Читать книгу Cover-Up - Ruth Langan, Ruth Ryan Langan - Страница 10

The fog rolled in, blanketing the entire shore, forcing the boats that were caught in it to use their sonar devices to avoid the treacherous rocks that lay in wait for them. That deadly combination of fog and rocks had been the reason seventeenth-century sailors had given this area the name Devil’s Cove. The skeletons of shipwrecks that lay on the lake’s floor were a reminder of deadlier times, and had become a haven for divers searching for treasures. The town had seen its share of pirates, paupers, playboys and charlatans. And though Devil’s Cove was now a prosperous resort town, with restored mansions and upscale shopping and dining, there remained about it an aura of mystery and intrigue.

As morning sunlight burned off the last wisps of fog, the town seemed to spring to life, ready for another day of surprises for those who called it home.

Jason Cooper turned the rental car off the highway at the top of the hill and switched off the ignition before stepping out. Below him, the houses, streets and parks of Devil’s Cove were clearly visible. There was Devil’s Cove High School sporting a new track and football field. The Methodist church on the corner of Park and Main looked as regal as ever. A memorial for sailors lost in the Great Lakes sat in the park in the center of town. The grass was neatly trimmed and decorated with American flags and red, white and blue flowers in pretty pots.

He breathed in the familiar scents of water and earth and forest and realized his heart was pounding. Home. And yet not home. This hadn’t been home for him in more than ten years. When he’d lived here, all he’d thought about was running away. It didn’t matter where he went, as long as he got as far away from Devil’s Cove as possible. And yet here he was, back where it had all started.

Though much of it looked the same, it was plain that there had been tremendous growth in this area since he’d been gone. The steady hum of construction equipment could be heard in the distance, and he could see that much of the pristine forest had been carved into roads leading to housing developments.

He’d often wondered how long it would take for people to discover the beauty of this northern Michigan playground. The lure of clear lakes and pine forests made the land far too valuable to remain farmland forever.

He climbed back into the car and headed toward town. Up ahead he saw the Harbor House. As he drove along the curving ribbon of driveway and waited for someone to take his bags, he steeled himself against the wave of feelings that nearly overwhelmed him.

He was here, he reminded himself, because he chose to be. If he changed his mind tomorrow and decided to get the hell out, there was nobody who could stop him.

As the valet took his car keys he strode inside the Harbor House and registered for his room. Without bothering to unpack, he made his way to the dining room. What he needed was good food and hot coffee. Then he’d see the town at his leisure.

“Well, well.” Hannah Brennan, in ragged jeans and T-shirt, looked up from the salad she was tossing to grin at her sister, Emily. “I see you always manage to get rid of your patients just in time for lunch, Doctor. Do you just leave them waiting in the sick room?”

“Too easy. I drug them and leave them locked in the examining room. They’ll never even miss me.” Emily plucked a tomato wedge from the bowl and popped it in her mouth. “I see by the conditions of those jeans that you’ve been digging in the dirt again, baby sis.”

“Comes with the territory. I’m finishing up Dr. Applegate’s flower beds. Lucky for you, I scrubbed my fingernails before tackling this salad.”

“Thank heaven for small favors.”

“You’re welcome. I know what a fanatic you doctors can be about clean hands.”

Emily paused a moment to study the scene of controlled chaos on the patio. Her grandfather muttering as he wrestled with a foot-long salmon he was about to grill. Her grandmother untangling the fasteners on the patio umbrella. Her mother parceling out chores like a general, while her sisters made themselves useful. And underfoot an array of pets left over from Emily’s childhood passion for strays. An ancient gray-and-white tabby with a missing ear dozing in a pool of sunlight. A brown mutt with oversize paws that Emily had rescued from a Dumpster during her internship at University Hospital. A pair of white rabbits that had been found on the Brennan porch a few weeks after Easter, presumably left there by parents who had made a hasty purchase and knew which bleeding hearts would be willing to give them shelter.

It was a scene Emily had been enjoying since she was born. The Brennan family had lived in this big house for three generations. Their home, The Willows, was part of a wonderful collection of turn-of-the-century mansions that sat along the shore of Lake Michigan, hugging the water’s edge like faded dowagers.

Emily’s grandparents had bought the house more than fifty years ago, and had immersed themselves in the life of the community. Her grandfather, Frank Brennan, was a retired judge and gentleman farmer, though his gardens now contained flowers instead of vegetables. He spent every spare moment working on his inventions, though no one could recall one that served any particular purpose other than to amuse him.

