The Peculiar Case of the Red Tide Read online

  “Oh, uh. My Dad isn’t a jerk. He’s pretty standard as far as Dads go, though,” I said carefully. Isabella grunted, and I glanced to the rearview mirror to meet the eldest woman’s gaze. “What do you mean, a bit of a jerk? Like... he didn’t let you go out with friends, or...,” I trailed off, realizing I was prying a bit. Isabella remained quiet, staring out the window as if she hadn’t heard me. I made to repeat myself, but she only chuckled.

  “Something like that,” she murmured dismissively. I nodded, content with the answer. I had no reason to think there was anything deeper to the story—Isabella seemed the type to have been a pretty rebellious teen. A lot of people didn’t get along with their parents, so I dismissed it as just that.

  “Well, my Dad’s nice. He raised me alone, pretty much. After my mom died, he never really pursued any other relationships. He’s always had a lot of friends, and he’s super outgoing, but there was never someone quite like my mother,” I explained, startled when Agnes chuckled warmly. I hadn’t even realized that she was listening, but she seemed interested in my explanation as well.

  “What a romantic notion. It’s hard to find a man like that,” she mused aloud. Isabella chuckled again, sounding genuinely amused this time around.

  “Interested, Agnes? You’ve not even met the man,” she teased, and Agnes reddened in what seemed equal parts embarrassment and annoyance.

  “Isabella, please. You act like I’m some young thing in the prime of my life,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

  “You are in your prime, Aggie. Your prime has just lasted a lot longer than most,” Isabella idly assured her, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit awkward at the turn the conversation had taken. Of course I wasn’t entertaining the idea that Agnes would be interested in my father of all people, but it was a bit off putting to even consider.

  “Alright, well, we’re almost there. Be on your best behavior, Isabella,” I said with a smirk, receiving the indignant squawk that I had expected in response. Agnes chuckled in the backseat, and for the first time that day, things felt somewhat normal. I knew I couldn’t expect it to last, but I would cherish it while it lasted. I pulled into my father’s driveway, shutting the car off and turning to speak to the other inhabitants of the car. Before I could get a word out, however, both of them were lurching out of their seats and rushing towards the front door. “Wait! He doesn’t even know we’re coming!” I called out, struggling to catch up with them. Isabella moved remarkably fast for someone with a bum leg, and Agnes...she seemed to sail up to the front door. The dark haired woman was already banging on the door before I could stop her, and I grabbed her shoulder mid-knock.

  “There’s a doorbell, you barbarian,” Agnes said firmly, jabbing her finger on the button in question. I heaved a sigh, trying to make myself presentable for when my Dad answered the door. I didn’t want to look as weary as the two of them actually made me feel sometimes. When my father answered the door, he took in the three of us with a look of curiosity. I smiled awkwardly, moving to introduce my companions, only for Agnes to cut me off. “Well, hello. You must be dear Abigail’s father,” she crooned, offering her hand for him to shake. He stared at her for a long moment, looking confused. “My name is Agnes Astor Smith, and I’m your daughter’s employer for the time being. She insisted that I introduce myself, and what can I say, she’s very convincing,” Agnes continued, smiling a honeyed smile as my Dad took her hand.

  “You can call me James, young lady. I must say, it is a pleasure to meet the enigma of a woman my Abigail has been working for,” my father said smoothly, and I felt faintly queasy when I realized he was flirting with Agnes. My boss! Right in front of me! Isabella caught my gaze, grinning wickedly and looking far too entertained by the situation. I glared at her, praying that she didn’t make the situation any worse. “And you are?” My father abruptly asked her, causing her to stiffen with an alarmed expression.

  “Ah... I, uh. Hm,” she sputtered for a moment, obviously nervous. She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering something unclear under her breath before thrusting her hand out for my father to take. He considered her a bit strangely, not that I could blame him, and I silently willed things to go normally for once. “Isabella. Isabella Dunn, sir. I’m a friend of your daughter, and...,” she paused, looking between me and Agnes with a quirk of her lips. “I’m a vagrant that Miss Smith here was kind enough to offer a place in her home. She’s the picture of generosity, this one,” she said more smoothly, smiling broadly at Agnes. Agnes looked delighted for her part, and while my father seemed a bit surprised, he only smiled and gestured for us to follow him inside.

