Whiskey and whispers, p.9
Whiskey and Whispers, page 9
As she’d tossed and turned last night, she’d had to admit to herself that she’d compared Tate to every other man she’d dated. And none of them had come out on top. In the last ten years, she hadn’t even been close to being serious with anyone.
She’d always said that it was her job that kept her mostly single and dating casually. In reality, it was because she’d never forgotten the boy that she’d left behind. Except that he was a man now, and they’d both grown up.
“It’s fine,” she finally replied, pretending to inspect the windows to the backyard. “We’re both adults.”
Winnie’s gaze was speculative, sweeping Cat up and down before replying.
“Tate is one of the most eligible bachelors, not just in Winslow Heights, but probably the entire state. He’s sexy, funny, intelligent, and rich. Not just trust fund rich, either. He’s a successful businessman on his own. It wouldn’t be crazy if you still carried a torch for him. Lord knows, the women around here throw themselves at him like he’s a movie star - not that he invites that sort of behavior.”
“I’m not carrying a torch for anyone.”
Cat tried to keep her tone light and teasing, but she was already wondering about all of these women. How many had there been since she’d left?
That’s none of my business.
“I’m just saying it would make sense,” Winnie said. “It would make quite the story, too. The local gossip would eat it up. Rich local heartthrob reunites with supermodel first love. Your kids would certainly win the gene pool lottery.”
How many times had Cat pictured what their children would look like? Too many to count. “We’re friends.”
Cat didn’t know what else to say. What she and Tate were wasn’t any of Winnie’s business.
Luckily, the other woman didn’t take any offense at Cat’s terse response, simply launching into a monologue about how bright and airy the home was and how it was perfect for entertaining.
After they toured the upstairs, Winnie locked up the house and tapped out a message on her phone.
“I have to tell you that this house might go quickly. There’s a lot of interest in it, and it’s only been on the market for one day. If you want it, you should put in an offer as soon as possible. I’d hate to see someone else snatch this out from under you. There’s nothing worse than falling in love with a house and then not getting it.”
“I do like it. It’s the best we’ve seen.”
“It won’t get much better than this, and it’s priced to move. Have your mom see it. Or Tate. They can give you their opinion. But don’t take too much time. The clock is ticking. Give me a call later. Sorry, I must fly. I’m showing a condo in ten minutes. No rest for the weary. Or is it wicked? I’m never sure which it is. Either way, call me.”
As Cat drove back to her mom’s house, she almost turned toward the downtown area. She could casually stop into Tate’s Tavern and have some lunch.
But she turned right instead.
She wasn’t sure what she wanted. How could she ask him to be?
Tate rolled up the storage warehouse door, revealing all the contents within - mostly stacks of moving boxes and a few pieces of furniture.
He deliberately did not allow himself to think about last night with Cat. It was all too confusing, and he needed to keep his concentration where it needed to be. Later, he would think about that kiss.
That amazing, wonderful kiss, and whether it should have even happened.
“I don’t know what I expected,” his oldest brother Zack said. “But this wasn’t it.”
“Were you expecting a single box labeled ‘All secrets contained within’?” Cooper joked. “Mom would never be that obvious.”
“I think the better question is, why did she even have this storage unit?” Tate said. “There is plenty of storage in the house and on the grounds. She didn’t need to do this.”
“Or she definitely needed to do this,” Cooper replied. “Because it was something she didn’t want Dad to see or know about.”
“Far be it for me to defend our father, but we don’t know what he knows or doesn’t know,” Tate reminded them. “It’s a long shot, but he could be completely innocent.”
“You don’t really believe that,” Zack scoffed. “Our old man hasn’t been innocent since he got out of diapers. He’s been a scheming shit since kindergarten.”
In Joel Winslow’s senior yearbook, his class had voted him Most Likely to Take Over the World.
“Just trying to be fair,” Tate laughed. “I don’t want us to be so blinded that we’re not open to other theories.”
“Dad may be innocent of Mom’s disappearance, but he knows more than he’s letting on,” Cooper said. “I’d bet cash money on it.”
“There’s only one way to know if any of this is helpful. We have to go through it all with a fine-tooth comb,” Tate said. “Do we have the okay to remove the contents?”
“We do,” Cooper confirmed. “The owner of this place is a pretty nice guy, and he’s been reasonable about all of this. It helps that he knows that eventually the money would have run out, and he’d have to reach out anyway to get paid or vacate.”
“And Dad doesn’t know?” Tate pressed. “Because if he gets wind of this—”
“We’re good,” Zack assured him. “If he does happen to find out, by then we will have gone through all of this stuff. If he wants what’s left, I won’t fight him.”
Tate ran a finger through the line of dust on an old rocking chair. He recognized it only when he moved a few boxes sitting on it.
It was like getting kicked in the heart.
“Mom used to rock all of us in the chair,” he choked out. He had distinct memories of sitting on his mother’s lap when he was sick. She’d rock and sing to him until he fell asleep. “How did this get here?”
Images of his childhood filled his head, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Most days, he was fine. Life went on, after all. The world didn’t stop because he was hurting, and he didn’t expect it to.
