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Susan rubbed her eyes and brought away her fingers, which were covered with black eyeliner. “Oh.”
Amanda’s stomach tied into knots. But this wasn’t her fault, she reminded herself. And it wasn’t Cynthia’s either.
“It doesn’t matter.” Susan sighed. “We’re going to fight them, and we’re going to win. I don’t know a single judge who would look at our case and rule in favor of the Arnouts.”
But Amanda wasn’t so sure. “They’ve already done so much damage. What makes you think they don’t have all the judges around here in their pocket, too?”
Susan’s chin quivered. Amanda considered throwing her career under the bus in order to save her mother’s. Amanda was still young. She could still find something else to do. Something to hang her life’s meaning upon. Probably.
“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Susan suggested. She eyed Genevieve and softened. “Do you feel up to heading to court mid-June? Bruce and I are throwing ourselves into the case, but we need you to be involved. You’ll need to make a statement. I might even want you up on the stand.”
“I’ll do anything,” Amanda said. Mid-June was still about a month away. Genevieve would grow and change exponentially by then. Summer would nearly unfurl.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The day The HISTORY Channel wrapped filming at the Sunrise Cove, Wes and Quentin shared a final hug and promised to visit one another soon. “Us Copperfields are just an island away,” Quentin said as he got into the producer’s car to be taken to his boat in the harbor. Wes raised a hand as they drove away and disappeared on the other side of the ice creamery and gift shop.
Wes stood alone on the front lawn of the Sunrise Cove and peered up at the windows. They were dark and latched tight, still waiting for the next generation of guests to transform the inn to its former glory. The historian on-duty had said he still wasn’t sure when they could re-open. He supposed he would get the all clear soon, especially now that the basement room had been analyzed down to the finest detail and the diary had been assessed. The historians had met with Sam last night to discuss how they should proceed from a museum standpoint. They wanted to make it a historical site on Martha’s Vineyard and allow guests to enter and pay ticket prices. But would the Sunrise Cove see that revenue? Sam said he wasn’t sure.
But Wes couldn’t care less, right now, about the state of the Sunrise Cove’s cashflow. That weight sat squarely on Sam’s shoulders.
Wes’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to answer. It was Beatrice. His heart surged.
“Hey! You finished up over there?” Beatrice asked.
“Just about,” Wes said.
“I just ran into Susan. Kellan came home to surprise his dad for his birthday. We’re invited for dinner.”
Wes smiled. It had been ages since he’d seen Kellan—a once-troubled-teenager who’d grown into a remarkable young man.
“I can practically see you smile over the phone,” Beatrice teased. “I’ll swing by the Sunrise Cove and pick you up. We have to bring a bottle of wine.”
Beatrice appeared in front of the inn a few minutes later. She had the windows of her BMW convertible cracked, and a breeze swept through her silver curls. She stopped just long enough for Wes to swagger around the front of the car (in his mind, he swaggered, though it probably looked more like a waddle) and get in. He kissed her on the cheek and the lips, and she giggled and swatted him away.
“The traffic is incredible,” she said. “I want to get out of here.”
After a brief stop at her favorite wine store, they drove the rest of the way to Susan’s place. Susan and Scott lived next door to the old Sheridan House. Sometimes Wes still panged with regret for having left that side of the beach. As he got out of the car, he turned as Audrey and Max crept through the woods that separated Susan’s from the Sheridan House, and Max squealed with laughter and ran toward Wes. It was truly remarkable that Max would grow up in the Sheridan House. It was the only home he’d ever known.
They found Susan and Scott hard at work in the kitchen. They were making steaks and salad. Susan hurried to throw her arms around Wes and usher him toward the porch, where Kellan, Amanda, Sam, and Noah waited on everyone else.
“I don’t get it,” Noah was saying as Wes entered. “You’re going to court with the parents of the guy you just represented?”
Amanda grimaced and took a sip of her wine. She forcefully changed her face when she saw Wes, Beatrice, Audrey, and Max and shot Noah a look that told him the conversation was over. “Hi, Grandpa!”
“Don’t switch the topic on my account,” Wes said.
“It’s boring,” Amanda insisted.
“It’s not! These rich idiots think they can walk all over Amanda and Aunt Susie,” Audrey said, scowling as she adjusted Max in a chair and gave him a granola bar.
Wes tilted his head. Beatrice grabbed a seat at the end of the table as Kellan bolted up the back steps and back onto the porch. For a moment, Wes took stock of him—long-legged, taller than he’d been at Christmas, with a tan face and shoulders that spoke of hours outside. Had Scott said something about Kellan taking a job outdoors? Or was this from birdwatching?
“Grandpa,” Kellan said as he shot forward to hug him. “It’s so good to see you.”
Wes panged with love for the kid. As their hug broke, Kellan rifled through a bag of chips and sat down, gesturing for Wes to sit beside him. Wes felt lucky. The guest of honor wanted Wes, of all people, to sit with him.
“When did all this happen again?” Audrey demanded of Amanda.
