The Summer Escape
Chapter 1
At the ripe old age of eight, Anna Moore decided she knew enough about engineering and physics to design a cape so she could fly. It went without saying that “flying” off her family’s second- story deck into a pile of soft, spongy Tahoe snow— which had in fact been neither soft nor spongy— had gone badly.
As an adult, she understood the ridiculous plan had come from the part of her brain responsible for stupid ideas. Older now, and hopefully wiser, Anna had long ago locked that part of herself away and given up being a wild child. It’d definitely taken her longer than it should’ve, but eventually she’d accepted that it was safer to live life by the book.
Apparently though, she still had to learn her lessons the hard way. Or as in today’s case, the really hard way. She’d told Mari, her entire support staff at her private investigations firm, that she didn’t need backup today. So there she stood, alone in the alley of the bar she’d been staking out for a case, having run into the pissed- off ex- husband of a different client. The guy was as big and mean as the Sierra mountains behind him and, oh goodie, held a knife in his hand.
Some days it didn’t pay to get out of bed.
Anna had her back pressed to the brick wall behind her and her hands out in front of her, signaling she came in peace, wondering how to reach the Mace in her back pocket without his noticing. Problem was, while he towered threateningly over her, he wasn’t quite close enough for a well- aimed knee to the crotch.
So yeah, hindsight being twenty- twenty and all, she could’ve used backup. And where the hell was everyone anyway? It was broad daylight, and the bar, part of a beautiful little shopping village, sat right across the street from Lake Tahoe. Normally on a gorgeous July day like this, there’d be people swarming everywhere. But today . . . not a soul. Seemed her luck was on point as always. “Okay, Gerald, you’ve got my attention. Let’s talk this out.”
“You testified against me in court and Tish got custody of Brownie.”
Brownie being a nine- pound Shih Tzu. “Yes,” she said. “Because you went off the rails during mediation and threatened to bake Brownie like, well, a brownie.”
Gerald’s massive shoulders drooped, and a flash of shame crossed his face as he lowered his knife. “I’m sorry. But I never would’ve done it. Brownie’s my baby. I rescued him at five days old and bottle- fed him for weeks. Tish didn’t even want him.”
His eyes went misty. “He’s all I’ve got left, and now he’s gone too.”
From inside her pocket, her phone buzzed an incoming text, and she knew from the air of superiority surrounding it who it was from. “Listen,” she said. “That’s my big sister, and trust me when I tell you that if I don’t respond immediately, she’ll send out the cops, SWAT, and the National Guard.” This was probably not even a fib. Hi, she was twenty- eight, and her sister, only six years older, still tried to mother/smother her on the daily.
“I’m the baby of the family too,” Gerald said sympathetically.
“I’ve got four older sisters who never leave me alone. They’re always bossing me around and tell me what to do.”
“So you understand me,” Anna said. “And I understand you.
See, this is just a mistake, Gerald. Let me go and there’s no harm, no foul.”
He scratched his scruffy jaw as he thought so hard she could almost see smoke curling from the top of his head. “You’ll call the cops on me.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” Her most impressive investigator skill was lying. “You could just walk away.”
He thought about that. “If you agree to talk to Tish about joint custody of Brownie.”
“Sure. Consider it done.” She would talk to Tish, not that she could guarantee anything.
When he nodded and walked away, she let out a relieved breath and sagged against the wall. Honestly, she understood some of Gerald’s rage, if not his methods. If an ex had taken Clawdia, the feline love of her life currently shedding all over her bed, she’d be devastated too.
But the knife? No. She couldn’t let that stand.
Giving up on surveillance, she called Gerald’s ex, warning her about the weapon and the threat, letting her know that Gerald claimed all he wanted was Brownie. Tish said she never should’ve given him that knife for Christmas a few years back— gee, ya think? — and also she was tired of Brownie eating her shoes anyway.
With that handled, Anna quickly accessed her texts. One from Mari, checking in from the office. One from her friend Nikki, reminding her that it was Anna’s turn to buy drinks that week. And . . . shock . . . three from her pregnant- with- triplets sister.
WENDY: I need you.
WENDY: ???
WENDY: It’s an emergency!
And this time I mean it!
Heart kicking hard, Anna quickly strode to her car as she called her sister. “What’s wrong?” she asked the second Wendy answered. “The babies?”
