by Iris Morland
“No—I mean, my answer is yes. I want that, too. It’s scary and part of me would like to run away, but I’m trying not to give in to that part of me.” Her eyes shone as she gazed up at him. “I want to try with you, too.”
He kissed her, and then he was pushing her back onto the bed and climbing on top of her. She wrapped her arms and her legs around him, her sweet softness enveloping him completely. All thoughts of parents, of bad memories, of their longings and fears, all dissipated when he held her in his arms.
Afterward, they were both starving again and went to find lunch. The rain had stopped, but it was still misty and gray. Discovering a cafe not far from the tulip fields, they sat together in a cozy booth that provided some modicum of privacy, eating and talking and laughing.
“Why did you make me this?” Ash asked as he pulled out the bracelet Violet had left on his pillow. “You never said why.”
She shrugged, her cheeks a little red. “It was stupid, but it was like I didn’t want you to forget me.”
“Even as you sneaked out of my apartment without saying goodbye?”
“I never said it made sense.”
He rubbed one of the beads. “I’d wear it, except it’s too small.”
“Really?” She took the bracelet and tried to fit it on his wrist. “Geez, you have huge arms! I should’ve known. Here, I’ll fix it. Then you won’t have any excuse not to wear it.”
She began pulling out jewelry-making supplies from her bag like a magician, and to Ash’s immense delight, the table was soon covered with beads, twine, hooks, pliers, scissors, and other tools he’d never seen in his life. Violet began to take apart the bracelet, her hands dexterous and sure, and Ash realized he could watch her create jewelry for hours if she’d let him.
“Can you show me how you make jewelry?” he asked. At her surprised look, he shrugged. “I’m curious.”
“Well, of course I can show you. It’s not every day that I get to teach a manly man like yourself how to make jewelry.”
He chuckled. “I’m equal opportunity for accessories. Now, how the hell did you get the charms on anyway?”
They spent the rest of the afternoon at that booth, Ash putting together a very ugly bracelet while Violet redid the one she’d made him. An hour later, she had him hold out his wrist so she could tie the bracelet around it: now it fit perfectly.
“Excellent.” She smiled when he held it up to the light. “Tiger’s eye looks good on you.”
It wasn’t exactly something Ash would wear, but it wasn’t feminine, either. Besides, he had a feeling that if she’d made him a bright pink necklace covered in flowers, he’d wear it for her, he was that far gone.
He tied the bracelet he’d created for her onto her wrist. “Fair is fair.”
“I’ll never take it off,” she said, and Ash had a feeling she meant it.
14
Ash had a pile of things he needed to do today, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Violet’s books. He’d gone over the spreadsheets, the receipts, the bank statements—all of it. The numbers on the bank statements and spreadsheets didn’t add up, yet Ash couldn’t figure out why. Tired and frustrated, he’d gone to bed well after three in the morning Sunday night.
When he’d gotten into the office this morning, he’d begun calling the bookkeepers who’d helped with Violet’s books. One had resulted in a disconnected number. The second had been sent to a voicemail that might have been the wrong number entirely. The third had been the voicemail of an actual bookkeeper, but Ash hadn’t had high hopes that Jeffrey Martin, CPA, would return his rather odd phone call anytime soon.
With only a few hours of sleep, he was tired and grumpy. He was tempted to go home early. Although Trent was technically his boss, he wasn’t a hard-ass about Ash being in the office, either. Trent worked at all three restaurant locations in some capacity, although his main office was here at the Fainting Goat, along with Ash’s. But owning and running restaurants wasn’t done by sitting behind a desk. More often than not, Trent was on the front lines.
Ash hadn’t seen Trent today, and for that, he was grateful. He didn’t need his brother’s questions about why Ash had bags under his eyes or was bleary-eyed. Picking up the latest financial statement for Trent’s tapas restaurant, La Bonita, Ash focused on the business at hand, shoving everything related to Violet to the back of his mind.
After their weekend together, Ash had returned to Fair Haven certain that he and Violet would make a go of things. He’d worried that she would freak out and decide she wasn’t ready for anything serious, but to his relief, she had been the happiest he’d ever seen her. The drive back to Fair Haven had been full of conversation and laughter. Ash had stopped on the side of the road more than once to kiss Violet and make her blush scarlet. He’d teased her that she should’ve been named Scarlet instead of Violet, which had earned him an eye roll.
Ash was finishing up this last document when he glanced at one of the Fainting Goat’s bank statements. There was nothing on there that gave him any cause for alarm: food purchases, supplies, credit card payments—
Credit cards. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He’d seen a number of credit card payments on Violet’s bank statements, but he’d thought nothing of them. What business didn’t have a credit card or two? But something niggled at him regardless. Maybe it was intuition, or maybe it was exhaustion. He just knew he needed to look more closely in that direction.
Pushing the restaurants’ paperwork aside, Ash pulled out Violet’s file, which he kept in his briefcase whenever he came into work. He’d more often than not think of something to pursue, and knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his actual work, he’d given in and made sure he had her documents on hand at all times.
He pulled the stack of bank statements from the folder, now in an orderly pile by date. Ash then began to highlight every instance of a credit card payment, and before long, the statements were a sea of yellow.
