Walker retrieved his tennis bag and checked his phone while Reese strode over to speak to a prospective client. He’d texted Marlow when he first arrived at the club to see how her meeting had gone with the lawyer, but he hadn’t received an answer. Maybe she was at the house where she’d grown up—he’d spent a lot of time there as a kid, too—and didn’t want to be interrupted.
He considered calling her, in case it wasn’t that and she was feeling sad about her father and the impending sale of the property in Atlanta. Losing the house would be another upsetting blow, but he decided against interrupting whatever she was doing. It’d only been five hours since getting in touch. He didn’t want to be too intrusive. Even if he didn’t hear from her for the rest of the day, he’d see her tonight, when she came over.
“You ready for a second match?” Reese asked, acting cocky as he returned to the court. “Think you can take me?”
Walker hadn’t tried his hardest the first time. Although he enjoyed sports, a win in tennis meant more to his little brother than it did to him. Reese was the “pro” on the island. The only thing Walker cared about was a good game.
“Just for that, I’m going to beat you,” Walker told him.
“If you can,” Reese retorted as he bounced the ball with his left hand. “Too bad Aida and Marlow aren’t here today,” he said, tossing the ball in the air for his serve.
Walker hit it back. “You want them to see me make you look bad?”
They talked smack until it came down to a tie, at which point they each became so determined to win that they quit talking. It wasn’t until after Walker managed to eke out a win and they walked over to dry the sweat from their faces that Reese lowered his towel and said, “How are things between you and Marlow?”
Walker couldn’t decide how to answer. He was hesitant to share too much. Their relationship seemed to be going well, but it was so new that it could easily go in the other direction. He wasn’t even sure how Reese knew that anything was going on. “What do you mean?”
“I know she’s been going over at night to see you, bro.”
“Who told you?”
“No one! I’ve seen her. One time she was wearing your sweatshirt.”
Walker wiped his face again. “We’re just friends.”
Reese gave him a skeptical look. “You mean sex buddies, like me and Aida?”
“You’re sleeping with Aida?” Walker said.
“Dude, I tried to back off like you told me to. It’s all her! She’s been sending me pictures of her in sexy outfits, and—”
“She’s on the rebound, Reese,” he broke in. “You need to be clear that you’re not in it for love before she gets hurt.”
Reese sighed as he scratched his leg. “Okay, although I don’t see how she could mistake it for anything other than what it is—a summer fling. But what’s going on with you and Marlow, that’s the real deal, right?”
“There’re no guarantees,” Walker said. “Maybe it’ll be a summer fling, too.”
Rosemary kept an anxious eye on the clock while she worked. Eileen had mentioned at lunch that Marlow had promised to call after she got out of her meeting with Samuel. But it was after two, and as far as Rosemary could tell, there’d been no word from her. What was going on?
Rosemary was afraid to find out. When it came to Reese, Tiller had never promised her anything beyond what he’d already given, which had been more than generous. He’d kept her employed, made sure she and her children always had adequate housing, and paid for private schools for Reese and Walker. In addition to that, he’d covered college for both boys, paid for the coaching that’d turned Reese into such a good tennis player, and he’d given her large Christmas and birthday bonuses, more than enough to cover food and clothing for his son. She had no reason to expect more.
But the thought that Tiller might acknowledge Reese in his will terrified her. It would ruin everything she’d spent twenty-two years protecting—the good opinion her children held of her, her relationship with Eileen, her job, and now the relationship she was finally establishing with Rudy, who would never forgive her if he learned Reese wasn’t his.
Surely, Tiller wouldn’t allow the truth to come out. It would destroy his own reputation on top of everything else. And there was no need! She’d made it clear that he’d fulfilled his obligation to both her and his son. Why reveal a secret that would devastate so many people, after all this time?
He wouldn’t do that, she told herself, but there was a slim chance she could be wrong, and it was that chance that had her on edge.
When the crystal candy dish she’d just filled slipped through her fingers and shattered on the floor, the crash brought Eileen in from her bedroom. “My goodness, Rosemary! What’s gotten into you lately? You’re dropping things right and left.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, squatting to gather the shards. “I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“Is there something wrong?” Eileen asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Be careful or you’ll cut yourself.”
Rosemary didn’t respond. She knew how to clean up glass, but Eileen had always been a worrywart. “How did Marlow’s meeting go?” she asked, directing her employer’s attention elsewhere and hoping to get some information, too.
Eileen looked worried. “I don’t know. The meeting has to be over, but I haven’t heard from her.”
A sense of impending doom stole over Rosemary, causing her to stand up. “Have you tried calling her?”
“Several times,” Eileen replied. “She doesn’t answer.”
