Page 48 of Strangers She Knows

“Bullshit! Those people don’t care anything about anything except making a profit.” She paced to the window and looked out at the golden grasses, the ancient green of the oaks and, in the distance, the silver glimmer of the Pacific. “If they can make money off Isla Paraíso, they will, and this place will be ruined, like all the other beautiful places of the earth.”

Dylan let out a snore.

Jamie turned. He was deeply asleep, mouth hanging open, head lolling to the side.

He didn’t care about Isla Paraíso. No one cared like she did. No matter what, she had to remain here, and that meant serving the folks up at the big house whatever they wanted whenever they wanted.

She went out to the root cellar and found the food basket exactly where she’d left it. Picking it up, she started up toward the big house, walking rather than using the electric cart, using her own energy rather than wasting the earth’s energy.

Yes, she would follow the Di Lucas’ rules. In fact, in the case of Miranda Phillips, it would be a pleasure to tell them the intern had arrived.

Jamie thought of Miranda’s hand on Dylan’s knee.

She didn’t trust that woman. She didn’t trust her at all.

18

Running…again. Kellen liked it. She ran close to the collapsed caverns where, in World War II, men had watched for a Japanese invasion. She ran through the redwood grove, absorbing the peace of two thousand years of growth. She avoided the Conkles’ home, told herself she was giving them privacy. Tiring early, she turned toward Morgade Hall and slowed as she ran up the expanse of lawn. That gave her time to get her breathing under control. Determined to do her duty to her family—to keep Rae fed and cheerful—she climbed the steps of the back porch and stuck her head into the kitchen. “Olympia, has Dylan delivered today’s produce?”

Olympia jumped and put her hand to her heart. She breathed deeply, turned, put her hand on her hip, and glared as if Kellen had deliberately sneaked up on her. Max confessed that when he hired Olympia, he thought her so without imagination she would be impervious to the big old creaky house and the windswept isolation of the island. But while her cooking remained exemplary, her attitude, never marvelous, had disintegrated, and the previously well-groomed woman was letting herself go. Her T-shirt and denim skirt were wrinkled, as if she’d picked them up off the floor. Her overgrown bangs dangled in her eyes and gray roots were showing. Over the weeks, she had slowly ceased to wear cosmetics and was down to a smear of lipstick. Yet her mustache was in full bloom.

In forbidding tones, Olympia said, “I haven’t seen either one of the Conkles today.”

“Max will speak to Dylan again.” Moving fast, Kellen ducked out. Max, Rae and Kellen had worn a path to the garage, and as she fled, she wondered—how could an island that contained only six people—she and Max, Rae and Olympia, Dylan and Jamie—make half of them crazy?

Kellen supposed she should wonder if the half she considered crazy also considered her half-insane. But no. As an adolescent, Rae had her moments, but they were sane, united, a family. Out of loneliness, desolation and self-loathing, Olympia, Dylan and Jamie were splintering into thousands of pieces.

She walked into the garage to find Max, arms outstretched, bellowing at the truck. “Why won’t you work?”

Kellen skidded to a stop.

So much for her assurances about the Di Lucas’ sanity.

Rae was stretched across the fender, head stuck down as far as she could under the hood. “Daddy, what’s a carburetor?”

“What?”

She came up out of the depths and clearly articulated, “What…is…a…carburetor? Because there’s a carburetor kit on the workbench and I think we could rebuild it.”

Kellen slowed backed toward the door.

Too late. Max had pinned her under his gaze. “A carburetor kit? Rae found a carburetor kit conveniently placed on the workbench?”

Well, hell. It seemed Kellen had arrived at exactly the wrong time. “Rae’s a smart kid. Rebuilding the carburetor might get the truck running.” She honestly thought Max was going to have steam coming out his ears. “Look. All I did was find the carburetor kit in one of the drawers. Anyway, carburetor kit or not, it’s not easy to rebuild a carburetor. If you’re lucky, there’ll be instructions.”

He still looked irked.

Which made Kellen lose what was left of her patience. “Andifyou’dlooked in the drawers—”

Max swung away, took a breath, smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “All right. You’re right. I could have looked.” He swung back toward Kellen. “Anything else I should know about in those drawers?”

Kellen lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. Why don’t you look?”

Rae had dug herself out of the depths of the F-100 and stood, head cocked, listening to them. “You two don’t fight very often.”

“No, but honey, it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,” Max said.

“It’s okay,” Rae said. “It makes you seem almost normal.”

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