Page 19 of Light of Day
“Some people think a lot of things,” Heather answered as she scrubbed the back corner of the countertop, where bottles of hot sauce collected, leaving crusted red rings on the tile. “And most of those things are bullshit.”
“Who are you to say?” Sally dragged on her vape, which, Heather figured, at least wasn’t making the house smell like smoke. “You act all smarty-pants because you work on the news. The news doesn’t know everything either.”
“Amen to that. I’m just saying, no one’s ever found any pirate treasure here, have they? And you know people have looked. Isn’t that what Ernie O’Shea does with his downtime?”
“Ernie.” Sally snorted. “He’ll do anything to get out of the house. That wife of his?—”
Heather held up her hand. “I don’t want to know. You know how much I hate gossip. After all the stuff people say about me, I never believe any of it anyway.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you really came out of my belly. How else are you going to know what’s going on if not for gossip?”
Heather thought about it as she squeezed the sponge under the faucet. Maybe her mother had a good point. And maybe she could take advantage of it. She abandoned her cleaning project and joined her mother in the living room, sinking into the soft embrace of a paisley-patterned armchair.
“Okay, what about Denton Simms? Any gossip going around about him?”
“Denton? Not that I know about. He’s kept close to home ever since Shannon died. His wife,” she added, as if Heather could forget the stunning Shannon with her wild red curly hair.
“Still grieving? Hasn’t it been a few years now?”
“Only two. They were super in love, ever since they were teenagers. I heard they got into a big old fight right before she died, though. I asked him about it the last time he came in for his sunny-side up, and he told me to mind my own business. He hasn’t come back since, so I guess I was over the line.”
Heather couldn’t see any relevance of that bit of gossip to the disappearance of Gabby, so she moved on. “What about the hotel? There’s always something about the Carmichaels, right? I heard some YouTube influencer wants to buy the place.”
Sally took another whiff from her vape. Cherry flavored? Heather couldn’t quite tell. “I think it’s the other way around. John Carmichael is dying to sell. His newest wife thinks it’s boring here, and she ain’t wrong.”
“Really.” Heather brought her legs up under her, tailor style. “I can’t imagine them ever selling. It’s a piece of history, that hotel. Didn’t his great-grandfather build it? Or would it be his great-great-grandfather? It’s hard to keep track.”
“Yes, but things change. I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife wants to cash out and buy an island in the Pacific instead.”
Heather hesitated before heading down that road. But in the end, she couldn’t resist. “How about Luke? Seems like people are getting used to him being on our end of the island.”
Sally nodded as she swung her feet off the ottoman, which was upholstered in corduroy of a mustard shade, perfect for hiding stains. “I’d say so. He’s done a good job, all things considered. The Prevosts were a big part of that. They made it known that anyone who messed with Luke was messing with them.”
The Prevosts were one of the most sprawling families on the island, related to practically everyone. Heather was pretty sure she was some distant cousin of Carrie’s. “But aren’t they divorced now?”
“Oh yeah, people say Carrie cheated on him soon as the honeymoon was over?—”
“Nope!” Heather flung up a hand. “That’s just plain gossip. ‘People say’? Come on.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “People say shit about me, too. That’s just the way it is. If people aren’t talking about you, do you even exist?”
“That’s pretty twisted.”
“Honey, we’re just the last in a long line of gossip. You know our family’s reputation. We’re the Messy McPhee’s. We’re a hot mess, always have been, ever since?—”
Heather covered her ears. “I don’t care. I don’t care, I don’t care,” she chanted, as if she were five years old again. Still drowning out her mother’s voice, she shot to her feet. “That’s why I don’t listen to that stuff. It just drags me down.”
“Well, excuse me if your family legacy is such a burden.”
“Isn’t it to you?” Heather cried. Good lord, she was already fighting with her mother, and she’d barely just arrived. “Didn’t you ever want to be more than a Messy McPhee?”
Sally too bolted to her feet. “Don’t you think I am? I worked my whole life to give you a chance. Why are you,” she jabbed a finger toward Heather, “always running away from who you are?”
Heather planted her hands on her hips. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t have any idea who I am now.The New Yorkeris considering hiring me.”
Well…technically…The New Yorkerhad received a recommendation from Mindy and her writing samples. She prayed that added up to “considering” her.
“Oooh, la-di-da. You know, you claim to be some kind of journalist, but you won’t even look right under your own nose. Gabby told me that. She said she found something about our family and she was trying to figure out how to tell you about it. But she worried you wouldn’t want to know.”
