Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

  I tried not to gasp; instead, I nodded my understanding. “You have nothing to worry about, Miss Ava. Colton is merely a friend. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “There will be no more than one man as an overnight guest per month, and you must have a one-week minimum between men.”

  Was she really dictating my love life? Was that even legal?

  But I wanted the apartment enough to see my new landlord as an eccentric challenge rather than as a controlling nuisance. “It won’t be a problem.”

  She waved her hand as she walked toward her coffee pot. “That’s what they all say. Just sign by the X’s. And I’ll need your first and last months’ rent by the end of the day.”

  That was a problem. I had enough for one month, but not two. “Can it be later this evening?” I asked. “I’m working at both of my jobs today, and I’m not sure how much time I’ll have between them to run a check to you.”

  She turned around to look at me. “How many hours does that keep you busy?”

  I wasn’t sure if I saw a look of approval or disgust, but I wasn’t about to be bullied. “I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I just started working at Rebellious Rose, and I’m working out a new schedule with my mother.”

  The crafty smile that lit up her face told me that I was in trouble even though I didn’t know how or why. “I will need your help with my Bible study. Can you manage to get time off from your other jobs?”

  I resisted the urge to gasp. “Um, I’m not sure what help I’ll be. I haven’t been to church in years.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I suspected Miss Ava Milton didn’t appreciate heathens living on her property.

  But to my surprise, she breezed right on by my lost soul. “I will lead the Bible study. I merely need you to help manage the refreshments.”

  In any other part of the country, a Bible study would mean donuts and stale coffee, but this was Franklin, Tennessee, where even Bunco nights were a competition in hospitality. I might have just met her, but I already knew Ava Milton wasn’t the kind of woman who’d let anyone else outdo her. “I’m more than willing to help,” I said. “I have to warn you, though: my mother may be a caterer, but I’m impossible in the kitchen.”

  Her delicate eyebrows arched again, and the fact that she could actually move them like that proved she was a genetic winner, not a Botox consumer. “You’re Lila Steele’s daughter and you don’t cook?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want me anywhere near your stove.”

  She only allowed herself a brief frown. “Well, no worries. Your presence will be enough.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Is there a Bible study quota?”

  She laughed at that, catching me by surprise. “Colton said you were witty.”

  “How do you know Colton?” I blurted out.

  She hesitated. “Colton has proved himself to be a very loyal resource.”

  Ava Milton didn’t look like the kind of woman who associated with men like Colt on a regular basis. I had to wonder what he’d helped her with.

  She waved her hand. “No, I don’t have a quota. I’ll need you to maintain the refreshment table, make coffee—” She looked alarmed. “You do know how to make coffee, don’t you?”

  “Yes, that’s the one thing I’m good at. Out of necessity.”

  She nodded. “Very good.”

  “How much will you be paying me per hour, and what hours will you need me?”

  “You’re a cheeky girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a chuckle. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” She took a few steps closer. “I’ll need you here by nine o’clock. Bible study is from nine thirty to eleven thirty, but plan on staying to help me clean up afterward. No need to wear a server’s uniform. Just simple garden party attire. Can you manage that?”

  I wasn’t sure what garden party attire was, but I knew how to Google. “Yeah, uh . . . I mean, yes, ma’am.”

  “Very good. I’ll need you to start tomorrow. I already have someone scheduled to clean today, so you can start that next week.”

  I didn’t know my schedule at Rebellious Rose Boutique yet, but I bit my tongue before I said so. It was evident that Ava Milton did not take no for an answer. If I was about to potentially lose the job I needed to pay the rent I owed her, I needed to make sure it was worth my while. “And how much are you paying?”

  “Fifty dollars. Now sign.”

  I was glad I’d asked. That would end up being five dollars more than the fifteen dollars per hour I had intended to demand. “Maybe I should wait to sign until I have the first and last months’ rent check.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Does your word mean anything, Magnolia Steele?” The challenge in her voice was obvious.

  “Well, of course it does. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you the check today, so it doesn’t feel right to sign until I have it.”

  Her mouth pinched again as she considered it. “Then bring it as soon as you can. Now sign.”

  I flipped through the pages, surprised to see the Bible study arrangement was included in the document. She’d already expected me to accept her offer. That gave me second thoughts, but then I thought about living alone in an apartment that didn’t reek of cat urine and BO. I picked up the pen and signed my name.

  “Very good,” she said with her genteel smile. “I think this is going to work out just fine.”

  I only hoped I hadn’t signed away my soul.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re living where?” Momma demanded, the vein on her neck pulsing.

  To my surprise, Momma hadn’t even realized I’d been gone all night. Feeling like a teenager again, I’d snuck upstairs to take a shower. I’d also packed my clothes for the move, although I’d been too chicken to stuff my suitcases in the car and tell Momma right away. I was still warming up to the idea myself.

  We had driven downtown together because she and Tilly had agreed to meet there at nine. Which meant I had an hour to break the news about my apartment before heading off to my new job.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t going so well.

