Stone placed a hand on my shoulder, and part of me went completely soft. I hated it and I loved it.
“Don’t say that.” As if my wishes were controlling him, his long hand slid down and rested on the crook of my arm. “I’m glad you moved in next door.”
Part of me screamed that this was too easy—an autumn romance with the son of the manor. Just like in the movies, it couldn’t last. We were too different.
Besides, there were so many mixed signals coming from Stone, he could be a drunk referee.
Katrina would tell me to pull myself together, not to get swept away with a seafood dinner, a romantic evening walk on the beach, and the true confessions of a tennis-playing rich boy.
Katrina was a very level-headed brunette.
I was not.
Old-style metal lampposts flickered to life, bathing us in banana colored light. Tilting up on my boots, I wrapped my arms around Stone’s neck and kissed his amusedly quirked lips.
His arms came around me, and he most definitely returned the kiss.
I finally pulled away. “Thanks, neighbor,” I said.
And I turned and walked back to Red, who had unobtrusively trailed us to the beach. “Time to get back to my snake. Take us home, Red.”
Chapter 10
Stone took my hand on the way back, and I relished the feel of our new connection. I hoped I hadn’t forced it with my brazen kiss, but some irresistible urgency had driven me to take that chance and throw my feelings out there.
I was glad I had.
Red dropped me off, leaving his car lights trained on my front porch. Aware of my hesitation after receiving the warning note, Stone got out and accompanied me to the door. After I unlocked it, he followed me inside. As I flipped on the lights, Stone canvassed the small house, making sure no one was lurking inside.
“Everything looks clear,” he said, returning to my living room. “If someone wanted to break in, it would be tricky. All your windows are locked and the front door has a deadbolt, too. There’s just a tiny crack under the weather-stripping, which they must’ve used to slide the note in.”
I nodded. Logically, I knew no one could get in without my knowing about it. But emotionally, I still felt violated that someone had been motivated enough to write me a “back off” note.
“I’m giving the note to the cops tomorrow,” I said.
Stone nodded. “Sure. Maybe they can lift some prints.” He glanced at Rasputin’s cage. “He seems tired.”
The ball python had stretched out behind his flower pot and his eyes looked like blue marbles.
I leaned in more closely. “He’s starting to shed!” Grabbing the water bottle, I opened the cage and misted it to keep the humidity up.
Stone whistled. “You are a dedicated pet-sitter. That looks pretty nasty to me.”
I laughed as I closed the cage. “I’m getting used to having him around. I might actually miss him when he has to leave for good.”
When I turned back to Stone, his eyes trailed to my lips and lingered there. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for going with me today. I had a wonderful time.”
I smiled. “I did, too. I guess we know a little more than we did yesterday.”
“That we do.” He leaned in and gave me a brief kiss on the cheek. “I’d better go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He was restrained and gentlemanly, which I appreciated.
I walked him to the door, gave a brief wave to Red, and turned the locks.
Letting out a bottled-up sigh, I dropped into my comfy couch and touched a finger to my cheek. I needed time to mull over the events of the day, time to come to grips with the shifted dynamics of the relationship Stone and I shared.
Was it even a relationship now? Or just some kind of mutual attraction?
Of course, my mom chose that exact moment to call.
“Hey, Mom,” I said.
I could’ve sworn I used exactly the same tone as I always did, but Mom’s unfailing ability to transcend wireless signals, thus beaming herself right into my psyche, kicked in again.
“What’s happened? Is everything okay? You sound different,” she said.
I obligingly detailed our day for Mom, except the most burning detail of our kiss on the beach.
“Hmm. You like this boy?” she asked.
“Yes. He seems honest.”
“Yes, but anyone can seem honest, honey. Remember the girl you found in your flowerbed and promise me you’ll keep your head screwed on straight. Don’t go falling for anyone until that gets sorted out.”
