Two men leaned on the railing at the cliff’s edge, between me and my intended route, talking in low, angry voices. The smell of tobacco drifted on the air, and a red ember glowed against the night as one of them pulled on his cigar.

  “Dad. I am not having this conversation. Not again.” I recognized the voice of Greg Reynolds, the soon-to-be groom.

  “Hear me out, son. There’s still time.”

  “No, there isn’t. The guests are all here. The wedding’s the day after tomorrow. Even if I wanted to back out, which I can assure you, I do not, I would never humiliate Hannah like that.”

  “She doesn’t need to be humiliated. She can say it’s her idea.” Ralph’s words came out slurred. He belched.

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, but I’d heard enough that if they saw me now, they’d think that’s what I’d been doing. I stepped backward, into the darkness at the bottom of the kitchen steps. Éclair sniffed at the men’s shoes. So wrapped up were they in their discussion, they scarcely paid her any attention, and she soon wandered away.

  “Dad, no.”

  Ralph took another drag on his cigar. “Look, Greg. This marriage is a mistake and you know it.”

  “I know nothing of the sort. I love Hannah and she loves me. I simply can’t understand what you have against her.”

  “I don’t want any daughter of Max Hill coming anywhere near my family.”

  “Hannah’s father’s been dead for a lot of years. What happened between you and him is ancient history. You can carry a grudge for as long as you want, but it’s none of my concern. The whole situation is absolutely ridiculous.”

  “Hear me out, son. Max—”

  “We have nothing more to say, Dad. Good night. If you and Mom would prefer not to attend my wedding, that’s up to you.” He started to turn.

  “One hundred thousand dollars.”

  “What?” Greg froze.

  “A hundred thousand bucks will go a long way toward getting that mural painting business of yours off the ground.”

  “You’d give me that if I call off the wedding?”

  “I would. On the condition you agree never to see Hannah or anyone in her family again.”

  “What would Mom have to say about that?”

  “She doesn’t need to know.”

  Greg laughed, the sound low and bitter. “Like she doesn’t know everything. When it comes to money anyway. Her and Grandma. Although there are plenty of other things Mom doesn’t know. Or maybe she knows full well and just doesn’t care. Sorry, Dad. No. Hannah and I’ll make a go of it on our own. She doesn’t expect anything more.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Are you sure she’s not expecting you to inherit from your grandmother. My mother’s not getting any younger, you know.”

  “Was it you who played that trick with the doll?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Hoping to make Hannah look emotionally unstable maybe? Give me the excuse you think I need to back out of the wedding at the last minute?”

  “I don’t need to make her, or her fool of a mother, look any more unstable than they are. No, that wasn’t me. And, before you ask, I don’t know who brought it.”

  “If you still have issues with Jenny, after all these years, because she married Max, I’m sorry about it. I really do not care. This conversation is over.”

  “Don’t—”

  “You’ve had way too much to drink tonight, Dad. Go to bed. Sleep it off. Forget we ever had this conversation. Good night.”

  Greg walked away.

  Ralph threw his cigar over the cliff and stamped off in the opposite direction from his son, his steps unsteady. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered as he stumbled over a patch of grass close to my hiding place.

  I cautiously stepped up the stairs and watched him go. From the deep shadows of the shelter of a bush next to the steps leading down to the beach, a figure emerged. Not making a sound, staying out of the light in the doorway, it followed Ralph and melted into the dark at the side of the house.

  I called to Éclair and we headed to our own beds.

  Family dynamics. Thank heavens all that had nothing to do with me.

  Chapter 6

  Unfortunately, the dynamics of the Reynolds family turned out to have a great deal to do with me.

  I arrived the following morning at the B & B kitchen at a quarter after six, late for me. Last night, I’d confirmed enough muffins were in the freezer to get the day started so I didn’t see the need to be exactly on time today.

