Family Skeletons Read online

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then watched as he got into the car. He still appeared displeased as he drove away.

  Inside the house, Jonathan was on his way down the stairs. They paused and looked at each other, as if they each had something on their minds. Once Sunny realized this, she said, “The best way to find out something is to ask.” Maybe he’d somehow guessed her identity and this would be easier than she’d expected.

  “Is your relationship with Ryan romantic or friendly or both?”

  “Friendly.” That he might have that question hadn’t occurred to her. “But that says a lot. He’s the greatest guy I’ve ever known. If I ever find a better friend, I’ll have to marry him.”

  “That explains the separate bedrooms last night. How long have you and he roomed together?”

  “About four years now.”

  He was standing on the bottom stair. His gaze not leaving her, he leaned against the wall, folded his arms and crossed one ankle over the other foot. “You’re using him.”

  She frowned. “Using him?”

  “No one is going to put the make on either one of you if it appears you’re already in a relationship.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t looked at it that way. Actually, our rooming situation is coming to an end. He’s involved in a romance, and as soon as I’m through up here I’ll be looking for a new place.”

  “Is she a psychologist, too?”

  “He’s a body builder. He works at a gym.”

  “I thought he was a psychologist.”

  “Ryan is a psychologist. Marcus is a body builder.”

  “Who’s Marcus?”

  “Ryan’s significant other.”

  After a short silence he said, “Oh.” Then a longer silence followed, at the end of which he said thoughtfully, “I saw no sign of it.”

  “He doesn’t believe it’s necessary to wear a sign around his neck.”

  He shrugged, manner casual. “Okay. I don’t wear a sign either.”

  She smiled and motioned that she wanted to go up the stairs. He moved aside and she passed him.

  “Sunny?”

  She stopped and looked back.

  “Why do I have the feeling I just passed a test?” he asked.

  “Because you did.” She continued climbing, then heard her name again. She stopped on the last stair before the top and looked down.

  “If you wore a sign around your neck,” he asked, “would it read heterosexual?”

  Now, Sunny. Tell him your legal name now.

  Instead she kept the flirty moment lighthearted. Deliberately she assumed his recent pose as she leaned against the wall, folded her arms and crossed one foot over the other. Though his gaze didn’t leave hers, she knew he was taking in her whole frame.

  “Yeah,” she answered. “You?”

  “Yes.” He smiled, stepped to the door and went out.

  You’re being stupid, Sunny. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Chapter Six

  “Jonathan!” Sunny hollered for the third time from the kitchen. Impatience and irritation had made her voice louder with each yell. Her mood had slid downhill fast during the two days since Ryan’s visit.

  She was making a feast this morning, but not because she was hungry or wanted to impress anyone. She was working off excess energy. Instead of going with convenient frozen hash browns, she’d peeled and diced fresh potatoes, and she’d fancied up the eggs with crumbled bacon and diced onion and freshly chopped tomato bits. After covering a plate with a paper towel, she scooped the fried potatoes onto it, then forked crisp bacon slices onto the side.

  By the way, my nickname is Sunny, but my given name is Laurel.

  It was so easy, so what was the problem? She didn’t want to claim her name? Her father? Her past?

  “Jonathan!”

  She scraped the scrambled eggs from the skillet into a bowl and put it on the table. What was taking him so long? She knew he was up; she’d heard water running through the pipes.

  “Jonathan!”

  Dammit! She stared at the red-checked tablecloth, watching the food get cold, then took a deep breath and marched down the hall. When she reached the bottom of the stairs he appeared at the top.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Criminy,” she said, and stomped her way back to the kitchen. She sat and filled her plate and started eating before he even got to the table. At the back of her mind she knew she was overreacting, yet she didn’t try to rein herself in.

  “Oh,” he said, reaching for the eggs. “You put something in them.”

  “Yeah. I call ’em fancy eggs. They’re remarkably better if one gets to eat them before they get cold.”

