She winked. “Sure you are.”
“Really.” He handed the pen back. “I am. I only sign autographs for people too stubborn to believe me.”
She didn’t look convinced.
Going full tilt, she had an insulated mug poured and in his hand before he could move a step, then produced real cream and a bowl of sugar, neither of which he used.
“Got stevia, too,” she said. “It’s a natural sweetener. Jade grows it right here in the conservatory.”
“Black is fine, thanks.”
“That’s how I like it, too. You sure you’re not—No, if you say you’re not, I guess you aren’t. You wouldn’t be so foolish as to lie to Jade.” She squinted at him. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“No, ma’am.”
She cocked her head and studied him closer. “You know, now that you mention it, you are a little scruffy to be 007.”
“I don’t believe I mentioned that.” One sip of coffee told Mason where the live wire got a good deal of her energy this early.
“’Cause let me warn you now, if you lie to her, she won’t work with you. Not one bit, no, sir. So what would you like for breakfast? Waffles? Pancakes? French toast? Bacon and eggs? Anyway you like, over easy, poached, scrambled—”
Silence?
“—omelet. Any allergies?”
“No.”
“How ’bout your friend?”
“No.”
“Anything in particular you boys don’t like?”
“Brussels sprouts.”
“Oatmeal!” She clapped her hands together, then rubbed them briskly. “Oatmeal’s good on a snowy morning like this, especially when you’re gonna be outside. Sticks to your ribs longer.”
Mason couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so he held up his hand to see if that would stall her. It did. “Miss—?” he said, wondering if she was a relative of Jade’s.
“Oh, my manners! Call me Weezy, everybody does.”
“You up this early every day, Weezy?”
“Up, yes, but not here, my heavens, no. I just pop in when Jade has guests, and like I said, I heard you was here for the eagles—you know, besides the usual—so I came extra early.”
The usual?
“My daughter, she lives just down the road. She sees lights in the guest rooms at night?—she gives me a heads up.”
“Isn’t that nice?” Mason graced her with his I’m-here-I’m-interested-tell-me-everything-you-know-about-the-target smile. “I hope Ms. Delarue lets you go home early to make up for your trouble.”
“Oh, ’sno trouble. I go home when I want. I don’t get paid none, so I set my own schedule.”
There was an eat-in breakfast bar as well as a long plank table, durable but nicely finished. Weezy straightened the already-straight chairs, which lacked military precision by a mere millimeter. The canisters and toaster and blender suffered the same fate.
“Ms. Delarue can’t afford to pay you?”
“Heavens, I couldn’t charge her,” Weezy said with an appalled gasp.
Mason rubbed the back of his neck. And here he’d thought all the alcohol was out of his system.
“Not a cent. After everything she did for me?—wouldn’t be right. What kind of spell are you here for?”
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone stays for a spell.”
Stay a spell. What colloquialism.
“A week, maybe two,” he replied. “Whatever it takes.”
“Oh.” Weezy’s smile wavered in a long moment of silence, then she darted toward the range and said, “So, what’ll it be?”
Mason wasn’t sure how he’d blown it, but he had. Weezy no longer wanted to talk, so he fell back on his original plan. If he could keep her in the kitchen for a while, maybe he could get some other room searched before Jade got up.
“Let’s see.” Mason sipped coffee while he plotted. “How about bacon, a couple sausage links if you have them, pancakes—Do you have something you can put in them? Like blueberries or pecans or chocolate chips?”
Weezy laughed with delight as she dragged out the griddle and slapped it on the range. “Just goes to show. Here I figured you for a plain pancake kinda man, just lookin’ atcha. Chocolate chips! You’re so naughty.”
“It’s the haircut. Fools everybody.” With the dog upstairs and Weezy in the kitchen, Mason’s thoughts returned to searching. An office, perhaps? Jade must have one. “I, ah, have to make a phone call,” he began.
“This early?”
“Out of the country. Is there an office I can use?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t tell him the obvious, to go back and use his room.
