Heart heavy, Joselyn reached out and squeezed Rosie’s slim strong hand. “Thanks for taking care of her while I was away. You’re her favorite, you know.”
“The feeling is mutual. Now scoot. And don’t worry about Brenda. She’ll catch on soon enough.” Rosie nudged Joselyn past the desk and the blistering glare of its new fire-breathing dragon. Joss shook off the singe of the stranger’s hatred and strode her usual route through the halls before letting herself into the last suite.
Distant violet-blue eyes, so much like her own, locked in on her and softened a fraction. Joselyn’s spirits buoyed back to the surface. Maybe it wasn’t a bad day after all.
“Good Morning, Yia-Yia. I’ve missed you.” Leaning in Joselyn pressed a kiss to the papery wrinkles of her cheek, inhaled the combined fragrance of Trésor perfume and Aqua Net that had always been Yia-Yia’s signature.
Confusion clouded her eyes, a teasing reprimand poured from her neatly penciled red lips. “Charisma, why are you calling me that?” She batted her hand at the foolishness.
“Yia-Yia, it’s not Charisma, it’s Joselyn.” She tried a smile that wouldn’t quite form. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it the past few days. How’s the show coming along?”
“Joselyn?” Anxious confusion twisted the rare beauty of her aging face. “I don’t know any Joselyn. You—You’re Charisma, my daughter.”
Her grandmother’s Alzheimer’s had progressed slowly. After years of flirting with forgetfulness she’d finally disappeared into a deep darkness about six months ago. The few good days with glimpses of memory were a gift Joselyn tried never to miss. The bad days were now the norm, sometimes graced with playful ignorance, other times with rage, yet always heartbreaking. Joselyn fought the inevitable despair of the bad days winning each daily battle, still foolishly clinging to hope she’d begun to realize was as naive as believing she wasn’t completely alone in the world simply because she had relatives who were technically living.
“So, how’s the show shaping up? I’ve got some new choreography for the dock scene. I think you’re gonna love it.” Joselyn infused as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could rally.
“I think the nurse said something about that this morning, Cassie. I’m not sure I feel up to doing much singing and dancing.”
“That’s okay. You can watch instead. But it’s a lot of fun, and your friends Opal and Greta might try ousting you from the lead role. They’ve been pretty jealous about you being the star at all the practices. You’re a natural.”
Her eyebrows softened from their furrow, and she shrugged her petite shoulders. “I guess I could try it.”
“That’s my girl. So, we have about three weeks until showtime. I’ve been making up some fun costumes at my store from a few vintage pieces I found. You’ll love them.”
“Ooo, well, ‘Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.’” When she smiled, ten years melted off of her seventy-eight years. She was still a stunning woman, her beauty timeless, like a Greek spin on a classic like Doris Day. The silky drape of her silver hair still held more than a few threads of its original black.
The memory of her dark hair pulled Joselyn back in time. Playing dress up in the attic of the old house; long strands of pearls, lace gloves, and elaborate hats adorned with broaches. Clanking clumsily down the wooden stairs in her grandmother’s retro pumps—they’d been the stars of their very own red carpet every Saturday night. The clothes had been both an escape and an adventure. In a way, they still were.
“What show are we doing?” Yia-Yia’s question shattered Joselyn’s happy memory. They’d been practicing for months. Every day. And nearly every day the same inquiry.
“We’re doing Mamma Mia! for the Christmas musical this year, Yia-Yia. Remember?”
The response from her grandmother followed the now predictable script. “Oh! That’s my favorite. You grew up in Greece, you know. So it’s a bit like the story of us.” Her hands fluttered with excitement. Today, Joselyn noticed, her fingernails were perfectly manicured fire-engine red.
Had to go there, didn’t you. The association leapt from fire engine to firefighter in the flash of an idiotic synaptic misfire. And then of course she was thinking about Finn.