“They’re fine, but I’m not. I need pickles.”
Anna sucked in air as her heart settled back in her chest.
“You’ve got to stop doing that!”
“I can’t,” Wendy said. “Not until you forgive me.”
They’d had a fight. Yet another in a long line of fights that Anna didn’t have time to deal with today. “Do you really need pickles?”
“More than anything except peace on earth and maybe for Ryan Reynolds to be single. Don’t tell Hayden.”
Hayden being Wendy’s saint of a husband. “Fine,” Anna said.
“I’ll bring you pickles after work.”
“But . . . what are you doing right now?”
Besides dodging knife- toting dumbasses? “Working. ”
“Okay, but the babies really need pickles.”
Anna thunked her head on her steering wheel.
“I know, I’m being slightly bossy again, aren’t I?” Wendy sighed. “Ignore me.”
If only that were an option . . . “I’ll be there soon as I can.”
Fifteen minutes later, she was in the store, heading toward the checkout with a massive jar of pickles, when a new stream of texts came through.
WENDY: I could use a watermelon too.
WENDY: And a steak!
WENDY: Oh, and Raisin Bran!
ANNA: Anna Moore has left this conversation.
WENDY: I know that’s a lie . . .
Thirty minutes later, Anna let herself into her sister’s house, carrying four bags of groceries. The cute little cabin that Hayden had inherited from his grandmother wasn’t too far from the lake. Close enough to walk on a nice day, far enough that the swarms of summertime tourists seemed a world away. Wendy had the perfect life: the cute home, a husband who loved her, and babies on the way.
Telling herself it was silly to be a little envious, especially since she didn’t want any of those things right now, Anna left everything but the pickles in the kitchen and walked down the hall to the main bedroom. There she found her supposedly on-bed- rest sister sitting on the floor of her closet, everything she owned scattered around her, reading a book.
“You came!” Wendy said, and then burst into tears.
Anna grimaced. “The doctor said if you keep crying every five minutes, you’re going to get dehydrated.”
“I know.” Wendy was currently twenty- six weeks pregnant, and the plan was if she didn’t go into labor by week thirty- two, her OB- GYN would induce, since carrying triplets for longer than that could get dangerous. She wore a pair Hayden’s sweat bottoms, low- slung beneath her massive belly, and a tank top that was straining to within an inch of its life to hold everything in. There was a stain across the middle because Wendy used her baby bump as her table.
“You’re staring at the stain on my shirt, aren’t you?”
“Nope. Not me. No way.”
“No, I get it.” Wendy hiccupped. “I’m falling apart!”
Feeling bad for her lack of patience, Anna dropped to her knees next to her sister. “Listen . . . tacos fall apart, but they’re still amazing, right? And so are you.”
Wendy’s eyes watered again. “You still love me.”
“As much as I love tacos.” Which unfortunately was a whole lot. Anna took in the mess. “Was there a tornado in here?”
“Ha- ha.” Wendy blew her nose. “I was cleaning out my closet and found a baby book Hayden had bought me months ago. Did you know that babies get hot lava poops? Hot lava poops! What does that even mean?”
Horrified, Anna shook her head, unable to even fathom the thought.
Wendy tossed the book aside and made gimme hands at the massive jar of pickles.
Anna held it out of reach. “Not until you get back into bed.”
It took the both of them to get her there. Finally, Wendy sat back against the headboard, legs crossed, the pickle jar snugged between as she dove right in. “You know what would make these even better? If they were fried.”
“I’m not going anywhere else except back to work,” Anna said.
Wendy swallowed a bite of pickle. “You work too hard. You should retire. How long could you live comfortably with what you’ve saved?”
“Comfortably?” Anna shrugged. “Thirty minutes, give or take.”
Wendy sighed. “I know you’re upset with me, but I really am sorry for setting you up with my dentist last week. I keep trying because all I want is for you to find a great guy and get married and have babies like me. Is it so wrong to want you happy?”
“First, there are all kinds of happy,” Anna said. “But also, that
‘great’ guy ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and when I pulled out my credit card to split the bill with him, he smiled and thanked me for buying dinner.”
Wendy winced. “I’m— ”
“Sorry, I know. But, Wendy, please stop trying to fix me, because I’m not broken. Okay?”
“Okay,” Wendy said softly.
