I watched Ellie get made up with a growing sense of trepidation bathing my nerves in an icy bath.
“It’s awfully convenient that Adrienne was arrested for having bleeding hearts in her room,” I murmured to Rachel in what I hoped was a barely audible whisper. “Especially because, as far as we know, Adrienne doesn’t even know we planted the bleeding hearts in the greenhouse for Dakota’s secret wedding.”
“What are you saying?” Rachel keenly observed Ellie’s star treatment, the green-eyed monster out in full force.
“What if Ellie—or Iris—planted the bleeding hearts in Adrienne’s room to implicate her?”
Rachel’s eyes went wide. “What if it’s even worse than that?”
“What could be worse than framing an innocent woman?” Not that I was entirely sure Adrienne was innocent. It wasn’t looking good for her. But I couldn’t get it out of my mind how neatly things were falling into place for Ellie.
“Maybe Ellie killed Ginger to get the headmistress position just to get Iris off her back,” Rachel suggested. She dropped her voice when Iris glanced in our direction.
“And then she poisoned Xavier and planted the bleeding hearts in Adrienne’s room to get the host position.”
It fit.
“Or it could have been Iris,” Rachel hissed.
“She does seem more likely to orchestrate it so her daughter could be more esteemed in her eyes.” A pang of pathos rippled through me as I thought of Ellie and Leah growing up with a mother for whom nothing was ever good enough.
“Let’s go tell Truman.”
My sister and I slipped from the room to pay a visit to the chief just as Ellie started filming her first monologue.
* * *
“That’s not a bad theory.”
Truman rubbed his hand on the stubble that had sprouted on his chin after a long day trying to untie the Gordian knot that was the nexus, or lack thereof, of Ginger’s death and Xavier’s coma.
“Iris Barnes was always the worst kind of stage mother imaginable.” He shook his head and leaned back in his easy chair. “I remember being called to the Methodist church one December, long ago, to break up an altercation.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Iris had started to go after another mother when Ellie didn’t get the part of baby Jesus in the nativity play.”
“She’d do anything to make Ellie a star, or get the headmistress position, or get Leah into Harvard,” I said. My own mother had decreed that either Rachel or me had to become a doctor or a lawyer, and I’d fulfilled her edict. But I don’t think she would have killed to make it happen. I shivered despite the cozy warmth of the Davies family’s living room.
Truman left us to change into civilian clothes, and Rachel and I idly leafed through the voluminous collection of photo albums sitting on the bottom row of bookshelves flanking the fireplace. Photo albums were a rare commodity these days, since everyone, yours included, seemed to keep digital copies of their pictures on computers or in the cloud. I enjoyed looking at photographs of Garrett as a child.
“Check this out.” Rachel laughed with glee at a photo from the mid 1980s, of Garrett dressed as the Cookie Monster for some long-ago Halloween.
I giggled and wondered what Garrett would think of us perusing his own personal memory lane. I selected a newer-looking album and the book fell open down the middle, the selection of photos from Garrett’s college days. There were pictures from the debate team and track meets and one from a dance.
I stared in wonder at a photograph of Garrett, his arm around a laughing and beautiful Adrienne Larson. They were dressed for a school dance in formal wear, Garrett in a dark suit, and Adrienne in a cool blue sequined gown. The banner behind them announced it was Quincy College’s homecoming weekend.
“They looked so happy,” Rachel mused. She took in what must have been a mixed look of wonder and upset on my face and amended her comment. “They looked so young.”
They did look young. Young and happy, carefree and in love.
“Will you take me to the orthodontist, Mallory?” Summer appeared at my elbow and I dropped the book like a molten potato.
“Ouch!” It fell on my toe, causing some damage even through my heavy snow boots.
That’s what you get for snooping.
“Sure, sweetie. But don’t you usually go with your dad or grandparents?”
Summer shook her head, the short blond hair flying out around her ears. “Dad’s busy at the office trying to get Mom out of jail. Grandma’s grocery shopping. And I won’t go with Grandpa, since I’m boycotting him.”
Rachel raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Boycotting?”
“Since he unfairly arrested my mother.” A wave of hurt crested and crashed in her hazel eyes.
Oh, boy.
“Sure, we’ll take you. Let me just see your grandpa for a minute.”
I got the all-clear from Truman, who was sad about Summer’s boycott, but understanding. “It’s for the best,” he grumbled. He settled back into his easy chair, now clad in his West Virginia University sweatpants. “I can understand why she’s mad at me, but she’ll know the truth someday.”
Summer, Rachel, and I climbed into the Butterscotch Monster. I caught a glimpse of Summer’s outfit under her coat. She was still wearing light blue, in what must have been solidarity with her mother. Gone were her hoodies and sweaters in bright colors.
“I just want my mom and dad to be friends,” Summer blurted out. Her teeth were still startlingly bare. I wasn’t used to seeing her without braces, something that would be rectified momentarily. “Dad’s just defending her because he believes in civil rights, not because he even likes her.”
It was a big speech for such a young girl, and I was at a loss for words. Rachel adjusted my rearview mirror and used it to look Summer in the eye.