  He glanced at her but didn’t respond to her crossness. He put the bowl of eggs down without taking any and picked up the plate of potatoes. She noticed, but said nothing. He scraped the remaining potatoes onto his plate, ate one forkful and frowned. “You put something in the potatoes, too.”

  “Onion and garlic. It’s called seasoning. I put salt and pepper in there, too.”

  “I like simple food,” he said apologetically. “Just standard fare. I’ll have plain toast and bacon.”

  Had he not noticed the mushrooms and sour cream in the stroganoff, along with the onions and garlic? Or maybe to him, that was standard. Putting her fork down, she stared at him. “You might also want to skip the toast. I buttered it.” Some people might consider it nice not to have to butter their own toast.

  He sipped coffee then chose a piece of bread. “Actually, I do prefer it dry, but I’ll eat it either way.” He looked at her as if he thought she might explode.

  Which she did. She took his and her plates and dumped them into the garbage. Not just the contents, the whole plates. She threw in her cup of coffee, still half-full, and the plate of toast. The crash of crockery made her feel guilty, but that fueled her anger instead of easing it.

  “You said you know how to operate a toaster, so make your own stupid breakfast!”

  Coffee sloshed out of his cup when it hit the table. “What is the matter with you? You were okay until Ryan left. Did you have a fight with him or what?”

  He’d hit the nail on the head, which only made her madder. “Oh, no, you don’t. It’s not my fault you’re fussy. And I’ll clean the bathroom today. You can wash the dishes.”

  “Sunny—”

  She stomped down the hall.

  “Sunny!”

  She threw open the front door and almost tripped over the cat on the porch. It was so startled that instead of fleeing down the stairs, it scampered into the corner and cut off its own escape route. As if by magic, Sunny’s mood lightened. She knelt. “Oh, kitty, I’m sorry. Come here, kitty.” It was trapped between her and the wall of the porch. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. C’mon. Come to me, baby.”

  Aware of Jonathan coming to stand in the doorway behind her, she looked up. “Be careful. Don’t scare it.”

  When his gaze lit upon the cat in the corner, his expression also eased. “It came back.”

  “Looks only half-grown, and maybe not completely wild yet. I’d like to tame it if I could.”

  “You could give it breakfast if someone hadn’t thrown it in the garbage.”

  She was facing away from him. A return of contentiousness hit her, then regret, and then her mind cleared, all in about three seconds. She looked back up. “There’s a can of tuna in the cupboard, one of those easy-open tab tops. Would you get it?”

  Quickly he returned with it, lid removed, and Sunny put it on the floor and pushed it toward the kitten. The cat’s apprehension seemed to ease as it sniffed the air. It crept to the can, hesitating only once for another quick glance at the two people, then started licking up tuna.

  Sunny grinned. “Hey, all right.”

  “It appears you now have a pet. But what are you going to do when you have to leave?”

  “Take it with me. I told you I’m looking for a new place. Now I’ll have company.” She remained kneel
ing on the porch floor, watching the cat. “It,” she repeated. “Don’t even know if it’s male or female.”

  “If it will let me close enough once it’s through eating, I’ll find out for you.”

  She slanted a look up at him. “Guess doctors are good for something.”

  His expression turned contentious and stayed that way. “Sunny...”

  She smiled at the warning in his voice. “It was a joke, Jonathan. Lighten up.”

  “Me? I need to lighten up?”

  With a sigh, she stood. “Okay. I’ve been in a lousy mood and taking it out on you. It’s not your fault. I’ll try to behave.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

  “Wow. Can you ever be stuffy sometimes.”

  His eyes narrowed as he digested that. The cat nuzzled Sunny’s ankle. “Hey.” She reached down and picked up the unresisting feline.

  “It has a loud motor,” Jonathan said. It didn’t seem to mind when he took it from her. He held it up, then handed it back. “Give it a girl’s name. And she’ll make a gentler pet for you.”