  I was sitting in a chair between their desks, so I turned to Tilly for help. But Tilly quickly looked down at her computer keyboard.

  Well, crap. That was an ominous sign.

  “I’m really confused,” I said, leaning forward. “Is it the fact that I’m moving out? Or that I’m moving into an apartment over a garage?”

  “Neither,” Momma said. “It’s that snake you’re gonna be living with.”

  I gasped. “What? I am not moving in with Colt!”

  “Colt?” Momma asked. “Why would you be livin’ with Colt?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sleepin’ with Colt Austin?”

  “No!”

  “Now, Lila,” Tilly said. “Colt is a very nice young man. He’s very helpful. We would never manage without him.”

  Momma’s face reddened. “That’s the problem. He’s too helpful. He helps any woman under the age of fifty-two out of her clothes.”

  “Lila,” Tilly said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right woman.” Then she made a sweeping gesture toward me. “Maybe Maggie’s the girl to tame him.”

  “I am not sleeping with Colt!” Now that I had their attention, I added, “Please give me more credit. I do have some sense in my head.”

  That settled Momma down. “Then why did you mention Colt?”

  “Because he helped get me the apartment.”

  “An apartment owned by a snake.” Momma’s anger was back.

  “Miss Ava?” I asked.

  “Miss Ava,” Momma said in a mocking tone. “And it’s no wonder Colt got that apartment for you.” She and Tilly exchanged a meaningful look.

  “What does that mean?” I demanded. “What do you two know?”

  My mother shook her head. “I’m not repeating gossip.”

  That was no surprise. I hadn’t expected an answer from her. Tilly, on the other hand, loved gossip more than she had a right to.
She was also usually correct. I turned to face her. “Spill it, Tilly.”

  Her eyes alight with excitement, she cast a glance toward the door, then back at me. “Rumor has it that Colt used to visit Ava Milton after dark.”

  “You mean at night? So?”

  “So?” Tilly said in exasperation. “He was showing up for a booty call.”

  I sat back in my seat. “What? Colt and Miss Ava hooking up? No way.” The guy had to have some standards, and I suspected Miss Ava was a lot older than fifty-two.

  Tilly gave a mock, nonchalant shrug. “Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. But rumor has it he still stops by to see her.”

  Was that Colt’s big secret? That he was hooking up with a sixty-something? Would that have been enough to scare his girlfriend away? Miss Ava had called him a loyal resource. As prim and proper as she was, it was hard to believe he’d been using his “resources” to help her find a big O.

  “Whether they’re hooking up is beside the point,” Momma said. “You’re not living with that snake.”

  “Technically, I’m not living with her,” I said. “I’m renting the apartment over her garage.”

  “Can you imagine what people are going to say, Magnolia?” Momma asked in disbelief. “You paying rent to that woman instead of living with me.”

  “They’ll say I’m an independent woman, making my way in the world. Beside, two days ago you were on board with me getting my own place. You said I was getting on your nerves.”

  Tilly gave my mother a comforting look. “She’s right, Lila. Magnolia’s going to live in an apartment separate from the house. It’s not like they’ll be fraternizing with one another.” She glanced over at me and nodded. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Oh crap. “Uh . . . Actually . . .”

  Momma’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  Fear snaked down my back. What had I done? “I agreed to clean her house every Wednesday for reduced rent.”

  “You’re Ava Milton’s cleaning lady?” Her voice was amazingly calm—like the eye of a hurricane.

  Obviously there was some history between my mother and Ava Milton, not surprising since both were headstrong women. It also explained why Ava had looked so giddy when I’d agreed to help with her Bible study.

  I was going to kill Colt.

  Might as well get everything out in the open. “There’s more.” I paused, summoning the courage to continue. I had an inkling that this wasn’t going to go over well. “I’m helping with her Thursday morning Bible study.”

  “When you say helping,” Tilly said quietly, searching my face, “what exactly do you mean?”

  “Um . . . I promised to help with her refreshment table. And making coffee.” Momma paled and a sick feeling washed over me.

  “Magnolia, dear,” Tilly said, grabbing my hand and holding it between her own. “I don’t want to alarm you—”

  “If that’s true, then don’t start out the sentence with I don’t want to alarm you.”

  “We’re sworn enemies,” Momma said in a tight voice. “She’s had it out for me since we started the Belles. She was an amateur caterer, and we took a lot of her business. She was furious.”

  “Oh shit . . .”

  “Oh shit is right,” Momma said. “She vowed to make me pay. She said she’d get her revenge even if it took twenty years, and now she’s gotten it.”

  “Your daughter working as her hired help.” No wonder she’d been so eager to get me to sign the contract. She was worried I’d tell Momma and she’d talk me out of it. Killing was too good for Colt; I was going to rip him into pieces. “Momma, I had no idea. Surely it can’t be that bad.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before you signed that contract?”

  I shrugged and started to pace. “I don’t know. Colt set the whole thing up. He took me there last night after we sang together at his set at the Embassy.”

