“No, but I got the report from the Assets Check and thought you might be interested in what I found out.”
After running into nothing but dead ends, Roy had suggested they request a computer check for assets, but Grace had balked at forking over the extra two hundred-dollar fee required for the search. Learning that Dan held title to a piece of land wasn’t going to help her locate him. In a community property state, any bank records would be open to her without cost.
“So—anything interesting?”
“Yup. The report listed a license application Dan made last June.”
“A year ago.”
“That’s right. You didn’t tell me you two owned a travel trailer.”
“We don’t.”
“According to state records, Daniel Clayton Sherman residing at 204 Rosewood Lane, Cedar Cove, Washington, applied for a license for a travel trailer.”
“When?” Grace asked. “Exactly when?”
“June sixteenth of last year.”
The date was meaningless, and Grace felt numb. “I…I don’t know about any travel trailer.”
“I called the private party who sold it to him and discovered he paid cash. It’s a twenty-four footer. The other person wasn’t likely to forget, since Dan arrived with the money in fresh one-hundred-dollar bills.”
“How much?”
“According to the seller, thirteen-thousand dollars.”
“Cash?” They didn’t have thirteen-thousand dollars in cash. Any extra money had been invested. Nearly everything they’d managed to save over the years was in stocks and bonds.
“The man made quite a point of telling me it was all one-hundred-dollar bills. Actually, he was quite shaken when he was handed that much cash.”
“Where would Dan get that kind of money?”
“I can’t answer that,” Roy told her.
Neither could she. “Dan couldn’t have taken out an equity loan without my knowing, could he?”
“He didn’t,” Roy said. “Not according to the bank records I have.”
And surely she would’ve received some sort of statement for any other kind of loan.
“This doesn’t make sense.” But then, very little of what Dan had done in the last year was logical.
“So you don’t know anything about this travel trailer?”
“Not a thing. Do you think Dan’s traveling around the country?” she asked, searching desperately for answers.
“I really don’t know. Haven’t come across any evidence of that—no credit card charges, for instance. None in his name, anyway.”
“Then what’s he using for money?”
“If he had thirteen-thousand dollars in cash you knew nothing about, there’s no way of knowing how much money he had squirreled away.”
“Where could he have kept this money?”
“Do you have a safety-deposit box?” Roy answered her question with his own.
“Yes…no. I don’t know anymore.” They did have a box at some point, but she hadn’t seen the renewal application in years.
“Tell me this,” Roy said. “Who brought in the mail every day?”
“Dan.”
“That’s what I thought. Another possibility is that Dan has a post office box you know nothing about.”
All the secrets Dan had kept from her. Grace didn’t know how she could have lived with him for more than thirty years and not known the man who was her husband.
“The report didn’t show a safety-deposit box?” she asked.
“No, but if Dan has one strictly in his name, the bank isn’t legally obligated to report it. Some banks will as a matter of course, and others only if a court order is issued.”
“Will we need a court order?”
“We’ll face that when we come to it.”
“All right.”
As if she understood that her new mistress was feeling anxious, Buttercup walked over to the phone and stood next to Grace. She leaned down and stroked the dog’s head, which calmed both of them.
She spoke with Roy for a few more minutes. When she hung up, Grace experienced a new sensation. Considering the range of emotions she’d already become familiar with, she wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Since Dan’s disappearance, she’d felt disbelief, shock, grief and outrage. Lately she’d discovered a certain peace that came with resignation and acceptance. Roy’s latest news didn’t infuriate her. Instead, she was left feeling stupid.
Sitting at the table, she leafed through the latest issue of Sunset Magazine. Something must be wrong with her, she mused. Her life was falling apart and she was reading a chicken enchilada recipe.
The phone rang and for an instant Grace hesitated, uncertain she wanted to talk to anyone. But it was bound to be one of her daughters, and if she ignored the call they’d both worry.
“Hi, Mom.”
Grace was right. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Pregnant,” Kelly complained. “Six weeks to go.”
The time had passed quickly for Grace, but she doubted her daughter would feel that way.
“Any news on Dad?”
Grace was always astonished by the way her daughters seemed to sense any new developments regarding Dan.
“Mom?” Kelly pressed.
“Can you get your sister on three-way calling?” Kelly had the option on her phone, whereas Grace didn’t.
“You learned something?”
“Get Maryellen on the line and I’ll tell you both at the same time.”
“Okay.” Grace was accustomed to the procedure. She was put on hold while Kelly dialed her sister’s phone number, and then once Maryellen was connected, Grace would be able to speak to both her daughters at once. She closed her eyes, her mind spinning as she waited.
