Читать книгу A Mum For Amy - Ann Evans - Страница 7

ON A TERRIFIC Florida morning like this, there was only one place Maggie Tillman wanted to be.

The beach. And she knew just who she wanted to be there with.

She hopped out of bed, dressed quickly in her usual T-shirt and shorts, then galloped downstairs. The house lay silent. Since her older sister, Alaina, had married a big-deal doctor last year, Maggie had lived with her parents in this rambling two-story Victorian that sat on a deadly dull cul-de-sac on the stuffy side of North Miami Beach.

She skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen. “Good morning,” she called out to her parents. “Have I missed anything?”

Her mother was at the stove, making pancakes. When she glanced up, one brow went as high as it could go. Her father stood at the counter, engaging in his usual impatient staring contest with the coffeemaker. He made a point of looking at the clock. Both James and Connie Tillman were early risers. Maggie knew that the fact she’d dared to sleep until nearly nine o’clock wouldn’t sit well with either of them.

“The morning’s half gone,” her father said before turning his attention back to the coffee.

“Well, it’s still beautiful,” Maggie said in her brightest tone. She threw her arms wide, nearly knocking over one of her mother’s carefully constructed flower arrangements from atop the baker’s rack. “I feel like I could be in one of those old movies, where the woman wakes up and breaks into song.”

“Spare us, dear,” Connie Tillman said, adjusting the blooms so that they were perfect once more. “We’ve all heard you sing.”

Her father said nothing.

Maggie resisted a sigh. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t her parents accept that she would always be different from Alaina? She didn’t have her sister’s clever tongue and vivacious good looks. She knew she was clumsy, spoke too fast, laughed too loud. She might never set the world on fire.

But Maggie didn’t think she was completely the impulsive, irresponsible slacker they often accused her of being.

Last night at the dinner table, Mom’s best meat loaf had gone stone-cold while their weekly disagreement played out. Some boring junk about her unwillingness to change her college major and get her mind wrapped around the idea of heading back to school. But she was nineteen, for Pete’s sake, and she was achingly aware that spring break was nearly over.

There was plenty of time to think about the degree in marine biology she wanted. Later.

Determined not to allow that unpleasantness to spoil this morning’s lovely possibilities, Maggie swept past her parents, giving them both a kiss on the cheek as she made her way to the fridge. She rummaged through its contents, eager to get out of the house and head for the beach. She grinned when she found a carton of orange juice hiding behind the milk.

“Do you want pancakes?” her mother asked, then frowned at Maggie. “Use a glass, for heaven’s sake. You weren’t brought up in a barn.”

Maggie returned the juice to the refrigerator. Yep, the beach was looking better and better, and right there and then she decided neither of them needed to know where she was going. “No pancakes for me, thanks. I’ve gotta run. Lots of business to take care of.”

Her father looked up from his cup, letting his eyes travel slowly over Maggie from her sandaled feet to the ponytail that held back her pale blond hair. “Dressed like that? Why don’t you spend a whole dollar on your outfit next time?”

James Tillman might be comptroller for one of the largest corporations in the Greater Miami area, but he had the communication skills of a drill sergeant—at least when it came to Maggie.

“Don’t start, Dad,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She didn’t want to fight. She wanted to feel warm salt air on her cheeks and the tide tickling her toes. “I’ve got three Go Fish calls to make, and then—”

“Go Fish,” her father said with a look of such disdain that Maggie wished she had simply walked out the front door and never stopped for a sip of juice. “What kind of silly name is that for a business? Like I said last night—”

“James…” her mother cautioned. “Come eat your pancakes.”

Maggie watched him concede to his wife, but she felt her own resentment swell. She refused to be bullied about the decisions she’d made, and he really was ruining this beautiful day.

She looked her father right in the eye. “Give it up, Dad. I’m never going to change my major to accounting. I hate math, and I don’t want any career that puts me behind a desk forty hours a week. I need a creative outlet for my talent.”

“What talent? You never do a task long enough to develop any.” He lifted his hand, spreading his fingers. “You gave up tennis after three lessons. The art classes we spent thousands of dollars on supplies for, you ditched after a month.” He ticked off each item. “Fencing. Kayak camp. You think those are careers?”

“No, but with a degree in marine biology, I think I can morph Go Fish into one.”

Her father made a face. “Oh, ridiculous. You think something called Go Fish is going to support you?”

