by Nadia Lee
“What can I do for you?” Irene said.
Catherine took a seat on a frayed couch. It sagged underneath her weight. “You have to do your job.”
“What job?”
“You’re my housekeeper, aren’t you?”
“Never signed up to look after a drug dealer.” Irene crossed her arms.
Oh that again. “Didn’t you hear I’m not a drug dealer?”
“I heard you somehow got Willie Rae to give you your bag back before she was ready. That seems pretty…I don’t know. Drug dealer-like.” She shuddered. “There’s a reason I live in Cooter’s Bluff, not some place like Greensville. That’s the kind of place you might see cartels.”
There was that name again. “Greensville? Isn’t that the town half an hour or so down the highway?”
“Yep. How’d you know?”
“Stopped by on my way in. It seemed like a normal place.”
“It’s not nice, that town.” Irene pursed her mouth. “A lot of snobs over there, and only because their homes are a little more expensive than ours. Just means they pay more property taxes. Dummies.”
Catherine tapped her lower lip. “Sean told me something about Greensville’s women not being good for Blaine,” she said, hoping this would encourage Irene to talk. “Something about a Zoe Simpson?”
“He knows about Zoe?” Irene said. “Huh. He was so young at the time.”
“Someone probably said something.” And it probably didn’t take long, she thought sourly.
Her fear of drug dealers apparently forgotten, Irene sat next to Catherine. Nothing like juicy gossip to bind people together. “It’s this horrible thing. I mean… Just scandalous.”
“I’m sure.”
“Zoe’s daddy owned Greensville’s biggest supermarkets. He’s sold ’em now, but she was the princess of Greensville. All because her family’s got some money. She was pretty enough, but had that soft, rich look, you know? Kinda like you, actually. In my younger days I woulda given her a run for her money.”
Catherine smiled and nodded encouragingly.
“She had a boyfriend problem. Terrible taste in boys. Money can’t buy everything, can it? This one cheated on her with her skanky best friend and beat her when she confronted him ’bout it. So to get back at him, she decided to come here and latch onto Blaine.”
A sinking feeling formed in Catherine’s belly. She could see where the story was going. She’d witnessed it many times before.
“Shed tears, told him some story about how awful this and that was. She was a crier, and I bet that was some acting. Shoulda won an Oscar for it.
“Blaine was always a big, solid boy,” Irene continued. “Kind-hearted too. I think he liked her—I could tell that kind of thing—but she was just using him, so when her boyfriend found out, he came to fight Blaine.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, Blaine beat him up pretty good, but his daddy was some kind of big deal in Greensville. Some politician, I guess? Luckily he had no power in Cooter’s Bluff. Otherwise Earl mighta had to lock Blaine up. Wouldn’t that have been a shame?”
“Yes,” Catherine murmured. How awful that had happened to the younger Blaine. She hurt for him. The event—which had to have been public and ugly—must’ve left an emotional scar. Given the time that had passed, she hoped he’d gotten over it by now despite what Sean thought.
And speaking of Sean…
How insulting was it that he equated her to that girl Zoe.
On the other hand, why wouldn’t he? Most people seemed to have a horrible opinion of her. Within two days of arriving in Cooter’s Bluff, people thought she was a drug dealer. At least nobody had called her stupid.
“Um.” Irene looked at Catherine uncertainly, apparently wondering why she was scowling. “As for the housekeeping, I’ll stock the fridge this afternoon and clean the place a bit tomorrow. I s’ppose you need some fresh linens.”
“Why? You don’t think I’m a drug dealer anymore?” Catherine asked, forcing a lighter tone.
“Just thought it through a little better. If you are a drug dealer, not keeping you happy is gonna turn out bad for me. If you’re not…” The older woman raised her narrow shoulders in a shrug. “Like you said, I need to do my job, don’t I?”
* * *
Catherine went to Blaine’s Bar & Restaurant around seven. Janey sat her at a table in the corner. Sean was at the counter. So he hadn’t returned to school yet. What was he trying to accomplish by staying in Cooter’s Bluff?
She ordered her usual and tapped her fingers on the table. The envelope from the late morning peeked out from her purse. She pulled it out and reread it, just to make sure she hadn’t been mistaken about the reconciliatory tone of the letter. Parsing information from writing didn’t come easily to her, and she was scared she might have inferred something that wasn’t on the page out of desperate hope. She hadn’t called Ethan yet. She didn’t want him to know her new cell phone number, and also didn’t want to give up the house number just in case. They were the only reasons why she hadn’t called him.
Keep lying to yourself, why don’t you?
Not even a hard run around the town had been able to get the fact that Ethan wanted to talk out of her head. She clasped her clammy hands together. He had seemed determined to blame her for the mess at The Lloyds Development, accusing her of gross negligence and incompetence. He probably thought her stupid, like her mother and teachers, for not having realized that something was going on sooner. But she hadn’t had the knowledge or confidence to confront Jacob on business matters. She didn’t know a thing about land development or running a big corporation.