  “Ah, very generous, I see. That’s an admirable trait,” my father hummed, and my mouth dropped open as Isabella bumped her fist against that of the older woman—who looked a bit bewildered by the gesture. Just as Isabella made the explosion sound with her mouth, I grabbed her by the sleeve of her shirt and caught her attention.

  “A vagrant? Are you serious?” I hissed.

  “It’s not that far from the truth,” Isabella whispered with a wink, shaking me off and shuffling further into my father’s home. I was certain I could not regret the situation any more than I already did in that moment, but then Isabella groaned in pain and stumbled over to the couch. “Sorry to take a seat without asking, sir. It’s my leg, you see. Miss Smith was kind enough to pay for physical therapy, but I’ll never have full function again,” she said in a syrupy voice, and I threw my hands up in the air.

  “Miss Smith!?” I mouthed furiously, but Isabella paid me little mind. My father seemed oblivious to my presence as well, looking at Agnes with obvious admiration.

  “Oh, I can’t take all the credit,” Agnes said dismissively, though her cheeks were alight with a pleased blush.

  “You’re being modest, Miss... Agnes, right? There aren’t many who would be kind enough to offer their home to someone in need, but you truly have gone above and beyond,” my father asserted, his voiced tinged with awe. I swear the world was conspiring against me in that moment, and it was all I could do to keep from slapping the sly smile off of Izzy’s face. “Now, please, take a seat. Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?” My father continued warmly. Agnes sat primly on the couch with Isabella, nodding with a coy smile.

  “A glass of Chardonnay would be nice,” she hummed. My father beamed, shuffling off to the kitchen and leaving us alone in the living room.

  “What the hell!?” I demanded, struggling to keep from shouting. The redness in the elder woman’s cheeks only intensified, and Isabella laughed outright, not bothering to mask her volume.

  “Oh, come on, Little Bean. There may have been no one quite like your mother, but the same can be said for Aggie here, can’t it?” She pressed teasingly, giving Agnes a little nudge.

  “You two are conspiring against me,” I sighed, flopping on the couch in between the two of them. Agnes frowned, but the expression dropped away once my father stepped back into the room with three glasses of wine. He handed one to Agnes and one to Isabella, keeping one for himself. I whined plaintively, but my father wagged a finger at me.

  “Now, Abigail, I know you’re driving. I saw your car. I can’t allow you to be irresponsible, even if you did bring extremely pleasant company,” he admonished. Isabella hid her smile behind her glass, taking a sip and humming in pleasure. I frowned at the sheer contentedness in the sound, and though I had wanted to see my friend in better spirits, I hadn’t wanted it to be at my expense! “Now, what brings you three young ladies to see me today,” my father inquired, drawing me from my fantasy of strangling both of the other women in the room. I blinked, briefly forgetting why we had come in the first place.

  “James, dear Abigail was worried that you wouldn’t approve of her joining me on another business trip. I wanted to come and explain how much I value your daughter’s aid, and to assure you that I would never let any harm befall her,” Agnes said passionately, and for a moment, I could almost believe her. I knew, however,
that Agnes would have no issue placing me in harm’s way if it meant solving her little mystery. Isabella seemed to be reading my mind, because she snorted and nearly choked on her wine. All eyes were on her then, and I took a moment to celebrate her awkward expression.

  “Uhm. Sorry. Got a little too excited. I was never really used to luxury before I met Miss Smith, and it’s still taking me some time to adjust,” she lied smoothly, winking at me once my father returned his attention to Agnes.

  “That’s fine, Isabella. Now, Agnes, you’re telling me that Abigail implied I wouldn’t want her to accompany you on this business trip?” My father began distractedly, his voice growing more stern as he spoke. I shot him an apologetic grin, wishing the ground would eat me alive right then and there. “I can assure you that’s not the case. I’m protective of my little girl, but she seems to be in good company. I would ask that she touch base with me when you get back from your trip,” he explained, smiling gently.

