The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel

  Frasier sighed. “Baby Jesus on the B Train.”

  “I’m sorry to have ruined the cookout, Ma.” Clancy turned to Evie. “We’d better go.”

  “Wait.” Duncan came up to Evie and Clancy. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did. It was wrong. I will make it up to you both.”

  Clancy stared at Duncan, his mouth pulled tight. Evie couldn’t tell if he was still angry, or just plain hurt. “Not necessary. Good night, everyone,” he said.

  * * *

  “I have nuthin’ more to say to you, Mr. Wahlberg. I told you on the phone yesterday that you shouldn’t waste your time comin’ up here. Good-bye, now.”

  “There’s no one else I can talk to about this, Charlie. Not a soul. You’re the person who needs to hear it.”

  The farmer leaned against the doorframe of the old house and considered him carefully.

  “It’s about Amanda. Please.” Richard approached him carefully. He was a little concerned he’d be punched again.

  “Ayuh, take a seat, then. I’ll be out with something for us. You like beer?”

  “Beer? You told me you don’t drink.”

  “I lied. I love a good pilsner at the end of a hot summer day. But is it safe for you to have it with your heart condition?”

  Richard couldn’t help but laugh. Not a damn soul but his cardiologist cared enough these days to ask about his health. All his close friends had turned out to be neither close nor friends. As was now apparent, his relationships had been about what he could do for them, and when he wasn’t in the position to do much at all, they disappeared. And yet here was a man who had every right to hate him, asking him if it was safe for him to have a beer.

  Richard figured any ill effects from the brew would be more than offset by a few moments of honest, human conversation.

  “Sure, Charlie. That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  He took a seat in one of the porch rockers, almost immediately feeling his pulse slow and his blood pressure stabilize. He leaned his head back and enjoyed the view of the early-evening sun on the rolling fields and the peaceful, blue mountain lake beyond. Maybe when all this was over—with or without Christina—he’d find a place like this to live. Silence. Beauty. Something real and alive. Something that had nothing to do with politics or power.

  Charlie came out the screen door and placed a frosty mug on a little wooden table.

  “What time does the sun set up here?”

  “Same as it does down there.”

  “What are you growing, Charlie?”

  “In these pastures?”

  “Yes, everything we can see from up here on the porch.”

  Charlie took a long draw on his beer and smacked his lips. “Hay.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t know what hay looks like?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose I do. I’ve just never thought much about it.”

  “Ayuh, this year I’ve got sixty acres of alfalfa, twenty-five of mixed clover, and a hundred of tall fescue.”

  “And what do you do with it?”

  Charlie laughed. “I sow it, fertilize it, maintain it, cut it, bale it, and sell it at auction as animal feed. You know—horses, cattle, sheep, goats, and even llamas.”

  “I never imagined.”

  “Ayuh, and what do you do at your job?”

  “I fertilize.”

  Charlie nodded quietly. “So what is it you have to say? I don’t think I need to tell you that you’re not my favorite person and never will be.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Richard put the mug down. “Charlie, I’ve come to apologize.”

  The farmer’s rocker ceased creaking. He concentrated on his beer and didn’t make eye contact with Richard.

  “Just yesterday, I learned something horrible. I found out that when Amanda worked for me, my chief of staff took it upon herself to handle the . . . situation . . . without consulting me. I only just now learned what she did to Amanda, and I was shocked and sickened.”

  Charlie swiveled his head. “You’re blaming your second-in-command for how you treated my daughter?”

  “I’m not blaming. I take full responsibility for having an inappropriate relationship with Amanda.”

  “But all the rest is someone else’s fault?”

  “Charlie, I came here to share what I’ve just learned. For the first time, I know how badly Amanda was treated and how much it must have hurt her. My chief of staff—well, she’s now my former chief of staff—gave Amanda money for an abortion and said it came from me. It didn’t. If I had known she was pregnant, which I did not, I never would have asked her to do that.”