  Simon was standing at the edge of the cliff, watching the bay come to life. Same spot as Ralph and Greg Reynolds had been last night, but he was in a considerably better mood. “Good morning.” He held out his arms, and I fell into them. We kissed as Éclair snuffled at our feet, wanting attention.

  Finally Simon broke away and leaned over to pet the dog. Her tongue lolled, and her tail wagged happily.

  When he straightened up, I lifted my hands, wiggled my fingers, stuck out my tongue, and moved it up and down, along with my hips.

  Simon cocked one eyebrow. “Are you having an incident, Lily?”

  “No, I am not having an incident. I’m wanting attention, too.”

  He reached out and scratched behind my ear. Laughing, I skipped down the stairs and let us into the kitchen.

  Simon put the coffee on while I got bacon and eggs out of the fridge. At Victoria-on-Sea, we specialize in serving our guests a full English breakfast. The same sort of meal my grandmother prepared for my grandfather every Sunday of their married life. As the years passed, times changed, and they got older and more concerned with their health, Rose stopped frying the bread in a lake of bacon fat, alongside the mushrooms and tomatoes. My grandfather begrudgingly accepted toast, rather than fried bread, and vegetables lightly sautéed in olive oil rather than animal fat, but he drew the line at giving up his bacon.

  I served the same to our guests: grilled bacon or sausages, eggs to order, sautéed mushrooms and tomatoes, a stack of toast, even baked beans out of a can. I’d also do an egg-white frittata on request and offer pancakes or eggs Benedict on special occasions. For those who didn’t want a full breakfast, we laid out cereal and yoghurt and a salad of fresh fruit, along with muffins or coffee cake.

  “Anything special on today?” Simon asked as the coffee maker gurgled to life.

  “Just the usual. Which is good. I enjoyed putting that shower on yesterday, but I wouldn’t want to do it every day. Too much emotional baggage.” I thought about the conversation I’d overheard last night but said nothing to Simon about it. Our guests did have an expectation of privacy.

  “Baggage is right,” he said. “I went to the shed before coming in here. I had this feeling I should check on the doll. Make sure it hadn’t tucked its head under its arm and wandered off into the night.”

  “I don’t think I’d have been all that surprised if it had. Poor Hannah, what an awful thing to happen to her. I hate to think about someone who’d be that mean.”

  “Good morning, all.” Edna Harkness, the kitchen assistant and breakfast waitress, bustled in. She put her purse under the counter and took her apron down from the hook by the door. “How’d the wedding shower go yesterday?”

  “My part went perfectly well,” I said.

  “Meaning other parts didn’t?” she asked.

  “Family drama,” Simon said. “Nothing like a wedding to get all the old resentments boiling over and everyone acting out. That or a funeral.”

  “No one acted out at my wedding,” Edna said. “And we haven’t had my funeral yet. Although . . .”

  “Although?” I prompted.

  “My brother’s ex-girlfriend showed up at the wedding, saying she’d been invited. Which she had—when they were a couple. I assumed she’d know she was no longer expected to attend, not after he dumped her because she’d been cheating on him with his best friend. Former best friend.”

  “How awkward. What happened? Did she make a scene?”

  “No. She sat at the back of the reception hall, scowling at my brother all night. I had a lovely time at my wedding. My brother,” she chuckled, “did not.”

  When the coffee was ready, Simon poured mugs for me, Edna, and himself. He then took a seat at the kitchen table, reached for a sharp knife and the big cut-glass fruit bowl, and began slicing bananas, melons, and oranges for the morning salad. “Couple of these extra bananas aren’t going to make it until tomorrow,” he said. “I can do some shopping for you, if you prepare me a list. I have to go into town later.”

  “Thanks. If I have time this morning, I’ll throw together a banana bread with them. Looks like it’s going to be another perfect day, and I expect a busy day at the tearoom.”

  Fruit salad finished, Simon drank the last dregs of his coffee, grabbed a muffin, and gave me a quick kiss. “Talk later.” He left the kitchen and skipped nimbly up the steps.

  I turned to see Edna grinning at me. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m happy you and Simon are together. Took you two long enough.”

