Family Skeletons Read online

  Sated, in more ways than one, Jonathan pushed his empty plate aside. Sunny had finished a long time ago, having barely made a dent in the plate’s contents. His gaze moved to something beyond her, and his eyes dulled. “Great. How far do we have to go to get away from the good citizens of Chester?”

  Sunny turned in her chair. “Oh, hi, Tom. Aren’t you out of your jurisdiction?”

  Tom pulled out a chair and sat down without being invited. “Still my eating jurisdiction. They make good chili here.”

  “For breakfast?” Jonathan looked appalled.

  “It’s almost noon.” Tom gave him a curious look.

  “Oh.” The younger man appeared slightly nonplused. “Of course it is.” He rested his left elbow on the arm of the chair and managed a surreptitious glance at his watch.

  Tom directed his attention to Sunny. “Glad I ran into you. I got the report back on that baseball bat, and the blood type isn’t the same as your—oh, hi, Millie.”

  “You ready yet, Tom?” The waitress put one check face down in the middle of the table, and then poised her pencil above her ordering pad.

  “Your biggest bowl of chili, nuke it with cheddar and onions, and bring me a box of crackers to go along with it. And a glass of water and ice, leave the pitcher.”

  “I could write this one on my own and bring it with me. But if I did, you’re just ornery enough to order something else.”

  Tom guffawed.

  Although her gaze was on Millie as she walked away, Sunny spoke to Tom. “You were saying the blood type isn’t Franklin’s.”

  “Nope. Isn’t.”

  Once Millie rounded the cashier’s station, she was out of sight, but Sunny’s gaze remained on the corner of the stand. She asked, “Then whose?”

  “Now that is the question. A really good question. All indications point to the fact that the bat walloped somebody real good. And the prints on the base—there were two good ones—don’t belong to old Franklin either. He was neither the victim nor the one wielding the weapon, but it was found in his attic. When you figure that one out, you let me know.”

  “Then someone else is missing besides Franklin,” Jonathan reasoned. “Somebody’s going to have to go digging.”

  Tom hesitated, gave him a squinted, are-you-serious kind of look. Sunny had also caught what was most likely an unintended pun, but she was too preoccupied to respond to it.

  “What’s next, Tom?” she asked. “What do we do now?”

  “Check the missing person’s file,” he paused and gave Jonathan another squinty look. “And try to date the, uh, tissue on the bat. But I don’t mind sayin’ we got more questions right now than answers.”

  “But as far as we’re concerned,” Jonathan said, “it’s...”

  “Yep. Business as usual. Whatever that is.” He gave each of them a thoughtful look. “Whatever that is,” he repeated. “Anything going on I should know about? Something different about you, both of you, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  Sunny stared at him. No way can it show that we just got out of the same bed. No way, no how.

  Then she reached for the check the same moment Jonathan did. The touch of his hand on hers ignited sparks, and she drew back. A defensive reaction, under the circumstances, and he must’ve caught it because his mouth turned up at the corners as he put bills down to cover the check.

  She stood. “Bye, Tom. See you around.” She managed not to give the deputy sheriff a direct look along with her farewell.

  Jonathan walked beside her on their way out, and she also refused to look at him. You laugh, and I’ll kill you. I swear it.

  But once they’d climbed into the SUV, Jonathan sat behind the wheel without inserting the key for a long enough time that she had to look at him. When she did, she broke up, and they laughed until they had to wipe tears of glee from their eyes. Sure, they had some thorny problems, like a bloody bat and a missing and unidentified body, but hey, they were only human.

  * * *

  Later that week, the phone rang when Sunny was halfway up the stairs with a basket of clean laundry. Criminy. It never fails.

  Carefully she balanced the basket on a stair, hoping it wouldn’t tip and spill sheets and pillowcases out to cascade down the steps, and she raced to the parlor.

  “Hi, doll,” said the voice at the other end.

  “Ryan.” She perched on the arm of the sofa and cradled the phone at her ear. “Hi.”

