Broken Waves Read online

  Why had Mia written that she was “sorry about the child”?

  Because it wasn't James’.

  Don’t be shocked! she had written.

  Mia had needed love. She had even begged for it. All the diamonds in the world wouldn't have made up for the fact that she was young and beautiful, yet her husband didn't want her.

  She had done more than flirt with his friends and hers to get attention. She had had an affair, and she had become pregnant.

  Lee stood in the corridor, certain that had not been a suicide note. Mia had been about to leave James — but for whom?

  Had James been so consumed by guilt that he had been unable to see it? Or had he known?

  Lost in her thoughts, Lee opened the doors to different rooms on her way. James' present bedroom was probably not the one he had shared with Mia. It was too masculine, and he would not sleep with Lee where he had lived with his wife.

  His room was at the end of the hall to the right of the stairs. Caitlin's was three doors down; he had shown it to her. Two sitting rooms and an old nursery with the toys of generations followed, and then a large suite right in the middle of the house. Lee opened the door and saw that the decoration was old-fashioned, as if it hadn’t changed in at least thirty years. It must have been James' parents' room.

  After that, there were guest rooms until she reached another suite at the opposite corner of the house. Mia's modeling photographs were on the chest of drawers, with two larger ones hanging on the walls. It was a light-blue room, a compromise between Mia’s softness and James’ masculinity.

  There was a large dressing room, but it was empty. Mia's things were gone. Nothing of hers was left behind, as Lee confirmed by opening drawers and boxes. The only trace of Mia in the house were the photographs.

  A maid or Mrs. Taylor might come upstairs, and Lee would be caught nosing around. She left the suite and ran on tiptoes back to James' room. She had spied enough that day, but it was the first time in her life that she felt bad about it. Except that now, more than ever, she needed to know what had happened to Mia.

  Who had been her lover?

  If Lee managed to find out, then James would know that Mia hadn't killed herself — that the child hadn’t been his, and that her death hadn’t been his fault. He would know that Mia had been, in fact, ready to start her life again elsewhere, with someone else, just as he had hoped.

  Finding out what had happened to Mia was the greatest gift she could give James.

  She felt tired and stretched on the bed, looking at the digital watch next to her: it was past three o'clock. She wondered when he would return.

  It would be all right if she closed her eyes for a moment. She was so exhausted from the emotions of the weekend. Finding Mia's note had at first made her feel alert, but now it added to her sleepiness.

  When she opened her eyes, however, it was already dark. How long had she slept? The digital clock was blinking, as if there had been a power outage for a moment and it needed to be reset.

  Lee sat up, noticing that the house was very quiet. Where was James? What time was it? She looked for her phone to see if he had called or sent her a message, but she couldn't find it, and neither could she find the light.

  As her eyes got used to the dark, she walked to the window. James' car was parked right in front of the house. She made her way to the ground floor and found the main door open. There was darkness everywhere.

  "Hello?"

  At night there were only the cook and a couple of maids who served dinner in the house, apart from Mrs. Taylor. Had they gone off in search of help to restore the light? And why was James’ car there?

  "James?" she called from the door.

  It was cold, though the day had been warm and blue. The temperature descended by quite a few degrees at night. Lee ran down the front steps and walked on the gravel, still calling for James. When she reached the side of the house, there was a light in the sky. It looked as if it were being projected from the beach.

  "James?" she called. "Mrs. Taylor?"

  Lee moved toward the light, but there was a mist rising, probably from the mixture of hot air still left from the day with the cooler night breeze. It became thicker after the trees, but she made out a figure standing at the edge of the cliff.

  "James!"

  He was looking down at the place where Mia had fallen. Lee ran, but he didn't turn until she reached him.

  "James, I couldn't find you."

  "I'm right here."

  She put her arms around his neck. He felt cold. "Come into the house. You said it was dangerous."

