Beach Thriller(41)
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The local hot spot on the boardwalk—the Dairy Dip—had a long line, but that wasn’t unusual for this time of year. It was one reason Anna was grateful to no longer work there. The other reason was Conrad. If she’d kept the Dairy Dip gig, there’d have been no party, no fountain, and no destiny.
“Best place in town for a sugar fix.” Conrad flashed a wide smile. “I’m getting my usual—a soft-serve twist. I probably won’t even have to order; they know what I want here.”
He was fishing for his wallet when they heard an unctuous, high-pitched voice behind them.
“Oh, there you are, sweetheart! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Anna turned and laid eyes on Elizabeth, who looked like she had just stepped out of a Sports Illustrated photo shoot in her blue string bikini and white gauze cover-up, which didn’t cover up much of anything.
“I was just talking about you!” she chirped, slipping one arm around her fiancé and extending the other toward Anna to show off her dazzling diamond ring. “Isn’t it amazing? I knew I could trust Conrad to find the perfect piece!”
Anna and Holly barely acknowledged the audacious rock on her finger. They turned their attention to the menu board instead, even though they knew it by heart.
Elizabeth scoffed. “Love, don’t waste time here. We have plans, and I don’t want to be late. Remember? We’re meeting my girlfriends for cocktails before the concert.”
“Oh, right, what time?” Conrad pulled at the roots of his hair like he could extract the memory.
“Soon. We really need to go shower and get ready.” Elizabeth traced her finger down his chest, her intense, seductive gaze fixed on his eyes. Anna had a vision of them in the shower together, their soap-lathered bodies pressed against each other. Her stomach flipped, and she immediately shoved the thought away.
Conrad perked up. “Oh, okay … Anna, Holly, instead of ice cream, how about joining us tonight? There’s a whole group heading to a concert—it’s an amazing lineup.”
“Conrad, honey,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Don’t embarrass them.” She glanced over at Anna. “The tickets cost a lot, and I’m sure they can’t afford to go.”
Anna’s face flushed hot. How dare she?
Conrad shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Anna thought he always knew what to say, but this time, he seemed at a loss for words. That didn’t last long. “Hey, sorry, um … let’s take a rain check on ice cream. And look, I know you both have a cool catering gig this summer, but if money is tight, my mom is looking for help at the house. Come by anytime; I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Holly grumbled, but it was unclear if Conrad heard her.
“I’ll come by tomorrow,” Anna blurted.
Elizabeth beamed. “Oh, how sweet,” she said, her voice layered with contempt. “You’ll look cute with a duster.”
Conrad offered an awkward smile while Elizabeth guided him away, their arms entwined. As they exited the Dairy Dip, Elizabeth tossed a Cheshire-cat grin over her shoulder, leaving Anna without a drop of ice cream or a shred of dignity.
Chapter 25
Jade
The heavy door knocker falls with a thud. A moment later, Sid ushers me inside. He’s dressed impeccably once more—a dapper dark suit, not a speck of lint.
“Jade Jensen. Back for day number two. And to think they say your generation lacks grit and common sense. I guess one out of two isn’t bad.”
I offer an uneasy laugh as Sid steps aside to let me in. I sort of agree with him. Part of me can’t believe I’m back. Conrad’s explosive behavior should have warned me away like alarm bells, smoke signals, and a crack of thunder all rolled into one. But what can I say? I like money. And I might like a good mystery even more.
Miramar has me under its spell.
I keep hearing that familiar piano melody from the tower, and it’s struck a chord. I can’t believe, after my long journey, that I find myself in a gothic seaside setting—like Manderley in Rebecca—a place full of secrets, tinged with darkness, and rife with closed-off areas that beg to be explored.
The grounds even have an honest-to-goodness ruin. Holly should be the one working here, gathering inspiration for her novel, though it’s obvious she’s done that already. Holly might claim the book is all fiction, but the Miramar in Beach Thriller is pretty true to life. Now I wonder if I could help her finish her story.
As I walk through the vast foyer that echoes with traces of yesteryear, the eyes of stoic figures in massive portraits appear to follow my every move. The high-vaulted ceiling amplifies my footsteps, drawing attention to the loneliness of the space. Miramar is enormous, which might be why it feels so desolate. A house like this should be bustling with staff and guests. Is that why Maeve is reviving the Barefoot Beach Ball? Can she no longer stand the isolation?
Even the threadbare rug stretched across the center of the cold flagstone floor adds little cheer. The air feels damp; the curtains are drawn, keeping the sun out and the moisture in. Is joy not allowed in this house? It’s no wonder Rose is so miserable.
It seems Old Sid, who leads me up a wide staircase to Maeve’s second-floor bedroom, his steps so tentative that he uses my arm as a second railing, may be too close to death to care.