Title Wave Read online

  “Hopefully away from cookery,” Sheila muttered.

  “Everybody’s got to eat,” Angelica said, her tone light.

  “I’m very proud of you,” John said, then picked up his glass and sipped his Scotch.

  “Tricia’s fabulously successful with her wonderful mystery bookstore, too.”

  Sheila sighed loudly. “Mysteries are just so . . . common. Besides, I thought you said the place burned to the ground.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I told you that the store had reopened just in time for the Christmas rush,” Angelica said, and Tricia didn’t doubt her. “It’s even prettier than it was before. And Tricia has two of the sweetest employees, whom we count among our dearest friends.”

  “Oh, no! I hope you don’t socialize with the help,” Sheila said, frowning.

  “As a matter of fact, one of them joined us on the voyage,” Tricia said.

  Sheila’s frown deepened.

  “Didn’t you say that stepson of yours joined you on the trip?” John asked Angelica. “We haven’t seen him since he was just a boy. Did he ever learn to speak English?”

  Angelica’s smile was tight. “Of course he did; and he speaks fluent French, as well. Antonio works for a big developer and manages the beautiful old inn in Stoneham, among other projects. I’m sorry he couldn’t be here today, but his darling wife was feeling a little queasy. I’m sure after a day in port she’ll find her sea legs and be just fine.”

  Tricia studied her sister’s face. Oh, Angelica lied beautifully. No doubt she had no intention of offering Antonio, Ginny, and baby Sofia up as objects of their mother’s disdain or ridicule. Too bad she hadn’t thought to include Tricia in that plan.

  Luckily, the waiter arrived with the drinks, setting them on white cocktail napkins. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Thank you, but we could use a few minutes. We have oodles to talk about,” Angelica said, her voice tight.

  The waiter nodded and turned away.

  Oodles to talk about? Maybe she did. . . .

  “Well, what shall we drink to?” John asked, picking up his glass.

  “How about family?” Angelica suggested.

  “Excellent,” John agreed, and the three of them clicked glasses. Sheila sat back in her chair.

  Tricia noticed that Angelica took as big a hit of that fine drink as she did.

  The four of them looked at each other. Angelica smiled. John smiled. Tricia smiled. Sheila didn’t. The quiet dragged on. Tricia found her gaze traveling out to one of the ferries chugging its way across the harbor.

  The quiet dragged on.

  “So, what made you decide to visit Bermuda? It’s got to be cooler than Rio this time of year,” Tricia said. Innocuous conversation seemed the best approach.

  “When Angelica said you’d be coming down to our part of the world, we decided it would be a wonderful opportunity to see our girls,” John said.

  We? Tricia wondered.

  “Well, you did, dear,” Sheila said. “I find it quite cold here.”

  Angelica’s laugh seemed forced. “Nothing like the temps back home in Stoneham.”

  “If you’re both so wildly successful, why can’t you leave your businesses in the hands of your lackeys and winter in warmer climes?” Sheila asked.

  “My employees are not lackeys,” Tricia said firmly.

  “Nor are mine,” Angelica said, sounding more than a little hurt.

  “Then if they’re so capable, you should be able to trust them to run your businesses while you enjoy the fruits of your labors.”

  “I enjoy working,” Tricia said. “I always have.”

  “Is that true for you, too, Angelica?” Sheila asked, an edge of disappointment creeping into her voice.

  Tricia turned to look at her sister. For years she’d believed that Angelica’s only business experience had been as a sales clerk in a failed boutique. Obviously their mother had no idea of what Angelica could do or had accomplished.

  “Yes,” Angelica said. “And I’m happy. In fact, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “And what about your social life? Or does being so wrapped up in your work mean you have no time—and maybe won’t be attractive—to men who could make your life so much easier?”

  Tricia’s mouth dropped. What century was her mother living in?

  Angelica managed a lopsided smile. “Gosh, I’m hungry.” She picked up her menu. Tricia did likewise. “What looks good to you, Mother?” she asked.

  Sheila tossed her head. “I’m having the fresh greens with balsamic vinaigrette.”

  “Tricia’s keen to try some of the local cuisine, as am I,” Angelica said, perusing the menu. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anything with a local flair available to them.

  “I want a steak,” John said. “How about you, Angelica?”

  “Well, the mixed grill sounds good.”

  “Tricia?” John asked.

  Tricia’s gaze slipped down to the entrées. Nothing really appealed to her but she had to eat something. “The duck with citrus sauce over rice sounds good.”

  “Duck is extremely fatty, and rice is incredibly carb heavy. Are you sure you want to order that?” Sheila asked, eyeing Tricia critically. “It looks as though you’ve packed on a few pounds since we last saw you,”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Tricia had gained a total of five pounds in the last year, which she attributed to the stress of her store burning and Christopher’s death. And, as her doctor had also affirmed—she was at a time in life when it wasn’t as easy to shed pounds as it might have been a decade earlier. She still wore the same-sized clothes and they weren’t exactly tight, either.

  Tricia glanced in her sister’s direction. Angelica was an inch or two shorter than Tricia and weighed a good twenty pounds more, and yet their mother deigned to criticize her for her menu choice?