Rosemary drew in a shaky breath. That wasn’t like Marlow. Was this the culmination of her worst fears? “What about Sam?”
“I’ve called him, too. His receptionist tells me that Marlow left hours ago and Sam’s in another meeting.”
“One of them will reach out soon,” Rosemary said. She supposed that, at least, was inevitable.
But...what would they have to say?
Marlow knew where her parents had hidden a key; it’d been in the same place since she was a child. She removed it from beneath the large ceramic frog in the planter area and let herself into the house. Since her parents had moved back and forth between their three homes frequently before the pandemic grounded them in Teach, the furnishings and everything else was intact, so it felt like coming home.
She stood inside the entryway for a moment, bracing for all the memories that assailed her—memories of the many Christmases they’d spent here, of playing with other kids in the neighborhood, doing homework in her room and having dinner together as a family, when she and her mother would listen to her father talk about his schedule, his election opponent, the national deficit or other aspects of politics that concerned him. In many ways, she’d had the perfect childhood; she knew for sure it appeared that way.
Even she’d believed it was real.
The lump in her throat that made it so difficult to swallow was even more stubborn here than at Sam’s office, and it only grew bigger as she wandered through the rooms and hallways, gazing at childhood photographs of herself and all the evidence of her mother’s impeccable taste and decorating ability. She paused to study the slew of pictures of her father similar to those her mother was including in the scrapbook she’d been dutifully putting together to commemorate his “exemplary” life. Eileen had quietly supported her husband and allowed him to be center stage; better yet, she’d done everything she could to help keep him there.
Marlow stopped when she spotted the black-and-white photo she’d been looking for in the gallery of pictures that lined the wall beside the stairs. There it was. A photo of Tiller teaching Reese how to fly a kite when Reese was about seven—right on the wall of their home.
Her mother had hung it under the assumption that her father was being charitable to the child of their longtime housekeeper.
Marlow felt duped, oblivious to something that seemed as though it should’ve been obvious to her. She felt a fair amount of jealousy, too. Her father had always wanted a boy, and with Rosemary, he’d had one.
“Wow, Dad,” she murmured bitterly. “Talk about a sucker punch.”
Her cell went off again. Her mother had been calling her since she left Sam’s office, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. She had no idea how she was going to tell Eileen that Tiller and Rosemary had had an affair—and that Reese was Tiller’s son. Then there was the news about the estate. It wouldn’t be easy for Eileen to learn that twenty percent of what should’ve been left to her was going to an illegitimate child Tiller had fathered with their housekeeper. That would only twist the knife in her back.
Reese would be rich. He wouldn’t need to live above the garage anymore. That was the good news—if any part of this could be considered “good.” He’d have the money to move, and Eileen wouldn’t have to face him every day. But what would they do about Rosemary?
Marlow was glad her father hadn’t left Rosemary a portion of the estate, too. That would’ve hurt her mother even more.
On the other hand, Rosemary still needed her job, and there was no way Eileen would keep her around.
And how would Walker react to learning that Reese was as much her brother as his?
Her cell buzzed with a text. She thought it might be from Walker. But it was Aida.
How was it at the lawyer’s? Was there any real reason you had to travel all the way to Atlanta?
Marlow covered her mouth as fresh tears welled up. She sank onto the stairs and gazed at the picture of her father with Reese.
The pride in his face as he looked down at the darling little boy, who was laughing and running along with him while holding on to the kite, broke her heart. Although she’d never noticed any resemblance before, there seemed to be one now.
How had she missed the truth? How had her mother missed it?
And how could her father have let them down so terribly?
When Marlow met her friends at the restaurant, Claire found it odd that she was wearing sunglasses. The sun was setting and long shadows were beginning to creep over the sidewalk. Claire had been anxious for Marlow to get back to Miami, if only to reassure herself that Dutton had managed to arrive at the airport without bumping into her. But those sunglasses and the way Marlow was acting—so subdued—made her uneasy. Had she run into Dutton? Did she know he was coming to the island?
Something had upset her. Claire knew that Aida had noticed it, too, when she asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Claire caught her breath, terrified to hear what might come out of Marlow’s mouth, but Marlow merely offered them a wan smile. “Nothing.”
Aida peered more closely at her. “How was the meeting with your father’s attorney?”
“Fine,” she replied.
Her answer was hardly convincing, but at least Claire was growing more certain that the way Marlow was acting had nothing to do with Dutton. “So, was there any real reason you had to fly to Atlanta?”
“No,” Marlow said. “It was just...estate business.”
Then why couldn’t it have been handled electronically? Claire wondered but didn’t ask.
“I tried texting you,” Aida said. “To see how it went. But I never heard back.”
