Her husband sent her a sharp look and she instantly softened. “Sorry. Yes, I should have said something when I came by the hotel,” she admitted, avoiding the censure in her husband’s gaze. “It just slipped my mind.”
Donald made a point of checking his watch. “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got an appointment with the church treasurer in half an hour.”
Marla and Nick escorted the guests to the front door. Carmen, as if she’d been listening to the conversation, hurried to the closet to fetch Cherise’s cape.
“It was good to see you again.” Cherise gave Marla a hug as Donald shrugged into his jacket. A handshake or two later they were out the door, their arms linked, the picture of Christian fidelity and love.
“What the hell was that about?” Nick asked.
Eugenia lifted a tired hand. “Just another way to wheedle back into the family’s graces. They’re after money, Nick. They can whitewash it with all sorts of euphemisms and terms such as ‘family solidarity’ or ‘God’s work’ or ‘being a part of a team’ or whatever, but the bottom line is, Cherise is trying to cozy up to the family fortune.” Eugenia cast a quick glance at Marla. “Don’t get me wrong, she probably was concerned about you. Cherise isn’t a bad sort. Just self-involved. And that husband of hers . . . well, he can pray until he’s blue in the face, he’s still got his problems. Alexander hired him at Cahill House and it turned into a horrid scandal.”
Wearily Eugenia picked up her tea cup and placed a raspberry scone on a small plate. “Couldn’t keep his hands off one of the girls.” Her lips tightened and she broke off part of the scone. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if her condition wasn’t because of him. She never did say who the father of her child was, and she’d attended services at Holy Trinity. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.” Eugenia took a small bite of her scone. Coco, lying at her feet, watched her greedily. “Needless to say, Alex had to let him go. The scandal did so much damage. It’s amazing that Donald’s parish kept him on, but then he always swore that the girl was lying, that he hadn’t touched her. In the end the girl dropped the charges.”
“This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?” Nick said sarcastically. “All part of the Cahill family history.”
The phone jangled loudly. Nick strode into the front hall, snatching the receiver by the second ring and said, “Nick Cahill.” He carried the receiver back to the sitting room, his eyes focused on Marla. “Yeah, she’s right here. Just a sec.”
“You’re on,” he said, handing her the phone. “Detective Paterno.”
“What does he want?” Eugenia demanded.
“I called him earlier,” Marla explained and took the police officer’s call while her mother-in-law regarded her as if she’d gone mad. For privacy’s sake, Marla headed up to the library, all the while telling Paterno about the night when she’d ended up in the clinic and what she could recall about the accident that killed Pamela. “. . . I don’t remember all the details, but I know someone was in the middle of the road that night and he was lit up like a Christmas tree, the lights blinding. I swerved to miss him and the truck did the same. I can’t say for sure what happened to him, but he jumped out of the way of the truck and ended up on the opposite side of the road from me,” she said. Paterno had a few more questions for her then asked her to come to the station to make a statement.
She hung up promising to call him if she remembered anything else, then returned to the sitting room.
Eugenia appeared stunned. “Nick says you remember the accident.”
“Yes.” Marla nodded. “Most of it.”
“But you don’t recall why you were going to Santa Cruz?” Eugenia set her plate on the floor and Coco inched forward, sniffed and gobbled the tiny piece of scone that was left then licked the plate for extra measure.
“No,” Marla said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Nor why I was with Pam, or how I knew her.” But I’m going to, she thought. One way or another.
A door slammed in the back of the house and footsteps hurried along the corridor. Coco barked, then quieted as Fiona, her face so red her freckles were barely visible, hurried through the foyer and into the sitting room. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, apologizing all over herself. “Little James, is he all right?”
“Sleeping,” Marla said, and the girl didn’t wait for any other instruction, just hurried up the stairs, her raincoat billowing behind her.
“Flighty thing,” Eugenia observed, her gaze following Fiona’s path. “I really don’t know if she’s right to look after James.” She patted her jacket pocket and scowled. “Have either of you seen my keyring?”
“You’ve lost it?” Nick asked.
“Misplaced, I think.” Eugenia’s face folded in concentration and Marla felt like a criminal, the keys suddenly so heavy she was certain they would jangle as she moved. “Strange,” Eugenia said. “I remember having them this morning.”
“They’ll turn up,” Nick predicted.
“I suppose, but it’s so unlike me to lose them.” She whistled to Coco and headed toward the elevator, leaving Marla alone with her brother-in-law.
“Look, Nick, I think we should talk about what happened last night,” she said, forcing the issue that hung like a cloud between them.
“I made a mistake.”
“We both did.” She rubbed the back of her neck and closed her eyes. “I’d like to say it shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t. I don’t regret it.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “You should.”
“Do you?”
His shoulders hunched. “I don’t think this is the time or place to discuss it.”