But, if the Force was strong in me, I’d be hearing from him soon.
Chapter Nineteen
I parked Stella on the street outside Bree’s house and jumped out, brushing the goose bumps from my arms. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being followed, but I wasn’t. I’d spent as much time watching my rearview mirror on my drive over as I had watching the road. After meeting Keith Orson, I half expected to find dead mice anytime I approached my car. Dan said Keith had an alibi, but couldn’t he also have an accomplice? Or be one? It seemed careless to so quickly discount a man with infinite mouse supplies. Who else would have dead mice to spare?
“Mia!” Mom raised her hands overhead in excitement.
Bree’s toddler, Gwen, mimicked Mom’s move. “Meeee!” She abandoned the fairy garden where she’d been playing and ran full speed in my direction, kicking ceramic toadstools and tiny gnomes out of her way. She collided softly with my legs. “Up!”
I hoisted her onto my hip and kissed her nose. “Hello, Little Miss.” I straightened her bright red T-shirt. “What’s this?” The white circle on her tummy was straight out of a Dr. Seuss book. “Thing One.” I snuggled her to my cheek and tickled her ribs. “Whatever happened to shirts that said Big Sister?”
Mom swayed, peering around me in both directions. “Nate dropped it off earlier. He said he and Fifi are meeting a contractor and can’t make it for dinner. Where’s Jake?”
Nate. “Well, that explains a ton.” I tickled Gwen until she wailed in desperation.
“Is Jake coming?” Mom rephrased her question.
“He had a work thing.” He’d sent a last-minute text.
Running late. Be there when I can.
What did that mean? Was he really running late? Or was the text Jake’s version of a polite cancellation?
Mom pulled her lips to the side. “I’ve never met a couple with such busy schedules.”
“It’s complicated.” Though I liked the thought of being a couple with Jake very much. He hadn’t argued when Dan introduced us that way. Semantically, we were a couple. We dated only each another. We clearly cared for one another, even if those precise words hadn’t been exchanged. He certainly kissed me like he meant it.
Mom moved to my side and wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders. “Well, it doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m sure the two of you will figure it out.”
Bree appeared at the front door of her adorable cottage and swung it open. Hers was the smallest on the block when she bought it on the cheap and got the steal of the century. Five years of love and elbow grease later, there was a swing in the oak out front, a picket fence around the yard and flower-filled boxes under every window. Her little one-and-a-half story clearance-priced home had become the stunning centerpiece on a street of mini-mansions. She looked at me like my hair was on fire. “Where’s Jake?”
“Working.” Scents of garlic and herbs on melted butter soaked the air inside her home. I floated inside on a whiff of ecstasy.
“Why are you early?”
Mom peeled her body away from mine and shooed Bree along so we could pass.
I slid into her narrow front hall. “I was in a hurry to get here. I’m super excited for your big gender reveal.”
She gave me a skeptical face before turning her gaze onto Mom. “What were you two just talking about?”
“Birds and bees.”
I patted Bree’s tummy. “Maybe she should talk to you next.”
“Seriously, Mia.” She scooped Gwen off my hip. “Why are you early? Are you okay? Dinner won’t be ready for a few minutes. We can talk if you need to.” She pierced me with her weird twins are cosmically connected face. “I know something’s wrong. Talk to me.”
I blinked to break her spell. “I’m fine.”
I wasn’t. Bree knew it, but this wasn’t the time to lay it out there. And she wasn’t the one I needed to talk to. I checked on my car through the window. Waning sunlight reflected through the windshield. No sign of a stalker. Maybe the mice were a fluke. Maybe I was wrong to worry.
I’d pulled Dante from the Horseshoe Falls lake nine days ago, and after more than a week, I had no viable suspects and too many questions. Marshals were hunting the fugitive Dante had planned to rat out. Dan believed Keith Orson was innocent. I couldn’t get Josh Chan to talk to me. The antique shop guy and Dante’s ex-wife were dead ends. I had a feeling I couldn’t get a straight answer from Senator Adams if I asked him about the color of the sky.
