I'm very fond of Coco,
Megan told her.
You embarrassed her.
Embarrassed her? Ha! She and that tattooed hulk have been mooning around after each other for days. Gave her a prod is what I did.
But she eyed Megan craftily.
Loyal when if s deserved, are you?
lam.
And so am I. I made a few calls this morning, to some friends in Boston. Influential friends. Hush,
she ordered when Megan started to speak.
Detest politics myself,
but it's often necessary to dance with the devil. Dumont should be being made aware, at this moment, that any contact with you, or your son, will fatally jeopardize his ambitions. He will not trouble you again.
Megan pressed her lips together. She wanted her voice to be steady. No matter what she had said, how she had pretended, there had been an icy fear, like a cold ax balanced over her head, of what Baxter might do. In one stroke, Colleen had removed it.
Why did you do it?
I loathe bullies. I particularly loathe bullies who interfere with the contentment of my family.
I'm not your family,
Megan said softly.
Ha! Think again. You stuck your toe in Calhoun waters, girl. We're like quicksand.
You're a Calhoun now, and you're stuck.
Tears rushed into her eyes, blinding her.
Miss Calhoun
Megan's words were cut
off by the impatient rap of Colleen's cane. After a sniffle, Megan began again.
Aunt
Colleen,
she corrected, understanding.
I'm very grateful.
So you should be.
Colleen coughed to clear her own husky voice. Then she raised it to a shout.
Come back in here, the lot of you! Stop listening at the door!
It swung open, Coco leading the way. She walked to Colleen, bent, kissed the papery cheek.
Stop all this nonsense.
She waved her grandnieces away.
I want the girl to tell
me how that strapping young man tossed that bully in the drink.
Megan laughed, wiped her eyes.
He choked him first.
Ha!
Colleen rapped her cane in appreciation.
Don't spare the details.
Chapter 9
B. behaving oddly. Since return to island for summer she is absentminded, daydreaming. Arrived late for tea, forgot luncheon appointment.
Intolerable. Unrest in Mexico annoying. Dismissed valet. Excess starch in shirts.
Unbelievable, Megan thought, staring at the notes Fergus had written in his crabbed hand beside stock quotations. He could speak of his wife, a potential war and his valet in the same faintly irritated tone. What a miserable life Bianca must have had.
How terrible to be trapped in a marriage, ruled by a despot and without any power to captain your own destiny.
How much worse, she thought, if Bianca had loved him.
As she often did in the quiet hours before sleep, Megan flipped through the pages to the series of numbers. She had time now to regret that she'd never made it to the library.
Or perhaps Amanda was a better bet. Amanda might know whether Fergus had had foreign bank accounts, safe-deposit boxes.
Peering down, she wondered whether that was the answer. The man had had homes in Maine and in New York. These could be the numbers of various safe-deposit boxes. Even combinations to safes he'd kept in his homes.
That i.e. appealed to her, a straightforward answer to a small but nagging puzzle. A man as obsessed with his wealth and the making of money as Fergus Calhoun had been would very likely have kept a few secret stores.