“Upstairs, but Jade doesn’t allow long-distance calls.”
“I have a calling card.”
“I guess that’s okay then. If you get done before the pancakes, you can come back and visit with me. Or you’re welcome to go out to the conservatory, but don’t touch none of the plants in the far right corner. That’s where the poisonous ones grow.”
Mason paused a beat on his way out the door. People really shouldn’t say the P word to an investigator working a man’s disappearance.
“Where are you off to so early?” Jade asked.
She was sitting at the plank table across from Mason, gently stirring her herbal tea, watching the sky turn pink as church bells rang nearby. She’d been minding her own business, planning her day in her head, until he started slathering gobs of butter on his second stack of pancakes.
“I thought I’d start at the lock and dam. It’s not far from here, right?”
“How do you…?” She almost blurted, How do you stay so fit eating like that? but wisely decided she shouldn’t mention that she noticed he was fit in the first place.
It felt good to have a man in the kitchen again, one who wasn’t paying her, not for help anyway. One who had nothing to gain or lose riding on her skills. One who, when he looked at her with that sexy steel blue gaze, might just be interested in her for herself.
Sunrise, she thought. Focus on the sunrise!
Or the eagles. The birds liked feeding below the lock and dam. The churning water carried fish close to the surface, many of them stunned by the trip through the spillway. So of course that’s where Mason would go to photograph, especially this time of morning.
“How do I what?” Mason paused with the syrup pitcher poised in midair.
With the full wattage of his attention on her, Jade’s pulse skittered alarmingly. A ripple of excitement that she hadn’t felt in far too long raced through her body, making her giddy and flushed and hoping he didn’t notice.
He was staring at her, so Jade oh-so-innocently said, “What?”
“You just got that how-do-I-ask-him-for-his-autograph look.”
She blinked. “Are you famous?”
“No.”
“Then why would I ask for your autograph?”
Mason sighed. “Never mind.”
“You know it’s not open to the public, right? It’s just a boat ramp.”
“Boat ramp’s fine. All I need’s a place to park.”
“Parking won’t be the problem; getting in and out in this snow will. If you can, you should work somewhere else until all the roads are clear. I don’t think Clarksville got as much as we did.”
Mason broke out in a smile. “That’s an interesting ring.”
It should have been a totally unremarkable smile. She’d seen it hundreds of times on the big screen. But close up and in person, it was warm and friendly, and crinkled the corners of his eyes.
“It’s an unusual setting. A pair of wings, is it?”
Jade glanced at her ruby, thinking, My, he notices a lot. Maybe too much. “It is. If you’re feeling adventurous, you could snowshoe in.”
Mason shuddered visibly, which made Jade laugh, and she said, “I have a pair if you change your mind.”
“When hell freezes over.”
“Haven’t you heard? It did. Last night.”
A flicker of amusement t
ipped one corner of his mouth upward, but Mason’s easy smile was quickly hidden behind his coffee cup. Jade stared, waiting for it to come back, until she remembered she had no business waiting, and looked away.
“That’s almost believable,” he said, “but I’m still driving. I appreciate the advice. Clarksville it is.”
“Be careful getting out of West Bluff. Our snowplows—and I use the term loosely—are two locals who put blades on their pickups and see who can get his half done faster. Chuck does a good enough job. Turner, though, he thinks everybody needs a little adventure in his life.”
The possibility of Mason’s sliding off the road into a tree worried Jade. If he landed in the hospital, he couldn’t go home fast enough.
Yeah, that sounded plausible.
“My Jeep’s better in the snow than a rental car.” Jade tipped her head toward the hook by the back door. “The key’s over there, on the ring with the tiger eye. I’m not going out today, so take it whenever you’re ready.”
“Jeeps are cold,” Mason said.
“Yes, it’s so much warmer in a ditch.”