My efforts had tanked. All I had left were the two cabbies I hadn’t been able to reach by phone. I’d try them again in the morning. Maybe pay for a ride so we could talk privately.
“Whoa.” I gasped at the crepe-paper-covered kitchen and tried to absorb the madness. “What happened in here?”
Tom poured pale pink liquid into a line of plastic martini cups positioned alongside matching blue drinks with minuscule sailboats floating in their centers. “Hey, Mia.” He set the drinks aside and opened his arms for a hug. “You’re early.”
“Yep.”
“What do you think? Are you going with It’s a Boy Blueberry punch or It’s a Girl Strawberry Fizz?”
“What?”
Mom shoved her way between us. Excitement blazed in her crazy eyes. “We each pick a drink before the big reveal. Pink if we think Bree’s having a girl. Blue if we think she’s having a boy. If we guess right, we get a prize.” She pointed to a baby carriage filled with presents wrapped in white paper.
“Uh-huh.” I drifted toward the dining room. The table was set with Grandma’s china. A massive bouquet of wildflowers was centered on the sideboard. Boy and girl paper dolls were stretched across the china cabinet. A six-foot teddy bear slumped in the corner. Two giant pacifiers hung around his neck on strings. Pastel balloons flooded the floor. Little signs clung to the walls. It’s a boy! It’s a girl! Some were simple white squares with thick black question marks in the center. “It’s like a party store blew up in here.”
The doorbell rang. Thank goodness. I turned on my toes and went to welcome Jake.
Mom beat me to the door and squealed. She pulled a rail-thin woman into her arms and rocked side to side. They patted one another on the back and giggled without breaking the embrace.
Gwen hit me with a spit-covered balloon. “Boom!”
I lowered my face to hers. “Do you know who Grandma is hugging?”
“Yeah.” She pushed the balloon against her mouth and tried to bite it.
“Who?” I whispered.
“Her!” She swung a dimpled hand toward the women.
“Thanks.” I went looking for Dad. “Mom’s hugging a woman in the front hallway. I’ve never seen her before. She’s not a friend or neighbor of Bree and Tom’s.” Unless they’d just met her. Would they invite a new person to the gender reveal? Maybe. Bree was off her nut lately. Would Mom hug a new person with such enthusiasm? Maybe. Same reason.
Dad shook the wrinkles from his newspaper. “It’s probably her publicist or whatever you call it. Marvin and your grandmother went to get her from the airport.”
I snapped upright. “Her publicist?” She’d invited her publicist to this kooky event? People would think we were fruit loops. “Is Mom planning to put this in her book?”
Dad rolled tired eyes up to meet mine. He sighed and went back to the paper.
Right. The only person excited about divulging our family secrets was Mom, and no one wanted to steal her joy, so we didn’t talk about it. It was the book that shall not be named. I slipped through the French doors of the study, leaving Dad to his paper.
Tom was arranging hors d’oeuvres on pink and blue platters in the kitchen. “Want to try a little something while you wait?”
I poked a toothpick with pink and blue curlicues on top into a little meatball. “Why is Mom’s pu
blicist here? Where did she fly in from? Why does she have a publicist for a book she hasn’t written?”
Tom’s smile fell, but he quickly pulled it back together. “Your mom invited her. She’s from New York. I have no idea.” He lowered his voice. “Bree isn’t thrilled.”
I bit into the meat on my stick. “So we aren’t talking about it.”
He did a stage wink. “How’s the meatball? I added a little grape jelly.”
I moved closer, driven by curiosity and the common knowledge Tom was our weakest link. “Is this party going in the book? Should I watch what I say?”
He stepped back. “Bree!”
I munched another meatball.
Bree rolled into the kitchen, one hand on her back and the other on her belly. Her skin was glowing, but she looked like she could sleep until the baby arrived if we let her. “Yeah?”
Tom slid oven mitts over his hands and turned to the stove. “Mia’s wondering about the guest list.”