  Charlie’s lips trembled.

  “And then my chief of staff told Amanda that if she didn’t leave DC immediately—”

  “She might disappear the way young women in trouble sometimes do in Washington. Like the young interns and staffers who are never heard from again.”

  Richard gripped the armrests.

  “After Amanda died, Evelyn told me the whole story, including how you threatened my little girl.”

  “It was a travesty. My chief of staff was just trying to intimidate her. She was never in any danger.” Richard hung his head. “Now that I know the truth about all this, I felt it was only right to apologize from the bottom of my heart.”

  Charlie was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “What do you expect from me, Wahlman? You want me to reach out and pat you on the head and say all is forgiven?”

  “I . . .”

  “If I ever get there, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Fair enough, but I didn’t come to win your forgiveness, just to tell you the truth and let you know how much I regret all of it.”

  Charlie sighed. “You say you’re truly sorry?”

  “I am.”

  “Prove it.”

  Richard reeled back. “How would I do that?”

  “Simple. If you feel remorse for what you did to my Amanda, then let Evelyn go. Call off the FBI. Stop this circus. Let my girls come home where they belong.”

  “I . . . I don’t even know that I can do that, Charlie. Now that the federal government has opened a case—”

  “Ayuh, more fertilizer.” Charlie sipped his beer. “You can do anything you want and you know it. Just make it happen, like you made the custody decision happen. In honor of Amanda, who suffered terribly at your hands.”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Your chief of staff’s hands.”

  “Yes.”

  “So stop this ludicrous manhunt and then maybe we can come to some kind of civilized agreement about custody. Christina deserves the adults around her to behave like adults. But only if you call off the FBI.”

  Richard took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.” He rose, suddenly feeling a little unsteady on his feet. He checked his watch—his flight was scheduled to leave Augusta in an hour and a half. “May I use your bathroom, please, before I hit the road?”

  Charlie began snickering. “Knock yourself out, Congressman. Last door on the left just before you enter the kitchen.”

  A moment later, Richard stood in the half bath, taking a leak while staring at a copy of one of his old campaign posters, a handful of darts stuck between his eyes and a thousand tiny holes poked in his face.

  He was still chuckling as he walked toward the front door, when something caught his eye. On an antique hall table was a brochure. For an instant, the words didn’t register. But. Wait. Of all the places . . . it was a brochure for the Bayberry Island Mermaid Festival. What the hell?

  Bayberry Island?

  Since Richard didn’t believe in coincidence, the truth was pretty obvious: Evelyn and Christina had to be on Bayberry Island, and that thoroughly unpleasant police chief knew it. Was he protecting Evelyn McGuinness? Suddenly, the p
olice chief’s personal dislike for Richard made perfect sense, and he knew if they found that cop, they would find Evelyn and Christina.

  Richard collected himself, trying to subdue the big smile on his face. Things were looking up. Maybe he was right back on track to have everything just the way he wanted it—his career and his child.

  Richard cleared his throat when he returned to the front porch. “Charlie, as much as I’ve enjoyed our chat and your bathroom artwork, I need to get going.”

  The old guy narrowed his eyes at him. “So, you’ll let me know?”

  “Absolutely.” Not. “Thanks for the beer.”

  “How soon can you call off the search?”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see. I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  “I’m Mermaid Jellybean!”

  Yes, she certainly was. With Mona’s help, Christina had been transformed into a beautiful junior sea goddess. Her hair was long and luxuriously blond, her tail was loose-fitting silvery blue that gave her legs lots of room to move. It was paired with a matching top, modest in its coverage and decorated with tiny shells and faux coconut fringe. Christina twirled in front of the mirror, until her eyes caught Evie’s in the reflection.

  “You are so pretty, too.”

  “Thank you, honey.” She added the borrowed earrings and evaluated the total effect.

  “You are prettier than anyone ever was pretty in the whole world of prettiness!”