Still… If Amandine had been able to locate Catherine, so could Ethan. Did she want to annoy him further by wasting his time? She remembered how enraged Jacob could be when he thought he was being played. There had been times when she’d thought he would hit her. Thankfully he’d stopped at cruel words and nearly crushing her wrist in his powerful grip.
Just call and get it over with, and then you can enjoy your dinner. Have a dinner roll as a reward. You can always burn it off tomorrow.
“Hey, Catherine.”
She looked up to see Dusty, who grinned at her. He wore an old flannel shirt and jeans splattered with paint marks. “Hi, Dusty.” She smiled, relaxing. It’d be unpardonably rude to brush him off to make the phone call. “Are you here alone?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna grab a bacon cheeseburger and wait for Rick’s break. I got somethin’ to show him.” Dusty lifted a brown bag.
“What’s that?”
“Somethin’ I did for him. Ya wanna see?”
“Sure.” Anything to delay the inevitable. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks. Yer sweet.” He pulled out a small, framed painting from the bag. “Whatcha think?”
She studied it. It was only about eight by six, featuring a meadow in late spring by a river. The brush strokes showed incredible talent and finesse, soft and delicate on the tree leaves and grass, but the ones that formed the flowing water had a natural force and power. There was a hint of promise, not of spring but of love and devotion. How amazing to put all that into a simple landscape. “You did this?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because…it’s amazing. Are you a full-time artist?”
Dusty blushed. “Nah, I just do this stuff for friends.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a manager at a local liquor distributor.”
She stared at him. “Oh my god, what a waste of talent!”
“No, actually they pay me good. I track inventory, which they said was my for-tay. That means I’m good at inventory.” He smiled uncertainly.
“Liquor inventory.” Catherine shook her head. “Your work should be in a gallery somewhere.”
“Now yer making fun of me.”
“I’m serious.” She looked at the painting again. It’d been a long time since a work of art made her heart pick up.
“If ya like it, I can give ya one,” he offered.
<
br /> “Please do. And then stop giving away paintings.”
“Why?”
“You should collect them. When you have enough, I’m going to introduce you to a gallery owner I know in New York City.”
“Not sure about them Yankees.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, he’s a Mets fan. You could be as famous as François. You’ve heard of him, right? He does beautiful paintings.”
“Yeah. That French guy with no last name or something. I seen him on TV.”
“He has one, but won’t use it. He’s eccentric. Anyway, you can become like him. Or like Benjamin Russo. Or Celestine Parkins.” She could name more artists she’d discovered if he needed convincing. “Trust me.”
“I dunno.” Dusty frowned. “I’m not like special, ya know?” He lowered his voice. “I’m not smart like Rick…or Blaine.”
“It’s not about this.” She tapped her temple. “It’s all about the heart and craft and hard work.” She handed the painting back to him. “Are you at least getting paid for the material?”
“No. I mean, Rick wanted to gimme some money, but I told him it was all right. I don’t need that.”
“You have no idea what you’re worth. But seriously, get more paintings done. Maybe a couple of really big ones and some smaller ones.”
“I dunno. I overspent my budget for the hobby.”
Her mouth parted. Hobby? Hobby? “I’m going to be your patroness, so no more arguing. Here, take this.” She pulled off the diamond ring and put it in his hand. “Pawn it and fund your art. I mean it.”
He started to push it away. “Oh jeez, I dunno.”
“You don’t have to know because I do. Just do it.”
“Uh… Okay, I guess.” His gaze shifted. “That’s Rick. I gotta go.”
She watched him rush to Rick. At least he’d taken the ring. She’d probably come on too strong, but she hadn’t seen an artist this good in a while, and she knew talent when she saw it. She wanted him to stop wasting his time with his supposed “for-tay” and work on his art. She could make him a star, just like she had François.
Her gaze fell on the envelope from Amandine, and she sighed. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
She got up with her purse and went to the back. The Line had a pay phone there in a square glass booth.
The phone looked prehistoric, an orange boxy thing with a rotary dial. She fed it some coins and called Ethan.
As it rang, she thought he might not pick up. He was a busy man, and the number she was calling from wasn’t something he’d recognize. She should document that she’d tried so he couldn’t accuse her of ignoring him. She’d even be patient and wait until the fifth ring to hang up.
Unfortunately, he answered on the fifth ring. “Ethan Lloyd,” came his no-nonsense business voice.
Her stomach clenched. Good thing she hadn’t had anything to eat. “It’s Catherine. I heard you wanted to talk.”
“Good god, Catherine.” The briskness vanished, replaced by what had to be faux concern. “Where are you?”
“It isn’t important. You finished the audit.”
“Yes.”
Am I going to jail? “And?”
“Simon Caldwell’s been stealing money from the company using your expense account.”
For a moment she was sure she’d misheard. “What?” Simon? The CFO? He’d always been Jacob’s right-hand man.
“He knew where all the money was flowing. He just happened to choose you and didn’t think anyone would make a fuss about it.”
“Because I wouldn’t have figured it out.” God, I’m an idiot.
“That’s part of it. You were also Jacob’s wife, so nobody was looking at your account carefully. Even when some of your expenses didn’t comply with the company policies, the accounting people approved them anyway.”
