“Thank you for doing this on short notice,” Mary said as they followed Ria to a room near the office. Ria opened the door with a key on a classic motel tag, bright blue plastic, imprinted with the motel’s name.
Inside, wood-paneled walls, an aqua carpet and accent chairs upholstered in gold vinyl brought the 1960s to life again, with colorful abstract wall art adding a hippie vibe. “Wow,” Mary said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of these rooms before.”
“We thought we might update the decor,” Ria said, “but our guests seem to love the Elvis-era feel, so for now, we’re keeping it this way.”
“Are you now.” Imogene plunked a suitcase down and looked around, eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Ria said, still smiling. “The great thing about this room is the view of the Chesapeake.” She opened the curtains to reveal the bay. “We get the most gorgeous sunsets in the world here.”
“Real pretty,” Imogene said reluctantly, and then her expression turned thoughtful. “Who knows, I might just stay awhile.”
A weight descended onto Mary’s shoulders with her words. She was definitely going to have to manage Imogene’s expectations about how long she was willing to pay for her room.
“I’ll leave you to get settled. Stop in at the office if you need anything.” Ria patted Mary’s arm on the way out, and then Mary and Imogene were alone together.
“I can help you carry in the rest of your things,” Mary offered.
“It’s not like I have much, but thanks.” Imogene led the way to her beater car and handed Mary another banged-up suitcase, then pulled a couple of grocery bags out of the front seat.
As they trudged back to the room, Mary thought of Imogene’s father. He’d been a successful engineer, frighteningly smart, with the kindest heart she’d ever known. He’d doted on Imogene, even when she’d made fun of his heavyset build and lack of hair. He’d thought her beautiful and had been sure she’d grow up to be a success at whatever she did.
How it would have hurt him to see what she’d become. For Ben’s sake, she wanted to put in at least some effort to help Imogene.
Mary sat while Imogene shoved clothes haphazardly into drawers. “Tell me how you’ve been doing and what your plans are.”
“That depends on you.” Imogene scowled as she carried a makeup case into the bathroom.
Mary drew in a breath and let it out slowly, seeking calm. “Look,” she said, “I’ll pay for your room for a week, but you need a plan to get back on your feet.”
Imogene came back out and plopped down on the bed. “I have no money. I can’t make a plan.”
“You inherited the same amount I did,” Mary said gently. “You must have invested some of it. I know your father’s friend Barry advised you about that.”
“That guy.” Imogene snorted. “All he wanted to do was make sure I didn’t get one cent ahead of my twenty-first birthday, and then to dole it out in tiny bits afterward.”
“Not many people would call that amount of money tiny,” Mary said. “And your father had it distributed in stages because he cared for you.”
“He would have changed it if he’d known your ex was going to murder him.”
Imogene’s words stabbed Mary right in the gut. Ben’s car, with Mary’s beautiful, perfect daughter in a car seat inside, had been run off the road right in front of their house, but by the time she and Imogene had reached it, the person who’d done it had been gone—leaving Mary’s life devastated in a way that could never heal.
It had been labeled a hit-and-run, and no perpetrator had ever been caught, but Mary had known who was behind it. And Ben’s ex-wife, who’d been furious she hadn’t been included in the will, had researched Mary’s background and figured it out. She’d gone to the police and put pressure on Mary to implicate her first husband.
Which was fine. Mary had been so broken by what had happened to Ben and her daughter that she’d fully cooperated with the police, even knowing her first husband’s mob connections could send a snitch to an early grave.
But he’d been too skillful, and there had been no trail to follow, no evidence to find.
Of course, Imogene’s mother had told Imogene about the whole situation, had whipped her up into a frenzy of hatred against Mary. News had leaked out in the neighborhood, too, and Mary’s friends hadn’t been able to look her in the eye. It hadn’t been Mary who’d driven the car, but she’d still been blamed: for marrying Ben and thus getting him involved in her problems, for letting her first husband know her location, for having been fool enough to marry her first husband at all. She’d moved away within six months.
Imogene flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Anyway, I had to pay off some of my bills with the money you gave me before. I’m flat broke.”
“Have you been using?” If Imogene could be blunt, so could Mary.
“What business is it of yours?”
That answer told Mary what she wanted to know. “It’s my business,” she said, “because if you’re using, any money I give you is likely to go to the same place your dad’s money went.”
Imogene rolled to her side, sat up and glared. “You think you’re so perfect,” she said. “What if your new friends find out what you’re really like?”
Mary’s heart accelerated into a too-rapid rhythm. She has nothing on you. It wasn’t your fault. Counselors over the years had tried to get her to believe that.
But she’d maintained contact with her first husband, against Ben’s wishes. That was what had given him access to their location and their habits.
Despite the many years that had passed, her heart still burned with guilt. And she didn’t want to contaminate her Pleasant Shores life with the old pain.
She could give Imogene money, a lot, and
