Surfside Sisters(26)

All her life she had been privy to the secrets of Isabelle’s life and house and family. And Isabelle had known about hers. Where the cookie sheet was stored, and the clean towels, and for that matter, the tampons. The mildly pornographic magazines Sebastian had hidden under his mattress on the side of his bed next to the wall. Donna Maxwell’s birth control pills were in the drawer of her bedside table, beneath a box of allergy tablets.

And Isabelle knew the same things about Keely’s house, although not as much, since Keely had no sibling. She knew the left back burner on the stove didn’t work anymore. She knew what Keely’s mother’s bras looked like—formidably built for support, not seduction. Keely and Isabelle had actually tried them on when they were thirteen and Eloise was at the hospital, working—they’d nearly peed themselves laughing. And of course Isabelle knew that Keely’s family didn’t have as much money as hers. Keely was well aware that the Maxwells were, in her judgment, rich. The big house, the trips abroad, the nice cars.

    But Keely never knew that Mr. Maxwell was her father’s lawyer. When her mother told her, Keely cringed. This was embarrassing. Mr. Maxwell was so rich, and her father had been so, well, not rich. Besides, it was such an intrusion into Keely’s family’s personal life! Her father and Mr. Maxwell had never been friends. What had her father been thinking?

Well, of course, he certainly hadn’t been thinking that he would die of a heart attack at sixty. He hadn’t been thinking that having Aloysius Maxwell for a lawyer might embarrass Keely.

Keely dragged herself from the sanctuary of the bathroom. “I’m ready. Want me to drive?”

“Please,” Eloise said, her voice still hoarse from crying.

Mr. Maxwell’s office was on the second floor of a handsome white building on Centre Street. Keely found a parking spot on India Street and walked with her mother to the office. A heat wave had melted the March snow and brought sunshine to the island. People window-shopped, children laughed, dogs barked. The world seemed like a bright, happy, reasonable place.

Eloise and Keely went up the stairs and into the law office of Maxwell and Dunstan.

Courtney Paget, ten years older than Keely, sat behind the receptionist’s desk. She smiled professionally and ushered them into Mr. Maxwell’s private domain. Mr. Maxwell came around from behind his enormous mahogany partner’s desk, and briefly embraced them both.

“Eloise, Keely. This is such a sad time for all of us.”

Eloise nodded agreement.

    “Please sit.” He indicated the handsome leather chairs in front of his desk.

“Would you like coffee or tea?” Courtney asked.

Eloise shook her head.

“No, thanks, Courtney,” Keely said, managing a polite smile.

Courtney left the room, gently pulling the door shut after her.

Mr. Maxwell wore a handsome pin-striped suit. A striped tie. He was older than her father had been, but looked ten years younger.

Mr. Maxwell leaned over the table to hand a folder to Eloise. “You both know how sorry I am that we’ve lost George. It’s a tragedy. He was so young. Too young to go.”

“Thank you,” Eloise whispered.

Keely could tell her mother was gripping the folder with all her might, as if that was the only thing keeping her from wailing.

“But now we have to speak about estate matters. Are you ready to do this, Eloise?”

Her mother cleared her throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Thank you. I won’t waste time. Eloise, you asked me to review your financial statements, and I have. George has willed his entire estate to you. Unfortunately, when George died, his finances were not as healthy as one might have wished.”

Eloise asked, “What does that mean?”

Mr. Maxwell sighed. “To be blunt, George had no savings. He wasn’t able to leave you any money. He had no life insurance. You understand you had to borrow against the mortgage on the house to pay for the cremation expenses. You have a good job at the hospital, Eloise. You’re senior staff. But after studying your finances, I have to advise you that alone, without George’s income, you won’t be able to make the mortgage payments. Or pay the homeowners’ insurance or real estate taxes.” He handed Eloise a sheet of numbers.

Eloise stared at the pages blindly. “Do I have to sell the house?”

Mr. Maxwell steepled his fingers. “If you sold it, you could only remain on the island if you bought a less expensive, which means much smaller, place. You know how real estate prices have changed in the past few years. Houses cost much more now than they used to.”

    Keely cut in. “So Mom would get a good amount of money if she sold.”

Mr. Maxwell nodded. “True, Keely. You’re absolutely right. But you need to think about where your mother could find another suitable home. Also, your father left a substantial debt to the mortgage. There wouldn’t be much profit to put toward a down payment somewhere new.”

Keely thought quickly. “We could leave the island. Mom, you could have a house as nice as ours for much less money. And you’re a nurse, you can get a job anywhere.”

Her mother spoke, her voice cracking. “I don’t want to leave the island. I was born here. You were born here. My friends are here. My work is here.”

Mr. Maxwell didn’t speak, but he focused his attention on Keely, waiting for her to understand what she had to do. She looked at Mr. Maxwell, who had treated her as one of his own for so many years, or if not as one of his own, definitely the favorite of all his children’s friends. He’d carried her on his shoulders. He’d pulled up a chair for her at their dining room table. He’d invited her out to dinner with the rest of the family for his daughter’s birthday. They had a past between them, and wasn’t that some kind of bridge?