The Wife Stalker(27)
“He’s young. He’s hurting,” Leo said. “Please. Give him some time.”
“Of course I will,” she answered, wanting to reassure him.
They finished their meal in silence, and by the time she cleared their plates, Piper had made up her mind to commit to patience. She wasn’t about to lose Leo over the antics of his overindulged son.
After dinner, they strolled down to the shoreline. The night air was still, and the light of the full moon shone on the Sound like a Monet. With their arms around each other, they stood, looking at the calm sea.
“So beautiful out here,” Leo said.
“Mmm. I love it here. The moment I saw the house, I knew I had to have it.”
He dropped his arm from her waist and turned to face her. “Do you think you could be happy somewhere else?”
“Happiness comes from inside, Leo. It’s not a place.”
“What I meant was, could you leave this house?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He went down on one knee and took her hands in his. “Will you marry me, Piper Reynard?”
She was overwhelmed at how quickly it had all happened. She gently tugged his hand, and he stood, so they were face-to-face. “Yes,” she whispered. She put her arms around his neck, pulled him to her, and kissed him.
He pulled away and caressed her cheek. “I don’t want you to worry. Everything is going to work out. Believe me. We will become a happy, united family. And I will love you forever.”
“I believe you, Leo,” she said, and buried her head against his shoulder. “And I’ll love you forever, too.”
20
Joanna
When I got home from downtown, my mother was sitting in her favorite chair, her leg propped up, while her aide Molly served her a sandwich. Mom’s insurance paid for this nursing help, but I was so grateful for the break it gave me, I would have gladly paid out of pocket. I gave Molly an apologetic smile as Mom talked nonstop at her, recounting every last detail of her fall and her time in the hospital.
“You were very lucky, Mrs. Doyle. It could have been much worse,” Molly said.
“Humph. I wouldn’t exactly call a broken leg lucky.” Mom took a bite of her sandwich and made a face. “This has mustard. I asked for turkey with mayonnaise, not mustard.” She dropped it onto the plate and pushed it away from her.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, picking up the offending dish before Molly could. “Are you feeling any better today?”
She nodded. “A little. The pain is better, but my leg swells up if I stand for too long. Getting old is not for the faint of heart, I’ll tell you that.” She sighed loudly. “I don’t know why I can’t ever seem to catch a break. The only silver lining is that now you spend more time with me.”
It took everything I had to keep from losing it with her. I knew she was selfish, but her unwillingness to see that her accident had cost me everything was beyond comprehension.
“Well, Molly is still here for a few hours, so I’m going to go do some work on my computer for a while.”
“What work?”
“Just updating my résumé,” I lied.
“I hope you realize that you can’t take a job yet. I’m not ready to be on my own.”
I left her there without answering and went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. As it brewed, I typed “Pamela and Matthew Dunn San Diego” into the search bar of my laptop. The page filled with item after item on Matthew: a 5K run on the Bay to fund-raise for literacy, real estate transactions, a father-daughter dance. Then I saw a page with both their names for the Red Cross Ball in Palm Beach. I enlarged one of the photos. They were on the dance floor, and though the woman in the picture had dark brown hair, not blond, her figure looked like Piper’s, and from the little I could see of her face, it could definitely be her.
I searched for his obituary next and clicked on it. Matthew Dunn was society with a capital S. He’d come from a pedigreed family with generations of wealth and standing. I studied the picture of him. He was good-looking in a bland sort of way—watery blue eyes, sandy-colored hair, tall, and thin. He had his arm around a beautiful young girl. According to the article, both he and his daughter, Mia, had drowned while sailing in Mission Bay. There wasn’t much detail about the accident, though, as the article focused more on his philanthropy and contributions to his community.
I tried to find a number for Ava Dunn, but not surprisingly, it was unlisted. She had no Facebook or Instagram presence, either. I still hoped that Brent would give Ava my phone number and she’d get in touch, but if I didn’t hear anything tomorrow, I’d call him. In the meantime, I decided to see if Matthew’s daughter had had a Facebook account and typed in “Mia Dunn.” I felt a pinch in my heart at all the messages of condolence on what had been turned into a memorial page, post after post saying how much they’d miss her, filled with little teddy bear emojis and hearts and angels. I clicked through to look at her photos. She looked like a lovely girl. She’d sailed, played tennis and chess, and also played the violin. I pressed Play on a video of her giving a school concert, and realized that she’d been good. Very good. What a tragedy that her life had been cut so short. There were also pictures of a younger Mia with Matthew and a woman I assumed to be Ava, her mother. They looked happy. How had Piper managed to lure him away?