His wife, Alberta, an English teacher whom the family affectionately called Bert, had been a fixture at the local high school for four decades. Her announcement that she was retiring had left the community, and her family, stunned.

Bert was a sea of calm in this stormy, volatile family of achievers. Emily glanced at her with affection. If the world were coming to an end, her grandmother would find something soothing to say about it.

When her son Christopher had returned from a medical internship in Chicago with his bride Charlotte, called Charley by all who knew her, a wing had been added to The Willows for the newlyweds. Chris and his beautiful Charley had quickly been absorbed into the house, and into the community as well. Chris established himself as town doctor, and had built a clinic in the rear of the house. Charley raised their four daughters while starting her own real estate firm, which now routinely handled the sale of million-dollar houses being built on the few remaining parcels of waterfront land.

“I’m glad you could get away to join us for lunch, Em.” Charley was wrapping vegetables in foil, crimping the edges to hold the moisture before placing them on the grill.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Especially today.” Emily crossed the brick-paved patio furnished with a mix of contemporary wrought-iron furniture and comfortable heirloom wicker pieces that her sister Courtney had found for her grandparents on her last buying trip to Europe. Courtney owned a gift shop in town, and lived in the tiny apartment above it. Her impeccable taste was reflected in the pots of geraniums and ivy offering bright islands of color on the terraced lawn that sloped to the water’s edge.

Emily smiled at the sight of her sister Sidney arranging pale-pink roses and baby’s breath in a vase. To an artist like Sid, the color, the symmetry, the beauty of the presentation, were as essential as the food they would eat. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise Emily to learn that her sister simply forgot to eat for days at a time. How else did she explain that tiny figure?

“It’s a grand day, isn’t it?” Bert continued setting the table with colorful napkins and pretty crystal plates.

All that was missing to complete this cozy picture, Emily thought with a quick flash of pain, was her father. When she’d left Devil’s Cove to pursue a medical career at University Hospital, he’d been so proud that one of his children was following in his footsteps. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t be around for years to offer sage advice.

Emily had thought her days in her grandparents’ house, like those of her three sisters, would consist mainly of occasional visits. Yet here she was keeping a deathbed promise to her father to carry on his practice until a replacement could be found, and living once again in her childhood home.

It hadn’t been easy giving up her hard-won independence. Still, her family seemed to understand, and worked hard at giving her the space she needed to make the adjustment.

Her grandfather looked up from the grill. “Emily, we could use those fine surgeon’s hands to fillet this salmon.”

That brought a round of laughter from the others.

Though Frank Brennan had traded in his judicial robes for a golf shirt and casual slacks more than a dozen years ago, he still had a commanding courtroom presence, which he used to his advantage whenever it suited him.

Emily joined in the laughter. “I always knew my medical training would come in handy for something, Poppie.” Her childhood nickname for him rolled easily off her tongue.

“That’s my girl.” He brushed a kiss over Emily’s cheek as she picked up a knife and neatly sliced through the fish.

He arranged the fillets on the grill and was rewarded by the hiss and snap of the fire as they began to cook.

“Trudy,” he bellowed, and turned to find their housekeeper standing right behind him. “Why do you always sneak up on me like that?”

“I don’t sneak.” Trudy Carpenter was as wide as she was tall, with big capable hands and a voice, after a lifetime of smoking three packs a day, that sounded like a rusty hinge. Her face was deeply lined, her hair the color and texture of cotton balls.

His tone was accusing. “You blindsided me.”

“Easy enough to do, since you never look before hollering.” The old woman sniffed and held out a tray of glasses. “Judge, Miss Bert says you’re to drink a tall glass of water before lunch.”

“Let Bert drink the water.” He picked up a tumbler of his favorite Scotch and winked at his granddaughter before lifting it to his lips.

“Beats me why you always try to fight it.” Emily gave him a quick nudge with her elbow. This was an argument these old people had been waging for a lifetime. One they seemed to thoroughly enjoy. “You’ll just have to drink the water later.”

“Later is better than now.” He grinned. “I’ll have food in my stomach later.”

Overhearing him, Hannah gave a throaty laugh. “You’d better hope you never have to give Poppie any medicine, Em. If you think he’s finicky about water, wait till you see him try to swallow something nasty.”

Emily grinned. “I’ll make sure it’s cherry-flavored, like the medicine we give the children.”