  “When Jonathan called, I told him that we couldn’t make it up there until next week. But Marcus finagled the time off, I just cleared my calendar, and we’ve got the weekend free until Tuesday. We can be there Saturday for dinner if you’ll cook it.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Speaking of such, Marcus wanted me to tell you how much he likes that chicken dish you make with mushrooms and tomatoes and rice.”

  “He did, huh?”

  “If you’ll cook the chicken, I’ll bring the wine. And dessert.”

  “Deal.”

  “Bye, doll.”

  She hung up, still smiling, then tracked Jonathan down in the backyard where he was toweling dry his truck. Cat sat at a safe distance from the dripping vehicle. She groomed herself, watched a while, then groomed herself some more.

  “Company’s coming,” Sunny announced. “Day after tomorrow. I’ve gotta go shopping. Wanna go with me?”

  He seemed pleased to be invited. She made a list while he finished the car. Since she was the cook, she was also the shopper and she paid the bill. But he snagged the receipts and split every one right down the middle. She figured anyone that precise needed to be that precise, so she let him handle it his way without argument.

  Pushing a grocery cart down the aisle with Jonathan at her side felt almost like an intimate act. Though twice married, she’d never before shared this chore, and suddenly it wasn’t a chore. As she added a six-pack of Sprite to the cart, she eyed the wine section across the aisle.

  She tapped a bottle of Korbel Brut with her fingertip and slanted a look at him. “We could take this and a blanket down to the beach tonight and catch the sunset. What do you think?”

  In response, she got a slow smile.

  She returned it. “I promise not to let the ocean ambush you again.”

  “Have you ever seen that classic with Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr? Maybe we could let the water catch us on purpose.”

  A bored, middle-aged woman who looked tired checked their groceries. Jonathan was reading the TV Guide that had already passed over the price check scanner. The clerk came to the champagne and held it up. “ID?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sunny said. She fumbled in her oversized shoulder bag. Whatever she wanted was always at the bottom, and she looked up apologetically. The woman smothered a yawn while she waited to ring up the total.

  “Never mind. I’ve got it,” Jonathan said.

  The clerk shook her head. “She initiated the sale, she concludes it. She doesn’t have the ID, the bottle goes back on the shelf.”

  “But if I pay for it—”

  “Can it, Jonathan. You’re being stuffy again. Here. I found it.”

  The woman looked at the license, then back up in surprise. “Twenty-six? You sure don’t look it, Ms. Corday.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” She reached for the license, but Jonathan snatched it out of the clerk’s hand. Startled, Sunny stared at him. Then she recalled the woman’s words.

  “Oh,” she said. There was nothing else to say. “Oh.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Laurel Frances Corday,” Jonathan read aloud tonelessly. “Surprise, surprise.”

  He flipped the license onto the counter without looking at Sunny then exited the store.

  The clerk watched the automatic door closing behind him. Her gaze darted to Sunny. “I’m sorry. Did I...?”

  “No. It wasn’t your fault.” Sunny’s tone was as flat as Jonathan’s had been.

  The clerk, who now seemed wide-awake, appeared both c
onfused and interested. Finally groceries were bagged and in the cart and the doors slid open for Sunny on her way out. She wondered if the truck would still be in the lot. Jonathan might’ve been angry enough to take off. If so, she’d find an ATM to get enough cash to pay cab fare out to Corday Cove. Then she’d put herself and her suitcase into the Reviler and get herself back home to San Francisco.

  But the SUV was still there, Jonathan seated behind the wheel. He motioned her to the back and the window rolled down. She loaded the bags by herself and returned the cart to its storing area. Once she’d climbed up onto the seat he started the engine, backed up and pulled out. He gave her nothing but his profile.

  “I’m sorry.” She made her voice as matter-of-fact as possible. Excuses would get her nowhere, and she wasn’t a whiner anyway. “It’s inexcusable that I didn’t properly identify myself before now. You have a right to be angry.”