  “Wow. That’s pretty darn pretty.”

  “It is.”

  There was a gentle knock on the door. Evie couldn’t help but feel bad for Clancy—he was knocking on the door of his own bedroom. The man had been kicked out so that the girls could use it as a Mermaid Ball dressing room.

  “Come on in.”

  Clancy opened the door and stopped in his tracks. He had obviously come to give her news because he held his cell phone in his hand, but he wasn’t saying anything.

  She wasn’t either. All she could do was gawk. This was the first time she had ever seen Clancy in anything but beach attire or a police uniform. And—whoa—the man cleaned up well.

  He wore a white linen suit with a soft blue open collar shirt and a pair of newer Docksiders. He was clean-shaven, and the light fabric accentuated his tanned skin and dark eyes. Evie knew she had to have a goofy love-struck expression on her face, but she couldn’t stop staring.

  Clancy stared, too. He let his gaze travel up and down her body and let out a whistle. “Holy moly.” Then he made sure to comment on Christina, who was already posed for his admiration. “And look at you! I’m sorry, but have we met?” He bent at the waist. “What is your name, gorgeous mermaid?”

  She giggled. “I love you, silly Sir Clancy.” She ran up and hugged his knees tightly. Evie and Clancy caught each other’s eyes, surprised. Then they both broke out in a smile.

  “I love you right back, Jellybean.”

  At that instant, Evie’s chest filled and her eyes stung. Sometimes her thoughts could get so far ahead of reality, that she’d even imagined the day that the three of them made a little family here on Bayberry Island. Of course that would require a world without Richard Wahlman—or women’s prison.

  “Can I go over and tell Evie how pretty she is?”

  “Yep!”

  As Christina bounced down the hall, Clancy moved closer. He let his fingertip brush across her Evie’s collarbone and over the tops of her breasts. “Damn.”

  “You like?”

  “Uh, I’m sure there’s something wrong with lusting for a woman wearing your sister’s dress, but I swear to God I’ve never seen her in it and if I have, she didn’t look like this.”

  Evie gave a twirl much like the one Christina had just executed, and the wide white skirt sailed around her thighs. The sundress was a kind of retro style, with straps going up and tying around the back of her neck. Mona had given her a pair of antique pearl clip-on earrings that had belonged to Frasier’s mother, and Annie, who also wore a size nine shoe, came up with a cute pair of tie-on espadrilles.

  Clancy’s eyes were huge. “You look like a French vanilla ice cream drizzled with sex sauce.”

  Evie laughed. “You’re pretty sweet yourself.” She grabbed him around the waist and pulled him in for a kiss. If Christina happened to see, they would just have to deal with it.

  “Oh, man. Okay.” Clancy gave himself a quick tap on the cheek. “Evie. I have news. I just got a text.”

  Her face fell.

  “No. Good news. Incredible news.” He gave her a reassuring kiss, then wrapped his arms low on her hips. “Remember my buddy who was helping Hal?”

  “Of course!”

  “Well, he arranged a meeting this afternoon between House ethics investigators, the Justice Department, and Wahlman’s wife and chief of staff. They’re taking him down.”

  “What?”

  “It’s ugly. The chief of staff claims there have been repeated instances of sexual misconduct, and the wife tipped them off about possible misuse of campaign contributions. But”—he glanced behind him to make sure they were alone and lowered his voice—“the important thing for you to know is it looks like Wahlman bribed a court clerk in order to win custody of Christina.”

  Evie slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “My buddy says Wahlman promised the clerk a better-paying job in exchange for helping him cheat the system.”

  Evie felt herself began to tremble with relief and joy. “You mean . . . ?”

  “It’s almost over. So tonight, we’re just going to relax and enjoy the Mermaid Ball, because tomorrow the shit is going to hit the fan for Wahlman. Ash has already called a good friend of his in Boston—a criminal defense attorney—who’s going to help us out. He’ll be here tomorrow to walk you through everything. It’s going to be okay, Evie.”