  “Oh, Mother, don’t be silly. A good stiff wind would blow Tricia away,” Angelica admonished, and then her eyes darted to Tricia, her forehead furrowing in distress.

  “Would you prefer I have nothing?” Tricia asked her mother. It was an effort to keep her voice level.

  “Do what you want, dear,” Sheila said, her tone simpering, and then she shrugged.

  Tricia closed her menu. “I believe I’ll pass on lunch,” she said, taking another sip of her martini. Her gaze drifted to Angelica, who’d abandoned distress and had apparently moved on to anger.

  “Me, too,” Angelica said. She closed her menu as well, setting it back on the table.

  “Girls, girls,” their father chided, “don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?” Angelica asked, her voice hardening.

  “Ange, please don’t,” Tricia muttered.

  “Trish,” Angelica warned.

  Tricia knew that tone. “Please don’t,” she tried again. “It’s not worth it.”

  “Dear, dear sister. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Tricia watched as Angelica seemed to inflate before her, her expression growing hard. “Mother, I have cut you a lot of slack over the years, but no more.”

  “Why, Angelica, whatever do you mean?” Sheila asked, her tone innocent.

  “I’ve stood by for far too long allowing you to disparage my sister, and I won’t stand for it any longer.”

  “Angelica?” their father asked, sounding confused.

  “Patrick died of SIDS,” Angelica stated.

  The mention of their long-ago deceased brother caused Sheila’s eyes to widen in sudden fury and her cheeks to redden.

  “You’ve always blamed Tricia for Patrick’s death, but the truth is he probably died because he was sleeping on his tummy. Most moms put their babies to sleep on their tummies back then and you probably did, too.”

  “That’s what I was told to do. Are you saying I caused hi
s death?” Sheila asked sharply.

  “No. And neither did Tricia. But because she lived and Patrick didn’t, you’ve punished her for decades. It’s got to stop.”

  “Ange!” Tricia protested.

  Sheila’s expression hardened.

  “Tricia would never tell you how much your poor treatment of her has hurt, but I’m telling you now.”

  “Ange, please!” Tricia pleaded.

  “Yes. Please spare us,” Sheila said diffidently.

  Angelica turned to their father. “Daddy, how could you have let this go on for so long?”

  The poor man shrugged. “I have to live with her,” he said apologetically.

  Angelica pushed back her chair and stood. “Trish, let’s go. Maybe it’s not too late for us to have lunch with our real family back on the ship.”

  Never had Tricia felt such affection for her sister. She stood. “It was lovely to see you again, Daddy.” Tricia bent down to brush a kiss against his cheek.

  “Don’t go,” he implored. He looked up at Tricia. “I’m sorry, princess. Your mother’s tart words seem to bother you. I thought . . .” But whatever he thought, he said no more.

  Tricia smiled. “Good-bye, Daddy. I love you.” She turned to her mother. “I love you, too.” But then she turned and headed for the lobby, wondering if she would ever see her parents again.

  * * *

  Tricia didn’t wait for Angelica to follow and left the opulent lobby for the sunny expanse of sidewalk outside the hotel. She headed back toward Front Street with her head held high, but at an easy pace, not sure what to think of the altercation at the restaurant. She hadn’t wanted Angelica to say anything about her relationship with their mother, though perhaps in the long run clearing the air was the best thing that could have happened. That her mother wouldn’t apologize hadn’t been a surprise, but for some reason Tricia felt a sense of relief—of closure.

  She walked half a mile or so until she saw a bench in a small patch of green by the side of the road. She sat down and looked at her surroundings, so different than Main Street back in Stoneham. It was then that a wave of homesickness hit. Tricia dug into her purse and plucked out her phone, punching in the number she knew by rote. It rang twice.

  “Haven’t Got a Clue. This is Pixie. How can I help you?”

  “I wanna come home,” Tricia practically wailed.

  “Tricia, is that you?”

  “It’s me. I miss you and Miss Marple something terrible,” she admitted, afraid she might begin to cry.

  “Oh, and we miss you, too. But you’ve got nothing to worry about—except maybe for paying the rent next month. Business has been practically nonexistent. Did you know we got nearly a foot of snow overnight?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “And another six inches yesterday. Gosh, I envy you. You sure are lucky to be someplace warm and sunny.”

  Again Tricia took in her surroundings. Palm fronds swayed, while all around beautiful flowers bloomed, and the breeze—while not sultry—was pleasant.

  “How is Miss Marple?”

  “She’s right behind me on her perch. Do you want to say hello?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Go ahead,” came Pixie’s muffled voice.

  “Miss Marple. It’s me, your mom. I love you.”

  Tricia felt her eyes fill with tears as she heard “Yow!” issue from the tiny speaker in her phone.

  “Good girl,” Pixie told the cat, then came back on the phone. “Are you having a good time on the cruise?”

  “Well, not really.”

  “Uh-oh. You didn’t find anyone dead, did you?”

  “Well, kind of.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Yeah. EM Barstow.”

