The Lost Coast Page 11

  I wasn’t disappointed. A salad of perfectly roasted red and golden beets on a bed of wild greens, glazed pecans with a hint of pepper scattered on top, had been packed separately from a red wine vinaigrette that contained some kind of fruit in it I couldn’t place—perhaps more lingonberries—and a separate container of soft goat cheese was included to “spoon on liberally”, per Karolina’s notes. The reheated pommes frites and grilled salmon with caper and lemon aioli made the meal almost too decadent to eat. But I managed. And I managed to eat Konstantin’s portion as well, because after all, fish wasn’t going to keep.

  With a cup of chamomile and some lemon wafers, I padded to the living room in my fluffy Sherpa socks and curled up to watch TV. I remembered very little after that. My ordeal the night before had obviously taken more out of me than I’d realized. I’d spent all of three or four hours actually awake out of the whole day.

  But I was a million times more rested the next morning and could even move my joints without screaming pain. The bruises on my face were fading to a pleasant shade of yellow-green with a charming burst of purple hematoma. By the time I’d showered and dressed, I felt halfway human. The other half might even have made a comeback if I’d had a cup of coffee, but there was none to be found in the pantry or fridge—not even instant, which I would have choked down if I had to.

  Aravella, of all unlikely possibilities, proved to be my savior in this regard. She arrived while I was tearing apart the cupboards, and as before, didn’t bother to knock.

  She was sporting a sort of retro Annie Hall-esque look, with a vest and suit pants tailored to look like she’d borrowed them from a man—but a tiny and perfectly proportioned man—over an oversized white poet shirt, complete with tie, and her dark hair was in a loose knot at the top of her head, secured with a pencil. On anyone else it would have looked pretentious and absurd. Aravella managed to make it look like something casual she’d thrown on without giving it a thought.

  “I take it you’re feeling less guilty,” I said as I stuffed the contents of the cupboard back in.

  Aravella smiled. “A day seemed long enough. But honestly, what we need to talk about doesn’t have to be an ugly scene. I think we can find a way to make the exchange mutually beneficial. Did you have a chance to look over the papers?”

  “I did.” I put my hands in my pockets. “I’m not sure I understand the will.”

  Aravella waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Let’s not talk about it here. I thought I’d show you around Jerusalem since the rain’s let up. For a blip on the map, they have a fantastic café. The coffee there is to die for.”

  “I don’t think I’m really up to a walk.” My brain, on the other hand, was shouting, Yes! Coffee! Shut up!

  “Of course not,” said Aravella. “We’ll take my car.” She headed out onto the porch as if the matter were settled. “And bring the papers.”

  I sighed and pulled on my boots and coat. It might not be raining now, but I wasn’t taking any chances that it would stay that way. I took my blue knit hat as well. The same one Lukas had photographed me in. It was a little faded and worn these days but still did the job, and it was a favorite I’d never been able to give up. I tugged it over my damp hair, grabbed the case, and followed her out.

  Aravella had already brought her car up from the circular drive in front of the house. The Aston Martin was nothing less than I expected and put my little ’02 Camaro to shame.

  I hadn’t paid much attention to Jerusalem on the way in, but as Aravella turned off Main Street, its quaint charm became more obvious. Craftsman houses stood side by side with painted Victorians, all with a sort of shabby elegance, weathered by the salt air in grayed natural wood and peeling shades of pale blue and mint green, with the occasional lemon yellow. Porches that looked like they were the sort people actually came out onto and sat to greet their neighbors and shoot the breeze were ubiquitous with swings and deck chairs—and more than one sported a bong on the rail or a table, as if dropping in for a hit were part of the local culture.

  Aravella parked on a side street and led the way to what looked like just another house but was in fact a well-packed café with the whimsical name of Such Stuff. The proprietress came out and greeted Aravella by name, stopping at our table to chat as though they were old friends, though it was hard to imagine Aravella being BFFs with the peasant-blouse-and-long-skirt-wearing woman whose steel-gray hair was somewhere between braided and dreadlocked. Her name was Luminous. Of course it was.

  Aravella had been right about the coffee. I sighed with satisfaction as I drank my latte, the perfect amount of foam making a peak, topped with nutmeg, just the way I liked it. While I’d gone to the counter to pick it up along with the peach scone I’d ordered, Aravella had taken the will out of the case she’d brought in with her and had it laid out on the shellacked wooden table.

  “So I don’t know how much of it you read.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I know it’s a bit dry. But the inheritance hinges on the stipulation that you are in fact Sebastian’s daughter. I wanted to be certain that could be proved one way or the other, and I found your birth certificate had been duly filed on the day of my brother-in-law’s death. Which seems a bit convenient, but it’s genuine. I bribed someone at the state records office to get me an official stamped copy.”

  “I thought you were in Greece.”

  “Oh, I was. That was other business.”

  “So why are you showing this to me? Wouldn’t it have been better to keep it to yourself?”

  “The truth will out, Millie. I don’t like covering things up just because they’re inconvenient. They always come back to bite you in the ass.” That was for sure. Mine had bitten so hard, it had left teeth marks. “And the reason I’m showing it to you is because I want you to sign a waiver, releasing any claim on the estate, and granting sole ownership to Lukas.” She certainly didn’t waste any time dancing around the subject.