  He pulled onto the freeway and the truck’s speed increased.

  “It was a lie by omission, yes. But I didn’t actually tell you a lie.” She was splitting hairs, but this was the truth. “Though Laurel is my legal name, no one ever uses it, not even my mother. If I hadn’t changed my last name back after the divorce, you still wouldn’t know who I am. What difference would it make?”

  When she still got no response, she gave up. She wished he’d turn some music on. Anything would be better than this loud silence. If she knew what knobs controlled what, she might do it herself. But he’d put an effective wall up, barring her from him, and most likely from anything that belonged to him.

  At the house he parked in back and then helped carry bags of groceries inside. Cat seemed happy to see them. After locking the truck, Jonathan disappeared down the hall. When Sunny heard his bedroom door close, it carried a final sound.

  She’d never gotten the silent treatment before. Not from her mother, the two men she’d been married to, nor Ryan. She knew what rage was—wow, did she ever—and she knew what strained feelings felt like, but she’d never encountered total silence. She didn’t like it.

  While putting groceries away she came across the Brut. A strong desire to cry arose, yet she also wanted to grip the bottle by the neck and bash it in the sink. She pushed it into the corner of the counter.

  Cat’s cheery greeting was turning into complaining mews. Sunny used the new red feeding bowl she’d just bought to introduce the animal to her first can of cat food. She didn’t like the smell, and Cat didn’t seem to appreciate it either. The animal backed away, still meowing, and tried to wrap herself around her mistress’s ankle. Sunny relented, cut up leftover spaghetti and gave that to her. Cat gobbled it down and Sunny laughed softly. “Well, that’ll be easier on the budget.”

  She went to the back porch, stared at the ocean through the screen, then stepped outside. She hadn’t planned on watching the sun set by herself, but it was too airless and unfriendly inside the house. Cat followed her to the bluff’s edge.

  Sunny stood at the top of the trail, not sure if she wanted to descend or not, and watched the kitten scamper down. Then Cat stopped midway and her ears perked. At the same instant, Sunny became uncomfortable. Quickly she turned, making a circle as she surveyed the area. No movement near the trees, on the bluff in either direction, at the house or on the beach.

  The tide reached only halfway up the sand. The fact she couldn’t see anyone didn’t mean a person couldn’t be down there, sheltered by the overhanging cliff on either side. Even if someone was there, as unusual as that would be, it didn’t necessarily mean menace. But her unease remained.

  Cat was still poised halfway up and halfway down. She’d be more alarmed by a stray dog than a person, and dogs occasionally roamed the beach. That was probably all it was. Sunny patted her leg to capture the pet’s attention. Paranoid or not, she didn’t want to draw notice to herself by calling the animal. After Cat bounded up the incline, they returned to the house. Sunny felt foolish doing it, but she kept checking behind her as she walked. Though it was probably just anxiety built out of her unsettled mood this evening, she couldn’t quite rid herself of a sense of fear.

  * * *

  Cat woke Sunny the next morning by nuzzling her cheek. Sunny was back in her old bedroom. After her return last night, Jonathan had gone out for his own long walk and hadn’t invited her. He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d been inside the supermarket.

  “Umm,” Sunny said, and moved into the nuzzling instead of away from it. She opened her eyes, but it wasn’t Cat. It was Jonathan’s hand. The first time he was up before her. Even more surprising, she hadn’t heard him.

  “Good morning.” His tone was quiet, face sober, mood reflective.

  “Good morning.” For the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I was angry last night.”

  “I...noticed.”

  “I thought you’d been dishonest with me, deliberately led me on, even into an intimate relationship. But I didn’t have the foggiest idea why. I didn’t see where you had anything to gain. Nothing made sense. I also felt like a fool, and that is rough on anyone’s ego.”

  His fingers were warm and soft next to her cheek. She felt mesmerized by his eyes, voice, the touch of his hand.

  “But when I looked at it from your point of view,” he went on. “It made sense.”

  “How’s...that?”