  “That won’t be a problem, James. Now, I hate to leave on such short notice, but this is a rather urgent trip. I appreciate your hospitality more than you can imagine, and it was very nice to meet you,” Agnes gushed, seeming genuinely remorseful to have to leave. Isabella tossed back the last of her wine before popping another piece of chocolate in her mouth, using her walking stick to get to her feet.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” my father smiled, guiding us to the door with a rather contented air about him. “Oh, and Agnes? I would appreciate if you’d touch base with me as well. When you return from our trip, that is,” he continued smoothly. Agnes looked as if she would swoon, and Isabella pressed a hand to the small of her back.

  “We’ll get your number from little Bean, sir. You have a nice day now,” Isabella said, and my father gazed at Agnes for a moment longer before his expression shifted to one of confusion. “Little Bean...?”

  Kill me.

  “Yeah, Isabella has the cutest little nicknames,” I bit out. “Anyway, we should really get going. Love you, Dad,” I said in a rush, all but dragging the other women away from the door. As soon as we were in the car, I lurched to stare into the backseat at Agnes and give her a piece of my mind. At least, I planned to. I really would have, if she didn’t look so damn giddy.

  Crap.

  I’m gonna kill Izzy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The ride back to the estate was blessedly uneventful—Isabella and Agnes had even put their bickering to rest for the time being. The two seemed at peace, which was more than could be said for me. You know how when there’s a train crash, you want to look away but can’t? That's how my thought process was operating for the next half hour. I didn’t want to think about the possibility of my father and my boss locking lips, but it repeated in my mind like some kind of skipping record. Isabella was lightly snoring in the passenger seat when we pulled into the estate, and once in the driveway, I slammed on brakes hard enough to give her a bit of a fright. She yelped, wrestling with the seatbelt in a dazed manner. Agnes reached up and patted her on the shoulder, which seemed to soothe the dark haired woman enough to get her bearings. Isabella leveled a glare at me for the briefest of moments before cracking up. As we got out of the car, she leaned over to look at me with a big dopey smile.

  “You have to admit, it’d be kind of cute,” she teased, but I opted to ignore her. On the way to the estate, I’d stopped by my apartment and packed a few bags for the trip we were apparently about to embark on. Just the basic necessities: clothes, my toothbrush, a good book to settle in and read if the wifi was crappy. Did the cabin even have wifi? This was one of Agnes’ properties we were talking about, though, so I had no doubt that it would be luxurious. I pictured the cabin as one of those extravagant vacation rentals that I saw advertised on TV all the time, and I knew it had to be better than sleeping in my boring and cramped apartment. Agnes had assured me that I wouldn’t need to pack much, but I didn’t want to be caught unprepared—in case Isabella did something typical of her nature like hiding my clothes while I was in the shower. It wasn’t anything she had ever actually done to me, but it seemed the sort of thing she would find hilarious.

  “We’ll go in and pack our bags then. It shouldn’t take any longer than twenty minutes or so,” Agnes announced, either oblivious to the spat Isabella and I were having, or simply not caring much about it. She still had a faint smile, one that hadn’t slipped from her expression since we’d left my father’s house. I hated to admit it, but it was sort of cute. Agnes wasn’t the kind of person you saw as cute, though. Intimidating, brilliant, even beautiful in a way—just not cute. I couldn’t imagine she would approve of Isabella or myself referring to her as such. Isabella seemed to have the same idea, cutting off the banter about how cute it would be when Agnes got out of the car. She smiled innocently, and I made a slashing motion across my throat, expression dead serious. Izzy only snorted maddeningly, turning her back on me and striding towards the entry of the estate. I trailed behind Agnes, who walked with an unmistakable confidence in her step. I never thought of my Dad as the sort to date, though I thought he was a pretty handsome guy—like most women feel about their Dad.

