Eleven

“All it takes is a little confidence,” Alex said.

He leaned against the kitchen counter. The work surface behind him was covered with the evidence of the quick-rice stir-fry they’d tag-teamed for dinner. Broccoli florets, curry powder, and a bowl of cracked eggshells.

Meghan smacked him in the shoulder.

He flinched. “Hey! What was that for?”

“That’s the worst thing to say in this situation,” she told him. “As if it’s that easy.” She turned to Charley. “If it helps, we believe in you. Your paintings are brilliant. I love the sketch you started yesterday of the woman kayaking. She looks larger than life itself. You have nothing to worry about.”

Meghan had always been on her side, completely supportive and quick to praise, when others held back.

“Thanks,” Charley said, “but now that Kayla isn’t taking part, there simply isn’t enough art on display.” She stacked their used plates on the table and carried them to the sink. She had to step around Cocoa, who lay on the floor, nursing a serious case of swimmer’s tail after her afternoon dip in the lake. “We estimated our expenses based on potential sales and now those have been cut by a third.”

Moving to the stove, Meghan scraped the last of the rice from the pot into a Tupperware container. “Did Kayla say why she had to withdraw?”

“Too many commitments.” She could have come up with a better excuse, at least.

Alex tossed the eggshells into the trash. “Do you think she got cold feet?”

“I have a feeling,” she said, “her husband had something to do with it.” And was that ever an understatement.

“Andrew?” Meghan asked. “What makes you think that?”

“He cornered me in Chocoholic’s the other day, to tell me the exhibit was a waste of Kayla’s time and money.” She took a breath, annoyed all over again. “Then she quit. It’s not hard to draw the connection.”

Meghan frowned. “You didn’t mention that.”

She squeezed liquid dish soap into the sink. A cloud of coconut- and jasmine-scented steam rose from the hot water as suds formed. “It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. Although he did threaten to put an end to the pop-up gallery.” Bastard.

“Really?” Alex’s tone turned sober, his eyes sharp.

Meghan said dryly, “He probably didn’t mean sabotage.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If Andrew really is behind Kayla’s decision to back out, he has sabotaged the success of the gallery.”

Charley set the bottle of soap down too hard, and it slammed onto the counter. “No, he hasn’t.” It was way too early to even consider failure. “I saw him at the chip truck and tried to talk some sense into him.”

“Uh-oh,” Meghan said.

“How did that go?” Alex asked wryly.

She shot him a glance. “Not well.”

Meghan opened the fridge door, searching for space to store the leftover rice. “Andrew has always had strong opinions about what Kayla should and shouldn’t do with her time.”

Alex snuck another piece of broccoli straight from the pan and popped it into his mouth. “Along with every other aspect of her life.”

“And it’s obvious, art doesn’t rank high on his list.” She remembered the way he’d loomed over her. Pushing forward until she’d almost stumbled. “He’s not —”

“Abusive?” He caught on fast to what she meant. “I wondered, but there’s never been any signs.”

“Not of physical abuse,” Meghan clarified, as she shifted jars and bottles in the fridge. “But he is controlling, and I think it takes a toll on her emotionally.”

Sometimes Charley forgot how long it had been since she last spent time with Kayla. “The girl I knew wouldn’t give up without a fight.”

“But things change,” Meghan reminded her. “People learn to adapt, if they want to survive.”

Alex shot her a look. “That’s a nice view of marriage you’ve got there, Megs.”

She shoved the container into the fridge and rolled her eyes. “Not all marriages. But I do think that Kayla’s probably requires some survival tactics.”

Self-protection. Was that why she’d quit?

“You’ve got a point.” Alex busied himself scraping the remaining vegetables into a bowl. “So, just charge an entry fee.”

She’d already had that idea. And rejected it. “If we have to, we will, but the point of the pop-up gallery is to gain exposure. I don’t want to deter people from visiting the exhibit. We’ll be fine. All I have to do is fill the gap.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you really have time to pull off that many new paintings before the gallery opens?”

“I’ll just have to make every minute count.”

Meghan shot him a glance that would have a lesser man quaking in his boots. “Again, not helping. Isn’t there a game on tonight?”

He shrugged. “Not tonight —” Then he met Meghan’s eyes.“Ah — I’ll just go check. There’s bound to be something on,” he mumbled and beat a fast retreat.

With her hands full of cutlery, Meghan walked over to the door and nudged it closed with her hip, shutting out Alex and the sound of the television. “Looks like we’re on kitchen duty.”

Charley tugged on a pair of rubber gloves. “Technically, he’s right.”

“Of course, he is.” Meghan shot her a sly glance. “But he doesn’t need to know that.”

She grinned as she took the cutlery from her and dumped it into the frothy foam. “Inspiration is for amateurs. I can do it.”

“I still think the paintings you have are more than enough.” Meghan held up her hands, backing down at the expression on Charley’s face. “Hey, you’re the expert.”

“Two, maybe three more paintings will pull everything together.” And, with any luck, she might even be able to do all five. “It’ll be a challenge, but it’s not impossible.” Toeing off her shoes, she scrubbed at the dirty dishes and felt the tension ease. There was something cathartic about cleaning. Make thick my blood. As the suds washed over her hands, a line from the Westben Theatre’s outdoor performance of Macbeth floated through her mind. Stop up th’access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature, shake my fell purpose. Of course, she wasn’t gathering her courage to commit murder, and she didn’t have any malevolent intentions, but still the line echoed through her thoughts. Thus thou must do.

“Take it easy.” Meghan grabbed a tea towel. “Leave the finish on the dishes, please.”