  “On that first day, I’d made some unkind remarks about Laurel.” He paused, the corners of his mouth turning up, and then he chuckled. “You’ve even got me doing it. I’m talking to her, yet I’m still talking about her.”

  Their gazes became level when he knelt next to the bed. She smelled his aftershave and realized that sounds of his shaving hadn’t even awakened her. Apparently she’d grown accustomed to him and no longer heard him. She touched his smooth cheek, drawing him in with all her senses except taste. She turned her face into his hand and lightly closed her teeth on his palm.

  “Hey,” he whispered, eyes softening and growing vibrant at the same time. “Are you going to let me finish explaining? Or what?”

  “Please.” Her voice was as soft as his. “I think you’d just made some unkind remarks about Laurel.”

  “Yes,” he said formally. “At which time you handled yourself and the situation without confrontation. And then it would have been difficult, and may not have seemed necessary, to reintroduce yourself and go back and start all over again. Once we’d made love—which I’d planned, not you—it must have become next to impossible for you to say, hey, guess what?” He paused. “How am I doing? Am I right so far?”

  “Uh, yeah. Keep going. Please.”

  “There really isn’t anything else to cover.” He gave her an exaggerated frown. “Is there?”

  “No. No, I’m not harboring any more secrets.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, continuing to hold her gaze.

  “Jonathan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How can you do that? How is it possible for you to explain me better than I can explain myself?”

  He just smiled. “Sunny?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you think both of us can fit in that dinky bed?”

  She scooted over to make room. “Come on in, and we’ll see.”

  * * *

  “I’ll be adding mushrooms and tomatoes.” Sunny paused, fork poised over a piece of frying chicken as she concentrated on ingredients. “And onion, green pepper and garlic. I think that’s it, but since you like my spaghetti sauce, all of that should be okay.”

  “That’s fine,” Jonathan assured her, looking up from where he knelt on the floor while he entertained Cat with a piece of string.

  “But the rice is cooked and served separately.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And I splurged on asparagus. My favorite.”

  “Sunny, that’s fine.”

  “And...”

  “Sunny, are you nervous?”

  She turned the flame down unde
r the browning chicken and then looked over at him. “Well, now that you mention it. Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  After covering the skillet with its lid she crossed to the refrigerator. “Yes, I do too know. I’ll be sleeping in my own bed this weekend.”

  “Oh.” That gave him pause. “Well, of course you’re going to sleep where you want to. But I’d rather you put tomatoes in the scrambled eggs again instead.”

  She turned to smile at him, but she knew it was a weak one. “I...just feel uncomfortable. Okay?”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know why.” She withdrew a bag of mushrooms, rummaged for garlic. “Jonathan, I don’t always make sense even to myself. There’s no reason to expect me to start making sense now.” A yellow onion and a green pepper joined the array.

  “I understand that,” Jonathan said, looking thoughtful. “And that’s scary. Is your sense of logic contagious?”

  Apparently growing tired of waiting for her playmate, Cat leaped for the string. Jonathan lost it and the animal rolled under the table with it. She looked like a living, furry ball. Laughing, Sunny put the vegetables aside, then knelt next to Jonathan and reached out to the kitten. It forgot the string and attacked her hand with teeth and all four feet but not aggressively enough to leave scratches.

  A red rubber ball lay under the table that the cat must have left there during a previous play session. Sunny rolled it down the hall and Cat passed it up in her eagerness to catch it.

  Still kneeling, the two people on the kitchen floor looked at each other. Then they shared a gentle, chaste kiss.

  “Do you realize how much time you’re talking about?” Jonathan asked.

  “We’re both adults. We can handle it.”

  “That’s tonight, tomorrow night, and Monday night. On Tuesday, you might as well make sandwiches and we’ll take them upstairs with us. I don’t think we’ll be getting out of bed all day.”

  “You’re very funny, Jonathan.”

  “That’s not exactly the adjective I’d use, but we can talk about it again on Tuesday.”