  They crossed the mist again. Lee was thankful when she saw the light downstairs, and heard music playing: Come out, come out wherever you are…

  "I know that song," she said.

  "Sing it to me after dinner. Now we must change."

  He followed her upstairs. Once they were in his room, he shut the door and took her by the waist. "I've been wanting to touch you all day.”

  She leaned back until her lips met his.

  "James ..." she whispered. "James, Mia didn't kill herself."

  "I know."

  "Do you? I thought—I thought the note made you believe—"

  His hands were still. "When did you see the note? How?"

  Lee's eyes flew open. "I—"

  It was such a quick movement. In a second he had shoved her face down on the bed and twisted her arm behind her back. "How did you see that note?"

  "You're hurting me!"

  "Did you look in my safe? You saw the combination when I put the jewels away, didn't you? What were you looking for?"

  "James, let me go!"

  She tried to grab him with flailing arms, but he took her wrists and held them in one of his hands.

  "You're looking at things which are secret," he said. "I told you to leave it all alone."

  "Stop," she screeched. "Stop or I'll kill you!"

  "Maybe I'll kill you!"

  She still screamed, but he didn't stop. He had let go of her arms, but his hands closed around her neck.

  "You'll be sorry you ever spied on me!”

  Lee opened her eyes, coughing. She had been dreaming, still dressed and lying in the same position as she had been at three o'clock. It was only four, and it was still day.

  "What's the matter?" James appeared at the door of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist. "Have you had a bad dream again?"

  Her heart banged against her ribcage, and she couldn't answer.

  He approached her side of the bed and sat down. "Was it that scary?"

  She nodded. Yes, it had been scary. But when he asked what the dream had been about, she said she didn't remember.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  This time London wasn’t cold, gray or hostile. The red of buses and phone boxes, the dazzling white of townhouses and the shiny black façades of pubs were all enhanced by sunlight.

  London was the only place where Lee could buy a dress worthy of Deerholt. She had come alone, since James had become busy with last minute details for Caitlin’s party. It was a little over three hours driving each way, but she wasn’t staying the night. She wanted to go back home.

  Home.

  Home is where the heart is. Where was that for her?

  Lee had paid for a half day in a hotel room where she could video-call Quinn.

  “What made you give up?” Quinn asked.

  He didn’t seem upset. He had warned her.

  “You were right. He’s too smart, Quinn. He’d catch me for sure.”

  “Is that all it is?” Quinn wondered.

  She sighed. “He’s also a good person, and he has been grieving. I just don’t have the heart to do it.”

  “Or the heart to leave, I guess?”

  “Oh, I’ll leave. Soon.”

  “And if he wants you to stay?”

  “I can’t be half of a couple and you know it. You know all the stuff I couldn’t ever tell anyone — especially not him. It’s too late.”
r />   Her smile must have been sad, because Quinn softened. He was a forger and a hacker — but he was more generous than most people she knew.

  “You don’t know that, Lee.”

  She shook her head and smiled again more brightly. “Let me have the end of summer, and we’ll meet to decide on next steps. I’ll try and find something good for us, although it might not be millions of dollars.”

  He blew her a kiss, and Lee sat with the phone in her hand. Why had she said summer? It was almost August, and summer would end soon.

  She took a deep breath and dialed a landline across the ocean.

  A woman answered. “Hello?”

  “Maddy?”

  “It’s you.”

  Maddy’s voice was flat and unwelcoming. It nearly always was.

  “How are things?” Lee asked.

  “Same as last time you called. And I’m sorry, but Billy is sleeping. I can’t wake him up.”

  “All right. Tell him I called?”

  “I’ll see how he is. Don’t want to upset him.”

  “Did you get the money?”

  The dry tone changed to grudging gratitude. “Yeah, I got it.”

  “I’ll send more soon.”

  “I guess that’s all you can do,” Maddy said, and hung up.

  Yes, Maddy. It’s all I can do, and you ought to know it.

