chapter 36
Amanda Winslow closed the trunk of her old silver Mercedes and smiled at Cara gamely. “I told Tate to prepare to be supplanted.” She held up a dozen bags with bright bows and ribbons. “We have serious work to do, my love. Not that you aren’t gorgeous, but a bride can always use a little extra glow for her big day.”
Cara put her arm around Sophy, who was staring wide-eyed at Tate’s mother. “What a lovely idea. But you really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble, Amanda.”
The slim, white-haired woman laughed in delight. “The only trouble was negotiating that dirt road to get here. The day spa treatments become trouble is the day I draw my last breath. Do you know, Tate and his brother used to tease me that I should open my own spa since I was already an expert.” Her head tilted. “And I actually considered it. I even signed a contract on a lovely little property in Georgetown near Tate’s old law office.” She winked at Sophy. “Thank God, I came to my senses in time.”
“What happened?” Sophy demanded, in awe of her future grandmother.
“I realized that I would have been appalling as a masseuse, my dear, and even worse as a business manager.” Shaking her head, Amanda juggled two bags and took her son’s arm. “Are the reporters leaving you alone here?”
“So far we’ve managed to fly below their radar. I’ve promised Audra a fishing expedition today.” He grinned at his mother. “Don’t suppose you’d want to give up exfoliation for standing waist-high in frigid water?”
“Blasphemy, my love.” Amanda handed one of her bags to Cara. “I think we should start with the algae rinse. After that comes the loofah scrub and the warm mud wrap. When I’m done, you’ll look like a teenager—not that you aren’t close to being thirteen already, my sweet.”
Sophy giggled. “What about me? Can you make me look older, Grandma?”
“Are you staying with us, Sophy? If so, I think you’ll fall in love with my strawberry mousse face cream. I even brought a pair of little red spa slippers, just for you.”
Beaming, Sophy took a skipping step. “Audra will be soooo jealous.”
“Then we won’t tell her, will we?” Amanda’s voice was low and conspiratorial.
Sophy hesitated. “Grandma Amanda, what’s blas—blasma—”
“Blasphemy. That, my love, is an act of irreverence toward something sacred.”
“Will I know a lot of big words like that when I grow up?”
“When you grow up, you will walk on Mars,” Amanda Winslow said gravely. “You will own a huge international corporation and rule it with an iron hand. Who knows, you might even decide to become president.” As they crossed the porch, she glanced across at Tate, who was walking beside Cara. “Forgive me for arriving unannounced, but when Bud mentioned you were coming, I couldn’t resist. Now, is there anything I can do to help you two? Any calls to return, food to order, reporters to badger?”
“We’re all set,” Cara said. “All you need to do while you’re here is relax.”
“Relaxation always bored me. Let’s see, I packed all kinds of good things for lunch.” Amanda frowned at Cara. “Audra was looking pale when I saw her last. Has she been sick?”
Cara swallowed. “She’s been under some stress lately.”
“You should help her with that, darling. Let’s both try.” Amanda turned to her son and waved airily. “Off with you, Tate. Go find your frigid stream and cast away. We women have serious work to do.”
“Anyone for lemonade? It’s my special recipe, brought all the way from San Francisco, made with lemons, blood oranges, and all the pulp you can squeeze in.” Amanda Winslow poured three glasses and handed one to Cara, then placed the iced pitcher on a lacquer tray. “Sophy, be a love and bring me the little suitcase from the front seat of my car. I must have left all my brushes in there. You can have your lemonade when you return.”
“Okay.” The little girl stopped in the doorway and looked back. Sunlight was spilling through the big window in the upstairs bedroom, and her mother was sitting in a chair, her legs curled, looking very happy.
I want her to look like that all the time, Sophy thought. Maybe if I’m very good, I can make that happen.
Grandma Amanda was refilling her mother’s glass as Sophy skipped down the stairs, thinking about red spa slippers and strawberry mousse. She dawdled crossing the front porch, enjoying the sun on her shoulders and the stillness all around her at the ranch.
It was good to feel safe.
When she walked back with her grandmother’s little case, she kicked up dust with her sneakers, just for the fun of seeing the brown clouds dance around her. Then she heard her mother’s voice carried through the open windows above the porch, and she smiled.