Anna nodded, then looked around at the mess again, still-ing at the box of her dad’s things, the box they’d never been able to get themselves to go through. A sharp jab of grief hit her in her chest like a hot poker. He’d been gone a year and the loss still hurt, proving whoever had come up with the “time heals all wounds” mantra had no idea what they were talking about. Turning away from the box, she found her sister still eating pickles.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Wendy said, licking her fingers.
“I’m thinking you’re going to get heartburn if you eat another one.”
“A lot you know. I’ve had heartburn since five weeks into this five- year- long pregnancy.”
Anna snorted.
“Laugh now, but you’re the godmother. You get these puppies when they turn into teenagers and send me to the loony bin.”
“I love puppies.” This from Hayden, who came into the room shrugging out of his suit jacket, moving with a smile toward Wendy. “Hey, babe.” He kissed her.
“Hey yourself.” Wendy grabbed him by the lapels and sniffed at him. “Wait. Why do you smell like your mom’s amazing chicken noodle soup?”
“Because I stopped by her house to pick up a whole big pot of it for you.”
“God, I love her.”
Hayden went brows up.
Wendy smiled. “Love you too, but let’s be honest. I married you for your mom.”
Hayden didn’t look concerned. He was incredibly laid- back.
Anna supposed he had to be to deal with Wendy, plus he used that great energy as CFO of the Moore Foundation, which their dad had started as a way to facilitate getting money and resources to people and places who needed it most.
“I’m going to shower and change,” Hayden said, and kissed Wendy’s belly. “Hi, babies.”
Anna turned away from their cuteness, her gaze once again falling on the box of her dad’s things. Kneeling before it, she took a deep breath. After a year, she should be used to missing his laughing eyes, the way he smiled at her like she was his favorite person in the whole world, his warm hugs . . .
Maybe it’d help if she had something of his home at her place. She pulled out a framed picture that sucked the air from her lungs.
“You okay?” Wendy asked.
Unable to answer, she brought the pic to the bed. Wendy let out a soft breath as they both looked at the image of a young Wendy and their pregnant mom at the lake.
“I was almost six here,” her sister said softly. “I had a thing about sand, hated it. Mom said I was such a princess that I wouldn’t even put my toes in it, so Dad had to carry me the whole time.”
A sweet memory, but Anna would give just about anything to also have memories of their mom. Or even one. Shoving the sadness where she shoved all her unwanted emotions— deep, deep down— she distracted herself by taking another dive into the box. Fixating on the flash of something shiny rather than facing any more family photos, she pulled out a small gold coin about half an inch in diameter. “Wow. It’s dated 1853.”
Wendy’s eyes got big. “Let me see!”
Anna dutifully brought it over.
Wendy stared at it. “What if it’s worth a ton of money? We could be like those people on that Antiques Roadshow who’ve been sitting on a fortune and don’t even know it!”
“It’s probably just a reproduction.”
“Are there any more?”
Anna went through the box. “No.”
Wendy bit the coin. “It tastes like real gold.”
“How do you know what gold tastes like?”
“It tastes like this.” Wendy held it up to the light. “You know what we need? A coin shop. They’d have an expert there who could help us.” She started to push herself to the edge of the bed to get up.
Anna held out a hand. “Stay.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and Anna said, “Yeah, sucks when someone bosses you around and tells you what to do, doesn’t it?
Now just sit there and eat the pickles in your lap.”
“I can’t even see my lap. For all I know, I could’ve finished all the pickles already. And you don’t always have to be the keeper of the rules for everyone, you know.”
Anna slid her a look. “If this is where you give me the ‘live a little’ lecture, save your pickled breath.”
“Come on. Aren’t you the least bit curious about the coin?”
She was trying not to be.
“You could even go now. Come on, you’re your own boss.”
“Yes, but my caseload is overwhelming right now.” Another fib. She was low on jobs. And money. But that was another problem entirely.
“Hayden, make her listen to me,” Wendy said as he came back into the room, his hair damp, now wearing basketball shorts and a T- shirt. He took the jar of pickles from Wendy and replaced it with a bowl of soup. “Like I’ve ever been able to make either of you listen to me.”