  Jumping out of bed to avoid the anger rising in her, Lee grabbed her bag. Harrods wasn’t far from the hotel, and it was a good place to shop for an evening dress, as it had plenty of brand names on sale. Lee had just lost about $80,000 getting to James, and she shouldn’t spend too much on a dress she would only wear once.

  Her phone rang. It wasn’t James.

  “Yes?”

  “Vivien? This is Caitlin! James’ sister?”

  Lee masked her surprise. “Yes, I know. Hello!”

  “I’m so sorry to call you out of the blue, but my brother is a complete beast!”

  Lee stopped by a wall so she wouldn’t stand in the way of Londoners, who liked walking fast and frowned at those who ambled.

  “Is he? Why?”

  “He didn’t tell me you were going to London. You could have stayed with me — we could have shopped and had lunch. James thinks everyone is a misanthrope like him.”

  In this case, James was right, although the girl sounded genuinely warm.

  “I didn’t know, so I’m in Oxford,” Caitlin went on. “What a beast he is.”

  “He is a beast.”

  There was loud, delighted laughter on the other side. “I don’t think we mean the same thing.”

  How ridiculous to blush! “Don’t worry about me,” Lee said hurriedly. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know, but listen! I’ve asked Steve to take you to lunch.”

  That wouldn’t be much fun. Lee only ever met strangers for work. And who was Steve, anyway?

  Caitlin explained: “We call him Attie, though, because his last name is Atwood. Old, old friend of James’. And of mine, really. At least he’s been around for as long as I can remember. I don’t know that he’s any less awful than my brother. Maybe more awful, actually. But he is going to be your chevalier servant today.”

  Lee wanted to protest that she didn’t need anyone, and that she was on a mission, but she thought of the note. She knew nothing about James’ and Mia’s friends. Perhaps meeting one of them would help her find out who Mia’s lover had been.

  In any case, Caitlin told her to meet Attie at one o’clock. “I’ll text you the address and send you a photo of the man.”

  Lee ducked into the metro and surfaced in Knightsbridge. She had already researched Harrods and took the entrance with the Egyptian escalator, which she climbed to the first floor.

  When she visited a shop, it was normally to buy things for a false version of her. She walked in the gleaming store among the mannequins and expensive clothes, catching glimpses of her blonde hair. How absurd that she should be buying clothes for a woman who didn’t exist to attend a real party. Not a party where she would be working, making a mark fall more deeply for her as she thought of his jewels — no, she was buying a real dress for fake Vivien to fall more deeply for real James.

  When she got to Marchesa, she saw her dress right away: a long gown made of fine white silk and ostrich feathers.

  The saleswoman smiled as Lee stood before it.

  “Stunning, isn’t it? And you’re tanned. White will look good on you.”

  “It’s like a wisp,” Lee said as the woman handed the hanger to her. The dress hardly weighed anything.

  The woman smiled. “Try it on.”

  It was going to cost a lot more money than Lee ought to spend. She demurred. “It’s too delicate.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s less delicate than it seems. Let me get your size.”

  Lee tried it on and lost her head. She wanted to wear it for James, and she bought it.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. Or many thousands. But there was a happy flush on her face as she left Harrods with the dress inside a box and the box inside a bag. From there, she could stroll to the restaurant where she was to meet Attie, looking at the store fronts, at the bouquets of flowers everywhere and into the big ground-floor windows of houses on her way.

  Steve Atwood, or Attie, was a tall man with wavy brown hair and roguish eyes. The flair of his pin-striped suit was a little cheeky, an attitude Lee had encountered before in upper-class boys. As Lee crossed the restaurant toward him, she supposed he was the hedge-fund-wiz friend that had helped James make his fortune. He stood to kiss her on one cheek and pulled the chair for her.

  “I see you’ve accomplished your mission,” he said urbanely, looking at the bag.

  “One of them,” Lee replied.