  I took a steadying breath. “And why would I want to do that?”

  Aravella smiled over her cup, and the smile was dangerous. “Because Lukas might weather the scandal about his incestuous relationship with his niece—he’s a man, and a millionaire—but I doubt you would.”

  I sucked hot coffee between my teeth. “Our relationship was an accident. Neither of us knew we were related. People might talk, but it would hardly be scandalous, just…pathetic.”

  “I won’t argue the last point, but as for the first, are you so sure about that?”

  I set my cup carefully in the saucer, the scone forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you really believe Lukas just happened to come to San Francisco and take the same kung fu class you were taking?”

  “Of course not. Clara sent him to check up on me. She told him I was the child of a friend of hers.”

  “That’s what he told you? That’s ridiculous. You do hear how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting. I’m telling you: he knew exactly who you were. He went there for the express purpose of meeting and seducing you.”

  I stood so abruptly, I nearly knocked over my chair. “What kind of sick bullshit are you trying to pull?”

  Aravella began stacking the papers calmly, tapping them on the table to square their corners. “I’m not trying to pull anything. I’m warning you. I admit, I did send you that email with the ad for the position. I’d hired the PI to find out what Lukas had been up to before we tied the knot, trying to get something on him that would nullify our agreement. When I turned up correspondence between Lukas and Aunt Clara that made it clear exactly who you were, I was curious about you, and Koste needed the very thing you specialized in, so I sent for you. But I didn’t understanding how deep this went.”

  There was nothing duplicitous in the fawn eyes as she paused as if to study my reaction. “You don
’t know anything about this family you’ve stumbled into. I understand it must be overwhelming to finally discover your roots after living in the dark for so long, but don’t be naïve. The Strands are a very old family, and blood means everything to them. And now you’ve learned you’re blood, they aren’t likely to let go of you if they can help it. They’re like kudzu. They’ll choke the life out of you if you let them.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Aravella. But Lukas did not come to San Francisco to seek out his own niece for an affair. That is ridiculous. I think you must have some kind of paranoid complex. You should probably see someone about that.” I started to step away and then decided I’d be damned if I was going to miss out on the best cup of coffee in Northern California just because Aravella was batshit insane. I took the cup and saucer up to the counter and asked for a to-go cup.

  The kid behind the counter eyed my bruises with frank curiosity. “Oh, we don’t do that. Sorry. You have to drink it here.”

  With a sigh and a glare, I chugged the rest of the latte and set the cup down on the counter.

  Aravella was snapping the case shut as I passed her on the way to the door. She spoke just loudly enough for me to hear. “Lukas has been talking to you about putting Koste away, hasn’t he? You think you’re clever implying like mother, like son.” She rose, and the look on her face was frighteningly intense, like a mother bear that had just realized her cub was being messed with. “There is nothing wrong with Koste, and there is nothing wrong with me. I will not allow him to be taken away.”

  “Something is wrong with Koste.” I matched her low voice. “He zones out and sleepwalks while he’s awake, and remembers nothing. But as for institutionalizing him, I think that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Frankly, I think what’s wrong with him is physical, not mental. He needs to see a neurologist. You, on the other hand, told me before you left for Greece that you thought someone had pushed your son down the lighthouse stairs and left him there. That’s a little nuts.” I shoved the door open and headed outside.

  Aravella followed and grabbed my arm, eliciting an unexpected wince. “It is not nuts,” she hissed. “You can write it off as paranoia all you want to, but I know far more about this family and what they’re willing to do for blood than you could ever imagine. You’re in danger here, and not just from me spilling the beans to the local newspaper about your incestuous relationship with my husband. Beverly’s daughter.” She gave me a significant lift of her dark brows. “The child of the woman Signe blames for her Sebastian’s death, and the last of the direct Strand descendants.”

  I pulled my arm from her grip. “Except for Koste, you mean. And what the hell does my bloodline have to do with him anyway?”

  “Koste is a hybrid. You…are from the same branch.”

  “I’m what? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Why don’t you just ask Clara now that you’re chummy with her.” Aravella turned on her heel and headed for the car. “If you want a ride back to the Strand, I suggest you call Roger,” she tossed over her shoulder. “He’ll do anything for family.”

  Stranded in Jerusalem, I had no choice but to do exactly that. Of course, I didn’t have the house number in my phone, only Lukas’s. I sighed and sucked it up. There was no way I was going to manage the mile or two back to the cottage on foot right now.

  While I waited for Lukas, Luminous came outside with my scone on a plate. “You didn’t get a chance to taste this, I noticed.” She smiled as she held it out. “Made with local peaches.”

  “Thanks.” I accepted the plate and took a bite and nodded. “It’s really good.”

  Luminous leaned against the post of the porch overhang. “Aravella didn’t say, but I guess you must be Koste’s physical therapist. She’d mentioned she was expecting you.”

  “I probably won’t be much longer,” I said as I nibbled the scone. “He’s doing so much better already.”

  Her gaze lingered on my face. “I can give you some hemp salve for that bruise.”

