Page 157 of The High Tide Club
When she awoke on her own, she could see the sun through the slats in the window blinds. Felicia was asleep on the other side of the bed, facedown on a pillow.
She found Lizzie in the kitchen, making coffee. “You’re alive!” Lizzie said, pouring her a mug.
“Barely.” Brooke sat at the table and sipped her coffee. A moment later, they heard water running in the bathroom, and then Felicia joined them.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
“Badly,” Brooke admitted. “All night long I kept dreaming I was falling down the stairs at the lighthouse. Down and down and down. And then one of you would wake me up and ask me what day it was.”
“Sorry,” Felicia said. “Doctor’s orders.”
“The past twenty-four hours all seem like a bad dream. I still can’t believe any of it happened. I can’t believe Gabe is dead. That he did those things mydad says he did. None of this makes any sense.” Brooke looked from Felicia to Lizzie. “Does it make sense to you?”
“We sat up talking last night after you were asleep,” Lizzie said, “trying to piece it all together, but some of it’s just a guess, and some of it, let’s face it, we might never know.”
“We took a look at all the stuff Farrah dug up on Gabe yesterday,” Felicia said. “The man was having serious financial problems. There were tax liens on his house in Savannah and at Sea Island. He’d even had some bad check charges, although it looks like those were dismissed once he made restitution.”
“Probably that’s why he looted his clients’ trust accounts. He figured he’d be able to pay back all the money before he was found out,” Lizzie said. “But the question is, why?”
“Sunny,” Brooke said.
The two women gave her a questioning look.
“His wife. She’d been in and out of rehab for years. That couldn’t have been cheap. Gabe told me she would go on spending sprees when she was drinking. He claimed he didn’t even know about that Porsche he’s been driving until he found it in the garage of the house at Sea Island shortly after she died of liver cancer two years ago.”
“Classic,” Felicia said. “Blame it on the dead wife.”
“He needed money, and he needed it fast,” Lizzie went on.
Brooke shook her head. “And when I called him and asked him to meet with Josephine to handle her estate, it must have looked like the perfect opportunity. My God, I’ve been so stupid and so naive.”
“You couldn’t have known he was broke,” Lizzie said. “He fooled everybody.”
“I wassucha chump,” Brooke said. “He charmed me, romanced me, convinced me that he was a lonely widower looking for a second chance at love. I wish you’d seen him at the Cloister in black tie and tux. He was in his element. He basically proposed to me Saturday night. He wanted me to give up my practice here, move back to Savannah, and let him ‘take care of’ me and Henry. Oh my God! He even hinted that he’d love to have a child with me!”
“But you didn’t say yes,” Felicia pointed out. “You didn’t sleep with him, right?”
Brooke blushed and looked away. “I was tempted. Gabe made it pretty clear he intended to seduce me that night. But thanks to Farrah and her lowlife boyfriend, I cut the evening short and drove back home.”
“And that’s the only reason you didn’t fall for all his smooth talk?” Lizzie asked.
“No. A couple of times, he let the mask slip. He yelled at the valet parking kid and threatened to have him fired. And then, when I called from my car to tell him I was leaving instead of spending the night at his house, he got in a really nasty dig about me running away. Of course, the next morning he showed up here with flowers and croissants and a lame apology. Still, it was an eye-opener.”
“Never trust a man who hollers at the help,” Felicia said.
“This whole time, he’s been angling to get his hands on Josephine’s money,” Brooke said. “That first time he met with her at Shellhaven? I think Josephine must have told Gabe her secrets. I think she told him that day that Gardiner was my mom’s father, and that’s why he was suddenly, passionately in love with me—he figured if he married me, he could eventually get his mitts on that money.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lizzie said. “We saw the way he looked at you. Like Dweezil when she sees a can of sardines.”
“Is that supposed to make Brooke feel better about herself?” Felicia asked.
“You know what I mean. It wasn’t only dollar signs he was seeing when he looked at Brooke. There was some real attraction there.”
“I think the attraction was that I was vulnerable. I’ve been so isolated from family and old friends since I moved down here to St. Ann’s.” Brooke gave the women a sad smile. “Okay, maybe vulnerable and isolated is a nice way of saying I was horny. It’s been more than three years since I had a man in my life.”
“Seven years for me, unless you count the drunken one-night stand I had at a wedding two years ago,” Lizzie said. She turned to Felicia. “You?”
“Next question?” Felicia said.