In the beginning, Grace had wanted to protect her children from what Dan had done. Her reaction had been instinctive, but it’d also been wrong. Maryellen and Kelly were entitled to know. Furthermore, they might be able to provide an answer. For all Grace knew, Dan might have said something to one of the girls that would give her—or Roy McAfee—some kind of clue.
“We’re both here,” Kelly said anxiously.
“Are you all right, Mom?” Maryellen asked.
“No.” It was time for honesty. “Roy discovered that your father purchased a twenty-four-foot travel trailer last year.”
“Dad bought a trailer?” The question came from Kelly.
“Where did he keep it?”
That was a question Grace hadn’t thought to ask. “I don’t know, but I’m discovering that I knew very little about your father.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Again it was Kelly who asked. Kelly who was so close to her father and so confident he’d return before her baby was born.
“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “He paid cash for the trailer.”
“How much?” Maryellen asked.
“Thirteen thousand,” Grace said. “In fresh one-hundred-dollar bills.”
Kelly gasped.
Maryellen said nothing.
“I don’t have a clue where he got that much money,” Grace told her daughters. It was as much a mystery as his disappearance.
“Mom, do you think the other woman might have bought the trailer for him?” Maryellen asked softly.
“Then why not register it in her name?”
“Maybe she wanted you to find out about it,” Maryellen suggested.
“Stop it!” Kelly shouted. “There is no other woman. Dad wouldn’t do that.”
“Grow up,” Maryellen said sharply. “When are you going to quit looking at Dad like he’s some kind of saint? He didn’t just leave Mom, you know. He walked out on you and me, too.”
“Don’t say that,” Kelly cried, breaking into huge sobs. “I don’t believe it. I’ll never believe it.”
“Girls, please…” Grace felt close to tears herself.
“Do you still think Dad’s going to magically reappear before your baby’s born?” Maryellen asked. “Get a grip! He doesn’t care about either one of us.”
“Maryellen, stop.” Grace refused to allow her older daughter to continue. This was hard enough without the two of them turning against each other.
An awkward moment passed, then Maryellen whispered, “I’m sorry, Kelly. I was upset and I took it out on you.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Kelly said. “For you and Mom. One day we’re all going to discover the truth about Dad. I don’t know why he’s doing this or where he is, but there’s a perfectly logical explanation for his disappearance.”
Her daughter had said this many times before, and Grace let her say it again. Neither she nor Maryellen challenged what they both saw as a fantasy. They understood that Kelly needed to believe it.
Justine had been downright miserable since the reunion. She’d announced to Seth that she intended to marry Warren, but she hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it to Warren himself.
Friday night, Warren planned to take her to dinner at D.D.’s on the Cove, and she thought she’d tell him then, as long as he understood she wanted a long engagement. Eventually they’d ease their way into marriage.
“You look fabulous,” Warren said, kissing her cheek when he picked her up after work. The bank was open until six on Friday nights and after a ten-hour day, Justine was tired. Warren might think she looked good, but that wasn’t how she felt.
Because they were close to D.D.’s, Justine suggested they walk over to the waterfront restaurant.
“Let’s drive.”
It seemed ridiculous to drive to a restaurant less than two blocks from the bank, but Justine didn’t want to start the evening with an argument.
Warren held open the car door for her and she discovered a small wrapped package on the passenger seat. “What’s this?” she asked.
“Open it and see.”
“Not another gift. Warren, please, this isn’t necessary.”
“Says who?” he joked. “It’s the only way I can prove to you that I’ll be a generous husband.”
“Warren.”
“All right, all right, no pressure.” Chuckling, he hurried around to the driver’s side.
Justine waited until he was seated before she opened the jeweler’s box. Inside was an oblong-shaped black pearl in a gold oyster clasp; it was suspended from a fine gold chain. The pearl was exquisite.
“A friend of mine picked that up for me in the South Pacific,” he told her.
“It’s lovely.”
“You deserve to wear diamonds and pearls.”
“Oh, Warren.”
“Come on,” he said, grinning. “Let’s get to the restaurant. I could use a drink.”
Justine enjoyed a glass of wine now and then, but she wasn’t a heavy drinker. Warren often overindulged and when he did, she drove them both home and spent the night in his spare room. She knew what people thought and was content to let their assumption stand. Warren appreciated her discretion. Evenings of this kind happened often enough that she kept a spare set of clothes at his house.