“Actually, Dad, by the end of this year, Go Fish is going to put enough money in my pocket to get me out of this house. Permanently. So I don’t think it’s very silly or ridiculous at all.”

The beginnings of a blustering response came from the kitchen table, but Maggie had already turned and marched out of the room, smiling to herself. She didn’t often get the last word with her father.

She drove her beat-up convertible down A1A. She loved this strip. It had so many moods as it wound past the faded glory of hotels that had been built in the sixties and through canyonlike corridors of condominiums that hugged some of the most expensive beachfront property in Florida. Every so often she caught a glimpse of the Atlantic, shining like a sliver of mirror behind the buildings, and her heart quickened, so eager was she to get there.

Finally she turned into Will Stewart’s driveway. Her bad mood evaporated, replaced by the usual regret that she couldn’t seem to get along with her parents, couldn’t seem to be the daughter they wanted. But replaced, too, by a solid resolve to have some fun today, no matter what.

The service calls she needed to make for Go Fish could wait. Tomorrow was soon enough to get back into harness and be responsible, wasn’t it? After all, she was her own boss and set her own hours.

Sometimes she was still amazed that her love of exotic fish had turned her summer job into a viable enterprise. Go Fish, her home aquarium service company, only existed because of the determination and hard work she’d poured into it over the past year, all while trying to get used to freshman routines at the University of Miami.

The rich might enjoy the look and luxury of having large tropical tanks in their homes, but they certainly didn’t want to take care of them. That’s where she had found a niche. Customers all along the coast paid her fifty dollars an hour just to scrape algae and change water, and whether her father wanted to admit it or not, business was good. Nearly every day she fielded calls from prospective clients. By year’s end, she intended to turn a profit. A hefty one.

So there, Dad. Why isn’t that good enough for you?

The front door opened as she hit the stoop, and Will Stewart was suddenly there, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a dark suit. She’d met him six months ago at a local trade show where she’d been passing out business cards. He didn’t own an aquarium, but he was the only one who’d come back to ask questions about Go Fish. They’d been together ever since.

Maggie went into his arms eagerly. “Kiss me,” she said, nuzzling his neck and inhaling expensive aftershave. “I need to know someone cares.”

He laughed at that and pulled her close. He kissed her with such great and tender skill that she felt as if she were going to die.

But when she brought her hands up to his chest, he caught her fingers. “Don’t play with my tie,” he ordered. “I just got it the way I want.”

She looked down at it, wrinkling her nose at the bland, dark blue material. Last month, she’d bought him one with iguanas painted on it by an artist friend of hers, but she’d yet to see him wear it. “Too conservative.”

“Then it’s perfect,” he said with a smile.

She loved having Will for a boyfriend. Full of charm and confidence, he was as handsome as any woman could want, but blessed with absolutely no arrogance about his looks. Just out of school, he’d recently been hired by one of Miami’s most prestigious architectural firms. He wasn’t the kind of man Maggie would have expected to be attracted to, but right now she thought she was one lucky girl to have him in her life. And every day she found herself wanting more.

She longed to sink deeper into his embrace, but Will pulled away, letting his hands rest on Maggie’s hips. She caught movement in the background and realized that Lisa, his thirteen-year-old sister, also stood in the foyer.

“Hi, there,” Maggie said with a waving ruffle of fingers. “What are you up to today?”

“Chores,” Lisa complained. She pointed to her brother. “Make him stop being mean to me.”

Will kept his back to his sister and seemed immune to her claim of abuse. “Say hello, Lisa. Then get busy cleaning your room.”

After their parents had died in a car accident three years ago, Will had assumed responsibility for Lisa. Maggie knew there had been mutiny brewing in the girl lately but she felt a little sorry for her. Lisa was at a tough age, and didn’t like being ordered around by her big brother, but sometimes Will just didn’t seem to understand.

Instead of responding, Lisa snorted, crossed her arms and remained where she was.

Deciding it was best not to be dragged into whatever beef Lisa had with her brother, Maggie turned her attention back to Will. “Play hooky today,” she begged him. “Come to the beach with me.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a big presentation to make for Watkins and Company.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to be in Pompano Beach in twenty minutes.”

Maggie frowned. Will would be a fine architect someday, but so far, he was still interning and considered strictly second-tier. “You’re presenting?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I’m doing part of it, anyway. Jacobson thinks I can connect with Watkins because he and my father were both Yale grads.”