  Sunny refrained from telling him she could have done that all by herself. Instead she stroked the kitten. “Yes, you do have a loud motor. Hope you won’t keep me awake all night, cat.” She gave Jonathan a fast grin. “Hey, I like that. Why give it a made-up name? What’s wrong with Cat?”

  He chuckled. “Sometimes you’re amazingly uncomplicated. And other times I couldn’t figure you out if my life depended on it.”

  She walked past him into the house, taking Cat with her.

  “Did you mean it about the dishes?” he asked. “The ones that aren’t broken, that is.”

  “No.” She nuzzled the feline as she walked down the hall, not wondering about her rapid mood change so much as wondering how easily Jonathan had accepted it.

  “Then I’m going to drive into Castleton and leave you and Cat to get acquainted.”

  “Okay.” She turned to face him. “Uh, Jonathan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is it okay if I use salt and pepper when I make dinner?”

  He frowned, and she smiled.

  “Bye,” she said.

  The front door closed, leaving her on her own. He was taking the long way around to get to his truck that was parked in back. Apparently he’d had enough of her for one morning.

  * * *

  By noon Sunny had finished clearing out the upstairs, with the exception of her room and Jonathan’s. But the next floor, the attic, would be more work than the first two floors combined. It was time to call the disposal company to pick up another full dumpster and leave her an empty one.

  She took a boloney sandwich and a can of Sprite to the back porch and shared everything but the beverage with Cat. The animal got a bowl of water. When a movement in the yard caught the corner of her eye, her head snapped up.

  “Oh, hi, Matthew.” She opened the screen door and descended the steps. No car. “Did you hike the beach?”

  He nodded. She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. His manner seemed strained.

  “Would you like a sandwich?” she offered. “I just finished lunch.”

  “No, thanks. Uh...I just wanted to say I was sorry about what happened to you the other day. I know you had a close call, and Tom Fairly thought maybe me and some other guys had been target shooting around here. But we weren’t, not then.”

  “Okay.” He was looking more and more uncomfortable, but she didn’t know how to put him at ease.

  “I was wondering if you’d looked for the bullet,” he added.

  “Oh. No, we didn’t. Didn’t even occur to us to look for it. It would’ve imbedded itself in the sand or carried into the water.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I looked but couldn’t find anything, and then I wasn’t sure exactly where you were when you were hit. Except that you were in the cove or near it.”

  “Why were you looking for it?”

  “I was hoping to prove it didn’t come from my rifle.”

  Hoping to? Then there was a chance it did?

  She asked, “Where do you and your friends usually hold your target practice sessions?”

  In answer, he turned and pointed to the grove of cypresses on the bluff with their misshaped branches that had been permanently blown inland by wind. “But we haven’t been out here since you moved in. At least I haven’t, and I don’t think they have either.”

  “Who would they be?”

  He looked down at his scuffed sneakers. They weren’t expensive designer ones; they looked more like variety store specials. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  She relented. He was trying to do the right thing. “If I can’t interest you in lunch, can I get you something to drink?” She held up her can of soda. “One of these?”

  He hesitated. “I shouldn’t take the time. I don’t want to get caught by the tide.”

  But he looked like he wanted one. Hiking the beach was thirsty work.

  “I’ll get you one, and you can take it with you.” She left, returned with the can and said, “If you don’t mind company, I’ll walk to the beach with you.”

  “Sure. And thanks.” He held up the drink as if to say cheers.

  They fell in step. He had gray-blue eyes and sandy-blond hair, and topped her by no more than four or five inches. She had no trouble keeping pace with him. “How’s business been? Does the store keep you and your mom busy?”

  “Not really. I spell her when she wants me to, but it’s been kind of slow lately. I got a job busing tables at Sal’s. You ought to go eat there one day. Good food. That and the hotel are the only places that keep Chester Beach alive.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  He polished off the soda before they reached the bluff, so she accepted the empty can to take back with her. He made it down the steep trail as easily as she did. Maybe the smaller one was, the easier it was to negotiate the path.

