Heroes Are My Weakness(101)

Upholstered furniture and knickknacks stuffed the living room. Amateur oil paintings of boats and buoys hung on the walls, along with half a dozen floral china plates. Every tabletop held family photos: Lisa blowing out birthday candles, Lisa and her brother opening Christmas presents. Even more photos showed off the Rose grandchildren.

Barbara commanded the room from a brown and gold platform rocker. Judy and Louise Nelson sat on the couch. Naomi, who should have been on the water by now, had the love seat to herself. Marie, looking as sour as ever, occupied an easy chair across from Tildy, who’d exchanged her fashionable wardrobe for shapeless sweat pants. None of them were knitting.

Barbara jumped up so quickly that the platform rocker bumped against the wall, rattling a china plate featuring a pair of golden retriever puppies. “Annie! This is a surprise. I suppose you heard about Phyllis Bakely.”

“No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“She had a stroke last night,” Tildy said. “Her husband, Ben, took her to the mainland, and Theo went with them.”

That explained why Theo hadn’t returned to the cottage. But Annie hadn’t driven into town to find him. She stared at the women, taking her time, and finally posing the question she’d come here to ask. “Which one of you tried to shoot me?”





Chapter Twenty-two


A COLLECTIVE GASP TRAVELED AROUND THE knitting circle. Louise leaned forward, as if her elderly ears had missed something. Judy gave a moan of distress, Barbara went rigid, Naomi set her jaw, and Tildy twisted her hands in her lap. Marie recovered the quickest. Her lips pursed and her small eyes narrowed. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Annie advanced into the room, not caring about tracking the carpet. “Why don’t I believe that?”

Barbara reached for the knitting bag by her chair and sat back down. “I think you’d better go. You’re obviously upset by everything that’s happened, but that’s no reason—”

Annie cut her off. “Upset doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Really, Annie.” Tildy puffed up with indignation.

Annie spun toward Barbara, who’d begun riffling through her knitting bag. “You’re an island trustee. But there are six others. Do they know what you’ve done?”

“We haven’t done anything,” Naomi said in her sea captain’s voice.

Marie grabbed her own knitting bag. “You have no business barging in here and making these kinds of accusations. You need to leave.”

“That’s exactly what you’ve wanted from the beginning,” Annie said. “To make me leave. And you, Barbara. Pretending to befriend me when all you wanted was to get rid of me.”

Barbara’s needles moved faster. “I didn’t pretend anything. I like you very much.”

“Sure you do.” Annie stepped farther into the room, making sure they understood that she wasn’t leaving. She cast her eyes around the group, searching for the weak link and finding it. “What about your grandkids, Judy? Knowing what you’ve done, how will you ever look in the face of that little boy Theo delivered without remembering this?”

“Judy, don’t pay attention to her.” Tildy’s order held a tinge of desperation.

Annie focused on Judy Kester with her bright red hair, sunny disposition, and generous spirit. “What about your other grandkids? Do you really think they’ll never find out about this? You’ve set the example. They’re going to learn from you that it’s okay to do whatever it takes to get what you want, no matter whom you hurt on the way.”

Judy was designed for laughter, not confrontation. She dropped her face into her hands and began to cry, the silver crosses at her earlobes dropping against her cheek.

Annie was dimly aware of the front door opening, but she didn’t stop. “You’re a religious woman, Judy. How do you reconcile your faith with what you’ve done to me?” She took in the whole group. “How do any of you?”

Tildy twisted her wedding ring. “I don’t know what you think we’ve done . . .” Her voice faltered. “But . . . you’re wrong.”

“We all know I’m not.” Annie felt Theo behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was the one who’d come in.

“You can’t prove anything.” Marie’s defiance didn’t ring true.

“Shut up, Marie,” Judy said with uncharacteristic vehemence. “This has gone on long enough. Too long.”

“Judy . . .” Naomi’s voice sounded a warning note. At the same time, she gripped her elbows across her chest, as if she were in pain.

Louise spoke for the first time. At eighty-three, her spine was bowed from osteoporosis, but she held her head high. “It was my idea. All mine. I did everything. They’re trying to protect me.”

“So noble,” Annie drawled.

Theo came to Annie’s side. He was scruffy and unshaven, but he carried himself with a tough kind of elegance that commanded everyone’s attention. “You didn’t trash the cottage by yourself, Mrs. Nelson,” he said. “And, forgive me, but you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.”

“We didn’t break anything,” Judy cried. “We were very careful.”