  “You know,” Isabella piped up as I walked in the door, startling me a bit. Agnes glanced at us but decided our conversation was less important than packing her bags, continuing upstairs to pack some things. “Your Dad seems like a genuinely nice guy. I didn’t think...,” Isabella paused, looking a bit troubled. “Usually, I wouldn’t approve of Aggie being interested in some... guy. But he seems nice,” she continued, resting her hip against the doorframe.

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of my Dad,” I teased, receiving a sly smile in return.

  “Please. Like he could hope to compete. Aggie treats me like some kind of princess... when she’s not putting me down, anyway. Reminds me of my mom, a bit. ...You’re dead if you tell her I said that, though,” she said coolly, moving to shuffle away.

  “You seem to miss your Mom a lot, but you don’t really talk much about her. Some kind of deep rooted issue there?” I called out jokingly, frowning when Izzy tensed and glanced over her shoulder with a rather sad expression. It was in bad taste, admittedly, but I expected her to cackle and brush me off after a moment. Instead, she simply looked resigned.

  “Something like that,” she said, repeating her words from the car ride. I wanted to press the issue, but she shook her head, as if reading my mind. “I need to pack,” she said firmly, and that was seemingly that. I sighed as I watched her go, hesitating for a moment before moving to search for whatever room Agnes was in. I assumed she would be in her bedroom and had no idea where that might be, so I resigned myself to slumping into an easy chair in the library. I didn’t have to wait long before the elder woman bustled into the room, searching through the stacks of books on her desk and paying me little mind.

  “What do you know about Izzy’s family?” I asked after pondering over it for a bit. Agnes jolted, not seeming to have noticed I was even in the room.

  “Oh, goodness. Don’t scare me like that, dear girl,” she admonished, shoving a few books in her suitcase before closing it. “As far as Isabella’s family, I’m not sure what there is to know. From what I’ve gathered, her mother died some years ago, and... well, I know as much as you about her father,” she continued, heaving her suitcase over her shoulder and gesturing for me to follow. “When do you think she’ll bring up the issue of her broken cellphone?” She asked me in turn, and I considered the question for a moment before shrugging.

  “She didn’t seem too concerned about losing it. I doubt she’ll bring it up any time soon,” I mused. When Agnes and I strode into the living room, Isabella was already waiting with her backpack. “You haven’t packed much,” I observed. She still seemed pensive, but upon hearing my voice, slipped back into a more casual demeanor.

  “I don’t need much. Are you guys ready? We should stop at the convenience store and grab some snacks before we hit the road. You can’t have a road trip without snackage
,” she said with a seemingly forced smile. Was I overthinking things? That seemed entirely possible, and actually outright likely.

  “You can use my credit card at the gas station. I’ll be filling up Abigail’s car, anyway,” Agnes said, approaching Isabella and looking her up and down. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” The eldest woman asked in a hushed voice. Isabella reddened, obviously catching on to the fact that I’d heard.

  “I’m fine, Aggie. Just haven’t been catching enough sleep. I think this trip will be just the ticket, though,” she said through clenched teeth, hesitating for a moment before drawing Agnes into her arms. The oldest of our trio seemed as shocked as I was by the sudden embrace, squeaking as Isabella held her tightly for a moment before releasing her. The two looked awkwardly at each other for a moment, but Agnes smiled as she reached out to pat Isabella on the cheek.

  “You might fool me into thinking you’re actually sweet,” she said in a warning tone. Isabella laughed, although it was a strained sound, and went to grab Agnes’ suitcase from out of her hands.

  “Wouldn’t want that. Now give me that before your feeble arms give out,” the dark haired woman said in a tone that was likely meant to be teasing, although she mostly sounded agitated. Agnes frowned before reluctantly handing the luggage over and leading the way to the door. The three of us walked in silence to the car, aside from the occasional grunt from Isabella struggling to carry the bags and use her walking stick in tandem. I thought to offer my assistance, but doubted it would be particularly well received. I did, however, pop the trunk when we got to my car, allowing Izzy to drop everything in before shutting it. When she finally got in the passenger seat, she seemed a bit confused about not having to argue over it with Agnes. If she was bothered by the change of pace, she gave no indication. She simply sagged in the seat, yawning softly.