That didn’t sound promising beachwise, and there was something unbendable in Will’s manner. But Maggie was nothing if not inventive. With one fingertip, she played with the edge of his mouth. “So can’t you slip away after a while? Meet me at our usual spot? You know which one I mean?”

She lifted her brow, reminding him of the quiet, secluded section of the beach she had in mind. The place they’d discovered just last week, in fact.

Will caught her finger and touched his lips to it. “Yes, I do, but the answer is still no. I can’t go today. I have to play nice with Jacobson. And don’t you have service calls to make?”

“I do. But fish aren’t as particular as stuffy businessmen. They’ll wait.”

“Blowing off customers. That’s not the way to get rich.”

Maggie scowled. “Why are you so uncomfortable with self-indulgence? You sound like my father. And anyway, who said anything about wanting to get rich?”

“If Will can’t go, can I come with you instead?” Lisa said behind them.

They both turned to look at the girl. “Sure,” Maggie said, at exactly the same time that Will said, “No.”

“Why not?” Lisa whined to her brother.

“Yeah. Why not?” Maggie chimed in. She liked Lisa, and the girl was very low maintenance.

She realized immediately that she should have kept quiet. Will, wearing a harassed look, tossed her a quelling glance before he turned to his sister. “You know why not. Because I’ve spent good money to have a math tutor come to the house today to help you get your grade up. She’ll be here any minute.”

“But it’s spring break!” Lisa complained. “Nobody studies at spring break.”

“You do. And even if this woman wasn’t coming, I’ve already told you that I want your room cleaned up. It’s a pigsty in there.”

“I know where everything is.”

“That’s not the point.”

Maggie could see that Will wasn’t likely to give on this. He was in full parental mode. She knew that he often worried about whether he was making the right decisions, doing what his mother and father would have wanted. Maggie had once pointed out that his parents would never have given him custody if they’d had any doubts. But she wasn’t sure he’d ever be completely convinced of that.

She touched his shoulder, eager to avert a budding argument. “Will, if it helps any—”

He shook his head so quickly that her lips parted in surprise. “Don’t help anymore. I’m sorry to be the bad guy, but Lisa can’t go to the beach today and neither can I and that’s that.” There was a momentary deafening silence, then Will sighed, clearly feeling contrite already. “Maybe we’ll all go this weekend, but not today.”

“I don’t want to wait until the weekend,” Lisa cried. “You’re the meanest brother ever!”

On that angry outburst, she stormed off. A few moments later, they heard a bedroom door slam shut.

Will raked a hand through his hair. “Thanks a lot. Lisa and I have been going at one another all morning about her responsibilities, and you just made it worse.” He sounded calm, but the muscles in his jaw betrayed him. They pulsed the way they always did when he was tense.

“Sorry,” Maggie said. She offered an apologetic smile, but couldn’t help feeling a little stung. “It wasn’t intentional, you know. I just felt like going to the beach, and I really didn’t think about anything else.”

Her father might have added that she didn’t think, period, but thankfully Will made no such comment. He merely looked down at his watch again.

“I have to go,” he said. He scooped his car keys out of a bowl on the foyer table. “Let’s order pizza tonight. Then the three of us can make plans for the beach. All right?”

She nodded, and he gave her a quick kiss as he closed the front door behind them. Together they walked toward their cars. Morning sunlight bounced brightly off the vehicles, but the fun had gone out of the day as far as Maggie was concerned.

“Stop sulking,” Will said as he unlocked his car door. “The weekend will be here before you know it.”

Maggie made a face at him. “I hate delayed gratification.”

“It’s good for you,” Will said. “It builds character.”

And with that, he roared out of the driveway.

THREE HOURS LATER, Maggie had already completed two of the three service calls she’d originally scheduled for today. After Will’s unwillingness to play, she’d considered going to the beach alone simply on principle, but, really, what fun was that? Better just to accept the fates that had aligned against her and make some money.

She was just heading for the last job on her list when her cell phone rang. It was Will’s house number, but it was his sister on the line.

“What are you doing?” Lisa asked.

“Working.” Maggie felt sorry for the girl, stuck inside at home on a pretty spring day like today. “How’s the math tutoring going?”

“It’s not. Right after you and Will left, my tutor called and said she had to cancel until tomorrow.”