That stupid, cocky grin, those sneaky dimples, and that long, sun-bronzed surfer hair. He somehow managed to look effortless and yet seamlessly put together like a painstakingly vetted ensemble. His image droned on like a miserable first date. Her defenses must have taken a leave of absence because when she tried to rip the loose threads from her mind she found instead that she was sewn into the memory of his deep sea eyes and the inexplicably safe feeling of being in his strong arms … against his very warm, very solid ches—Stop it!
“Somebody’s got a crush.” Yia-Yia’s eyes lit with mischief, the old wry smile showing a teasing glimpse of lucidity.
“Nooo! Uh-uh!” Joselyn protested.
“I know that look, Charisma,” she giggled. “Oh, to be young and in love—”
“Whoa, Yia-Yia! I’m sorry to burst you’re bubble but—”
She patted Joselyn’s hand and winked. “It’s all right, sugar, your secret’s safe with me.”
In her current state, the last thing Joselyn wanted to do was spend the afternoon with the perfect Carson clan. Their easy family dynamic rubbed salt in her dysfunctional, daddy-issued wounds. But after her unchaperoned field trip, she knew better than to push her luck.
At least she had her car back. It was a small consolation but she’d discovered her favorite pair of Old Gringo cowboy boots in the trunk, in addition to some extra clothes she’d packed to keep at work, and the crowning jewel—her mother’s vintage pavé diamond locket. The clasp had broken the day before the fire at the nursing home during a vigorous rehearsal with the handsy male lead. Joselyn had stowed it in the center console of her car so she could drop it at the jeweler to be repaired. It meant more to her than anything she owned. Anything she could ever buy. And now, with every photograph and memento from her house destroyed, it was the only piece of her mother she had left.
Her nose tingled, and one warm tear escaped down her cheek—her daily allowance of mourning all she’d lost. So much more than just her mother.
Pulling into Sadie’s lot, she was relieved to see that no one preceded her arrival. At least she’d have a few moments to herself before the verbal sparring with Finn ensued. A tension headache formed at her temples in anticipation of the long day ahead as she trudged the salt-sprinkled walkway to the condo and surrendered to the haven of heat behind Sadie’s door.
Untangling her scarf and sliding from Sadie’s borrowed green peacoat, she went to freshen up and changed from the formless long-sleeved tunic she’d thrown over her leggings into a lavender off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater to pass the time. The thin, luxuriant fabric skimmed over her hips to her upper thighs, the color a subtle contrast against her complexion yet made her pale skin look creamy and her eyes look nearly lavender to match. The clothes were her shield, and she needed all the confidence she could find to deflect the silent judgments about to lob her way.
When tinkering noises trickled down the hall and Sadie announced their arrival, Joselyn forced a deep breath and one last appraising glance before braving the Carsons. One in particular.
Lunch went by with minimal interaction. Finn’s usual glare and scowl resumed possession of his face, giving her a break from his playful flirting from last night. If that’s really what it was. It could’ve been crueler than that. Malicious, even. Joselyn knew from experience that he had it in him.
The clinking of a glass rescued Joselyn from slipping back into torturous high school memories. Thank you, Archer.
“Can I have your attention?” He glanced down at Sadie, his face glowing, and his smile so pure and uncontained the man was as radiant as sunshine.
Would anyone ever look at her that way?
“I have an announcement to make.”
Sadie ros
e to stand with him, sharing a look before they blurted in unison, “We’re getting married!”
Joselyn’s couldn’t help but squeal when Sadie extricated a stunning diamond ring from her pocket and waggled it proudly on her finger. Congratulations were passed around, although no one seemed surprised.
“You guys all knew already, didn’t you?” Sadie chided. Titters of affirmation passed around as effortlessly as the salad bowl. “Even you, Finn?”
“Sis, you got yourself one smart man. Not only did he ask Dad’s permission, he asked for mine too. You’re welcome.” Finn flashed a dimple-popping grin as his sister folded into his exuberant hug.