When he began looking through the documents, he realized there were no credit card statements or payments. He went through all the files on the jump drives—nothing. He blew out a frustrated breath. He’d have to talk to Violet about how he could access those statements. There was something about them that just didn’t look right, and because he hadn’t yet put his finger on why, it was going to bug him until he unraveled the mystery.
“Hey, do you have those financial statements?” Trent called as he walked by Ash’s office. “Bring ’em to me if you do.”
Ash had only finished half of them, but, preferring to get the interrogation over now, he went to Trent’s office with the papers in hand.
“I didn’t have time to finish all of them, but I’ll have them done by tomorrow,” he said.
Trent raised an eyebrow. “What else are you working on?”
“Some other project.”
At Ash’s evasive tone, Trent leaned back in his office chair and set his feet up on his desk. “Really? Like Violet Fielding?”
“You’re as bad as Thea.” Ash crossed his arms. “Maybe. Does it matter?”
“No. I’m not going to tell you who you can and cannot date.” Trent snorted. “You’re my brother, not my kid. Thank God.” Trent suddenly paled. “Oh God, Bea will be dating eventually, won’t she? I’ll have to lock her up until she’s thirty-five.”
Ash sat down in a chair, laughing. “Good luck with that. You do know her mother, right? She’ll have all the boys flocking around her.”
“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting or insulting my wife, but I’ll take it as the former.”
“Complimenting, definitely. I’m not insane.”
“Hmm.” Trent tapped his fingers on the desktop. “I might’ve heard through the grapevine that you and Violet left for the weekend.”
“Christ, seriously? I hate small towns. I thought this wasn’t any of your business?”
“It’s not, except that you are my little brother, and I know that you’ve never gone on a weekend away with any woman. You prefe
r one night and one night only. I’ve seen how you’ve moved from one conquest to the next. I’m not judging you for it, by the way. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you, either.”
Ash wanted to die. He wanted to crawl under the desk and never come out again. Since their parents had been mostly useless, Trent had taken on the monumental task of being a parent-like figure to Ash and their other siblings. Even though all of them were now adults, things hadn’t really changed in that regard. Ash felt rather like when he’d come home from fifth grade with a suspension notice and Trent had looked at him with such disappointment that Ash had felt terrible for weeks.
“I did take Violet somewhere,” Ash admitted. “I hadn’t planned on making a weekend of it, but things happened. I told her I wanted something more serious, and she felt the same.”
“Really?” Trent’s eyes widened. “How many times have you told me that you weren’t meant for something serious?” Marveling, Trent shook his head, laughing a little. “Well, well, well. I guess with the right woman, anything is possible.”
“Are you done yet? I need to finish something.”
“About that—what project is this? Should I be worried that it’ll affect your work here?”
Ash gritted his teeth. “No, it won’t. I’m helping Violet out with her books, is all. They’re a mess.”
“And you’re doing it for free? Damn. I’ve heard everything now. I have one question for you, though.”
“Can I go after you ask it?”
“Sure. Do you love her?”
Ash swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. The question was like a sledgehammer to his brain. Do I? It was an easy enough question on the surface. Yes or no. But if he said yes, it would be like a promise he’d have to keep. Staring at his older brother, Ash found himself wanting to be honest when normally he would prevaricate.
What the hell has happened to me?
“I think I do.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, disheveling it. “When did you know with Lizzie?”
Trent’s expression took on a faraway look. “Probably when I couldn’t stop thinking about her and missed her even when I didn’t see her for a day. When you feel like you’ll do anything you can for that person...that’s how you know. Suddenly it’s not all about you. It’s about making someone else happy.”
Ash’s heart clenched, because Trent’s words rang true. Ash wanted Violet to be happy, to feel safe, to feel loved. He wanted to take all of her worries and carry them for her. He didn’t know when his feelings of lust had transformed into something more, but he’d be an idiot to act like they weren’t there.
Terror mixed with elation inside him. Part of him wanted to go and tell Violet right then, while the other part of him knew that Violet would probably run in the opposite direction like a scared rabbit.
“I think Violet has more commitment issues than even me,” said Ash wryly. “Hard to believe, right?”
“Take things slow. Don’t push her too hard, but don’t let her cut you off because she’s scared, either.” Trent’s eyes went sad. “I lost years with Lizzie because I was hurt and she was hurt. She pushed me away and I let her. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
Knowing that Trent and Lizzie had spent almost a decade apart before reuniting, Ash knew his brother spoke the truth. Nodding, Ash returned to his own office and shut the door.
He needed to think. He needed to see Violet. He needed to figure out how the hell he was going to convince Violet that although her first love had died, that didn’t mean she had died along with him.
When Ash began to gather his things to head home, his cell phone rang. He answered the call as he walked out to his car, and he almost dropped his phone when he realized it was Jeffrey Martin, the bookkeeper he’d called earlier.
“Thanks for returning my call,” said Ash as he got inside his car. “I wanted to talk about a client you worked with about four years ago. A William Fielding? He was the husband of Violet Fielding, who owns White Dahlia Jewelry.”