  “You were at the Embassy last night?” she asked. “I didn’t know you even left the house.”

  “Didn’t you wonder when I arranged things with Miss Ava?”

  “I figured you saw the apartment yesterday afternoon and just found the courage to tell me.” Worry filled her eyes. “I’ve seen the news, Magnolia. I know there was a murder there last night.”

  I grimaced. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Lie.

  “But you’re involved somehow?”

  “A tiny bit.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “What were you doing there?”

  No point lying about that part. She’d find out sooner or later. “I was meeting him.”

  “The dead man?”

  So the police hadn’t released his name yet. Well, she was about to get even more upset. “Momma, maybe I should get you some water. It’s not good for you to get so upset. It messes with your immune system.”

  She took a breath and pushed it out. “Who were you meeting, Magnolia?”

  “Walter Frey.”

  I expected her to blow up, but instead she became very small and pale. “Why were you meeting Walter Frey?”

  Her reaction scared the crap out of me, and I found myself telling her almost everything—how I’d bullied Mr. Frey into setting a meeting with me, only to find him dead in the back of the bar I’d chosen as our rendezvous point. Of course, I kept out the part about the text message and the note.

  Tilly covered her mouth with her fingertips. “Oh, my word.”

  “Are you a suspect?” Momma asked in a quiet voice.

  “No,” I said. “The bartender is my alibi, and I didn’t have a gun. Plus, there were footprints that looked like they were from someone who ran off to the parking lot. I’m not a suspect.”

  Momma’s eyes sank closed. “Thank the Lord.”

  “Maggie,” Tilly murmured, patting my leg. “How do you manage to find yourself in so much trouble?”

  Momma sat up and turned to me. “You have to let this go, Magnolia. Your father’s gone. He’s not coming back. Asking questions is pointless.”

  She knows something. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen her scared. She had to know more about Daddy’s disappearance than she’d told the police.

  But then again, what had she told the police? They’d dismissed his disappearance so quickly . . .

  I wasn’t sure how to handle this. Part of me was furious with her. How could she have withheld information that might have helped someone find him? On the other hand, she’d loved Daddy with her entire being. If she was keeping something quiet, she had her reasons.

  “Promise me you’ll let this go,” Momma said, some of her color returning.

  The more vague a promise is, the easier it is to get out of it. Momma’s fatal error was not specifying what she meant by this. While she obviously wanted me to stop digging into my father’s disappearance, this could also refer to our current argument over his disappearance. “Yes, Momma. I’ll let this go.”

  She pushed out a breath of relief.

  “Good girl,” Tilly said, and I suddenly felt like I was her dog Pete.

  “But we still need to deal with the Ava Milton mess,” Momma said. “I want to know what happened last night first. All the details.”

  I sure as hell wasn’t telling her everything, but the more I told her, the better. There was less of a chance I’d slip up this way. When I got to the part about Brady, I decided to continue with my partial-honesty-is-the-best-policy decision. “When I found the body, I called a detective I’d met during the Max Goodwin investigation.”

  Momma’s face became guarded. “Which one?”

  “His name is Detective Brady Bennett. He didn’t believe I murdered Max Goodwin, so he gave me his cell phone number in case I needed help. So I called him.”

  “And he doesn’t believe you killed Walter Frey either?” Tilly asked.

  “Exactly. He assured me I’m not a suspect.”

  Tilly put her hand on her chest and pushed out a long breath. “Thank God. I’m not sure I could
handle you being involved in another murder case.”

  The look on my mother’s face suggested she couldn’t handle it either.

  “But Colt showed up to play a set at the bar, and he told me about the apartment. He’d planned to tell me about the place today, but he brought me there last night to cheer me up.”

  “After hours?” Momma asked.

  “He had a key.”

  She gave me a skeptical look.

  “He said Miss Ava had approved me right away because . . .” Oh crap.

  “Because?”

  “Because you’re my mother.” I shook my head. “Does Colt know? Is this his idea of a sick joke?”

  “No,” Momma said, sounding reserved. “He may have tuned into some tension, but I doubt he knows the whole story. This happened long before he started working here, and Tilly and I never discuss it.”

  That eased my mind. Whether or not he realized it, I had put a lot of trust in Colt—something I never did—and I wasn’t sure how I’d handle his betrayal.

  “I suppose there’s no getting out of it,” Tilly murmured.

  “No,” Momma drawled. “But we can use this to our advantage.”

  I really didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Magnolia can tell us what she’s up to,” Momma continued.

  “Momma, do you really think she’s going to make me privy to anything that will interest you?”

  “You’ll just have to earn her trust.”

  “Like a double agent,” Tilly said. She looked deep in thought, and her head bounced up and down.

  I was about to argue that I wasn’t about to take on a 007 role when the buzzer for the front door went off.

  “Who could that be?” Tilly asked. “I thought our first appointment was at eleven.”

  “It is,” I said. I’d kept track of the appointments since I’d started working there. I stood. “I’ll go take care of it.”