“It’s not like either of us are rolling in the dough,” Wendy said to Anna. “All of Dad’s money went to his humanitarian and philanthropy efforts. My teaching salary’s on hold for my pregnancy leave, and yeah, Hayden loves his job, but it’s not exactly making us rich. An unforeseen windfall could change all of our lives.”
Okay, good point. But if their dad had wanted to leave them something other than his reputation, he would have. And call her obstinate— others had used far more derogatory names—but she didn’t want anything she hadn’t earned.
Unfortunately, Wendy being pregnant threw a wrench in Anna’s defiance. This pregnancy was ten years in the making and Wendy’s lifelong dream come true. Until her sister safely popped out Things One, Two, and Three, Anna was going to have to suck it up to keep her happy. “Fine. I’ll take the coin in tomorrow. Happy?”
“Yes.” But then Wendy burst into tears again.
Anna turned to Hayden. “You’re up at bat.”
Unfazed, he handed Wendy the tissue box from the top of their dresser.
“I’m sorry,” Wendy said soggily. “I’m so tired of crying every time someone does something nice for me.”
Anna wisely didn’t say that she was also tired of the crying, mostly because she wanted to keep on breathing.
Late the next day, Anna was back at Wendy’s, like it or not.
All she wanted was a loaded pizza, a shower, and her own bed.
Okay, and maybe she also wanted her laundry magically folded and put away, a car that didn’t have its “service needed” light on, and she sure wouldn’t turn down an orgasm or two. But she’d brought in the coin to check its value, and there’d been a shock.
“I can’t believe a news crew was there at the same time as you.” Wendy pulled a bag of cheese puffs from Anna’s bag.”
“Hey, those are mine.”
“Finders keepers.” Wendy had her laptop open. “I’m searching YouTube for the news segment. They really said the coin was worth over ten grand?”
“Unbelievably, yes.” Anna was still stunned. “Apparently it’s part of a collection that hasn’t been seen in years. The guy asked me if I had the rest of the set.”
“Oh my God, do you think we do?”
“Where?” Anna asked.
“Good point.”
“Listen . . .” Anna confiscated back her family- size bag of cheese puffs, aka her dinner. “I know the coin’s worth a lot, but
I think we should keep it until we know why Dad had it— ”
“Found it!” Wendy hit play on the video.
A reporter stood in the coin shop standing next to a very annoyed- looking Anna. “We don’t need to see this— ”
“Shh! And wow. That sweater you stole from me really makes your eyes pop. But . . . did you even brush your hair?”
Anna ran a hand down her always wild and crazy waves.
“Well, it’s not like I knew there’d be a camera crew there.”
“Yes, but what if you’d run into a cute guy who’s into smartass, perpetually irritated, brilliant women?” her sister demanded.
“And what happened to the emergency lip gloss I put in your purse?”
“You think I’m brilliant?”
“Duh.”
The reporter smiled into the camera. “Today we’re visiting Sunrise Cove’s Rare Coin and Antique Shop, where we came across Anna Moore, who found a rare coin in a box of her de-ceased father’s belongings. Back in the day, Louis Moore made his fortune in real estate wholesaling, flipping before ‘flipping’ was even a term. Of course he’s even more famous for his philanthropy, giving away much of his fortune— ”
“Or all of it,” Wendy said proudly.
“— And to this very day, Sunrise Cove is grateful to him for donating buildings that became our rec center, the local hospital, and our historic society, among others. Anna, how do you think your dad came to be in possession of the coin? Do you think it’s from his rumored cat burglar days?”
Wendy sucked in a breath. “Cat burglar days? ”
On- screen, Anna said, “He was never a cat burglar.”
The reporter turned to the camera, blocking Anna out of the shot. “A modern- day mystery. Makes one wonder what other mysteries might be associated with Louis Moore and if he . . . cat- burgled . . . the coin.” She smiled. “Back to you, Doug, and the incoming weather system.”
Wendy shut her laptop. “You let her defame Dad?”
“Hey, I said he wasn’t a cat burglar.”
Wendy snatched back the cheese puffs. “What if they take his name off the hospital wing? What if this ruins all the good he did? Ohmigod, what will I tell the babies? They can’t grow up with the whole town thinking their grandpa was a thief, they’ll get bullied! I mean, you were bullied and look how much it messed you up.”