A stray curl brushed her cheek and she pushed it away with her forearm, soap running down the glove. “Sorry, I’ve been a little stressed lately.” Running into Andrew hadn’t helped.

“I’m not complaining. If you want to clean anything else while you’re here, go for it. Just don’t break anything.” Meghan grabbed the forks from the rack beside the sink and began drying them with the towel. “I’m looking forward to having dinner out tomorrow.”

“My treat, as promised. But are you really sure you want to go to the Blue Heron bed and breakfast for dinner?” She placed the emphasis on dinner.

Meghan laughed. “The lounge is a new addition. They only have a small menu, but the food is incredible.”

“After all those pictures you sent me, I have to try it. Thanks for those, by the way. They caused some serious food envy.”

“It got you here, didn’t it?”

Green glass caught the light as she rinsed the soap off the Depression glass tumbler. “Yes, that’s why I came to spend the summer with you. Just to try the food at the B&B”

“Your secret’s out,” Meghan said. “Much as I love Alex, I’ve missed the girl time.”

Touched, Charley felt a smile spread across her face. It had been a while since they’d last done some sisterly bonding. “Me too.”

“We’ve got a lot to make up for. We have to” — ticking items off on her fingers, Meghan listed — “go shopping, get our hair done, paint our toenails.”

Placing a pot in the drying rack, she quirked an eyebrow. “Get our hair done?

“It’s at the top of the list of things to do with your sister.”

“I must have missed that pamphlet when it was handed out.” She grinned. “You know, I don’t think we’ve ever actually done any of those things before.”

Meghan frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

There was a pause as they thought about that. “No,” Meghan said. “We did once.”

“When?”

“I just finished university and you were in your last year of high school.” Meghan rested her elbows on the counter. “To celebrate, we decided to give each other new looks.”

It seemed unlikely. And, for the life of her, she had no memory of the event. “Are you sure you’re not thinking of someone else?”

Meghan snapped the towel in her direction, and she dodged it.

“Cut that out!” She dipped her fingers into the water and splashed Meghan. Water ran over the edge of the counter and onto the floor, a few drops hitting her bare toes. Some things never changed.

“We had aluminum foil in our hair, and looked like aliens,” Meghan prompted.

“Wait.” She did remember that. “We did those crazy colours! I ended up with hot pink stripes and couldn’t leave the house without a hat.”

Meghan nodded. “I looked like a skunk —”

“With yellow highlights!” She cracked up. Wiping a tear from her eye, she said, “You’re right. Mom flipped. Do you remember her face? Good times, good times,” they said in unison, which only made her laugh harder.

“What’s going on in there?” Alex shouted from the other room.

“Nothing!” Meghan yelled back, with an impish grin.

“Let’s be realistic here,” Charley said. “Put burgers on your list.” Charcoal grilled and pepper crusted, she’d read rave reviews about the burgers at the Three-Corner Pub. “And shooting some pool.”

“Air hockey! And you should plan to come back for the Oakcrest Haunted Carnival in October. You’re the only one who can keep cool at the sight of demons and blood.”

“Alex can’t handle it?”

“Useless. He claims it’s an after-effect of work. He doesn’t like paying people to jump out at him.”

A valid point. “Fair enough.” God only knew where she’d be in October. Or what her life would be like. Would she be back in some corporate job in Toronto? Or finally earning some income from her paintings? Spending all her time in a studio, maybe even working on commission. Her heart leaped at the thought.

“Actually, we really do need to go shopping.”

“For what?”

“You have a gallery opening coming up, don’t you?”

A flutter of excitement danced through her. But — “I have an outfit.” She couldn’t splurge on anything new.

Meghan waved her hand. “This is big. You can’t just grab something you’ve had hanging in your closet forever. We’ll check out the Blast From the Past Boutique, and pull together something amazing. And it won’t break the bank. I’m thinking Sunday.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy?”

“Yup.” Meghan grinned.

With a loud buzz, Charley’s cellphone vibrated on the counter. Kayla’s name flashed across the screen. That was odd. Had she changed her mind about the exhibit? She stripped off the rubber gloves and answered the phone. “Kayla, hi.”

Meghan raised her brows.

“Charley — Oh God.” Kayla sounded ragged, out of breath. Desperate.

“What’s wrong?”

“I murdered him. I killed him.” Her voice dissolved into sobs.

She gripped the phone, trying to grasp what Kayla just said. “What are you talking about?” At Meghan’s questioning glance, she shook her head. “What’s going on?”

“Andrew.” Her voice broke. “He’s dead!” The words echoed through the phone.

That couldn’t be right. She spoke to Andrew just hours ago.

“It’s all my fault,” Kayla said.

Worry hit, an icy wave of it. What did she mean, when she said she’d killed him? “Where are you?”

“At home.” Her voice trembled, close to the breaking point.

“Is anyone with you?”

“No. I’m alone. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“And —” How did she ask this? “Andrew?”

“I found him outside, by the dock. I thought maybe he fell, but —” Kayla broke off on a ragged gasp.

“Did you call anyone else?”

“Not yet.”

She covered the phone with her hand and mouthed to Meghan, “Get Alex.”

When everything else turned to chaos, Meghan was the eye in the storm, the calm at the centre of it all. She didn’t waste time asking questions. Used to emergencies, she grabbed the car keys off the hook on her way into the living room.

Their evening was about to take a turn.

“Stay where you are.” Charley hoped she sounded calm and competent. Like she knew what she was doing. “I’m on my way, and I’m bringing Alex. We’ll be right there.”