The Secrets She Kept. Brenda Novak

at the last minute, she and Hugh got into a fight and he asked her not to come. Maybe she was disappointed. Or he told her some of the things we’ve been dying to say.”

      “Like what? That she’s insufferable? Was insufferable?”

      Maisey sighed heavily. “Basically. That could’ve pushed her over the edge. Criticism is difficult for everyone, for her most of all. She couldn’t tolerate any of it.”

      “I’d consider that a possibility, except that most of the men in her life have been playthings. People who exist purely for her entertainment. She’s the only one she’s ever really loved. So why would she kill herself over something some guy said?”

      “She’s the only one she’s ever loved? That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

      He winced. It was harsh. Especially now that their mother was gone. And it wasn’t strictly true, although Josephine had acted like it sometimes. “You’re right. I take that back. But still. I wouldn’t expect her to kill herself over losing Hugh or anyone else. Not without some kind of warning.” An idea occurred to him. “Is her will current?”

      “Her will? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about what we might inherit!”

      “No,” he said, even though she must have given some thought to what would happen to the wealth their grandfather had accumulated. “I’m saying she wouldn’t check out of this world unless she’d prepared all of that. If her will hasn’t been updated, she wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

      His sister calmed down. “That’s true. But letting it lapse in the first place wouldn’t be like her, either. She never let anything lapse. Anyway, I can’t tell you where she keeps it. I haven’t even looked for it. And it’s not like she ever took me into her confidence. She was so secretive about her finances, always acted as if what she had, and what she did with it, wasn’t any of our business.”

      Because she didn’t think they were as capable of managing wealth as she was. “My point exactly. She would’ve cared about her father’s legacy, if nothing else. Left us a note about where to find the will. Something.”

      “True. I agree that suicide is unlikely, but I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. She could’ve acted impulsively. I mean...who would she call if she was upset and needed someone to talk to? You? Me? No. She wouldn’t even call Roxanne. No matter how badly she hurt, she was never one to show her pain. She’d suck it up and pretend everything was fine. She never had anyone she could lean on—not since Dad.”

      Intent on getting his bags from the car, Keith headed back through the house. “She never truly needed anyone, even him. Let’s be honest. Dad could barely put up with her, and you’d have to work pretty hard not to get along with Dad.” Of course, Keith had enough of Josephine in him that he’d managed to upset their father on occasion. “If we really looked in to how people felt about Mom, I bet even we’d be surprised by how many didn’t like her.”

      “But everything’s been so quiet. For years. Why would this happen now when...”

      The way her words fell away, as if an opposing thought had occurred to her, piqued his curiosity. “What is it?”

      She hesitated, then said, “Never mind. It—it’s nothing.”

      He stepped out onto the porch, into the nasty weather, and had to speak louder to make sure she could hear him above the storm. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

      “I wasn’t thinking anything, really. It just hit me that the only person I’m aware of that Mom was having trouble with was Nancy. They haven’t been getting along lately. Nancy’s changed a lot. She’s been standing up for herself, which is good but...it’s also made them less compatible.”

      “Are you talking about a specific incident?”

      “I know of at least one. Last week, Mom threw a tantrum in the shop in front of several customers. Yelled at Nancy for not communicating well enough on some order for a big wedding, which embarrassed her—so much that she tried to quit.”

      Nancy was the nicest person Keith had ever met. He still felt bad about the way his life had collided with hers. He’d been at his worst when he worked with her at the flower shop, had gotten her hopes up about a relationship and then walked out on her—after borrowing a large sum of money, which he’d spent on drugs. He’d tried to make up for what he’d done. Not only had he made several attempts to apologize and repay the money, he’d bought her a car—once he could afford it—to replace the hunk of junk she’d been driving when he left. He’d thought a gift like that would compensate for the past.

      But she’d sent the car back to the dealership and wouldn’t accept his calls or his money. He’d had to leave his apology on her voice mail.

      “Nancy would never hurt anyone,” he said. “She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

      “See?” Maisey responded. “Tyrone wouldn’t do it. Pippa wouldn’t do it. Nancy wouldn’t do it. Who does that leave? The part-time help? None of them would hurt Mom, either.”

      “Someone hurt her,” he insisted. “What about Hugh Whoever-He-Is?”

      “We can check, make sure he has an alibi, but I can’t imagine he was here on the island. Because of the ferry, someone would’ve seen him. And what would he have to gain by murdering Mom? If they were married, and he was the beneficiary of her life insurance, maybe I could see it, but...they were just getting to know each other.”

      Keith paced on the porch, taking advantage of the veranda’s deep overhang to keep out of the rain. “We have to consider everyone.”

      “So I should call the coroner and tell him we’re going to get our own pathologist?”

      “Yes. We’ll have to get permission, but we should at least ask him to hold off until then.”

      “I hope I can catch him. It’s after business hours.”

      “Try, in case. And text me if you can’t, okay? If necessary, I’ll go over there first thing in the morning.”

      He was about to hang up when she spoke again.

      “Are you planning to stay at the house?”

      He turned up his collar. “Yeah.”

      “Why not come here?”

      “You don’t have room for me.” Maisey lived in one of the vacation bungalows built by their father in the eighties. Her home with Rafe wasn’t big or ostentatious, but she said she was happier than she’d ever been.

      “We’ll make room. Or you could use one of the other units. They’re empty during the winter. And you’ll like the way I’ve furnished them.”

      “I don’t doubt that. There’s just no need for me to go to Smuggler’s Cove. I’m comfortable here.” Although he had his fair share of unpleasant memories, he chose to focus on the times he’d visited Grandpa Coldiron and felt accepted and loved without any criticism.

      “I’m not convinced it’s good for you to be at Coldiron House, especially right now—and alone.”

      She was worried about him backsliding. But when he thought of his grandfather, and not his mother, he felt he was exactly where he belonged. “It’ll be okay.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Maisey, stop it! Thinking that I’m going to go off on a drug binge at any moment is only making this worse.”

      “I’m sorry. It’s not as if... Well, I don’t mean—”

      He cut her off as he pulled his car keys from his pocket in preparation for his dash through the rain. “Has Roxanne decided when she’s coming?”

      Thankfully, she allowed him to change the subject. “Not quite yet. She probably told you she’s planning to be here for the