“So what’s going to happen to him?”
“What else? I’m not letting anybody get away with stealing from us.” Ethan’s voice was implacable.
A small bit of sadistic pleasure zinged through her. Simon had not only stolen from the family, but he’d made her suffer. She hoped he paid richly for his crimes. Maybe Jacob would be implicated too.
“Anyway, where are you?” Ethan asked again.
“It’s none of your business. Why do you care?”
He hesitated. “I feel bad about the way I behaved. I wasn’t fair to you. You weren’t particularly nice or calm, but then you couldn’t have been…not with Jacob and TLD’s problems.”
She chuckled dryly. “You’re just saying that because you found out I’m innocent. I know how much you wanted to tar and feather me for the company’s problems.”
“That’s not true. I only disliked you because of your relationship with Jacob and Gavin.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I always knew there was something strange going on between the three of you. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but I didn’t like how much more awkward their relationship became after Jacob married you. Family holidays became so strained. You might not have noticed, but everyone else in the family did. I blamed you because I knew you married Jacob for…things other than love.”
“No, Ethan. I married Jacob for love and security, and it changed as love became impossible. Now I don’t even have security. I hope you’re happy.”
“Why would I be happy about that? I don’t care what your real relationship to Jacob is with his other wife turning up. As far as the family’s concerned, you’re one of us by marriage.”
“And he’s one of you by birth. Are you telling me that means less than my so-called marriage?”
“Mom has more or less disowned him.”
That made her pause. “I really can’t imagine Stella Lloyd cutting off her first-born son,” Catherine finally said.
“Believe it. He’s no longer welcome in the family.”
Had Jacob protested the decision? Stella was the head of the family, and whatever she said was law.
“Catherine, I know you have some shares of the company. I’ll buy them from you if you want.”
“Why? They’re worthless now.”
“It’s still a family business, and my father and grandfather started it together. I’m a bit sentimental about it.” He named a figure that made her eyes pop. “What do you think? I think that’s a fair price.”
She wanted to believe him, but she hadn’t trusted her in-laws for so long, it was difficult to accept that he had no ulterior motive. “Let me think about it,” she said finally and hung up before he could sweet-talk her into doing what he wanted.
* * *
That lawyer was too damn pesky. Not to mention nosy.
How dare she bring Sean into the whole mess? Salazar had nothing to do with the boy, and the State of Tennessee had given Blaine full parental rights. That meant that SOB needed to get his lawyer to shut up and butt out.
Going down the stairs from his apartment to The Line, Blaine found himself scowling. Sean was no secret, but it was annoying that Salazar was being this persistent and stalkerish. Well, it was too late. If Salazar had at least put a tight leash on his psycho wife, Blaine might’ve harbored some shred of positive feeling, but as it was he only felt contempt.
And his brother hadn’t packed his stuff and gone back to college yet. Was he really going to drop out? Blaine had told him if he didn’t go back tonight he was sleeping under the bridge. Blaine had made sure to tell everyone in town not to take Sean in for his own good. The townsfolk would do as he’d asked.
The place was packed as he entered the room, music going and the sounds of conversation and laughter loud. He squinted as he saw Sean and Mimi standing over a table at the far corner of the restaurant section. His brother was rifling through some papers, while she watched with avid curiosity. Blaine’s jaw dropped when he saw a Tyvek envelope. It had to be Catherine’s. How many people got deliveries from Archie’s company?
Fury throbbed in his veins a
s he strode over. How could he have raised the boy so wrong? Sean had been taught better than to go snooping through somebody else’s mail!
“Sean!” Blaine barked.
Sean started and dropped the papers. “Jeezus, man. You scared me.”
Ever the survivor, Mimi scurried away.
Blaine made a mental note to deal with her later, but for now, his brother was his main focus. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Sean shoved the papers into the envelope.
“Aren’t those Catherine’s?”
“So? She’s not here.”
“What would your daddy say if he saw you like this?”
“He’d be proud of me ’cuz I got your back.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Do you even know what’s in the letter?”
“I know what Catherine saw fit to share.”
“Oh really? Did she tell you—”
Catherine’s voice came from behind him. “What’s going on?”
Sean clamped his mouth shut.
“Not so proud now, are you?” Blaine said, then turned to face Catherine. “What’s going on is, this boy’s reading your mail.”
Her gaze dropped to the envelope, and her mouth tightened. She coolly extended a hand.
Cheeks turning dull red, Sean gave it to her.
“I see the town not only has a kleptomaniac, but also a very ill-mannered young man.”
“Hey—”
“Shut up,” Blaine cut Sean off, not willing to listen to his excuses. “I’m sorry, Catherine.”
“I believe the apology should come from Sean, not you.” Her tone could have frozen the Atlantic.
Blaine cursed inwardly. Cold fury from a woman was never a good sign. “Still, he’s my responsibility.”
“Don’t tell her you’re sorry.” Sean swung a finger at Catherine. “She’s the one who should be apologizing to you.”
“Just shut up!” Blaine dragged his brother to the back.
Several curious gazes followed them. Effing great. Another thing for the townsfolk to talk about.