But moments like this swiftly brought back all the grief and uncertainty as if it all happened only yesterday. He could still hear his mother’s voice the last time he’d talked to her. She’d told him she loved him. He was happy that he’d said it back. He only wished he’d said more, but then he hadn’t known he’d never speak to her again.
You were the best mom. I love you so much. Thank you for everything. I miss you.
“I know,” Cooper said quietly, placing his hand on Tate’s shoulder. “I know.”
“How did any of this get here?” Zack asked, opening up a dusty box. “That’s the real question. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes sense if Mom wanted to keep these things, but Dad didn’t,” Cooper argued. “You know how he is. He would have had one of his employees get rid of it behind Mom’s back. I’m sure she knew that, too.”
“Let’s load all of this into the truck,” Zack said. “We can store it all in my spare room. I’ve already cleared it with Lucy. She thinks it’s a good idea to keep it all away from Dad. Even Dad wouldn’t have someone break into my house to get the items.”
“Assuming that any of this has any meaning to him,” Tate replied. “He may not care.”
“He has his new family, after all,” Cooper said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. Of all the Winslow kids, Cooper had the most difficult relationship with Joel. “All of this is just his past, which he only cares about when it’s convenient for him. At least that’s what I’m going to say to him if he kicks up a fuss.”
“He just doesn’t like not being in control,” Zack said. “That’s all it would be about. Control. Even after Mom’s gone.”
“Then he should get therapy for that,” Cooper scoffed. “I’m not inclined to coddle him about anything. He never did for us.”
As efficiently as possible, they loaded all the unit’s contents into the pickup truck they’d borrowed from one of Cooper’s friends and drove it to Zack’s house. Lucy was still at the bookstore when they unloaded it all, placing it in the empty room.
“Where do we start?” Cooper asked when they were done. “The boxes, I guess? See what Mom thought was important enough to save?”
The first few boxes were filled with clothes, casual and fancy. Cooper held up a sparkly lavender halter dress for closer inspection.
“These would probably be worth a fortune now,” he said. “Vintage designer clothes in excellent condition go for a pretty penny. Not that I’m suggesting we sell. I’m just making an observation. Even the shorts and jeans. They don’t make clothes like this anymore. One of my friends has a wife who collects vintage Levis. She’d go crazy over these. Why do you think Mom packed all of this away?”
“From the style, I’m guessing these were her clothes from before most of us were born,” Zack replied. “Maybe she couldn’t wear them anymore, or maybe she thought they might come back in style later on, so she kept them.”
“They did come back in style,” Tate said. “A few times. And they will again, I’m betting. Mom had good taste, too. Frankie and Piper might want some of these.”
Tate couldn’t help but notice the guilty look exchanged between Zack and Cooper.
“What? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Zack cleared his throat before replying.
“We haven’t actually mentioned this to anyone else in the family. We weren’t sure it would amount to anything, and we didn’t want to raise anyone’s hopes only to disappoint them later.”
This sounded like something Zack might do, but Cooper? He’d kept many secrets over the years, but they’d all been about him personally, not about their mother.
“You didn’t tell them? We’re the only ones who know? Not even Sam?”
“Not Sam, Frankie, or Piper,” Zack confirmed. “You can tell me I’m wrong if you want to.”
“Okay, you’re wrong. Cooper, what are your thoughts?”
“I told him it was a mistake,” Cooper said. “But I also said that I wouldn’t tattle on him. But if they find out and they’re pissed, I’m totally throwing him under the bus. There’s no question about that. He’s toast. Frankie might kill him.”
“I’d be more afraid of Piper,” Tate replied. “She fights dirty. Seriously, big brother. You thought this was a good idea?”
“I didn’t want to have them get hurt,” Zack explained.
“We’re all already hurt,” Tate shot back. “You playing games like Dad isn’t going to make this any better.”
“Ouch. You’re comparing me to Dad?”
“Yes, he’d say the same thing. I can hear him now telling us that he was only trying to protect us, and he was doing it for our own good. Sound familiar?”
His older brother had the good sense to look ashamed. Zack wasn’t usually this thoughtless.
“I didn’t want them to get emotional,” Zack finally admitted. “I didn’t want to deal with their emotions and mine, too.”
“Luckily, you and I don’t have any emotions,” Cooper joked. “Telling us was no big deal.”
“We have to tell them,” Tate insisted. “Not this second, but today. Nothing good is going to come from keeping secrets. They’re going to be pissed that they didn’t get to come with us.”
“I’ll take the fall,” Zack said. “I’ll tell them it was my fault.”
“Good, because it is,” Cooper replied. “Piper is going to kick you straight in the balls.”
When they’d been kids, and Piper had been the littlest, it had been her go-to self-defense move. She’d once kicked Sam so hard, they’d all been sure his grandchildren would feel it.
To be fair, Sam had been acting like a dick to Piper and deserved some retribution. Whether a goal kick was a “proportional” response could be debated, but it had stopped Sam from teasing his little sister for a long time.
Piper had gotten in trouble, and Sam had gotten a frozen bag of peas for his groin area. Everyone else in the family received a lesson in what their sister was capable of. Lesson learned.