  She squealed with joy and hugged him as hard as she possibly could. It was over! She didn’t have to run anymore! Clancy lifted her off the floor.

  * * *

  “You’re awfully quiet.”

  Teresa Apodaca pulled her gaze from the window to stare at Richard with annoyance. She replied to him via her microphone. “We’re on a Federal Bureau of Investigations helicopter, Congressman, on our way to rescue a child abduction victim. It’s not especially conducive to small talk.”

  This girl had barely tolerated him during this last week, but Richard assumed she would perk up by the prospect of capturing her prey. Guess not.

  The helicopter pitched slightly and he put his hand on his chest. There it was again—that faint fluttery feeling. As soon as this ordeal was over he’d check himself into the Cleveland Clinic for a cardiac follow-up. It was probably just the return of harmless atrial fibrillation, but with his history, he couldn’t take that chance.

  The special agent in charge glowered at him. “Are you feeling all right, Mr. Wahlman? You seem a little pale.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just looking forward to finally having my daughter by my side.”

  Four more FBI special agents were on board, occupied on their computers or cell phones, and Richard sat with his own thoughts for several minutes. His whole life was about to change. As soon as this helicopter landed, he would have his child. He would be a father. And then he could go about the business of getting his career back on track. There was nothing stopping him now.

  “So what are your plans with Christina? Have you arranged for child care?”

  Richard blinked, trying his best to hide his surprise. “Of course. I plan to hire a nanny.”

  “So you’ve already gone through the interviewing and screening process and have hired someone?”

  There’s a process? “I’ve narrowed it down. I’m quite close to selecting one.”

  “Where will you be living?”

  Richard was beginning to feel uncomfortable with th
is interrogation. “I have a suite at the Jefferson right now. But that’s only temporary, of course. I’m working closely with a real estate team.” He made a note to himself to find a real estate agent.

  “I see.” When Apodaca resumed looking out the window, Richard could see her reflection in the glass—and she’d just rolled her eyes at him! He chuckled. Apodaca, M.J., Tamara—he was fucking surrounded by smug women! Why him?

  “Do you have children, Agent?”

  She nodded, still looking away. “Three—ages two, seven, and eight.”

  He couldn’t hide his shock. “With this job? Dear God, how do you make something like that work?”

  She smiled at him. “Any way you can, Congressman. But I’m very lucky—my husband has flexible hours and doesn’t travel for his job anymore, and my mom is right around the corner. How about you? Do you have extended family nearby?”

  Richard leaned back into the seat restraints, not sure if this woman was engaging him in a friendly parenting conversation or lecturing him on how hideously unprepared he was to bring Christina into his life. He found that ludicrous. As a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, he was one in a million—literally. Anyone and everyone could have children. How difficult could it be?

  “Have you looked into preschools? Pediatricians? Have you gotten all her medical records from her family . . . I mean the McGuinnesses?”

  “Do you have a problem with me, Special Agent?”

  She turned her head and looked him in the eye. “No, sir, Congressman Wahlman. No problem at all.”

  Just then, they approached Bayberry Island. It looked like damn Disney World down there. “What the hell is all that?”

  “The Mermaid Ball,” Apodaca’s sidekick said. “It’s the last big party of their festival. You know, like their big finale.”

  Richard smiled to himself. Certainly, it would be the end of Evelyn McGuinness.

  * * *

  What an evening it had been. Though they weren’t quite ready to buy billboard space to announce Evie’s identity, they didn’t worry much about anyone recognizing her. First of all, she bore almost no resemblance to her publicly circulated photos tonight. With that dress, chic haircut, earrings, and a little bit of makeup, she looked more like a movie star than a fugitive. Secondly, her date was the police chief and she’d been one of the mayor’s repeat dance partners—which didn’t exactly scream outlaw to the tourist crowd.