“Your parents are trying hard to do what’s best for you,” Rachel soothed. “Even if that means different things.”
It was a diplomatic thing to say, and I smiled at my sister’s wisdom.
“Mom wants me to get into acting and live with her for half the year.”
“She what?! ” The tires screeched as I steadied the giant boat of a station wagon. I’d carelessly pulled the wheel in response to Summer’s announcement, and I righted the course now. “That’s big news,” I amended, my heart pounding in my chest.
Summer nodded, somewhat miserably.
“What do you want, sweetie?” I adjusted the rearview mirror back into place.
“I used to want to be a veterinarian,” she began, her heart-shaped face confused and gloomy. “But Mom says I can’t pass this up.”
I groaned inwardly and kept my eyes on the road.
“You don’t always have to do something just because you can,” I counseled as we pulled into the orthodontist’s office for the last appointment of the day. “There are so many doors open to you. You’re only thirteen.”
“You can do anything you want,” Rachel added. “Why, I’ve been a hairdresser, dental assistant, dog walker, baker, and now assistant wedding planner!” She beamed at her spoken resume and swung her long legs out of the car.
Summer disappeared into an examination room to get her braces put back on, and Rachel and I talked in low tones in the waiting room.
“Do you think Garrett knows Summer is considering spending time in L.A. with her mom?” I knew at one time in his life, Garrett would have been keen to have Adrienne take more of an interest in their daughter, and for Summer to seek out more time with her mother. Now I wasn’t so sure.
Rachel bit her plump frosted lip. “There’s no way.” She brightened, abandoning a glossy magazine on a side table. “You should tell him—that’ll get him back on your side again.”
“He’s not taking sides!” I said this a little too loudly, earning a glare from the receptionist. “Garrett and I are doing just fine.”
Aren’t we?
“I’m going to stay out of it,” I announced.
“I’m ready.” Summer ne
arly skipped out of the examination room, her trademark magenta braces firmly in place. She flashed a smile in the mirror behind the reception desk and let out a satisfied sigh. “It was fun having my braces off for a few days, but I feel like me again.”
“And that’s a great thing to be. Come on, sweetie. Let’s go home.”
* * *
The next morning, I awoke from a troubling dream. Summer and Garrett were moving to Los Angeles to accommodate Summer’s budding career as an actress. Garrett gave me a cursory hug goodbye, and I watched him and his daughter disappear through airport security. I implicitly understood they weren’t coming back to Port Quincy.
I sat up from the dream with sweat pouring down my back. Whiskey stared at me in alarm, her calico tail swishing. She crept up the comforter and nuzzled my nose with hers, trying to offer comfort.
I picked her up and cuddled her close and called my stepfather for a bit of advice about whether to spill the beans of Summer’s wishes to spend more time with her mother to Garrett.
“It’s a delicate balance,” Doug counseled, his voice steady and measured. “I know your mother wanted you girls to have access to your father, even if that wasn’t his intent.”
My father and mother had gone through a brutal divorce and custody battle, before he’d eventually disappeared. Unlike Summer’s yearly visits with Adrienne, Rachel and I had never seen our father again.
“Your mother worked so hard for you and Rachel not to feel your father’s absence,” Doug continued. “And I think she did a great job.”
“I agree,” I murmured, a lump of gratitude making my throat froggy. “Thank you,” I whispered, glad I’d called.
“Hello, darling! Why didn’t you tell me you’re getting your own show?” My parents were two of the three human beings on the planet who still had a landline, and I’d heard the loud click of the phone being picked up somewhere in their house down in the Florida panhandle to announce my mother joining the call. Her voice boomed over the line.
“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” I grumbled, ready to kill Rachel. “Not yet,” I amended.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” my mother prattled on, gaining a head of steam. “Doug and I got some promising leads at our open house yesterday. It’s only a matter of time before we sell and move to Port Quincy.” She took a deep breath, her excitement radiating through the phone. “I will run the B and B for you while you’re filming your show!”
Truman is about to get even busier. I really will kill Rachel.
Didn’t pinky swears mean anything these days? I couldn’t believe my sister had tattled. Actually, it was probably inevitable, but I at least thought I’d get a few more days before Rachel revealed the tantalizing possibility of our very own reality show.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Mom.” I gritted my teeth.
“Nonsense.”
An annoyed frisson ran through my nerves. Rachel hadn’t just accidentally spilled the beans; she’d done it on purpose. She’d told our mom about the show to bring in the big guns. My mother was no lawyer, but she was highly persuasive. She’d wear me down until I acquiesced and handed over the keys to the B and B and my book of business. Adrienne could take lessons on getting her way from the master, my mother, Carole Shepard.
“I have to go,” I announced, my voice curt. “Thanks, Doug.”
“Think about my offer. It will be marvelous!” my mother trilled into my ear as I hung up.
I set off on a mission to find Rachel and give her a piece of my mind. I found her shivering on the front porch, mail in hand.
“Lots of fan mail for Dakota and Beau.” She rifled through the thick pile, her shiny, sparkly nails dancing by the light of the cold, high sun. “This one feels like it has a rock inside.” She palpated a thin, plain white envelope and examined the letter. “No return address, but postmarked Port Quincy.”
