Cold Feet

A great deal? Caleb touched the flimsy material. “Would someone really wear something like this in mid-September?” he asked. “Seattle doesn’t exactly have beach weather.”

“She was going clubbing,” Deborah volunteered, trying to be helpful. “And it’s so hot in those places. Especially when you’re dancing, you know?”

Caleb knew all about clubs, but not because he’d visited one recently. He’d quickly grown tired of them after his divorce.

“It’s too much of a long shot,” Holly said. “Let’s go.”

She started for the door, but Caleb pulled her back. “Not so fast. It’s better than nothing. I say we take a picture and add it to the flyers, just in case.”

Holly studied the outfit with a critical eye, then sighed and shrugged. “If you say so.”

“We’ll take it,” he told Deborah.

While he was paying for it, Holly looped her arm through his the way she used to while they were married. “This is just like old times,” she murmured.

Caleb carefully extricated himself. “I’m not going to be in Seattle long,” he said, and was determined to make sure she remembered that.

M ADISON WAS EXHAUSTED by the time she returned home, but she felt a definite sense of relief the moment she drove off the Mukilteo-Clinton Ferry, which had brought her across Puget Sound from the mainland. After the unwelcome media attention she’d received during the past twelve years, and the crushing disappointment she’d experienced for her daughter’s sake when Danny announced he was leaving her, she’d wanted to relocate as far from Seattle as possible. Start over. Forget. Or go into hiding until she was strong enough to face the world again.

But her divorce agreement stipulated that she couldn’t move more than two hours away from Danny, who had joint custody of Brianna and lived on Mercer Island. And she felt too much responsibility toward her mother to leave without a backward glance. Annette was talking more favorably about moving than ever before, but she was still set in her ways and didn’t want to go very far from the city where she’d been born and raised.

Whidbey became the compromise Madison had been searching for. With the island’s sandy, saltwater beaches, damp, green woods, towering bluffs and spectacular views of Puget Sound and the Cascade Mountains, it felt remote. Yet it was still basically a suburb, with eateries and fast food, gas stations and convenience stores. And it was…familiar.

“Brianna!” Madison called as she let herself into the small cottage she’d used her divorce settlement to buy, along with her new business, the South Whidbey Realty Company. Located just off Maxwelton Beach, tucked into a stand of thick pine trees, the house itself reminded Madison of something from a Thomas Kinkade painting—romantic to the point of being whimsical. Built of redbrick and almost completely covered in ivy, the house was more than fifty years old. But it had always been well-loved and well-maintained, and the previous owners had done a fabulous job with the garden. The garage, which was detached, resembled an old carriage house and had been converted some years ago into a sort of minicottage.

“Hey? Where’s my girl?” she called again, putting her briefcase next to the hall tree.

This time the television went off and Brianna came running, clutching Elizabeth, her stuffed rabbit, in one arm. “Mommy, you’re home!”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m home.” Madison gave her daughter a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry I had to be away. Grandma needed me. And then I had to swing by the office to pick up all the paperwork I didn’t get around to today.”

“Why couldn’t I go with you to see Grandma? She loves it when I come to visit. And Elizabeth misses her.”

“You and Elizabeth see her at least once a week, kiddo, and you weren’t out of school yet,” Madison said. But she wouldn’t have taken Brianna to the Sunset Funeral Home and Memorial Park even if she’d been available. Madison tried to shield her daughter as much as possible from the taint of her grandfather’s legacy.

Joanna Stapley appeared behind Brianna, toting a backpack. “Your timing’s good,” she said. “I just finished my homework.”

“Perfect.” Madison gave her a grateful smile and dug through her purse for the money to pay her. “Did anyone call while I was gone?”

“You had an ad call on the rental place.”

“An ad call?” Brianna echoed. “What’s an ad call?”

Madison shook her head. Her daughter was only six years old, but nothing slipped past her. “I’m trying to rent out the carriage house. Did the caller leave her name?” she asked Joanna.

“It was a he.”

“Oh.” For safety reasons, Madison had been hoping for a female tenant. But at this point, she knew she’d take anyone with good credit and solid references.

“What does it mean to rent out the carriage house?” Brianna asked.

“It means someone else will live there,” Madison said.

“Why?”

To help her financially. When she’d purchased the house and her business, she’d planned for the eight months it would take her to learn what she needed to know and get her broker’s license. But she hadn’t expected business to be so slow once she actually took over. And she’d already lost her top agent, which meant she was down to three. It wasn’t going to be easy to survive if the real estate market didn’t pick up.

“Because it might be fun to have some company once in a while, don’t you think?” she said to Brianna, even though company was really the last thing Madison wanted. She’d dealt with enough curious strangers to last her a lifetime.

Brianna scrunched up her face as though she wasn’t quite sure about company, either, but Madison was more interested in what Joanna had to say. Danny had made some comments that led her to believe he and Leslie might sue for custody of Brianna again. Madison wanted to be ready for him. She needed to save what little money she had left from the divorce for a good attorney.

“Did he leave his name and number?” she asked.

Joanna frowned as she tried to remember. “Dwight…Sanderson, I think. His number’s on the fridge.”

“Good. I’m having trouble finding a tenant. Everyone wants to come for a visit, but the ferry can take as long as two hours, so we’re not exactly in a prime location for people who work on the mainland.”

“This guy definitely sounds interested.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. If you need me again, just call my cell.” The door slammed behind Joanna, then Madison heard the distinctive rattle of her Volkswagen bug as she pulled out of the drive.

“Dwight Sanderson,” Madison mumbled to herself, heading straight to the kitchen.

“I don’t want a man to live in the carriage house, Mommy,” Brianna complained, trailing after her. “That’s where you draw, and me and Elizabeth play.”

“It’s nice to have the extra room, but we can do without it,” she replied.

“Daddy said we live in a closet.”

Daddy doesn’t know everything, Madison wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. “Our house isn’t as big as his, but I like it here, don’t you?”

Brianna nodded enthusiastically. “This is a cottage for princesses.”

Hearing her own words come back at her from the day they’d moved in, Madison smiled. “Right. And we’re princesses, so it’s ideal.”

“Will the man who moves in be a prince?” she asked.

Madison stared down at the Post-it note Joanna had stuck on the fridge, and thought about her father, her two half brothers and her ex-husband. She hadn’t met very many princes in her life. She was beginning to believe they didn’t exist.

“I doubt it,” she said, and picked up the phone.

CHAPTER THREE

C ALEB STOOD in the antique-filled living room of his parents’ white Victorian, staring out the window at Guemes Channel and the wooded island beyond as he wondered what he was going to try next. He’d already spent three days doing everything he could think of to dig up some kind of lead on Susan. But he’d had no luck at all. Along with the police and the private investigator hired by Holly’s parents, he and Holly had talked to Susan’s friends, neighbors and work associates. They’d visited nightclub after nightclub with Susan’s picture and checked her bank account again.

Still they’d come up empty.