Bree’s cheeks darkened. She was miffed. “Can we just...not...right now? This is my party. My big reveal.” Her breaths came in short bursts as her temper tried to surface. I’d seen the look countless times before.
“Breathe,” Tom suggested.
She shook her head and shoulders, as if she could physically throw off the frustration. A bright smile spread over her face. “Mom asked if she could invite a friend. I assumed it would be an old babysitter of ours or someone special from our childhood, so I said yes.”
“Duped,” I groaned.
“Yes.”
“What was that thing you just did before blowing up?”
She did it again. “I’m preparing for a natural childbirth. It takes concentration and centering, so I’m applying relaxation techniques to my life. Getting a jump start.”
Grandma shuffled into the space beside Bree. “I could’ve used some relaxation techniques an hour ago. Traffic at the airport is ridiculous.”
Marvin squeezed in behind Grandma, looking wildly happy. He removed his little cap. “I didn’t mind the traffic, but I must’ve worked up an appetite. Everything smells delicious.”
“Thanks.” Tom pulled trays off the island and lined them on his arm. “Time to eat.”
Mom and the lady headed for the table.
The doorbell rang again. I went to see who else Mom might’ve invited. Local news crew? Fashion police? Probably the latter since I was wearing a red sleeveless jumper and knee socks I’d had since undergrad.
I pulled the door open and my heart skipped. “Jake!”
His lips twitched. “It’s too bad everyone I visit isn’t this happy to see me.”
“Rough day?”
He stepped inside and leaned into my space. The gentle scents of his shampoo and cologne weakened my knees. No one had ever smelled as amazing as Jake. “Would it be okay if I...?” He didn’t finish the question.
I nodded. However he’d planned to finish the request, my answer was unequivocally yes.
He brushed a swath of hair over my shoulder and stroked the length of it down my back. Something in his eyes said there were a number of ways he’d considered finishing the question.
“Boom!” Something nasty dashed against my legs. Gwen smiled up at us, arms open, fingers skyward. A spit-covered balloon rolled at my feet. “Up.”
“May I?” Jake pulled her into his arms before I had a chance to collect my marbles and answer.
I followed them down the hall, plucking the dress away from my overheated skin. “You started to ask me something back there.” I pointed out. “You didn’t finish.”
He turned the corner toward the dining room hoopla, allowing me a brief look at his handsome face. He’d hitched one cheek into a crooked smile.
“Jake!” Mom exclaimed. She rose to her feet and hustled to get her hands on him.
Dad puttered out of the study. “Jake?”
My family pulled him around the room, shaking his hand and crowning him King of Everything. Dad poured him a drink.
“Careful,” I called. “They suck you in and never let go.” My laugh was cut short when the thin woman at Mom’s side gave me a worried look. I sucked air. “That was a joke. A stupid one. We don’t abduct people. I’m not funny.” I shot a hand in her direction. “I’m Mia.”
She folded her fingertips over mine, avoiding my palm completely and releasing me a heartbeat later. “Lydia Laurent.”
Mom clapped her hands to her face like the kid in Home Alone. “Heavens! I am so sorry. Mia, this is my literary agent, Lydia Laurent. She’s helping me with the book about our family. Lydia, this is Mia, my youngest.” She gave me a funny look. “Where were you when she arrived? I could’ve sworn you were right behind me at the door.”
I eyeballed Dad. He told me the lady was her publicist. I understood publicists. I dealt with them all the time for Guinevere’s Golden Beauty and now for REIGN. I hadn’t the foggiest clue what a literary agent was or did. Hopefully Mom wasn’t paying her.
Dad tugged a bushy eyebrow, uncaring. It was all the same to him. All the nonsense that accompanied the book that shall not be named.