I could have taken the time to explain that Stone wasn’t a likely suspect, but Mom was certain I was in some kind of danger, and nothing was going to convince her otherwise until Margo’s killer was in jail. So I did what I’d always done growing up—I said I’d do it her way. But that was no guarantee I actually would.
“Gotcha.”
“Okay, sweetie. Now here’s your dad.” She passed the phone to Dad, and the conversation moved on to safer topics, like snake shedding.
When I hung up, I felt some of my equilibrium had been restored after that brief taste of home. Because no matter where I traveled, how many “boys” I fell for, or how many careers I pursued, Larches Corner would always be my home.
* * * *
My phone rang around seven, waking me from a nightmare in which Frannie was digging her nails into her neck, trying to untangle a twisted silver necklace that was choking her. When she turned to me in a voiceless scream, she had Margo’s face.
I tried to shake off my unease before picking up the phone. Having the ability to remember my dreams wasn’t fun when the dreams were nightmares, or when those dreams turned out to be portents of things to come. I’d experienced this inexplicable form of rare epiphany since I was a teen. I would never forget a vivid dream where I’d watched my grandpa get run over with a truck, because the next week, he’d been hospitalized with pneumonia and died. Another memorable example was a dream where I’d struck up a conversation with a friend I hadn’t seen since grade school, and the next day, I found out he’d been in a motorcycle accident. Coincidence? I thought not.
“Hello?” I wished I’d had a cup of coffee before engaging in human interaction this morning.
“It’s me—Stone. I just found out my mom is having a brunch today for Margo’s mom, Ava. Would you want to join us?”
“How soon?” I struggled into a sitting position, phone cupped to my ear.
“Not until eleven. You’d have lots of time to feed the snake or whatever you have to do this morning.”
“Sounds good. That’ll give me time to write an article I need to finish.”
“You’ve mentioned that you write before—what kinds of articles?” he asked.
“I review video games.” I waited for the rote “how nice” reply I generally received.
“What kind? I have some older systems I enjoy playing,” he said.
Surprised we had this in common, I chatted about retro games for a while and shared a little more about my freelance work. Then I glanced at the clock and let Stone know I had to get going.
He said, “Sure thing. How about you come to the front door around ten forty-five and I’ll show you to the conservatory?”
I didn’t even know people still used that word, much less had actual rooms labeled this way. “I’ll see you at ten forty-five, in the conservatory, with a lead pipe,” I quipped.
“Lead pipe? What do you mean?”
I laughed. “Haven’t you ever played Clue? It’s a board game set in a mansion—you’re trying to find a murderer.”
“I didn’t play anything outside of tennis, golf, and video games when I was growing up,” he said. “I didn’t have siblings. See, after I was born, Dad had his namesake and heir—Stone the fifth—so there was no need for any other kids.”
“That’s
sad. Those second children can really be fun. Ask me how I know.”
He chuckled. “It’s tragic, right? I used to beg my parents to adopt. I think Mom was partially swayed, but Dad wasn’t the fathering type.”
I wanted to delve further into what he meant by that, but someone started talking in the background. “Gotta run. I have to help Mom set things up. I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up and trudged to the kitchen. Luckily, my favorite Zork mug was clean, so I positioned it under the coffee pod maker and whipped up a fresh cup of hazelnut brew. Zork was one of the earliest computer games—way back when you typed the instructions and had no pictures to accompany the game play. Of course, I hadn’t been old enough to play the text-only versions, but I had played a later video version on a retro gaming site. It had some of the best world-building I’d ever seen.
Talking about video games had been quite the satisfactory start to my morning, but now I needed to actually play my adventure game so I could get that article ready. I didn’t have to beat the entire game to review it—my reviews weren’t for walkthrough sites—but I liked to put in enough hours that I felt I could offer a comprehensive take on the game as a whole.