“Yes, I remember them both. I never really talked with Ms. Fielding, but I worked closely with Mr. Fielding. May I ask who you are in relation to them?”
“I’m Ash Younger. I’m also a CPA working on Ms. Fielding’s books; she’s authorized me to look into her accounts and track down former bookkeepers.” The last part was a bit of a white lie that he hoped Violet would forgive. “I’m not sure if you’re aware that Mr. Fielding passed away a couple of years ago?”
“I didn’t. I’m sorry for Ms. Fielding’s loss.” Ash heard rustling before Jeffrey said, “Yes, now I remember more clearly. I only worked with them for three months before Mr. Fielding essentially told me I was no longer needed. You know how it goes.”
“I wanted to ask if you know of any other bookkeepers the Fieldings employed that may have skimmed money from their accounts. There are large sums of money that are unaccounted for, and Violet—Ms. Fielding—is rather desperate to figure out where that money went.”
Jeffrey was silent for a long moment, and Ash wondered if the call had been dropped.
“I’m not aware of any other bookkeepers skimming money,” he finally replied, “but I did become aware that Mr. Fielding himself was funneling money to pay off non-business credit cards. When I asked him about it, he got defensive and told me to mind my business. After that, he let me go. I had just begun my CPA practice, and I was too worried about my own business to get into some messy tangle with him. Besides, I wasn’t sure if he and his wife had some kind of arrangement. Marriage tends to make money matters murky.”
Ash blew out a breath. He hadn’t wanted to entertain the idea that William had been the one skimming money, but this seemed to prove it.
Goddammit, how am I going to tell Violet that her husband stole from her?
“Do you have any more information?” asked Ash, rather hoping Jeffrey said no.
“I don’t. That’s all I know. Best of luck, though. Things like this are never fun for anyone.”
After hanging up, Ash groaned and thumped his head on the car headrest. He didn’t have proof of Jeffrey’s allegations yet, but it at least pointed him in a particular direction. If Ash could gather the evidence and figure out if William had been doing something underhanded, would Violet even believe Ash? It was one thing to find out that some random employee had stolen from you; it was entirely different to discover your spouse—the person you loved and trusted most in the world—had stolen from you—if that had even been the case here.
Can you send me your business’s credit card statements? Ash texted Violet. Preferably electronic ones?
Let me look in my files, she replied. I thought they’d be in the folder I gave you, but I guess not?
About a half hour later, Ash’s inbox pinged with an email from Violet with a number of attachments. Opening them, he saw that they were those credit card statements. His heartbeat sped up in excitement.
Bingo.
When Ash arrived home, he began to look through the credit card statements Violet had sent him. He compared them with the transactions he’d highlighted on the bank statements. Many of the transactions lined up with the credit card statements, but that certainly didn’t prove that anything nefarious had been occurring. So William hadn’t included them on the spreadsheets. Maybe he’d forgotten, or they’d gotten lumped in with other transactions.
Growling, he was about to go to bed and start again in the morning when a book of checks fell out of the folder. He frowned. Had he looked through these? He began flipping through them, staring at the carbon copies until his bleary eyes could barely focus.
Violet’s voice echoed in his head. No, that’s my handwriting. Did I mention that my handwriting is basically chicken scratch?
Ash stared at the handwriting on the carbon copy, the text barely legible now. He realized that the s in Eastern was written as a cursive s, and suddenly, Ash was grabbing at the receipt that Violet had identified as one she’d written herself.
On the h
andwritten receipt, the lowercase s in beads was written not as a cursive s in this instance, but it was printed. Just like all of Violet’s notes were written. Ash couldn’t find any instance where she’d used a cursive lowercase s instead.
He began comparing the handwriting on the carbon copies of the checks and found more differences. They were subtle, and anyone just glancing at them would never have thought they weren’t Violet’s handwriting. But Ash knew in his gut right then that Violet hadn’t written those checks: William had.
William had been forging checks from Violet’s business to pay off credit cards he must’ve also taken out in her name. Considering that Violet had had no reason to distrust her husband, she’d never looked closely at the old checks or at credit card statements that were from the same companies where she’d opened legitimate credit cards.
“You bastard,” Ash muttered. “You slimy, thieving bastard. How could you do that to your fucking wife?”
Ash wondered what William had been paying for. Hookers? Drugs? Both? Disgust radiating from him, he tossed the papers onto the coffee table.
He had his evidence. Considering the money had been used to pay off credit cards, Ash had no idea if that money could even be recovered. Worse, he would have to tell Violet, but first he needed to absolutely confirm it had been William’s handwriting.
He couldn’t just tell her about William and not help her. In the morning, Ash called all of the banks in town, praying that one would accept his application for a loan.
15
Violet squinted as she was about to finish off the clasp for the bracelet she was making for Lizzie. Picking up her smallest pliers, she was just about to close the metal circle around the end of the bracelet when a knock on the front door startled her. The pliers clattered to the tabletop.
She frowned as she looked at the time. Who was knocking at the front door at this time of night? Oh God, what if it was another summons from the collection agency? She’d thought the agreement she’d gotten in place regarding payment installments had gotten them off her back, but had she been mistaken?