The table was packed. Tom had wisely added all the extra leaves, extending it to maximum capacity, and rounding up another chair from somewhere. Bree took a seat at the table’s head. Dad, Mom and her agent took the three chairs on Bree’s left. Tom sat opposite Bree, in the chair nearest the kitchen. He pulled Gwen’s highchair in beside him at the corner. Jake dropped her in and patted her head. Grandma, Marvin, Jake and I crammed ourselves along the last side of the table. Lucky me. I was at Bree’s right hand. My chair didn’t match the rest, and my knee knocked against hers under the table.
“So,” Lydia piped up. “Anyone have a fun story to share about life in this family?”
Mom beamed. She sought our faces, one by one, looking for who would go first. Dad, Grandma and Tom examined their plates as if the meaning of life was hidden in the delicate trim.
Bree and I exchanged a long look. For once I thought I really could read her mind. This was her party and her big deal. It wasn’t about our past. It was about her future.
Mom’s smile crumpled. “Well, don’t all talk at once.” Embarrassment colored her cheeks. She flicked a look in Lydia’s direction.
I jumped up. “Oh, no! We forgot the drinks. Tom, tell them about the fun drinks.” I ran to the kitchen for the colored punch in martini glasses. I returned with the big white tray.
Bree mouthed Thank you.
I winked. “What’ll it be, Mama?” I started with Bree. “You’re first.”
She grabbed a pink drink without hesitation.
I followed suit. “Who am I to argue with the mama?”
Jake also took pink.
Grandma and Marvin went blue. So did Dad and Tom. Hey, the guys in our family had to hope, right? They were sorely outnumbered. Lydia and Mom went pink.
The meal began with strawberry soup and a tiny bowl of blueberries on the side. From there, it was Cornish hens and salad with pecans and feta. Our group was unusually quiet, but I had no idea what to say in front of Mom’s guest, and it seemed I wasn’t alone.
Bree stole continuous glances at Mom until her plate was empty. She pulled her napkin from her lap and dotted the corners of her mouth. “So, Mom, how’s the book going?”
Mom lifted her head slowly. “Okay.” She forced a smile. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. This is your party. Everything is absolutely perfect.”
Lydia nodded. “Do you get together often?”
“Yes.” We answered in unison, even Jake chimed in.
“Are you always so creative?” she asked Tom.
Another big yes.
Dad wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “I like that you said creative and not cuckoo.”
“If I thought you were cuckoo, I wouldn’t be so excited about this book. Your family is one I’ve followed for many years. My mother used Guinevere’s Golden Bath Salts. I remember them on the edge of the tub when I was growing up. They came in a glass jar back then with a rose-colored lid and rhinestones along the top. Her bath time was a big deal. I used to open all her products and smell them one by one and think of how one day I’d be a proper lady who had bath salts of her own. Sometimes Mom would allow me to sit in the room and read while she soaked in a tub full of bubbles. The bubbles were yours as well.”
I gave Lydia another look. Maybe she wasn’t the devil, bent on humiliating our family for money.
Mom patted Lydia’s hand. “Lydia believes in this project. She says we have the American Dream and others will relate to us and feel inspired.”
“It’s true,” Lydia added. “I’ve garnered significant interest from several publishing houses and bent the ear of an exec looking for movie material.”
“Movie?” Bree perked up.
“That’s getting ahead of ourselves, of course,” Lydia admitted, “but it’s very telling of what your story has to offer. You have something rather special here.”
My eyes inexplicably burned.
Jake’s warm palm covered my knee.
Bree sniffled. “We really do.” She wiped her eyes on a napkin. “Sorry. Hormones.”
Tom cleared the table. Jake excused himself to help.
Thirty seconds later, Grandma thumped her giant wedding planner in front of Mom and Lydia. “We’re doing a Vegas Magic Show theme.”
I slipped away and made a run to my car for something I’d meant to bring in. I moved at full speed as if the devil was chasing me. I stopped at Gwen’s highchair and curtsied deeply. “I brought you something, milady.”
She clapped.
I tucked both hands behind my back. “First, you must choose a hand.”
A Geek Girl's Guide to Justice (The Geek Girl Mysteries) Page 21