“Uh-oh.” From experience Maggie knew that Will had two pet peeves in life—people who were chronically late, and people who canceled appointments at the last minute. “Your brother’s not going to like that.”

“He doesn’t know because I didn’t call him,” Lisa said. “But I think he’ll be happy. I cleaned my room and the kitchen and even put away the laundry. I’ve done everything that was on the stupid list he gave me, and now I deserve a reward. Can I go to the beach with you?”

“I’m not going to the beach. I told you, I’m working.”

“But we could go later, couldn’t we? After you finish.”

Maggie shifted a strand of hair out of her eyes. She’d put the top down on her convertible because she loved the feel of the breeze and that seemed to be the closest she was going to get to really enjoying the day. “Will was pretty clear, Lisa. No beach today.”

“But that was before everything worked out the way it did. It’s not my fault my math tutor didn’t come. And I’ve done what I’m supposed to do. If I stay here the rest of the day by myself, I’ll just get into trouble.”

Maggie laughed. “You know that for a fact, do you?”

“I thought you wanted to be my friend,” Lisa said, and her unhappiness came through loud and clear. “Can’t we do stuff together today? Even if it’s work. I’d be a good helper, I swear.”

“I don’t know…. Your—”

“Please. I promise to do whatever you want. Pleeeeeeease.”

Maggie thought a moment while Lisa waited. Since she’d been dating Will, she’d come to understand how important his sister was to him, and Maggie had wanted to become a friend to the girl. If she and Will had any hope of forming a long-term relationship, didn’t she need to get to know Lisa better? And wasn’t it preferable for Lisa to be with Maggie than home alone, doing stuff she shouldn’t?

“All right,” Maggie said, making a U-turn at a gas station. “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. In the meantime, call your brother and let him know where you’ll be.”

Lisa agreed with a whoop of pleasure.

Because of traffic, it took Maggie twenty minutes to get back to the Stewart house, and she’d no sooner pulled into the driveway than Lisa came running out the door.

The girl jumped into the passenger seat, all smiles, then threw a small duffel bag in the back.

“What’s that?” Maggie asked.

“My bathing suit,” she replied with a mischievous look. “Just in case we get done with work early.”

Maggie grinned. The kid was as opportunistic as she was. “Did you call Will and tell him where’d you’d be?”

“I had to leave a message with his office. He’s still in Pompano Beach.”

“I suppose we can try him later,” Maggie said as she backed out of the driveway.

“Where are we going?” Lisa asked excitedly.

“I’m going to work your butt off. You’ll wish you’d stayed home and watched the soaps.”

“And then maybe the beach?”

“Maybe.”

Maggie caught the interstate, then took the crosstown back roads that led to Key Biscayne, one of the most desirable, exclusive parts of south Florida. Just across the bridge were at least a dozen clients of Go Fish, but they weren’t Maggie’s favorites.

In the sprawling mansions and high-tech condos along the beach there were four-and five-hundred-gallon custom-designed tanks filled with angel rays and harlequin rasboras, living coral and rainbow-colored dottie-backs.

Maggie almost felt sorry for these beauties. Their owners hadn’t purchased them for personal enjoyment. They’d been bought to impress guests and business associates. To make statements about wealth and power. Or maybe just because they were a pretty backdrop for the right furniture. Maggie much preferred dealing with a ten-gallon tank housing a handful of guppies that had all been individually named by the kid who owned them. But she couldn’t deny the reality that the wealthy provided a lot of her income.

Her last stop was for a bi-weekly cleaning of a four-hundred-and-forty-gallon crescent tank that separated a huge foyer from its adjacent living room. True to her word, Lisa helped Maggie cart equipment out of the car to the front door of the ridiculously large Mediterranean villa. They were met by the housekeeper.

“Hi, Mrs. Walker,” Maggie said as she and Lisa entered the house. “Brought a helper today.”

The woman smiled a welcome and disappeared, leaving Maggie to her own devices. Maggie didn’t mind. One thing about service calls to these huge showplaces—the owners were seldom around to get in her way and ask a bunch of silly questions. Besides, she didn’t really like this particular client—a middle-aged guy named Huckabee, with teeth that were too shiny, a tan that looked as if it went all the way to the bone, and a smirky, smoke-frayed laugh that always set her teeth on edge.

“Wow,” Lisa said, as she stared at the enormous aquarium. “They’ve got a lot of fish.”

