It seemed so obvious that it was his father. But Mallory wanted to hear it from Brodie. She was tired of not knowing the truth.
“Is that Cole Steel?” A voice rang out just as Alyssa finished out the last bars of “(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding. The voice was familiar, bellowing out from Mallory’s past. She turned to watch as Peter Larker capped his hand over Cole’s shoulder in greeting. Mallory would have recognized him anywhere. As long as she could remember, he’d been one of her father’s dearest friends. Mallory had been to his gorgeous old-world mansion on the coastline for countless Christmases, Thanksgiving feasts, and vibrant Halloween parties, during which his wife, Agnes, had adorned herself in glorious Halloween costumes— the Bride of Frankenstein, Doc fromBack to the Future, and the evil stepmother inSnow White.
“Hey there,” Cole greeted, lifting his beer to clink with Peter’s. Just last month, Cole had come in third to Peter’s second at the Round the Island Race, a fact you could see clear as day on Cole’s face. Jealousy was rampant in the sailing community. That, and alcohol.
“How have you been, son?” Peter asked. “Are you keeping yourself busy?”
Alyssa practically laid herself across the bar to report, “He’s just been taken on as a pro sailor. Headed to the Caribbean this week!”
Peter’s face echoed Cole’s jealousy. “If I was a little bit younger, I’d try my hand at all that. You deserve it, though. And your father, he’d be terribly proud, wouldn’t he?”
Cole muttered that he hoped Aiden would be proud. Alyssa glowered, twirling her hair around her first finger. Peter remained latched to Cole, staring down at him in an almost menacing and domineering way. Cole cast his gaze toward Mallory, his eyes echoing confusion.
Unfortunately, Peter followed Cole’s gaze over to Brodie’s table. His nostalgic smile shifted toward something more menacing. He sauntered over to Mallory with his beer lifted in greeting.
“You’re the youngest, aren’t you?”
Of course. Even though I’m older, I’m always standing in Alexie’s shadow.
“I’m Mallory,” she corrected him. “Alexie’s in New York City.”
“That’s right. Your father was so proud of her,” Peter said. “Where was it she went to school again?”
“NYU.”
“That’s right. Always rubbing it in my face, where his daughter was off to,” Peter said. “I was always like, yeah, sure, Aiden. You had so many children. One of them was bound to be successful.” Peter guffawed, showing the tops of his gums. His eyes then curved toward Brodie. His smile changed a little, sending a shiver down Mallory’s spine.
“Are you dating Bertrand Thomkins’ son, Miss Steel?” Peter asked wryly. “Does he know you have a little bundle of joy already at home?”
Mallory’s lips popped open with surprise. Cole jumped up from his stool, preparing fists. Mallory wanted to yell out,no fighting! It’s not worth it! Think of your career!But before she could, Peter backed off.
“I’m just kidding you,” he said, as though that made it all better. “I’m sure this kid’s not as bad as his daddy. Left me in a lurch recently, didn’t he?”
Brodie looked on the verge of tearing through Peter. Mallory kicked him lightly under the table, reminding him that he’d already been through one legal proceeding that summer. He couldn’t afford another one.
Peter locked eyes with Mallory as he explained, “Bertrand was a carpenter and was in the midst of a redesign for my kitchen and dining room areas. Took off in the middle of work. Now, he’s wanted for that robbery up at your grandfather’s place. I knew I should never have trusted him. A Thomkins.” He snorted.
Brodie leaped from his stool, knocking his beer glass to the ground. The glass shattered in all directions, casting people up onto their stools and away from the shards.
“Ah, well. Your family always swam in it,” Peter continued, speaking directly to Mallory. “You buying those beers on your grandfather’s dime or your father’s?”
Brodie’s head looked on the verge of exploding. “Mallory’s well on her way to building a career of her own. She works hard. Puts her whole heart in it.”
Peter snorted. “Are you telling me that you’re standing up for the woman who threw you under the bus? She’s the reason they’re after your father in the first place, isn’t she?”
“My father was not a thief,” Brodie snarled.
“Brodie, let’s go.” Mallory’s tone was dark and dangerous.
Peter guffawed and stepped back, throwing his hands to the sky. “Don’t leave on my account. I forgot that we’re always supposed to honor those who’ve gone before us— whether they passed on or fled from their crimes. May they rest in peace, wherever they are.”
“You want me to show you the door? That’ll be the third time this month, Peter. And you know what? Third time’s the charm. You won’t be allowed back in.” The bartender with the eyepatch appeared at Brodie’s table, glowering and pointing up at the wall, where a series of photographs hung— photographs of people who were no longer allowed into the four walls of the bar.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Peter didn’t drop that horrible smile. He walked backward toward the front door, putting on a sinister show for the rest of the bar. “Good night, everyone. Have another drink. Have some fun. Do it for me if nothing else.”
With that, Peter Larker disappeared into the night.
Brodie grumbled into his beer, words that Mallory could just barely make out. “That guy is the worst.”