“How?” Amanda’s face paled.
When you live in a town of eighteen thousand people, it’s big enough that you don’t know everyone, and today that had worked in our favor. “I went to Lyle’s old office and pretended to be looking for a new house. While getting to know another broker, I got some deets about Ebba, and one thing led to another.”
“What broker? What ‘deets’?” Instead of jumping for joy, my sister trembled. In fact, she might’ve stopped breathing, too.
“Jane Bauer.”
Amanda slapped her head. “Jane’s a huge gossip. Oh God, did she know about Lyle?”
“No. Relax. I went in as if someone had recommended Ebba, so Jane said she’d quit.” As I recited the conversation back practically word for word, I’d hoped my sister would calm down, but instead she turned green. “Amanda, this is good news. Let’s call Stan and Kevin.”
I thrust a phone at her, but she didn’t take it.
“What’s wrong?” I shot my mom a quizzical look. In return, she offered up that pinched expression that informed me I’d done something she didn’t like.
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, nodding. “I’ll call him.”
She hoisted herself out of the chair, which wasn’t easy with that round belly, then disappeared inside.
When I went to follow her, my mom called, “Stop!”
My hands shot out from my sides. “Why aren’t you excited, or at least relieved?”
She pitched her face upward as if begging my dad for some wisdom about how to deal with me. “I realize you’re trying to help, but did you stop for one minute to think about how hard it is for your sister to hear about Lyle’s grand cruise with his mistress?” She shook her head, letting the rustle of the sycamore leaves fill the temporary silence. “You expect her to move on without paying any respect to what she’s losing. Yes, you were right about Lyle all along, but your sister loved him, Erin. He was her husband, not some high school boyfriend. Life as she knew it is over. That’s hard for most people, but especially for someone like her, who works so hard to keep things together. You could try being more sensitive.”
I scratched behind my ear, having no ready comeback, mostly because there wasn’t one. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.”
I peered through the window but didn’t see my sister in the kitchen. “Okay. I’ll try harder, but, my gosh, can’t we celebrate the fact that this nightmare might be over soon? We should book tickets to Turks and Caicos or something today, ’cause I want a front row seat to his arrest.”
“Arrest?” Her demeanor shifted from concern to self-preservation in a blink. “Lyle hasn’t missed his interest payment yet. Until he does, that’s premature.” Mom purposefully tapped her fingernail against the arm of the deck chair four times.
Things never went anywhere when Mom’s fingernails got involved. My skin prickled and tightened from frustration.
“Lyle wouldn’t be sailing off to South America if he planned to make those payments. When’s it due?” I asked.
“Monday.”
In two days. I guessed we’d argue about the cops on Tuesday, then.
Amanda returned, still clutching her phone. “Well, that yacht Stan’s been tracking is in Turks, so it’s more evidence that The Office—that’s the boat’s name—is in fact Lyle’s and making its way south. He’s still working on linking all the wire transfers from our bank to Lyle and the company and the boat. Until that’s tied up, Lyle could claim to be borrowing or leasing the boat from a friend or something, or using Mom’s money for something else. Who knows? He’s obviously the best liar.”
“So we wait?” Mom asked, looking almost relieved that she had a reprieve from notifying the authorities.
Amanda shrugged. “Stan suspects Lyle plans to hang out around Venezuela because, while technically there’s an extradition treaty between it and the US, it’s considered a fugitive-friendly nation, especially with all the current political upheaval. Lyle could live there a long time without having to worry about being extradited.”
When neither of them said more, I let out an exasperated raspberry. “We have enough circumstantial evidence to convince the authorities to investigate. If they issue warrants, they might get access to information Stan can’t. It’s crazy to sit on our hands and let Lyle get away.” So much for being sensitive to my sister’s feelings.
“I said no!” My mother fisted both hands and beat them against her chair.
Amanda flinched. “Lyle doesn’t know I hired a PI, so he thinks he’s fooled me with that deed. He and Ebba aren’t rushing anywhere, so we have a little time. But I have to agree with Erin, Mom. Maybe it’s time to involve the police.”
Mom shook her head. “You said we could offer Lyle a deal first. One that gets me my money and you your house and sole custody.”
“An illegal deal,” I reminded them both.
Amanda’s face pinched as her gaze darted from me to Mom. Her fingers were turning white around the phone still in her hand. “Mom, even if I caught up to Lyle, he’d probably laugh in my face and try outrunning the law before he’d hand over anything to me.” Her free hand rubbed her forehead. It struck me then that this was—in my memory—the first time she’d ever defied our mom. “If he gets to Venezuela, we’ll have lost everything, and I’ll be in limbo for years trying to prove he abandoned me.”
“But the alternative is becoming the talk of the town. Poor Amanda Foster and her stupid mother, both duped by that con man!” Mom scowled. “Our reputations will be ruined. Even if he’s arrested, I’ll probably get very little money back, and you’ll lose your home and have no guarantee of custody once Lyle gets out of jail.”
“It’s hard to pretend life is A-okay when people ask me when Lyle’s coming home. ‘I’m not sure’ isn’t working so well anymore. Ebba’s coworkers suspect she was having an affair. Once people know Lyle and I are done and start putting together the timeline, gossip will spread. Playing dumb will make us both look stupider than the truth does.” Amanda tossed the phone aside and rubbed her breastbone.
“You’re not stupid. He played us all,” I said, harkening back to that cold February afternoon when I should’ve acted on my instincts when my radar had sensed the sex in the air, despite how Lyle and Ebba had played it off. But Amanda had been happily planning for the baby, never mentioning any problems, so I’d let it go.
“Talk about the divorce like we discussed—irreconcilable differences. But don’t mention the money,” Mom insisted before she pushed herself out of her chair and took her empty cup inside, mumbling something about Dodo.
Once she’d gone, I whirled on my sister. “Don’t listen to her.”
“Please don’t push me.” She gazed blankly at the yard before briefly closing her eyes to catch a breath.
One look at her belly and the stress etched on her face kept me silent. At least she’d started to see reason. Eventually she’d do the right thing. She always did. The funny part was the fact that I wanted to follow the rules for a change.