Rasputin didn’t budge as I walked over to flip on the game system. I checked the humidity level in his cage and it was fine. Reginald had said that if the snake started shedding, he wouldn’t need food for several days, so I rejoiced that I might be off the hook for handling another thawed rat.
I grabbed my coffee and sipped at it as I played. I was having way too much fun wielding my new mace when I checked the clock—it was already ten-thirty. I screeched and ran to my closet, pulling out one of the only dresses I’d had time to unpack. It was black and a bit dark for a brunch occasion, but at least this time I had the right shoes.
They didn’t feel so perfect by the time I rang the front bell at the manor house. My black heels were low—maybe two inches, tops—but walking across that expanse of yard was more tiring than I’d thought.
Mrs. Lewis, the house secretary, opened the door just as I rang the doorbell again. Her look insinuated that I’d thrown all protocol to the wind when I’d decided to press the button a second time.
“Hello, Mrs. Lewis.” I straightened the skirt of my dress.
“Miss Blake,” she responded. “Mr. Stone had hoped to greet you personally, but something came up. He wanted me to tell you he’d be down shortly. Please follow me to the conservatory.”
We turned down several hallways until reaching one that gave onto a wide area that looked like an indoor jungle. As I stepped into the sprawling room, the air morphed into something green and heavy and alive. Sunlight poured in through the glass-paned, arched ceiling. Two women sat at a white wicker table in the center. Just behind them was a small fish pond that was complete with blooming water lilies.
It was a paradise.
One of the women stood and walked toward me. She was very tan and had dark eyes and hair. She was also considerably shorter than I was, and I was five foot four. She wore a white sweater and an emerald-encrusted collar necklace.
She extended her hand. “Belinda? I’m Melissa Carrington. Melly for short—yes, just like in Gone with the Wind,” she said, forestalling my inevitable observation. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you before you moved in, but Mrs. Lewis assured me your credit history was good and you seemed like a respectable young woman.”
Mrs. Lewis nodded and stalked back out to the hall.
Melly leaned in and grinned. “She’s an old stickler, but she’s solid gold when it comes to sorting the wheat from the chaff in terms of renters. I trust her completely.”
She looked up as Stone strode in, his pace a bit faster than usual. Her son planted a brief kiss on her head then walked right past us, plunging down a stone-lined path of ferns and palms.
“Stone?” Melly called.
“Looking for something.” He hadn’t slowed down.
She shook her head. “Men.” She led me to the table and introduced me to the other woman, who had remained quiet during our conversation. “Belinda, this is Ava Fenton.”
The two women couldn’t be more different. While Melly was tiny and dark, Ava was tall, wide, and fair. Ava’s dark roots had been replaced by vanilla highlights and her nails were a perfectly-painted shade of purple that matched her sheath dress. She looked like some kind of regal snow queen.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fenton,” I said.
“Please, call me Ava,” she replied.
We took our seats when a woman in an apron came in, carrying delicacies on a silver tray. She began to pour tea for us, but her hand shook as Stone came charging up the opposite path.
Melly cupped her hand and shouted toward her son. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re starting our brunch.”
Stone halted near our table and gestured to our server. “I’ll have an English Breakfast with no sugar, Lani. And one of those cranberry scones and some bacon.” He gave us an apologetic look. “I just have to take care of something and I’ll come right back.”
He speed-walked into the hallway.
Finally, Ava spoke. “That’s really unlike him.”
Melly gave a half-nod, but she focused spearing a piece of cantaloupe on her plate. I had the feeling she’d seen Stone behave this way before, but goodness only knew why.
We fell into an easy conversation that allowed me to gather details on both women. Melly had grown up in a blue-collar family. Her father had been the plumber for the Carringtons, and that’s how she’d bumped into Stone the fourth. Apparently, he’d loved how different she looked from the regular Greenwich debutantes, so he’d proposed to her and they’d married young.
Ava didn’t share much about herself, but she couldn’t stop talking about Margo. Margo was the youngest of three children, and the older two had long since moved away. Margo had meant everything to her mother, it seemed.