  I harrumphed, and she laughed.

  * * *

  Breakfast service went off without a hitch, and I had time to use the about-to-expire fruit to whip up a quick banana bread to put in the freezer for emergency supplies. At ten to nine, I was pouring myself another cup of coffee, happy to be able to get away a few minutes early to enjoy a brief moment of relaxation by myself before heading up to the tearoom to get started on my second job of the day, when Edna came into the kitchen with a load of dirty dishes. “We might have a problem.”

  “I don’t want a problem.”

  She put the tray on the counter next to the dishwasher and said, “Doesn’t matter if you want it or not, Lily.”

  I sighed. “I know. I know. Any sign of Rose yet?”

  “No. I’ll call her, if you want.”

  “Let me see to it first. What’s happening?”

  “A guest says her husband hasn’t come down as expected, and he’s not answering her texts.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “She texts her husband over breakfast?”

  “Apparently. They’re obviously not sharing a room. But that is absolutely none of our business. She sent someone up to knock on his door and there’s no answer.”

  “He’s probably gone out for a walk and lost track of the time. What does she want us to do?”

  “Open his door.”

  I grimaced. “Should I?”

  “They might have reason to be concerned, Lily.”

  “I don’t suppose this wife is a haughty, thin, nicely dressed blonde in her early sixties, and her son’s getting married tomorrow?”

  “Bingo.”

  Sophia Reynolds.

  After what I overheard at the cliff last night, it wouldn’t surprise me if Ralph packed up and headed home without telling anyone. But, if he’d done that, he should have left the room key on the desk and informed Rose he was checking out. Particularly if he had a room to himself. “Let me call Rose first, and if she doesn’t know where he is, I’ll talk to them. I hate getting involved in people’s problems.”

  “All part of the service.” Edna began loading the dishwasher.

  I phoned my grandmother, and she answered with a bright enough voice I knew I hadn’t woken her. “Good morning, love. Is everything all right?”

  “Not entirely sure,” I said. “Did you get a premature checkout last night or early this morning?”

  “No. As it happens I’m checking the reservation book at the moment. Why are you asking?”

  “I’ll let you know when I know.”

  “Very well. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes. Please ask Edna to have my tea ready.”

  “Like that’s gonna happen.” I hung up.

  Rose and Edna continually engaged in a game of wanna-be and not-wanna-be master and servant. Edna maintained she was the B & B waitress, not Rose’s personal maid. Rose, who’d been a kitchen maid herself in her Yorkshire youth and had never had a personal maid of her own, wanted to have one. Edna was the only prospect.

  Edna didn’t need this job, and I suspected she largely did it for the enjoyment of the game of wits she played with the strong-willed Rose. Who was, not incidentally, a regular bridge opponent of hers.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll see what’s happening. If I must. I’ll talk to Mrs. Reynolds.”

  I untied my apron. Éclair recognized the going-home signs and came out from under the table, ears up, eyes bright, tail wagging.

  “Sorry, girl,” I said. “I have an errand to do first.”

  Her face fell. I didn’t feel too guilty; I suspect that when my back is turned Edna slips the dog slices of uneaten bacon or sausage.

  The dining room was still full of guests relaxing over the last of their coffee and planning their day. The four bridge-playing women had maps spread across the table and iPads open at tourist information pages. We’d pushed two tables together to make a table for eight next to the French doors leading to the section of garden overlooking the bay. Sophia; Regina, her mother-in-law; her three children, Greg, McKenzie, and Ivan; and Dave, the best man, were gathered around the table. Their breakfasts had been finished and cleared away, but coffee cups and juice glasses were still in use.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds,” I said, trying to sound helpful and cheerful. “Edna said you wanted to speak to me.”

  “Are you in charge here?” Sophia asked. She looked lovely this morning in a soft peach blouse and white capris. Gold hoops were through her ears and a small diamond on a thin gold chain nestled at the base of her throat. “I thought you owned the tearoom.”

