Page 8 of Bay of Plenty

“You won’t get your money back from me if you kick the bucket, old man.” Snow folded his hands over his head, his hips thrusting in a slow, slightly obscene swoop, practicing a surfing move.

“What does he mean?” My head slowly tipped toward Dad. “About the money?”

Snow curved his hands into the shape of a sun visor and glared at me. So Mum and Dad couldn’t see the menace in his bottom-of-the-ocean blue eyes?

“Your olds have been excited about you finally coming home.” He made expansive arm gestures toward me, grinning back at Mum and Dad, his body language and expression seeming to show what a great guy he was, how gracious. Mum and Dad bobbed their heads and smiled at him.

How is this possible?This guy had tortured me at school. Even after he left school, he’d made sure the bullying carried on for three more years. I’d hid, raw-nerved and trembling in the shadows, but his minions had always found me. Called me names. Made those horrid noises. Nowhere had been safe. Anger and shame had fueled me to try to help others. But had warped every achievement since. And somehow, not only had he replaced me in the family, but he’d also taken Mum and Dad’s money?

“Are you saying you borrowed money from Mum and Dad?” I clenched my fists at my side, forcing the loathing from my voice.

“Snow wanted to buy the winery, and we loaned him the deposit.” Dad lifted his head from his pillow, agitated. “We were happy to do it.”

Is this what Declan was talking about?My pulse pumped like a bullet train. Was Snow using the winery as a front for the drugs? Could I make that leap?

“And Snowy’s doing so well,” Mum said, trying to ease Dad back down. “He’s even exporting.” Snow gave a modest nod. Dad sank into his pillow with a smile.

“Wait.” I turned to Mum, desperately pulling at her gaze. “This is the same winery that Bevan’s parents started? Didn’t you say it was a money pit?”

Mum’s eyes widened in panic. “That… doesn’t sound like me.”

Her face was a reminder that she and Dad didn’t like hard questions or even outright questions or anything that could be construed as “making a fuss.” Which basically described my career. And they definitely didn’t like to be quoted.

“How much did you loan to Snow?” I asked Mum and Dad. Both of them pressed their lips together and lookeddown. I turned to Snow. “How do you plan to turn this winery into a profitable business?”

Snow scowled.

Dad groaned, and the monitor beeped his distress.

“Hey, Isla, I’m lying here with tubes sticking out of me. I thought you’d come back to make me feel better. Can we talk about this another time?”

The silence was brittle, and my gaze dropped to the floor. They were embarrassed.Take a deep breath, that’s enough. For now. My gut hollowed out. My parents were unknowingly involved in a drug ring. They could be arrested, go to prison, lose everything.

I was about to apologize to Dad when Snow flicked a dismissive hand in my direction, as though I were a pesky seagull, and he couldn’t be mad at me. “All good.”

I asked Mum and Dad about the doctor’s diagnosis. Dad was scheduled for a triple bypass in three days. Apparently, his condition had to be stabilized for the operation, but he was still going into surgery early. Snow had paid for him to go private—same hospital, same doctor, but bumped up the list. I was surprised Snow did that—where did he get the funds? Drug money?

“And don’t worry,” Snow said. He sidled over to me and laid a hand on my shoulder, lightly but with insistent nudges—like a fond, annoying older brother, though each prod felt like a drill. “You have to get back to London. I’ll take good care of them.”

“No,” I said too loudly. I paused to adjust my tone and raised my chin. “I’m not leaving until Dad is home and recovered.” Crossing my arms, I shook off Snow’s hand and stepped in front of him. “I’m taking over from here.”

“Oh, true?” Mum clapped her hands together. “How wonderful. Did you hear that, boys? Isla’s staying.” Why was Mumincluding Snow here? Like he was my brother or something. A mix of revulsion and confusion wrapped around my spine.

They asked about my flight, and for the next hour, the three of them talked about friends, followed by the school kids who’d taken Snow’s surf class that morning. I sat in silence, trying to think of something to add, but mostly consumed by whether I should ask my parents about what they were accused of. Or would that bring on another heart attack? I’d always been so certain of my judgment, but I was flailing here, like a disoriented deep-sea diver thrashing through dense seaweed, not knowing which way was up.

Ring, ring.I checked my phone. Declan. I’d had to run for the plane and hadn’t signed the contract yet. I made my excuses and stepped out into the hallway.

*

“I can sign now,” I told Declan.

“I need to fly out so we can investigate together. I can be there in about thirty-five hours.”

“You? Flyhere? How would that work? Would you pretend to be my friend? A friend I’ve never mentioned? Flying twenty-six hours at such short notice?”

“Agreed. The best way is for me to pretend I’m your boyfriend.”

“Myboyfriend?” That was the last thing I expected him to say. Panic punched inside my chest. How would that work? I couldn’t picture it. Do I have any hope of convincing my parents?

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