires. It had not been up to the trip from Houston, which was how she and Sara had ended up on the bus. But if she’d had her druthers, she would have chosen a car just like Mallory’s.

‘‘Hi!’’ Mallory waved and got out of the car, removing her sunglasses and pulling off her scarf at the same time.

‘‘Hi,’’ Olivia answered with a smile.

Mallory walked toward her. She was wearing a cute little tennis outfit with a tiny pleated skirt that left her long, tanned legs bare. Olivia felt a pang of envy for the outfit, too.

‘‘Have you seen Seth, or Chloe? I’m supposed to take Chloe to a friend’s house to play tennis. Seth said he had to be in Baton Rouge at nine thirty.’’ She glanced at her wrist, then shook her head. ‘‘Drat, I keep forgetting I’m not wearing my watch. Anyway, have you seen either of them?’’

Lightning fast, Olivia processed a whole jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Her first instinct was to protect Seth and Chloe from intrusion from an outsider at this delicate moment. She had to remind herself that this woman was going to be Seth’s wife and Chloe’s stepmother, and thus was not an outsider after all. ‘‘I think they’re in the front yard.’’

Mallory frowned. ‘‘Why on earth . . .?’’ Then she brightened. ‘‘Here they come.’’

Olivia looked around to discover that Seth and Chloe were indeed approaching around the side of the house. Seth had his hand on Chloe’s shoulder. He was grim-faced, while Chloe, still clutching her tennis racket, looked sullen.

Watching them, Mallory sighed, then, summoning a smile, waved cheerily.

Seth waved back. Chloe didn’t. If anything, she just looked more sullen.

‘‘Honestly, that child,’’ Mallory muttered under her breath, then shot a quick look at Olivia to see if she’d been overheard. Her gaze on Seth and Chloe, Olivia pretended to be deaf.

Seth marched Chloe right up to Olivia. A paternal squeeze of the child’s shoulder prompted a barely audible ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ and a lightning glance brimful of dislike.

‘‘That’s all right,’’ Olivia said gently, wincing inside at Seth’s handling of the situation. Forcing an apology out of an obviously reluctant child would only serve to make her more rebellious, in Olivia’s opinion.

Mallory’s eyebrows lifted in delicate inquiry as she looked from Chloe to Olivia, then shot a quick glance at Seth. His expression was forbidding. Mallory, having the good sense not to comment on the exchange, instead addressed Chloe a shade too heartily: ‘‘Your dad asked me to take you over to Katie’s. I called her mother, and we decided that we’re going to play tennis, too. Maybe we can work in a doubles match, you know, kind of a mother-daughter thing. Wouldn’t that be fun?’’

Chloe scowled, and Olivia held her breath, waiting for what, on the strength of her brief acquaintance with Chloe, she was already sure would be an ear-shattering outburst. But something—Seth’s warning hand on her shoulder, probably—kept it from coming.

‘‘Yeah, fun,’’ Chloe said.

The sarcasm was unmistakable, and all the adults present chose to ignore it. Olivia could see their point: Sarcasm beat a tantrum hands down.

‘‘Well, let’s go, then.’’ Mallory smiled at Chloe, a mere stretching of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, then smiled at Seth more genuinely. ‘‘Don’t worry about us.’’

‘‘I won’t.’’ His expression relaxed a little as he exchanged glances with Mallory. He squeezed Chloe’s shoulder once more before releasing it. ‘‘Behave.’’ His tone was a warning.

Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of the Miata, and Mallory and Seth walked around to the driver’s side. Seth opened the door for Mallory, who rested a hand on his shoulder and kissed him lightly on the mouth before settling into her seat.

‘‘Bye, darling,’’ she said, smiling up at him as Seth closed her door. Olivia’s glance slid almost involuntarily to Chloe. The child’s scowl had turned ferocious.

Once again, Olivia held her breath waiting for the outburst that did not come. Mallory put the key in the ignition, then looked up at Seth, who was stepping away from the car.

‘‘Oh, darling, would you mind fetching my watch for me before we go? I’m absolutely lost without it.’’

Seth flicked a glance at Chloe, who was staring stonily through the windshield and appeared not to have heard the question.