  “I also help out at Victoria-on-Sea in my grandmother’s absence.”

  McKenzie looked up from her phone. She was ready for a day at the beach, in a long, loose blue wrap and flip-flops, with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. “Sorry to bother you. Much ado about nothing. My dad’s having a sulk, and my mom’s all in a tizz. I mean, it’s not like that’s never happened before. Either the sulk or the tizz.”

  Sophia glared at her daughter. Greg threw me an apologetic look and the other two men glanced away, embarrassed.

  Ralph’s mother sniffed. “I agree with McKenzie. Can’t Ralph have a moment to himself without you always making a fuss over him, Sophia?”

  McKenzie dropped her phone into her cavernous beach bag and pushed her chair back. “You do what you want, Mom. I’m going to have a stroll in the gardens.” She plopped an enormous pair of sunglasses on her face. “Do you know if that English guy’s working today? I’m so interested in the work a gardener does.” She stared directly at me as she spoke.

  Was that supposed to be some sort of a challenge?

  “Is that what you call it, Mac?” Ivan said. “Give it up. He’s not interested. What’s Jack up to today anyway?”

  “Oh, Jack. He’ll come when I call. He always does. Toodle-ooo!” She left via the French doors, swinging her beach bag and her ponytail.

  In the silence that fell over the Reynolds table, I could hear one of the bridge players say, “This tour seems to be lot cheaper than the others.”

  “Likely because it’s not as good. How long is it?” her friend asked.

  “They’re all rather expensive. Karen and Laurie, are you listening to us?”

  Karen’s and Laurie’s attention had wandered from day-planning, and they were obviously listening in on the Reynoldses’ family drama. Caught eavesdropping, they both started and hid guilty looks. “Whatever you girls want is fine with me,” they chorused.

  “As I told your waitress”—Sophia’s sharp voice pulled my attention back—“my husband is not answering his phone. I have an appointment at a spa in town at ten o’clock, and we arranged for him to drive me. My son knocked on his door, but he got no answer. I’m”—her composure momentarily broke—“concerned he might have fallen ill. When we travel we find it more convenient to have separate rooms,” she added, although I hadn’t asked, “as we keep to very different schedules on vacation.”

  Regina snorted. Sophia ignored her.

  “I told you I’ll drive you to the spa, Mom,” Greg said.

  “That is hardly the point,” she snapped.

  “Are you wanting me to let you into his room?” I asked.

  “I am. Yes.”

  “Is he the sort to go for a walk in the morning? A set of stairs leads down to the beach, and often people walk far longer and farther than they realize, if the tide’s out and it’s a nice day.”

  “My dad’s never taken a walk in his life,” Ivan said, “if you exclude the golf course. Although, come to think of it, these days he doesn’t even walk from one hole to another.”

  “In his own awkward way, Ivan is correct,” Sophia said. “A morning walk would be most unlike my husband.” She pushed her chair back and started to stand up.

  A streak of black sailed into the room and landed on what had been McKenzie’s chair.

  Sophia shrieked. The senior Mrs. Reynolds said, “Goodness,” and patted her chest.

  Robert the Bruce had arrived, and that meant my grandmother couldn’t be far behind.

  “A cat.” Ivan pointed out what everyone had noticed. “Is it allowed in the dining room?”

  “All our promotion clearly states a cat is in residence,” Rose said. “As does the sign by the front door. Good morning, everyone.”

  Robbie gave Ivan a self-satisfied smirk and washed his whiskers.

  People muttered something along the lines of, “Good morning.”

  “Did you sleep well, Regina?” Rose asked.

  “As well as can be expected, thank you for asking,” the elderly woman replied. “You know what it’s like. Old bones on an unfamiliar bed. But the sound of the sea was comforting. If I could hear it over the cacophony of my granddaughter’s snores. In that, if nothing else, she takes after her late grandfather.”

  Greg and Ivan both laughed.

  Sophia cleared her throat. “If we can get back to the matter at hand.”