  “I know, getting ready for a shindig of this caliber is like preparing for the Olympics.”

  Attie acknowledged the waiter, who asked what they would like to drink.

  “Water,” Lee said.

  He looked aggrieved. “Impossible. We can’t meet over water, it will bring bad luck.”

  “Then maybe I can have just one glass of something, since I’m driving.”

  “We’ll settle on two glasses each. I know you have a hair appointment, so you’ll have plenty of time to get rid of the buzz.”

  When their wine was before them, Lee said, “I’m sorry you had to babysit me.”

  “On the contrary. And it’s not only politeness that makes me say this. I am always profoundly interested in the choices of my good mate.”

  James’ friend was a flirt. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, and Lee didn’t take offense.

  “I think he’s quite into you,” Attie said.

  “Oh?”

  “Not that he has actually mentioned it. It’s the fact that he hasn’t mentioned anything. That gives it away, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “It would surprise me if he ever talked too much about anyone.”

  “But there is also the fact that he tells me to shut up when I ask about you,” Attie said with an impish smile. “It’s rather earnest of him. Not usual James.” He crossed his arms on the table. “You are beautiful, that’s for certain. And you seem smart. I hope you’re giving him hell.”

  Lee laughed. “What a hope for your friend!”

  “Oh, we go back to birth. We can say what we want. And then there’s this message.” He picked up his phone and read. “Behave, or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Why should I give him hell?”

  Attie sipped his wine. “So that he reaches heaven, of course.”

  “Seems a very twisted path.”

  “No interesting path is straight. Certainly not the narrow one.” He studied her for a moment. “But you’re not that.”

  The ring of Lee’s phone saved her. Attie rolled his eyes.

  “How outrageously is he behaving on a scale of one to ten?” James asked when she answered.

  Attie leaned forward. “I can hear you.”

  James ignored
him. “My sister does have silly ideas, sometimes. Don’t believe anything Attie says, and if he hits on you, stab him. Not the heart, he doesn’t have one. Aim lower.”

  “Well, Attie,” Lee said as she hung up. “You’ve been put on probation.”

  “What point is there in my saying anything now?” Attie wondered, but brightened up when the food arrived. “I love scallops, don’t you? And you won’t have loved anything until you have them with papaya puree.”

  They ate the first mouthful, and the combination was exquisite.

  “The Saint is such a romantic,” Attie remarked.

  “Is that what you call him? The Saint?”

  “It was his nickname at school, because of the old TV show. He was sort of our dear leader, you know. The teachers were scared of him, so we liked the protection.”

  “He was like the Mafia?”

  “Absolutely, except that he didn’t charge us. He was just fast with the lash of his tongue and not afraid of how many times he got punished.”

  “And you think he’s a romantic?”

  “Don’t you think so? I don’t mean stuffed animals and chocolate. I mean 19th century, all-or-nothing type thing.”

  “Is that a thing?” Lee wondered.

  “The Saint doesn’t know he’s a romantic, of course,” Attie continued. He threw her a canny look. “True romantics are always cynical because they’re expecting something absolute. While it doesn’t happen, they believe it doesn’t exist. Do you know, he’s never even had one of these hot, miserable crushes we all have when we are teenagers?”

  “James was married,” Lee pointed out.

  Attie pursed his lips. “The beautiful Mia. Well, yes. He cared enough to marry her, but Mia was no match for James, was she?”

  “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

  “Well, in a way he wasn’t a match for her either. Just completely different universes. She believed in everything and then failed at it all. The Saint believes in nothing and sometimes makes miracles happen.”

  Lee wanted to change the subject, and she wanted to hear more. She couldn’t, in any case, help being glad that Attie chose to talk so freely about James. She hadn’t even had to trick him into giving her information.

  “Mia was a lightweight,” Attie continued with a curl of his lip. “And because the Saint is a gentleman, he didn’t see that she wasn’t really the innocent she pretended to be.”