  “That was your ship?” Pixie asked, sounding incredulous.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Aw, gee. You have the rottenest luck.”

  “Don’t I just?” Tricia agreed.

  “Everybody else is safe, though, huh? Angelica, Mr. E and Grace, and Ginny and Antonio and Sofia, right?”

  “Yes, they’re all safe.”

  “I’m glad of that.”

  “How are Miss Marple and Sarge making out sharing the apartment at night?”

  “Well, let’s just say your cat’s glad Sarge doesn’t jump on shelves or the furniture. But, he’s really been no trouble. Although I think he likes going back to the Cookery for the day. Frannie says he watches the door, just hoping Angelica will walk through it.”

  “Well, luckily we’ll be home in another three days.”

  “I’ll bet that’s an eternity in dog time.”

  It felt like an eternity in people time, too.

  “Your phone company is going to slam you with charges for this call,” Pixie warned.

  “I don’t care. I just wanted to connect with you and Miss Marple and make sure everything at the store is fine.”

  “We’ve got grub in the kitchen and piles and piles of books to be read. What else could we want?”

  Yes, what else?

  “Even if we get snowed in, Miss M and I will be fine, so don’t you worry.”

  Tricia heard the tinkle of a bell in the background.

  “Oh my God—it’s actually a customer!” Pixie practically squealed. “Gotta go. See you on Saturday.”

  “Okay, bye.” Tricia hit the off icon and replaced the phone in her purse. Well, that was nice. Sort of. Now what could she do?

  The sun really was much stronger in Bermuda than it was back in Stoneham, and Tricia pulled a pair of sunglasses from the case in her purse. She still had a long walk to return to the road that led back to the ferry landing, so she got up and headed back the way she and Angelica had come just an hour before. But instead of taking the turn, she kept walking until she came upon a more commercial area. She paused in front of a jewelry shop and stared at the contents on offer. An assortment of pretty rings in a variety of stones sparkled under the carefully placed spotlights. It was then she became aware that her thumb was absently twisting the diamond engagement ring on her left hand. Christopher’s dying wish was that she wear it once again, and she had honored it. But he was gone forever, and as she had never anticipated a reconciliation between them, it was time again to take the ring off. She admired an opal setting and, on impulse, decided to see if they had something similar in her size.

  Ducking into the shop, Tricia tried a duplicate of the ring in the front window, as well as several others, and then made her purchase. She also bought a sturdy chain, hung the diamond ring from it, and donned it, tucking it inside her blouse. She also saw a lovely jeweled starfish pin that she thought Pixie might like to wear, and bought it, too.

  As she exited the store, she saw a dispirited Angelica walking toward her, and she paused. “That took a while,” she said in passing.

  Angelica sighed. “Too long. I had a feeling you wouldn’t go straight back to the ship. I’m so glad I caught up with you.”

  “Are the three of you still speaking?” Tricia asked.

  “Barely. I don’t want to share with you what else Mother had to say.” Angelica’s lips trembled, and she looked like she was about to succumb to tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mother and Daddy being here. As you can tell, Mother didn’t want to come. Daddy insisted, although they’re staying here for a week. Daddy has professional contacts here, and he thought it might be nice to combine business with pleasure.”

  Tricia certainly hadn’t been pleased by the unexpected meeting.

  “Are you awfully, terribly angry with me?”

  Tricia sighed. “I should be, but I’m not. Truly. I can’t blame you for wanting to promote a little family harmony. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t going to happen. And it sounds to me as though you may have burned some bridges.”

  “You mean c
ompromised our potential inheritances?”

  “Yes.”

  Angelica shook her head and smiled. “Darling, Tricia, you and I don’t need our parents’ money. It would be wonderful if they left it to a truly needy charity.”

  “Such as?”

  “I would wish for it to go to local pet charities, or for the care of sick people with no resources. Or food pantries. Or literacy.”

  “But you don’t think they will?”

  Angelica shook her head. “No. It’s possible they’ll cut us out completely and leave all their assets to the colleges they went to so that the sports programs can thrive and the schools and coaches can get even richer. I feel so sorry for those young athletes who play their hearts out, receive nothing, and aren’t good enough to go on to the NFL or NBA.”

  Tricia shook her head. “I’ve always felt the same way.”

  “We will leave a better legacy. We’ll leave our assets to places that truly need them. And a little to Antonio, Ginny, and Sofia, too,” she added. Angelica glanced down at the new ring on Tricia’s finger. “Looks like you were indulging in a little retail therapy.”

  “It’s cheaper than consulting a shrink.”

  “That all depends on how much you bought. Opals are supposed to be unlucky, you know.”

  “What does it matter? I’ve already been branded a jinx. I don’t think the ring can bring me any more bad luck than I’ve already had.”

  “Where’s Christopher’s ring?”

  Tricia fingered the chain around her neck.

  “That’s a good idea,” Angelica said. She wound her arm around Tricia’s and they began to walk toward the road that would take them back to the ferry landing once again.

  “Antonio, Ginny, and Grace and Mr. E have probably already eaten lunch. I don’t know if any of the restaurants on the boat will even still be serving by the time we get back.”