The corner of Mason’s mouth twitched again, and Jade thought it might be the beginning of a smile—not that she cared, no no, not at all. When he pushed his plate away with a disgruntled sigh and glanced at the key, she knew he’d take the Jeep. It couldn’t happen soon enough. She needed a few minutes alone in his room, and it wouldn’t do to get caught.
Chapter 5
T hrough the big mullioned window in the study, Jade watched Mason cruise out of the snow-covered driveway. Her bright yellow Jeep slid sideways and came to rest in the front yard, brake lights glowing.
Great. So smart of her to lend her vehicle to a Floridian without asking if he’d ever driven in snow before. She wanted him gone, of course, but only back to Pensacola, not laid out by the side of the road.
As soon as Mason turned south onto the relatively clear street, Jade raced upstairs and threw open the door to his room.
“Whoa!” Anthony said, jumping back so as not to get bashed.
Jade halted in surprise, wondering what the heck she was supposed to say or do now that she’d been caught red-handed. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know—”
“I came in to get this.” Anthony held up a coiled cable. For a second, he looked suspicious, but that quickly changed to mildly curious. “Did you need something?”
She had no experience searching guests’ rooms and wouldn’t you know she’d run into trouble the very first time. She felt cross-examined. Tried and found guilty. And darn it, she hadn’t done anything yet but open the door.
“I like to, ah, freshen up the bathrooms in the morning. Wipe down the sink. Make the bed. You know.”
“Don’t bother with mine, okay?”
Combined with his dark good looks, the smile Anthony flashed should have been romantic and distracting, but Jade felt oddly unaffected. Except for the guilt.
“Seriously, even if I’m out,” he added. “I hate having my stuff moved. I promise I’m very neat, and you won’t regret it.”
As soon as Anthony was out of sight, Jade busied herself with making the bed, in case he popped right back in. While she did that, she looked around the room. She needed an article of clothing, something Mason had worn but not washed, and—didn’t it just figure?—he turned out to be a guy who didn’t throw his laundry in the nearest corner. Not so much as a pair of socks, which she was sure he wouldn’t miss. After all, how many people counted their dirty socks when they packed up to go home?
She got down on her hands and knees and looked under the bed, under the upholstered chairs, under everything, because the only alternative was to go through the drawers and his luggage, and if either of them walked in while she was doing that, it’d be impossible to explain. As would locking the door while she worked.
Turned out, Mason was the kind of guest who filled the bottom dresser drawer with two-day-old, drunk-in, slept-in, getting-married castoffs. Jade wrinkled her nose, averted her face to lessen the odor of booze and smoke and sweat lest she pass out, and poked through the remnants of Mason’s wedding day. Pants, jacket, shirt—all too bulky. As she came across his briefs, she wished she’d thought to dig around with a pencil instead of her fingers, because this just seemed way too personal.
“Yes!” she said when she finally located his socks, still damp from being out in the snow yesterday.
She stuffed one into the front pocket of her jeans, shoved the drawer closed, and quickly ran down the back stairs to the kitchen. She was on a step stool, tearing through cabinets, when Weezy stopped beside her, arms akimbo. Weezy seldom stopped moving, so it was cause to notice that she was in her coat and hat, wearing a scarf that looked like a fat blue tire around her neck.
“It was a present from my middle granddaughter,” she said proudly. “I taught her to crochet. See you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Weezy. You know, if it’s too cold for you to go out tomorrow, I can feed the guests.”
Jade always offered; Weezy always brushed off her thanks. “Don’t be silly. I enjoy it. You need help finding something afore I go?”
Jade pointed at Mason’s sock, now lying on the floor in a crumpled wad. “I need something to put that in.”
Weezy drawled, “Washing machine might be good.”
“I’m going to throw it in the river, so it needs to float.” Jade explained everything, how burning the candle backward hadn’t worked in time, her plan to banish Mason from Missouri. “I need his sock to float downstream. If I don’t put it in something, it’ll just snag on a stick and hang around forever.”
“Bet that feels odd. Spending all that time like you did trying to find your man, and now you’re working to send another one away.”