Did all big sisters drive their little sisters bonkers? Or was that just a special skill of Wendy’s? “I was bullied because you’d always brush my hair into a squirrel’s tail. You’re not supposed to brush hair like mine once it’s dried! And you never used any product. Do you have any idea how many products I’ve had to use to keep the frizz at bay?” Anna paused because they both knew in spite of spending a fortune, her hair was still frizzy.
“And I’m not messed up. I mean, not terribly.”
Her cell phone buzzed with a number she didn’t recognize.
She wanted to answer with a Thank you for contacting the abyss, your scream is very important to me, but there are 5,493,823 people ahead of you in line, all of them named Wendy . . . But she controlled herself. “Anna Moore.”
“Anne, this is Suzie McNab, a reporter from KQRS. We’re running a piece on Louis Moore and I’m hoping to get a quote from you.”
Anna’s stomach sank. “What’s the angle?”
“Whether he was the town savior or an infamous cat burglar.
What can you tell us?”
“No comment.” She disconnected.
Wendy, who’d obviously been able to hear the convo, had gone still, a cheese puff halfway to her mouth. “Why did you do that? You had a chance to clear his name.”
“It didn’t matter what I would’ve said— she’d already made up her mind to spin a wild tale.”
In a statement of just how upset she was, Wendy shoved the cheese puffs away from her. “ ‘Infamous cat burglar’? Dad couldn’t have climbed a building to save his life. His MS made him far too unsteady for that.”
“You’re remembering how he was in the last few years of his life. Early on, he was an athlete and loved to mountain climb.”
“Oh my God. You’re right.” Wendy closed her eyes. “It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten.” Her eyes flew open. “Wait— you don’t think he did this, do you? Stole the coin?”
“What I think is that we need a lot more information.”
“That’s the investigator in you. But you’re his daughter. You can’t possibly believe— Wait, what am I even saying? You’re the job. No emotions, no feelings, nothing too personal.”
Hard to be insulted at the truth, but Anna managed it just fine. “It’ll blow over.”
“Only if we fix it.” She leveled Anna with a look of despair.
“We have to fix this.”
Anna could hear her stress. Not good. “It’s just words, Wen.
We know Dad didn’t do this. And anyway, now that he’s gone, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
“Of course it matters. What do you think will happen to the foundation if Dad’s name is dragged through the mud? Hayden losing his job is the least of it. We do so much good.”
“Okay,” Anna said carefully. “I hear you. But I still think you’re jumping ahead here. Dad didn’t steal anything. He’d never.”
“We need to prove it,” Wendy said softly, hugging her belly.
Anna could withstand a lot. Like a lot a lot. But Wendy feeling sick with anxiety right now wasn’t one of them. The doctor had been very clear: no stress. “I’ll do my best to fix this. But don’t get excited,” she warned when she could see her sister doing just that. “I’m not even sure where to start, when the only person with any answers is dead— Why are you on your phone right now?”
“I’m ordering a GoPro so you can take me along for every step of your investigation. It’s got a headband strap and an app that you can download on your phone so if we’re connected, I can see everything you see as you see it.”
Anna choked out a laugh. “No. Hell no.”
“Listen, do you know what it’s like to be the same weight as a whale? Or to have to run with your legs crossed to the bathroom so you don’t pee on the floor? No, you do not. Also, I’ve got one alien kicking me in the stomach, another punching me in the lungs, and every time I move, I . . .”
“You what?”
“Toot.”
“Toot? ”
Wendy threw her hands in the air. “Fart. I fart, okay? All the time. And we’re not talking little dainty ones that you can hide either. I’ve been telling Hayden it’s him, but I’m pretty sure he’s not buying it— ” She broke off to narrow her eyes at Anna for laughing her ass off. “Jeez, I haven’t seen you laugh in forever, and when you do it’s at my expense?”
Anna swiped at the tears of mirth on her cheeks. “I’m not going to wear a GoPro.”
“Are you telling me I’m about to push Midnight, Sunshine, and Eclipse out of my hoo- ha and you can’t do this one little thing and bring me along?”
“Wen, if you love your babies, you will not give them hippy-dippy names. And as for bringing you along, I’ll wear earbuds and keep a line open when acceptable, but that’s it.”
Wendy hugged Anna so hard it hurt, a perfect euphemism for their relationship. But it wasn’t until she drove home and entered her condo that she realized once again she’d caved like a cheap suitcase to her sister.