“Well, I didn’t know.” Joselyn stood and went to embrace her beautiful best friend before scoping out the rock. “Hot dang! Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t let you cancel last night, huh?”
Sadie sniffled back happy tears and nodded. “But I am sorry I had to leave you with Finn your first night here. I knew those boys were up to something when Archer and I left. I hope he behaved himself at least.” Sadie shot Finn a teasing smirk before she made her way back into her fiancé’s waiting arms.
Joselyn only meant to glance, but her eyes were swallowed up in Finn’s intense gaze. Finn didn’t look playful or amused. He looked … mad. What now? The man’s strange bipolar temper kept her constantly guessing. Well, maybe not constantly. He did tend to default to the least pleasant option in her presence.
Luckily for Joselyn, the frivolity of the newsworthy moment distracted everyone’s attention elsewhere while Finn’s unabashed contempt aired in high-definition. Her skin prickled her unease, and since she was feeling like an outsider invading on a family moment, she thanked Sadie for lunch and then excused herself to her room under the guise of exhaustion. And that was no lie.
The man was exhausting.
Chapter 10
Finn Carson
“Is she doing all right? I can’t image how scary this must be for her.” Lorelei Carson’s query forced his gaze from the phantom image of Joselyn’s retreat down the hall. He was about to answer when Sadie jumped in. Foolishness warmed his face. His mom wouldn’t have thought to direct her question at him as their long standing rivalry was no secret.
“I don’t know, Mom. She’s had a tough life. And she’s always so strong. Too strong. It’s like she worries about burdening anyone with her pain so she carries it all alone.”
“Tough life?” The filter in his brain must have malfunctioned because before he could check himself he was spewing his ugly, careless thoughts out loud. “The girl’s an entitled little brat—princess and sole heir to the Whyte Empire. Should we get some violins in here? How hard could it be?”
Oops.
“Finnegan Carson! Don’t you break your mama’s heart, making me think I didn’t raise you right. The only person being a brat here today is you. Don’t think we missed your little sideshow performance as Oscar the Grouch during lunch.”
“I just meant—”
“You were just being a jerk.” Sadie flicked his ear. “You have no idea what her life has been like. I guarantee you never bothered to ask. So get off your high horse and understand this: You mess with my girl, big brother, I’ll kick your—”
“All right, you two. Cool it.” Cal Carson was a man of few words. When he spoke, you listened. “There’s enough strife in the world. Leave it there. It has no business in this family, you hear?”
Sufficiently chastised they each grumbled, “Yes, sir.”
“And Finn,” his stern voice held an authoritative warning not to be trifled with. “You best examine your heart, son. Because the next time that thoughtless garbage comes outta your mouth you better hope you brought your shovel to start digging your way out of that deep hole. I’m sure not gonna help you.”
Monday marked the first official day of Finn’s mandatory two-week sabbatical. After sleeping in and wasting away in front of the tube for two hours of mindless monotony, he had to get out of the house. When his phone rang, he welcomed the distraction and prayed the chief had a change of heart.
“Hello?”
“Finn. It’s Archer.”
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
“I, uh, heard from Joselyn. She’s meeting with the investigators from state at her place at two and an insurance adjuster after that. I’ve had a couple guys canvassing the neighborhood. See if we can catch a break. Maybe this guy’s still trying to keep tabs on her.”
“Okay? Sounds like a plan.” Finn scratched his chest, working back a yawn.
“I’m gonna head over there a little early. About an hour. Thought maybe you should come too. To keep up appearances and hear more firsthand about what we are dealing with.”
He sat a bit straighter. “Does Joselyn know you’re asking me?”
“It’s possible I may have failed to mention it.”
“All right, fine. It’ll probably mess with her. Might be fun.”
Archer tsked. “Always an ulterior motive with you. Someday you’ll have to tell me about this colorful history between you two. Story’s bound to be a doozy.”
“I hate to disappoint, but there’s really not much to tell. It’s a simple case of clashing personalities.”
