Excerpt of Deadly Payoff

Psalm 49:6-7
"They that trust in their wealth, and boast themselves in the multitude of their riches;
none of them can by any means redeem his brother,
nor give to God a ransom for him."
 

Chapter One


Leaving her home and business in Hawaii and flying to eastern Maine so often, even for the sake of her family, was beginning to wear on Delia Blanchard. All she really wanted to do was stand on the warm sands of Oahu, breathe deeply of the sweet tropical air and feel its balmy breezes on her face. Instead, here she was, back on the Atlantic coast again and stuck within the cold, stone walls of the Blanchard mansion. It was enough to make any wahine shiver, even a transplanted one like her.

She fluffed her short, dark hair, forced a smile and aimed it especially at her youngest sister, Juliet. "You okay, honey?"

Juliet nodded. "Fine. I’m glad you came."

"How could I refuse when all my sisters, and Aunt Winnie, insisted they needed me?"

"We do. I wish you could stay longer this time."

"I should have come when you were in the hospital," Delia said, giving her a brief, sisterly hug, "but by the time I got the word and was able to book a flight back to the Mainland, you were out of danger."

"I understand." Juliet smiled. "Besides, I’d rather see you when I’m not flat on my back in some depressing hospital."

Delia wasn’t about to pursue this line of conversation. The sisters had enough problems without rehashing Juliet’s deliberate poisoning, not to mention Portia’s foiled kidnapping and Rissa’s brush with death on the cliffs a few weeks ago.

Her brown eyes narrowed as she took in the darkly paneled walls and the sweeping walnut staircase with its heavy, ornate balustrades. "Speaking of depressing. This place gives me worse shivers every time I come back. I know you’ll be glad to marry Brandon and move out of here."

"It’s not so bad. I suppose you would notice the contrast more than the rest of us," the blond young woman said. "There’s a big difference between the Maine coast and the shores of Oahu."

"That’s an understatement."

The heavy front door swung open to admit a gust of icy wind and three more of Delia’s sisters. Twins Portia and Rissa led. Bianca followed. "Sorry we’re late. Father insisted on taking the scenic route in spite of the bad weather."

Delia laughed. "You should have ridden with Miranda and Aunt Winnie or Juliet and me. My rental car may not be as luxurious as Father’s town car but we got back here a lot faster." She wrapped her arms close around herself, chilled despite her long-sleeved, belted sweater, and squelched a shudder as her sisters shed their coats. "I don’t know why Father insisted we visit the cemetery again. I think births and happy occasions like that should be celebrated, not anniversaries of loss."

The others murmured agreement, growing more subdued the moment their father, Ronald Blanchard, joined them. Tall and broad-shouldered, with attractive streaks of gray at his temples, he cut a dashing figure although he was in his late fifties. His overall countenance, however, left a lot to be desired. Delia couldn’t help comparing it with the brewing, New England storm. Happily, the gray clouds outside would soon lift while her father seemed to be growing more morose by the minute. Anyone who wasn’t aware of his decades-long estrangement from his recently deceased wife, Trudy, might think that he had actually cared for her.

The sisters knew better, of course. They had grown up in a home where the mere mention of their mother’s name was strictly forbidden. Ronald Blanchard, like his own father, Howard, was a hard, unforgiving man. Whatever he said, went, and no one often dared question his edicts. No one except her.

Thoughtful, Delia pressed her lips into a thin line. Perhaps she had inherited more negative family traits than she liked to admit. She’d tried for twelve years to forgive her father for having had her marriage annulled and she was still far from success. Yes, she’d been underage at the time. And, yes, she’d gone against his wishes. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t have worked between her and Shaun Murphy if everybody had just left them alone.

Delia took a deep breath and tried to banish the image of her handsome husband. Correction. Former husband. Their marriage had lasted only a few hours, so why did she still picture herself as Shaun’s seventeen-year-old, starry-eyed bride? It was ridiculous. It was also understandable.

She’d been sure their love would last a lifetime, until her father had interfered. All he’d had to do was make a few threats and throw enough money at the problem and Shaun had walked away as if he’d never held her in his arms or pledged undying love.

"So, how’s business?" Bianca asked pleasantly, jarring Delia back to the present.

"Good. We’re already busy. Once school is out for the summer on the Mainland we’ll get even busier. Every kid and his brother want to learn to surf."

"I still don’t know how you teach anybody to balance on that cumbersome board the way you do," Juliet chimed in. "It looks really hard – and dangerous."

"Not if you watch for rip currents and know what you’re doing. Of course, I wouldn’t try it on a rocky coast like this one, but it’s wonderful under the right conditions. Catching the perfect wave and shooting the curl is a thrill like nothing else."

Bianca chuckled. "Oh, I don’t know about that!"

Dark eyes twinkling, Portia and Rissa exchanged knowing glances and quiet giggles. The twins were so in tune with each other they didn’t need to say a word to communicate.

"Being madly in love with Leo doesn’t count, Bianca." Juliet was grinning and rosy-cheeked. "Besides, my Brandon is much better looking than your Leo."

Bianca gave her baby sister a playful whack on the arm and shook her head. "He is not."

Delia wanted to join in the merriment but found it impossible to think of good-looking men without picturing Shaun, with his short, black hair, intense blue eyes and that five-o’clock shadow he never seemed able to shave off completely. And his smile. Oh, his smile. When he’d looked at her and flashed that killer smile she’d melted like a scoop of ice cream on a sizzling beach.

A sizzling beach was exactly where she belonged, and as soon as possible, she affirmed silently. When her father had shipped her off to The Islands to isolate her, he’d sent her to a place where she’d truly found her paradise on earth. Maybe God did work in mysterious ways, just like Aunt Winnie had always claimed.
 

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