“I hope Piper has grown out of that behavior,” Zack said. “As kids, it was kind of funny. As adults, it’s assault and illegal.”
“You would have your own sister arrested?” Tate asked.
“No, but she doesn’t need to know that.”
After they looked through all of the boxes with clothes, they moved on to the others. A few were filled with receipts, and a few years of the family’s tax paperwork.
“This can all probably be shredded,” Zack said. “This is long past any retention rules for the IRS. Did Dad not want to store any of this in his office at home? I see that it’s only personal taxes. There’s nothing for the business here.”
“Why wouldn’t Dad just store it at the office?” Cooper queried, his brows pinched together in a frown. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re right,” Tate agreed. “It doesn’t make sense. That’s what makes this so interesting. If Mom brought these particular years of tax papers here, she did it for a reason. Where can we find a forensic accountant? Maybe Dad was up to something, and Mom put this here for evidence.”
Joel Winslow didn’t think that rules and laws applied to him. Only the regular people needed to abide by them. In other words, the “poor” people.
“But she never got the chance to do anything,” Zack said. “Shit, I hate this. I hate not trusting my own father.”
“Or uncle, or aunt. Or anyone else on Dad’s payroll,” Cooper said. “I have no idea how to find a forensic accountant, but I think we need one. I agree that Mom didn’t store these papers here for no reason.”
“I still have contacts in the financial world,” Zack replied. “I can make a few calls.”
They set the boxes aside and continued their mission. The next few were filled with photos and memorabilia. Tate’s chest tightened as he sifted through old pictures of his young, radiant, and happy mother.
“I’ve never seen these photos of her,” Cooper remarked, looking over Tate’s shoulder. “Piper and Mom could be twins.”
“Frankie looks like her, too. But she has Dad’s chin.”
“Frankie looks like Aunt Kim,” Cooper replied with a shake of his head. “Not that I’d ever say that out loud to her. But she does. You look like Uncle Rick.”
“And you look like Uncle Henry, but we don’t say that out loud either,” Zack laughed.
Uncle Henry wasn’t a blood relative of their father, Joel. Just a good friend. They had joked in their youth about who most resembled Uncle Henry. Later, they all decided that their mom had better taste than to ever get involved with Henry, for whom they had little patience. He was Joel Winslow’s yes-man and had been for over forty years.
“Who is this guy?”
Tate held out the photo to his brothers. He’d never seen this picture of his mother before. It looked like it was taken in some tropical location with palm trees in the background. His mother and the man were smiling, holding up their pina coladas as if toasting. They looked tanned and happy, as if the world were their oyster.
Cooper and Zack studied the photo but were as mystified as Tate.
“By the hair, clothes, and makeup, I’d place this as taken sometime in the eighties,” Cooper said. “Mom looks really young here. Early twenties at most, maybe about nineteen. But I’ve never seen this guy before. Maybe he was just some random she met at a tiki bar on vacation and had a drink with him.”
Tate dug deeper into the photos, quickly scanning them.
“There are more,” he said, sifting them into a separate pile for their perusal. “He must have been a friend. There are dozens of these, and not just in a beach bar.”
There were mostly group photos of people Tate didn’t recognize, but they all appeared to be happy and having a good time.
“Maybe this is someone Mom dated before she married Dad,” Zack suggested. “Or maybe they were just friends.”
“Friends she never saw or talked about,” Tate said. “That seems strange.”
“People get older, move on,” Cooper replied. “They don’t always stay in touch. For all we know, Mom and her friends had a group on Facebook or something where they talked. We could check the wedding album. Maybe her friends were there, too. I haven’t seen it since I was a kid.”
“I’d like to talk to some of her friends if we can find them,” Zack said. “Do they even know that Mom disappeared? They might know why she kept these mementos in a storage locker instead of at home.”
“I can look through the yearbooks,” Cooper offered. “Try to match these faces to anything I might find in them.”
“I’m going to try and see if I can contact Uncle Mark,” Tate said. “He might know about these people.”
“Uncle Mark?” Zack echoed, a dubious expression on his face. “When was the last time anyone heard from him? We’d have better luck finding Bigfoot.”
Mark was their mother’s younger brother. He hadn’t been around much when they were growing up. Tate had the impression that his dad didn’t like Mark since he wasn’t in the business of chasing after every dollar he could get his hands on. Mark was a musician, and last they’d heard, he was doing studio work in Los Angeles. After his sister’s disappearance, Mark had kept to himself. If he’d ever reached out, Tate hadn’t heard about it.
“All the more reason to try and find him,” Tate replied. “He’s made himself scarce these last ten years. I think I’d like to ask him why.”
“I’m not sure you’re going to like the answer,” Cooper replied grimly. “But I understand why you’d want to. I’d like to have a conversation with Uncle Mark, as well.”
“Everyone has their assignments then,” Zack said. “I’m going to look for a forensic accountant. Tate is going to try and find Uncle Mark, and Cooper is going to look through the yearbooks for faces in the pictures.”
That sounded great, but he’d left one thing out…
“Let’s not forget that we need to tell the others about this storage unit,” Tate reminded his older brother. “The longer we put off telling them, the more pissed off they’re going to be.”