  I bit back a laugh. I bet she could. “That’s okay, it looks worse than it feels.”

  “It’s really no trouble. We carry it in the gift shop.” She turned before I could object and stepped inside to the small counter in the front window where souvenirs were displayed, returning in a moment with a tin decorated with a charming hand-calligraphed label. “It works wonders. Helps you heal faster.”

  I hesitated, wondering if she was just trying to sell something to the tourist.

  “It’s on me,” she said, recognizing the source of my hesitation. “I promise, you’ll love it.”

  I smiled reluctantly. “That’s really nice of you. Thanks.” Lukas’s silver Fiat came around the corner and pulled up in front of the café.

  Luminous handed me a business card for the café from her pocket before I stepped down to the street. “If you ever want to talk, just come by or a give me a call. I knew Beverly.”

  I started and glanced up from the card. “Aravella told you? About my…history?”

  “Oh no. She didn’t mention it.” Luminous smiled. “I just see Beverly in you.” She pressed my arm and went back inside, and I opened the passenger door of Lukas’s car, stuffing the card into my pocket with the tin of salve, not sure what to make of this information.

  Konstantin was in the backseat.

  “Hey.” I smiled at him. “How are you feeling?” His wide eyes focused on my face, and he didn’t reply. “Bruises always get ugly when they’re getting better,” I said, touching my cheek. “I’ll be good as new in a day or two.” I glanced over at Lukas as he drove toward Main Street. Aravella’s claim that he’d set out to entrap me, knowing exactly who I was, repeated in my head, but it was ludicrous. She was just trying to goad me into signing away my rights. “Thanks for picking me up. You didn’t have to come yourself. I just meant for you to send Roger.”

  “I wasn’t busy. Roger was.” Lukas kept his eyes on the road. “Sorry about Vella. She’s had a bit of a bee in her bonnet about you since she got back. We…talked.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was just a misunderstanding.” I hoped he wasn’t going to say anything else about Aravella in front of Konstantin.

  “What did you think of Lumi?”

  “Lumi? Oh, you mean Luminous?”

  “She’s kind of a fixture around here. Does tarot readings and sells crystals.”

  “She gave me some hemp salve.”

  Lukas laughed. “Stuff works pretty well, actually.” He headed onto the dirt road that led to the coast. “She can be a little odd, but she’s harmless.”

  “She didn’t seem odd to me. You forget, I live in the Haight.”

  Lukas grinned, and then the smile froze on his face. He was probably thinking what I was thinking, about the times he’d been in my apartment. He knew exactly where I lived. I’d been in the same place for over a decade. He had once been intimately acquainted with it.

  He fell silent as we drove through the avenue of trees toward the Strand and I turned in my seat to address Konstantin and dispel the awkwardness. “Are you keeping up with your exercises?” Konstantin gave me a noncommittal shrug.

  “We haven’t been doing them as much as we should,” said Lukas. “I suppose it’s probably easier when the direction’s coming from you. Actually, I was hoping I could drop Konstantin off with you for an hour or so before lunch so he can get back on track.” He glanced at me. “Under your direct supervision, of course.” Which I supposed was his way of saying as long as you don’t take your eyes off of him.

  “I don’t see why not. I’m not going anywhere for the time being.” I cleared my throat. “Any word on my car?”

  “End of the week,” he said, and I had the impression my question had annoyed him. Maybe I seemed ungrateful. The lighthouse came into view, with the stunning steel gray of the oce
an beyond as the trees parted. Lukas pulled up in front of the cottage. “The crutches are in the back. I’ll help Konstantin up the stairs if you want to grab them.”

  I was surprised when he hoisted Konstantin on his hip and carried him up the steps. After all his disapproval over the idea of Konstantin being babied, and Lukas’s apparent reluctance to get close to his son, it seemed out of character. He set Konstantin on the porch and I handed him the crutches and helped him place them correctly while Lukas opened the door. Konstantin made his halting way inside, so different from how he’d moved in his fugue state.

  “I’ll have Roger come by and pick him up in time for lunch,” said Lukas. “I’ll be out at the winery. You should come down to the house and eat some of Karolina’s food fresh for a change.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that. Thanks.” I didn’t really have any intention of going down to the house. I was no more interested in dining with his wife than I was with him.

  Once inside with Konstantin, I decided my first order of business was dealing with what had happened the other night. I sat beside him on the couch. “So your pappa told me you were pretty upset about what happened on the cliff.”

  Konstantin kept his eyes on his crutches leaning against the couch between us.

  “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, sweetie. You were very brave.”

  His eyes darted up to mine and away. “But it’s my fault we were out there,” he said in a small voice. “And that you got hurt.”

  “It is not your fault. Did you decide to get up and go out there?”

  “No.”

  “Do you even remember going out there?”

  He shook his head.

  “If anything, it’s my fault. I should have been more alert and heard you when you got up. And I should have been more careful when I tried to wake you. It’s my fault we fell. And I am so proud of you for being brave and climbing up when I told you to, even though it was scary. If you hadn’t, we both would have been hurt very badly. You saved our lives, Koste—Konstantin.”