“I haven’t even been able to go into her room yet, but I know exactly what it will look like in there,” Ava said. “Margo was organized about most things, but not her room. I’m sure there are clothes tossed on the bed, the chairs...” Her voice trailed off and her eyes misted up.
Melly clamped a steadying hand over Ava’s, like someone determined to keep the dam from breaking with one finger. “Let’s not talk about that now, dear. I’m sure your household help could go through things for you, sort them out?”
Ava stiffened. “I can’t let just anyone handle her things. Those policemen already forced their way into her room. I’m sure they wrecked it even further. It really needs to be cleaned, in case she left food lying around, but I simply can’t do it, Melly.”
The policemen had just been doing their job, but it probably felt like an invasion to Ava. I had a sudden brainstorm.
“What if I cleaned it for you? I didn’t know Margo, but maybe that would make it easier for you, Ava. I could look for food and straighten up, but not do anything drastic?”
Both women stared at me as if no one had ever offered such a thing before.
Finally, Ava gave a slow nod. “I think—yes, I think that would be the best route. Adam would have a fit if leftover food in Margo’s room brought in mice. It needs to be done, but I really don’t want the help poking around in Margo’s business.”
I figured most of the help had probably known Margo’s comings and goings even better than her parents had, but I didn’t mention that. Ava gave me her home number and I plugged it into my cell phone just as a lean older man with disheveled dark hair ambled into the conservatory. He wore gold aviator sunglasses.
Melly gave him a scalding look that could fry eggs, but she didn’t say a thing. I was trying to figure out who he was when Ava said, “Hello, Stone.”
I did a double-take. This man, who sported jeans, a beat-up polo shirt, and scuffed loafers, was Stone Carrington the fourth? He looked more like the hired h
elp himself.
“Ava,” he said, his rugged voice somehow evoking nights by the fire on the frosty moors of Scotland. He nodded at me, then at Melly. “Morning, ladies.”
Melly pointed to a chair. “Have a seat. Lani’s serving coffee—I figure you could use a cup or five.”
That well-aimed zing explained Stone the fourth’s indoor sunglasses and rough appearance. He was a drinker, if not a full-blown alcoholic.
Stone the fifth walked in, glaring at his father, who was easing into a seat. “Found what I was looking for,” he said. “Curled up around the downstairs toilet. Which means he missed a board meeting this morning.”
Ava Fenton looked as uncomfortable as I was. Melly looked bored. It was clear to see that this wasn’t her first rodeo.
As Lani returned with fresh coffee, Ava turned to young Stone. “Your friend Belinda offered to clean Margo’s room for me. She is a very thoughtful girl.”
“Pretty, too,” Stone the elder interjected.
Young Stone’s eyes darkened and his hands clenched. He forced a smile. “Yes, Belinda’s been the best kind of neighbor.”
“I’ll bet,” his father said.
“That’s it. Excuse us, ladies,” young Stone said. He yanked the back of his father’s chair and practically pulled him out of it. As he pushed him toward the hall, he said, “You can eat in your room, Pops.”
Melly took a bite of quiche that had probably grown cold. Ava and I followed her lead, grazing on the remainder of our brunch in silence.
Finally, conversation became so stilted, I decided to take my leave so the two friends could discuss Stone the fourth’s drunken behavior.
I leaned in. “Thank you so much, Melly and Ava. I had a wonderful brunch. The conservatory is just breath-stopping, and I’d love to visit again sometime. Ava, I’ll call to set up a time to clean Margo’s room.”
Both women murmured polite goodbyes as I stood. As I meandered out of the conservatory, I noted that Mrs. Lewis was nowhere in sight. I could only imagine her disapproval of what had just transpired, but then again, Stone the fourth was her employer, so I was guessing she wouldn’t have scolded him or forced him to leave.
Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass Page 6