“That’ll work,” his wife called from across the patio. “Since he’s just a big kid at heart.”

“And you like me that way, Bert.” He blew her a kiss before turning the salmon, all the while muttering that he needed to invent a better spatula.

His family had no doubt that would be his next project.

When the fish was ready, he transferred it to a platter and the family took their places around the glass-topped table. Frank Brennan was in his favorite wicker chair, sporting the contented look he always wore when surrounded by his women. His handsome Irish face was deeply creased with laugh lines. His lion’s mane of white hair showed off his ruddy complexion, made even deeper by the summer sun.

His wife was seated at the other end of the table, her soft cap of gray curls dancing in the breeze that perpetually blew off the waters of Lake Michigan.

Charley sat on one side of the table, between Hannah and Courtney, while Emily and Sidney sat across from them.

Emily passed a basket of rolls to her grandmother. “I still can’t believe your retirement party is this week. Are you ready for your big kickoff night?”

“Probably more so than you. I hear the tribute committee has been pestering you with calls all morning.”

Emily sighed. “Now I know why they asked me to be the chairman of this tribute. Every time they need something done, they call their chairman and dump it all in my lap.”

Hannah looked around the table and grinned. “That’s because you have Sucker written on your forehead.”

Emily joined in the laughter at her expense and accepted a piece of salmon, then held the platter while her grandmother selected one for herself. “I didn’t have a clue what I was signing up for.”

“It’ll soon be over and you can get back to a normal life.” Frank took a taste of salmon. Pleased with his efforts, he tucked into his meal.

“I have a bit of news.” Charley paused to glance at her family. “You know the developer that bought that last big chunk of Prentice Osborn’s lakeside property?”

The others nodded.

“The rumors were all true. The town council approved his plan to build homes and condominiums around a world-class golf course, yacht club, restaurants and shops.” She paused a beat before saying softly, “My agency will be representing it.”

“Oh, Mom.” Hannah gave her mother a fierce hug, before Courtney pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek.

Sidney and Emily were on their feet and racing around the table to do the same.

“Christopher would be so proud of you, Charley.” Frank lifted his glass in a salute and the others joined him.

Charley glanced at her daughters. “Actually this development has been a boon for all the Brennans. The architect’s interior designer has already given Courtney a list of some of the things he’ll be wanting for the models. And when he saw some of Sidney’s work, he decided to commission her to paint a mural on the walls of the foyer. There’s talk of having her do the ceiling of the dining room as well.”

At the news, Sidney beamed. “Mom, are you sure?”

Charley grinned at the sweet redhead who had always been the dreamy artist in the family. Since losing her young fiancé to illness two years earlier, she’d become even more introverted and reclusive. Though her family was concerned, they knew she had to work through the grief in her own time.

“I’m sure. And I’m sure whatever you paint will be the talk of the town.” She sipped her lemonade before adding, “On top of that, Hannah has been given the contract for all the landscaping.”

Her grandfather arched a brow at his granddaughter. “That ought to pay your greenhouse loan for a year or two.”

That had them all smiling. Hannah had gone deeply into debt to finance new greenhouses for her fledgling nursery and landscape business.

She ran her fingers through her short blond bob. “This is a dream job. When Mom told me, I didn’t believe her at first. But now that I’ve had a chance to look at the blueprints, I realize I’ll have to double or even triple my crew to handle it. Not that I’m complaining. By the time I’m through with this contract, there won’t be anyone in Devil’s Cove who hasn’t heard of Hannah’s Gardening and Landscape.”

Her grandfather looked at her with affection. “I always knew your knack for gardening would pay off one day. You inherited that from me.”

“Speaking of inheritance…” Emily took a final bite of salmon before pushing away from the table. “I have to get back to the clinic. I want to leave early this afternoon so I can see what the committee did with the decorations for tonight’s kickoff cocktail party.” She paused by her grandmother’s side and bent to press a kiss to her cheek before rounding the table to do the same to her mother. “I’m so proud of you, Mom.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“But I think you’re about to become awfully busy.”

“I don’t mind. I can’t wait.” Charlotte laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “We’ll all see you at the party tonight. I know you and your committee will do a fine job.”

After kissing her grandfather and congratulating her sisters on their good news, Emily made her way inside. A glance at the clock told her she had less than five minutes before her first afternoon patient. She hurried toward the clinic at the rear of the house.