“Abigail.” Grace picked up her earthenware teacup. “I got the impression it has to do with Abigail. The agents had no real reason to stop by. I think they were just checking on us—I don’t know. Something’s going on. That’s for sure.”
Ellis frowned. “With Abigail? Nothing’s happened to her, I hope, but I can’t see why her presence on the island would have any bearing on your background check.”
Grace sipped her tea, avoiding his eye. They’d never openly discussed her relationship with Chris Browning, but she and Ellis had arrived nonetheless at the unspoken understanding that he was aware of the feelings she’d had for their murdered friend.
“Her father is these two agents’ boss,” Jason said, apparently oblivious to the look exchanged between his daughter and half brother. “Abigail has never come up here this close to the anniversary of her wedding and Chris’s death. I’m sure that alone is enough to put Agents Capozza and Steele on alert. We just have to be patient. It’ll all sort itself out in due course.”
Ellis nodded. “I agree.” He reached for the teapot, wondering if his brother even gave a damn what he thought. But Grace would. They’d always had a good relationship, in part because of her father’s womanizing. Ellis provided a steady, relatively dull presence in her life. He smiled across the table at her. “No popovers?”
“When our guests arrive,” she said with a smile. “You know I can’t resist.”
But Jason stiffened. “Damn it,” he said under his breath, nudging Ellis with his elbow. “Look. Just what we need.”
Abigail Browning ducked past a waiter with a massive tray and arrived at their table. “Well, hello,” she said breezily. “Fancy meeting you all here. It’s a perfect day for tea and popovers, isn’t it?”
“Actually,” Jason said, “we’re meeting guests for lunch.”
“I can’t think of a better spot.”
A muscle worked in Jason’s tight jaw. He’d lost patience with Abigail a long time ago and made no secret of it. Ellis got to his feet. “Do you have a table yet? Perhaps—”
“I’m sitting out on the lawn. The flowers are gorgeous, aren’t they? Not as spectacular as yours, of course, but still, very beautiful.”
Grace sat back in her chair and eyed the younger woman. “Abigail—are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“What could be wrong?”
“I’m hoping you’ll tell us, because obviously—” Grace stopped, shifting her gaze from Abigail to her tea. “Oh, dear. It’s the second Thursday in July. Chris was found—” She looked up, her face pale. “I’d forgotten.”
Ellis could smell the strong tea and see his niece’s distress, but she hadn’t forgotten what today was.
Jason pushed back his chair. “Abigail, please—”
“I’m fine,” she said.
Putting a hand on his brother’s arm, Ellis nodded toward Owen and Linc as they made their way across the sprawling lawn, dotted with stray hikers, onto the terrace. People at the sturdy wooden outdoor tables glanced at the pair—or, Ellis thought, more specifically, Owen. Without trying, he commanded attention just by the way he moved.
Linc, on the other hand, favored his right side, all but staggering toward his father’s table.
His son’s presence only added to Jason’s frustration. Ellis understood. His brother was losing control of his carefully planned lunch. “Owen, Linc,” Jason said tightly, rising. “Did you have a good hike?”
Linc grinned, nodding proudly. “Yeah, it was great. It’s more of a haul around the pond than I expected. It gets rocky on the back half. I’d never gone that far.”
“Well, good for you,” Jason said, quietly handing his son a napkin. “You’ve worked up quite a sweat.”
“Yeah.” Linc wiped his brow with the napkin. “I didn’t expect to find you guys here. What’s up?”
Grace started to answer, but Abigail said, “They’re meeting guests for lunch.”
“Oh. All right, then.”
Owen, who wasn’t sweating at all, seemed to read the situation. “I’ll see Linc home—”
“No, it’s okay,” Linc said, “I’ll manage. I don’t mind walking, actually. It’ll help loosen me up after clambering over all those rocks. Abigail—good to see you.” He spun off before anyone could stop him.
“Father,” Grace whispered. “It’s too far for him to walk. Can’t he stay? He could get cleaned up in the men’s room—”
“He’d be bored.” Obviously expecting no further argument from her, Jason turned his attention to Owen. “You don’t look as if you went on that hike at all. I’d invite you to join us—”
“You didn’t invite me,” Abigail said.
Jason took a half step back. “What?”
She smiled at him. “Just getting under your skin, Jason. Who’re you meeting for lunch? Washington power brokers? Advisers? Private investigators? Sometimes people hire their own investigators to conduct a background check at the same time as the FBI.”
Ellis appealed to Owen. “Perhaps you and Abigail—”