“Don’t worry about Dakota’s mail.” I plucked the letter from her grasp and placed a hand on my hip.
“What were you doing, telling Mom about our show offer?”
The blood drained from my sister’s face, then returned a few seconds later, staining her cheekbones.
“Someone needs to be on my side.” She rolled her green eyes and mirrored my motions, her hand on her hip. “I thought Mom could point out what a great idea it would be to do the show.”
“You mean you thought she could browbeat me into it,” I seethed. “We pinky swore!”
“Pinky swore about what?”
In my haste to dress down my sister, I failed to see Garrett advancing up the walk. He offered me a weary but sexy smile, and I colored, my face warm and hot and probably as red as my sister’s.
“Nothing.”
Smooth.
My sister and I clammed up and joined Garrett in the breakfast room for a cup of coffee. Dakota was nursing a cup of her own and offered us a smile just as tired and distracted as Garrett’s.
“These are for you.” Rachel pushed the envelopes across the table and I added the one with the mystery item inside to the top of the pile.
“It’s a shame the show is still filming,” Dakota said. I handed her a letter opener. “Although it wouldn’t have been good for you guys not to have the episode air.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I still wasn’t sure if the producers would try and lobby to show the disastrous, deadly Winter Ball. It would take some tricky editing to cobble together a presentable episode for I Do. I was ready to call the whole thing off.
“Well, you always have your destination wedding show offer to fall back on,” Dakota mused as she opened the top letter.
“Your what?” Garrett stopped, his coffee cup aloft and frozen in midair halfway to his mouth.
Uh-oh.
“Mallory and I have been offered our own show!” Rachel crowed, now that the cat was out of the bag. “We’ll film half the year in vacation spots. It’ll really help our business grow back home, too.”
A queer look stole over Garrett’s face. One of recognition, disappointment, and resolve.
“Garrett—”
“Oh my God.” Dakota jumped back as if she’d just been bitten. A delicate snowflake fashioned from platinum and old mine-cut diamonds fell out of the plain envelope and skittered onto the table. “A piece of the tiara.”
Chapter Fourteen
The breakfast room was utterly still. Dakota broke the silence as she pushed back her chair with a spine-tingling screech. Her teeth began to chatter, though it was quite warm in the room.
“Ginger’s murderer sent that.”
“Don’t touch it,” I warned, mindful of fingerprints.
“I’ll call Truman.” Rachel seemed to have realized she shouldn’t have so gleefully crowed about our show offer and lowered her eyes to the table.
“Can we talk?” Garrett practically pulled me from the breakfast room to the dining room.
“The tiara—”
“The tiara can wait.” Storm clouds gathered in Garrett’s hazel eyes. I felt as if the people in the painting above the fireplace were watching me in censure.
The jig is up.
“I was going to tell you—”
“That you’re leaving.” His voice was flat and somehow derisive all at once.
“I—I haven’t decided.” I dragged my smarting eyes from the blinding white landscape outside the big bay window to meet his hurt ones. “It would only be for half the year. Rachel wants this so badly, Garrett. I don’t feel right entertaining this offer, but I can’t just say no, either.”
He stared at me, his jaw working and his eyes wide.
“I can’t have Summer hurt twice by women walking out of her life.”
“But Adrienne’s back in Summer’s life,” I said, my voice infinitesimally small.
“Adrienne is languishing in jail,” he reminded me. His concentration was broken. He dragged his fingers through his hair and began to pace around the long dining room table. “Perhaps it’s best
I get back to her defense.”
I stared at his retreating form, mad about this tiff. I didn’t want him to leave angry. I still wasn’t sure if I even wanted to be on a destination wedding show. But I knew this argument wasn’t fair, even though I’d kept my secret too long.
“Isn’t it a conflict of interest, defending the mother of your child for murder?”
Garrett froze and wheeled around. “No one else wants to defend her,” he said simply. “I’m all she has here in Port Quincy.”
I figured it was time for all the secrets to come out, now that mine may have ruined us.
“I saw the ring,” I whispered, tracing the pattern of leaves and berries in the deep red tablecloth. “At Pellegrino’s.”
A red flush started at Garrett’s Adam’s apple and crept up to his face, tingeing the five o’clock shadow I normally loved to run my fingers over.
“I don’t have anything to hide.” Garrett spoke clearly and plainly. “That was the ring I gave Adrienne that she never deigned to wear. I thought she’d used it to fund her trip out to L.A., but I guess she kept it all these years. She didn’t return it until now. She thought Summer might like to have it. Not that she should have kept it. We were never compatible.”
He swept back into the room and took my hands in his. He tipped my chin up so he could look directly into my eyes. “Adrienne and I never should have been together, but I do thank my stars every day that I have Summer. You have nothing to worry about, Mallory. I just wish you’d have told me you’re considering leaving Port Quincy.”
He ran his finger down the side of my jaw, sending shivers up my spine. He turned to go, without a word, and walked out the door.
Murder Borrowed, Murder Blue Page 18