“Too many,” Maggie remarked as she began to lay towels out on the floor in case she spilled any water on the expensive parquet.

On previous house calls, she’d told Huckabee that he needed to stop buying more exotic fish. She’d explained to him that the fish he had were social creatures, community dwellers, and that in spite of the tank’s size, they were displaying signs of stress from overcrowding. But the man had just laughed. Huckabee was clearly not the kind of guy to take direction from a nineteen year-old woman.

She and Lisa worked for almost an hour. Maggie showed the girl how to check pH levels, how to scrape algae without scratching the acrylic, the best way to move rocks but keep from creating a muddy cloud in the water.

Lisa proved to be a surprisingly quick learner and best of all, she actually seemed to enjoy the tasks Maggie assigned her. She peppered Maggie with questions. She didn’t turn her nose up at the more unpleasant duties, and she didn’t complain. The time went fast, and Maggie felt as though they were really bonding.

“Can you get me about a quart of tap water?” Maggie asked, handing the girl a small bucket. She pointed toward the back of the house. “The kitchen is through that door.”

Lisa nodded and disappeared down the long hallway. Maggie, whose right arm was immersed up to her shoulder in the aquarium, kept mounding rocks in one corner, intent on making a natural hiding place for some of the smaller fish. An inquisitive brown-striped kuhli loach came up to investigate one of her fingers, and Maggie noticed that a tiny portion of its caudal fin was missing.

“Poor little guy,” Maggie crooned to the fish. “Are those big boys beating up on you?”

The fish didn’t let her stroke it—by nature the breed was too shy for that—but she thought it was actually listening to her. It was a funny little creature, one of her favorites in spite of the fact that it looked more like a worm. Long ago, she’d become convinced that some fish really did have distinct personalities, that they could connect with their owners. They weren’t just pretty pieces of living art as Huckabee seemed to think. They needed love and attention. Just like people.

She was glad Lisa had come with her on this call. From some of the things the girl had said, Maggie suspected that she might need an older female in her life. She wasn’t a child anymore. She was a teenager discovering so many new things about her body, feeling her way through the baffling intricacies of womanhood. Maybe tonight, Maggie thought, she should spend a few minutes trying to explain that to Will.

But right now, where was Lisa with that water? Frowning, Maggie slipped her hand out of the tank and dried her arm with a towel. The girl should have been back by now.

She hoped Lisa wasn’t pestering the housekeeper. And had Maggie told Lisa that she mustn’t ever venture farther into a client’s home? The room holding the aquarium, the kitchen or bathroom were fine, but everything else was off-limits. She couldn’t afford any accidents in one of these homes.

Maggie hurried to the kitchen. The room was techno-shiny with stainless steel equipment, but empty.

“Lisa,” Maggie called in a half whisper.

No one answered, and a premonition of trouble flared at the edge of Maggie’s mind. If the girl had been foolish enough to explore, Maggie would make her sit in the car once she found her. And definitely no beach. Even if Lisa hadn’t been told the rules, she ought to know better….

Maggie left the kitchen and went into the formal dining room. Nothing. She walked into the next room, obviously Huckabee’s domain since it was dominated by a huge home theater setup and enormous workout equipment that made the space look like a torture chamber from some medieval castle.

The room led off to the back deck and pool, and Maggie caught movement there. It was Lisa, all right. Standing beside a patio table, chatting with a barefoot man in a white terry-cloth robe who had his back to Maggie. She recognized him as Huckabee—no mistaking that slick blond haircut—and the girl had obviously disturbed him during his sunbathing. He had his hands on his hips, and Maggie wondered if he was annoyed. She knew she was. God, she was going to kill Lisa for bothering a customer—even a jerk like Huckabee.

She made a move toward the French doors, not understanding why in that moment goose bumps rose along her arms. Halfway there, Maggie stopped. She realized suddenly that Lisa wasn’t talking at all, she was listening. And the look on her face was so wary, so anxious, that Maggie immediately knew something was wrong.

And in the next moment Maggie discovered what it was. While she watched, stunned, Huckabee slipped the knot from his robe and pulled apart the edges to expose himself to Lisa.

The air left Maggie’s lungs in a rush as a wave of nausea rippled at the back of her throat. Even as she strode toward the door, galvanized by an anger so deep and strong that she could hardly see the handle for the red haze in front of her eyes, she knew that everything was about to change. Everything.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Not in her world.

Not in Lisa’s.