“Right, not exactly the look I was going for. Maybe Jane and Claire can give me some guidance.” He straightened his collar and patted the cat. It felt good to have someone to talk things over with, but Picasso was no substitute for Maxi.
Feeling like he was going to the gallows, James straightened his collar and grabbed his wallet. He glanced back at Picasso. “I’m off to see what I can do to get her back. You hold down the fort.”
On the way out, James double-checked the bureau to make sure he hadn’t left the cashmere sweater drawer open.
“Hello, James.” Jane stood with her arms crossed over her chest, trying to be polite and wondering why she’d agreed to talk to James about Maxi. If it wasn’t for Mike and Rob convincing her and Claire to give James a chance, they would have turned him down outright.
“Jane, Claire. Thanks for talking to me.” James cleared his throat, clearly nervous. Good. After what he’d done, he should be. But still, Jane had an inkling of a doubt about James's guilt. Mike seemed convinced that James had done nothing wrong, and if James had cheated, why would he go to the effort of arranging this meeting?
He’d clearly thought hard about it, judging by the outfit he was wearing. It looked like he was trying to be less formal. Either that, or he hadn’t had a chance to do laundry since Maxi left.
“How about we go out on the back porch? It’s much more scenic, and Brenda made some lemonade.”
They headed out back and sat at one of the little tables. James glanced nervously at Sally, who was up on a ladder, hanging little crystal chandeliers from the ceiling. Maxi had said it would give the inn an upscale look and be perfect for weddings. At first Jane had thought they would be too fancy, but they were so small and not loaded with crystals. They gave the porch a chic look without seeming out of place.
“So what do you want?” Claire blurted out, her distaste for James obvious.
Jane poured lemonade into tall glasses while James fidgeted to come up with his answer.
“Well... I ... uh... I ran into Mike and Rob, and they said maybe you could help. I don’t know what I’ve done to make Maxi so mad, but I want to get her back.”
Jane’s left brow quirked up. “You don’t know what you’ve done?”
James looked appropriately confused. “No. Honestly. Well, okay, I know I’ve been working a lot, but I was trying to clear up a project so we could take a trip. Maxi always wanted to go to Italy, and I thought it would help cheer her up. And then I guess we haven’t been as close as usual, but I thought maybe she was just in a funk with no kids at home. I tried to encourage her to get back into art, and then I had a few other things...”
He was rambling now, spilling it all out.
Claire cut to the chase. “And is that why you took up with Sandee Harris?”
“What? Took up?” James looked from Claire to Jane. “What do you mean?”
Claire slapped the business card she’d pocketed at Splash on the table and pointed at the number written in ink. “Why else would you have her personal number?”
James squinted. “Personal number? That’s not a phone number.”
Claire sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can’t weasel out of it that easy.”
“I’m not weaseling out. That’s not a phone number.”
“So you deny meeting with Sandee Harris in a cottage, then?” Jane asked.
James looked sincerely baffled. “No. I did meet with Sandee. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Claire snorted. “I’ll say!”
James shook his head, his face red. “It’s not what you think. I was meeting with Sandee because I was looking to buy a cottage on the beach. Maxi has mentioned many times over the years that her dream is to have a little studio and paint on the beach. There aren’t any commercial studio spaces on the beach, so I thought if we bought a cottage, she could use it for that.”
Claire’s shoulders relaxed, but her eyes were still full of suspicion. Jane couldn’t blame her. She remembered that when Peter cheated, he’d been full of excuses. But this was different. “So why did you need Sandee’s personal number?”
“This?” James tapped on the writing, and Claire nodded. “That’s not her personal phone number. That’s the price for the cottage.”
Claire frowned and snatched the card up. “One million two hundred eighty-five thousand nine hundred seventy-nine.” She glanced at Jane. Jane felt like an idiot. That was about the going price for small oceanfront cottages like the one she’d seen James at. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
“So you’re not having any affair with Sandee?” Jane asked.
James made a face. “No. She’s hardly my type. I like women that are classy. Like Maxi.”
He had a point. James had always been worried about appearances, preferring Maxi to dress in conservative clothing. Sandee with her brassy blond hair, low-cut shirts, and fake boobs was hardly conservative.