“Don’t insult me. I read people for a living. And there’s a whole lot more to this story. I’ll get it outta you.”
“Good luck with that.”
“See you in an hour. And remember, as far as everyone is concerned, this is your girlfriend’s house that burned down. No baiting her, no glaring, and absolutely no bickering. This guy could be anybody. And that means you’ve got to play the part.”
Finn grumbled and hung up. And we’re off.
With that thought, a rush of nervous energy clamored through him. He’d never been a great actor. Bluffing was a different story. Maybe he could channel his poker face and no one would see through to his disdain.
It was obvious Joselyn had some acting chops. It might be easier for him to fake it if she wasn’t being her snooty self. Here’s hoping.
A whimper pulled him out of his head. Soft paws propped on his knees, adoration swam in the dog’s big brown eyes. “I’ve got this, right buddy?” He ruffled Dodger’s ears setting the tempo of his feathery tail to a lively allegro.
Getting ready, Finn forwent shaving, leaving a healthy two days of stubble on his face. Throwing on his favorite pair of dark wash jeans, a gray henley, and his dark brown leather bomber jacket and boots, he headed out with Dodger for a short walk before driving the two miles to the devastated remains of Snow Whyte’s home.
He’d known it was bad, but this … this was a new level of destruction.
Kirkwood was a charming and close-knit little town in St. Louis County. Quiet, tree-lined streets formed a grid surrounding the historic downtown area that hubbed around a beautiful old train station, a farmers market, and maybe a dozen novelty shops and cafes. And even more refreshing was that even though the wealthy suburb housed some of the most impressive plantation and Craftsman-style homes around, they often shared a lot line with modest, saltbox cottages and lacked the distinct air of pretension that could be found in surrounding suburbs of St. Louis.
All this to say that nothing burned for long without notice and prompt attention. Home fires were usually extinguished in time to preserve, at the very least, most of the exterior shell. What Finn saw when he pulled up to the deceased bungalow was nothing but bare bones.
Splinters of charred wood held up what was left of the sagging upstairs bedroom, minus the floor. The stairs Finn had risked climbing at nothing but divine prompting now contained a scorched handrail, three partial steps near the top, and a heap of crumpled pieces and soggy ashes.
Finn and Archer rummaged through what they could of the crime scene in perfect, stunned silence. There wasn’t much to look at. The house was tiny. Couldn’t be much more than 1,200 square feet on two floors.
Why would someone as wealthy as Joselyn live here? His own apartment, while only a one-bedroom
loft, was at least as large. The billionaire entrepreneur’s daughter lived in a shoebox? It didn’t compute.
And yet, taking in the extent of the destruction, he felt his heart soften. She’d lost everything. Despite their past, that fact alone earned her some compassion.
Archer came around to the backyard, slipping a palm-sized notebook into his breast pocket. “Ground appears to have been too cold and hard to get a footprint. I don’t see any pattern of broken branches or crushed leaves where he might have hidden out. The cement block foundation held up pretty well, but the cellar is littered with debris that fell through the floor. It’s definitely not safe to go snooping around down there.”
“Huh,” Finn grunted in response. “What about the basement windows? A few of them looked like they were still intact. Any signs of forced entry with the latches?”
“Not that I can see. And because several of them were blown out it’s hard to tell if anything but the fire caused that. I’m sure the fire unit has a few tricks up their sleeves.”
“They do. Plus those accelerant dogs can pick up the tiniest trace of liquid residue. It’s incredi—” The words slowed to mush on Finn’s lips. Over Archer’s shoulder Joselyn’s lithe form strutted toward him in catwalk fashion. Cinematic slow motion played in his mind as her jet-black locks tossed in the faint wind, her hips swayed with a confident swagger, and long slender legs clad in tight jeans seemed to go on for miles. Her face was mostly hidden behind large stylish sunglasses, yet even without the addition of those exotic eyes, she was a knockout.
And he was down for the count.
From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 7