“True. But trust me, it has to be done.”
Weezy opened a drawer and offered up a tall Tupperware cup and lid. “How ’bout this? Maybe someone’ll pull it out and toss it in the trash. Could be pretty ripe afore they see it, though, depending on how far south it goes. Hope they don’t open it.”
“Eww. I’ll write a warning on the outside.”
Jade had a special pen for occasions like this. Over generations, the family had acquired many mismatched table knives. Uncle Henry discarded the blades, reworked the silver handles into beautiful ink pens, and charmed them for magical work. Jade used hers to print PENSACOLA on a piece of paper and dropped it into the cup—as long as she was sending Mason away, she might as well aim for his home. In went the sock and Banishing Powder. Once the lid was secure, she used an indelible marker to print DO NOT OPEN on the outside and, just for kicks, below that she drew a skull and crossbones.
Now, to give it a proper send-off.
Warm in a long, midnight blue wool cape, Jade walked out to the backyard, through snow that had been heavily tracked by both Mason and deer. Mystic Manor was situated on top of a bluff, and as usual, it was breezy. She stood still for a long, calming moment, lifted her chin, and let the cold wind blow away any lingering negativity.
Feeling free and reenergized, she added a few rocks to the cup to weight it against the wind. It’d take a good, hard throw to ensure that it safely cleared snags on the bluff, railroad tracks at the very bottom, a few feet of shore beyond, and ice along the edge. It wouldn’t do to have it hang up anywhere; Mason might never leave.
Under any other circumstances, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He hadn’t been around long enough for her to see the positive inner qualities she’d wished for, but as successful as her spell work was, there was no doubt he had them.
Still, he had to go.
Her stiletto heels dug into the snow like ski poles, anchoring her as she knew they would, but still, after practicing with a couple snowballs, it was clear that she needed a better plan. She tried again, using a snowshoe as a launching pad, swinging it like a tennis racket so she’d get more range. By the third try, she was confident that Mason soon would be on his way.
There was enough energy and inte
nt behind the whole process of getting this spell ready that no words were necessary. Still, Jade closed her eyes and envisioned Mason walking in the front door at the end of the day, glowing because he’d gotten all the photos he needed, calling the airport, catching the next plane south. She’d even lend him her computer so he could print his ticket.
“So mote it be,” she murmured, then bent down, intending to pick up the cup and launch it on its way.
“I thought snowball fights were hand-to-hand,” Mason said.
Startled, Jade snapped up and wheeled around, having enough presence of mind to kick snow over the cup, though it didn’t totally hide it.
Mason probably looked good in an unwrinkled tux—she’d never know—but without a doubt, he looked darn fine in jeans and boots. Mighty darn fine. It was a struggle to remember that was a bad thing. The strong pull she felt toward him weakened her focus.
Opting for offense, the better to steer her attention away from him and his attention away from the incriminating evidence on the ground, she said, “Don’t do that!”
He appeared taken aback and came no closer. “What?”
“Don’t sneak up on me.”
“Sorry.” He grinned, and Jade knew he hadn’t noticed the cup at all. “Occupational hazard. I get better shots that way. Besides, the snow muffles everything.”
“Funny, it crunches when I walk on it.”
“Practice. Sometimes I lie still for hours on end and wait for them to come to me.”
Jade wasn’t altogether sure he was talking about birds.
Mason tipped his head toward her boots. “Careful you don’t break your neck in those.”
“You’d be surprised how stable a heel is when it’s spiked into deep snow. I didn’t hear the Jeep.”
“Probably for all the church bells.”
Jade cocked her head and listened to the silence.
Point taken, Mason said, “They’re done now. What do they do—ring every hour on the hour?”
“West Bluff has a lot of churches.” She didn’t add that they had an equally large number of narrow-minded members because, who knew, maybe Mason was a Bible-toting regular himself, and the thought of offending him made her uncomfortable. “Was the road closed?”
Witch in the House Page 6