At the front door she saw something on the floor behind the big leather chair her Grandma Amanda liked best, and for a frightening moment Sophy thought it was her diary, the one she never showed anyone. How had it fallen out of her knapsack?
When she remembered she had left her diary at home, locked in her desk drawer, Sophy walked closer and saw a big blue envelope, the kind that came from foreign countries. Since she collected foreign stamps, Sophy knew this stamp was in Spanish and came from Mexico.
It must have fallen when they came in, Sophy thought. The letter from Mexico probably belonged to her Grandma Amanda, who got letters from all over the world for her international charities. Sophy bent down and picked up the colored envelope.
As her fingers touched the paper, she swallowed hard. She couldn’t say why, but something about the envelope felt strange.
“Amanda, I don’t understand.”
“No? I should think it was entirely clear.” Amanda Winslow put down her Prada purse on the big, rustic dresser and turned. “I can’t allow you to destroy my son’s future, even if you’re too selfish to see that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“Why are you saying this? What makes you think—” Cara blinked, rubbing her face. Suddenly she clutched her stomach.
“Exactly, my dear.” Tate’s mother smiled faintly. “I know all about your sordid visit to that little clinic in Mexico. Los Reyes, wasn’t it?”
“But when . . . how did you find out?”
Amanda lifted her shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Really, Cara, do you think I’d let him marry just anyone? I had you investigated, of course, just as I had his other women investigated. You were the best candidate for Tate, I have to admit, and after the first date I knew he was serious about you. He wanted marriage and a family, something he’d never considered with any of the others.” Her lips pursed. “I sent a man to do some research in California. When that was done, I sent a different man to your old law school and another to that apartment you had in college. Well, guess what? Your old landlady remembered that you’d been sick one term and had to drop out of school. She also said you’d made a trip to Mexico with your sister.” Amanda stared coldly at Cara. “The next part wasn’t so easy. You covered yourself well, as any good lawyer would.” Tate’s mother moved around the bed, watching Cara closely. “Then I had a bit of luck, and the last part of the puzzle fell right into my lap, so to speak.” She smiled. “Richard Costello.”
Cara couldn’t speak. A terrible weight was squeezing her chest, driving all the air from her body. She looked at the lemonade glass, her head pounding. “No.”
“Yes, Cara. I worked out all the details about six months ago. It was Costello who gave me the idea.” She smiled very elegantly, the perfect smile that Washington reporters had seen for years. “And then those terrible threatening letters began to arrive at your office.”
Cara struggled to her feet. “A-Amanda, you didn’t. Costello is a criminal. You can’t know what you’re saying.”
The old woman laughed tightly. “I know exactly what I’m saying. It’s all your fault, after all. If you hadn’t been so selfish, you’d have seen your duty sooner, and none of this would have been necessary. But you aren’t feeling so well, are you? What a pity.”
Sophy gripped the envelope, shivering.
Trust your heart, Summer had told her yesterday, while the surf rumbled in the distance. Sophy thought about her ballet class and about Summer’s words, while she held the colored envelope, her body shaking.
Something was wrong. She felt the way she’d felt those other times, when bad things were about to happen. She’d never been wrong so far.
She looked around at the quiet house, filled with the sudden knowledge that her mother was in danger. Maybe they all were.
Trust your heart, Summer had told her.
Sophy found her backpack and dug inside it.
Apple-cinnamon lip balm. Two Scrunchies. Half of a Snickers bar. Hello Kitty bag. Hello Kitty two-way radio.
Her heart began to pound louder. She took a deep breath.
Trust your heart.
She opened the screen door, then closed it gently with both hands, careful not to let the frame bang. Gripping the radio, the one she and Audra used to play with for hours before Audra started acting so grown-up, Sophy flipped on the power button.
“Audra, can you hear me? Please, Auddie, it’s Sophy. You have to come now.”
“Right here looks good.” Tate pointed toward the stream, silver in the clear morning light.
“But I left my fishing stuff near the horses.”
“Don’t worry, Bud will bring everything down.” Tate took Audra’s arm. “Besides, we’ve got all morning. Let’s go see what’s biting.”