“I turned off my phone,” Marlow explained. “I had to be careful with my battery since I knew I’d need it to last all day.”
Her words made sense; her behavior didn’t. Claire studied her, trying to figure out what was going on, but a large group of people was coming up to the entrance of the restaurant, prompting them to go inside so they wouldn’t be last in line.
After Aida gave the hostess their name and was told it would be another few minutes, they moved off to one side. But even in the dim lighting of the restaurant, Marlow didn’t remove her sunglasses. “How was your day?” she asked.
Claire realized she was shifting the focus away from herself, but Aida either didn’t notice or had decided to let it go. She told Marlow about the Vizcaya Museum and Gardens and how much they’d enjoyed the live music at the marketplace.
Marlow gestured at the bag Aida was carrying. “What’d you buy?”
“A new dress.”
“That’s nice,” Marlow said but blanched once Aida flashed the pink Victoria’s Secret bag she’d slipped inside the dress bag. “And some lingerie Reese told me I looked great in,” she added.
“Please don’t mention Reese tonight,” Marlow said, lifting a hand in the classic stop motion.
“Don’t tell me you two got into an argument,” Aida said, clearly perplexed.
“No, of course not.”
“Then has something happened between you and Walker?” Claire asked. She’d sensed the magnetism between them, knew their relationship was escalating even though Marlow hadn’t admitted to any serious interest.
“Not really.”
“Not really?” Claire was convinced, at this point, that whatever was going on didn’t involve Dutton. She was relieved about that but still concerned for Marlow. “If...if you learned some hard news about the estate—that there’s not as much money as you anticipated—I’ll do whatever I can to help. Granted, I don’t have that much, but if you have to sell everything and...and you need somewhere to go, you can come live with me.”
Aida looked shocked that Claire had come to that conclusion based on what Marlow had said so far. “Is this about money? If it is, I feel the same. Whatever you need, we’ll be there for you.”
A tear slipped from beneath Marlow’s sunglasses. “Thank you. That means a lot. But...it’s not about money.”
“What is it, then?” Aida pressed.
“I can’t talk about it tonight. I...I need some time to work things out.”
Claire briefly touched her arm to show her support. “Okay.”
“Whatever it is, you’ll get through it,” Aida said.
Although Marlow nodded, she didn’t seem convinced, but the hostess approached and they fell silent while following her to a table.
“Would you rather go home than visit the clubs?” Claire asked once they had their menus.
“No.” Marlow chuckled mirthlessly. “I definitely don’t want to go home. I’m thinking a few drinks might help.”
“Well, we can certainly make that happen,” Aida said.
Marlow remained quiet through dinner. She hardly ate anything and never took off her sunglasses. But once they drove to South Beach, and she’d had a few shots, she seemed to forget whatever was troubling her. Claire had no doubt it would still be hanging over Marlow if she allowed herself to think about it, but she was laughing and dancing and having a great time—until she’d had too much to drink. Then she broke down in tears, and Aida suggested they head home.
Claire insisted on driving. She’d been so worried about Dutton coming that she hadn’t been interested in drinking. He’d reached the island. She knew that from his text messages; he’d sent her a barrage so far.
I miss you.
When are you going to get back from Miami?
Why don’t you just come over after you’re done?
I came clear across the country to see you, and you’re going to stay out drinking all night with your friends?
He was getting irate, and in a way, she couldn’t blame him. She’d want a little attention, too. But he’d known before he came that she’d be putting her friends first.
She’d almost messaged to remind him that he was the one who was crashing their party. But she chose to ignore him instead. If she answered once, he’d have her on the hook for the rest of the night, going back and forth, and she wasn’t about to allow that. She was out with her girlfriends; he needed to respect that.
She didn’t realize just how much pressure he was putting on her until they decided to leave. At that point, she was relieved she could quit fighting her compulsion to reassure him and make him happy. When she went to the bathroom right before they left and she had a few minutes of privacy, she was tempted to let him know she’d gotten his messages and would see him in the morning. She’d already told Aida and Marlow that she was going to the tennis club to meet with her new boss. But she knew he’d insist she come over tonight, and she wasn’t ready for the intimacy he’d want and expect.
So she turned off her phone and slid it in her purse before returning to the main part of the club, where she motioned to Aida and Marlow that she was ready to go.
Once they started the long drive back to the island and it was quiet, exceptionally so after the pulsing beat of the music blaring through each club, she’d thought Marlow might open up and want to talk. Aida gave her the opportunity when she asked, once again, what was wrong. But Marlow just sniffed, wiped her eyes and shook her head—and before they’d traveled ten miles, both Aida and Marlow were asleep.