  Before she got back to the house, she saw dust rising on the road that signaled the arrival of a vehicle. But it wasn’t Jonathan’s truck. It was a dented, dated sedan she didn’t recognize. This was her day for company.

  Cat was outside and tried to run away from the vehicle by running in front of it. Sunny yelled a warning and raised her hand, signaling for the driver to stop. He ignored the warning, and Cat made it beyond the second front tire by a narrow margin. Sunny closed her eyes and blew her breath out.

  The car jerked to a stop, and a man got out and stalked around the front of it. “I want to talk to your mother.”

  “Huh?”

  He squinted, possibly realizing she might be older than she looked. “You that Corday woman?”

  “My name is Laurel Corday,” she said coolly.

  See how easy that was, Sunny? Now tell Jonathan the same thing when he returns.

  “What can I do for you?” She forced politeness into her tone. “Mr...?”

  She caught the odor of alcohol, probably beer. That belly on him most likely had come straight out of a can. A sleeveless undershirt exposed fleshy, hairy arms, but it at least covered his stomach. She’d disliked him on sight because he’d almost killed Cat, and he hadn’t even been paying enough attention to be aware of the close miss, and her dislike was growing by the second. She backed up a step, in distaste rather than fear.

  “Well, Miz Corday, I’m Langley Bowers and you been spreadin’ lies about my two boys and I want you to stop it.”

  “Who are your two boys, Mr. Bowers, and what lies are you talking about?”

  Maybe you shouldn’t have put those questions together. He might not be able to handle two thoughts at the same time.

  “My boys are Toby and Langley, Jr., as you damn well know.”

  She gave him time, but he stopped there.

  “And what lies are you talking about?” she prompted.

  “You damn well know that, too. You told the sheriff they was takin’ pot shots at you on your beach.”

  “Listen carefully, Mr. Bowers. A bull
et grazed my head when I was on the beach. I reported that to the sheriff. I don’t know who fired the bullet, and I told him so. I’ve never met your boys, nor have I heard their names before. Is there anything else, or are you ready to go now?”

  “You Cordays think you’re tough shit, just ’cause you got money and a big name and a big house. It ain’t enough that your daddy got to steal their mama away from my boys, but now you want to go and blacken their names. And I’m not gonna let you get away with it.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bowers. I didn’t understand that part about their mama. Will you run that by me one more time?”

  Though he made no menacing move, it occurred to her that she was trading words with an angry drunk who was quite a bit bigger than she was. She backed up another step, putting herself out of his immediate reach, but no more. A show of alarm from her would make him braver. She wished the empty cola can was a full one. If he tried anything, she planned to smash his nose in with it.

  “You heard me awright. Your daddy coulda had any woman he wanted, and he wanted a lot of ’em, but he made a mistake when he went after my Louise. She told me the truth, after I beat it outta her. Then she up and left me. It was his doin’. Franklin Corday. That was one sorry man with an unhealthy appetite for what didn’t belong to him.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m not responsible for my father and his lack of character or his sins. I didn’t even know about this particular one. And I don’t hold your boys responsible for anything. I don’t even know them. Any problems you’ve got, you need to take to the sheriff. He’ll listen to you.”

  But he won’t listen to your beer talking.

  Surprisingly she found herself feeling sorry for the man, and her voice softened. “Really, Mr. Bowers, it’s okay. Go home and...rest up. Talk to the sheriff tomorrow. If your boys didn’t do anything, then they’re not in trouble.”

  He seemed thrown by the change in her manner. He looked like he wanted to bluster some more, but had run out of reasons.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Bowers. Take it easy on your way home.” Leaving him standing there, she went inside, and then watched the unstable man from the parlor’s window. After about thirty seconds of looking stupefied, head turning in different directions as if he was trying to figure out where he was, he finally got into his car. He reversed it over a geranium bush, turned the vehicle around, and drove away.