by Brenda Novak
Maybe she needed to accept the truth. She wasn’t going to bring Keith to his knees. How many times had she promised herself she’d be so lean and toned when he returned to Fairham that he wouldn’t even recognize her?
Too many times to count. Yes, she’d made some strides in that direction, but he’d stayed away for so long she’d begun to think he’d never come back and her love of food had won out. Now there was no chance to compensate for procrastinating her diet. His mother was dead. He’d return to the island for the funeral, which meant Nancy would see him in a few days, at most a week.
Unless... What if she didn’t go to the funeral? Then she might be able to avoid him. If she was lucky...
She considered pretending to be sick. But the thought faded as quickly as it had burst into her mind. No, she couldn’t do that. Her conscience dictated that she show up, no matter how much she’d disliked her employer. Even if Josephine hadn’t been her boss, Nancy would attend the funeral for Maisey’s sake. She wouldn’t want Keith to think he was the reason she’d stayed away. Besides, it wasn’t as if she really wanted him back. There were other men in the world, men who were far less complicated than Keith Lazarow. She’d long since decided she was lucky he’d moved on, because it gave her the opportunity to find someone who was easier to get along with.
A knock sounded at the front door. Simba, her Chow Chow, dashed in from the back through his doggy door and immediately went into a barking frenzy.
Startled by the noise, Nancy stepped away from the mirror and hurried to grab her robe. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and had no idea who this could be. But when she pulled Simba back and opened the door, she was pleased to see Maisey Lazarow-Romero. As much as Nancy resented Maisey’s mother and brother, she adored Maisey. They’d been friends since Maisey had returned to the island just before Keith left. That was when Maisey had started working at the shop. Once she married Rafe, she’d cut back on her hours to spend time with his daughter, Laney, and then the new baby, Bryson. She was also writing her children’s books again. But she still came in and helped Nancy arrange flowers once or twice a week, and those days were always fun. The two of them chatted and laughed like high school girls.
“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked in surprise.
Maisey shook the rain from her umbrella as Nancy stepped back to admit her. “I need to talk to you.”
Nancy almost glanced around to find her purse so she could check her phone. If Maisey had tried to call, she hadn’t heard the ring. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Just trying to make sense of...of what’s happened.”
Nancy peered through her front window at Maisey’s Audi. Was it running? “Are the kids outside?”
“No. I dropped them off at Rafe’s mother’s. She’s been dying to have them, and I need the time to take care of a few things.”
“I’m glad Rafe’s mom is so supportive.” Especially since Maisey’s own mother hadn’t been the type to babysit, although she’d liked having Laney over now and then. Nancy had heard a great deal about those visits—because Josephine’s interest in Laney had been so unexpected.
“Her arthritis is getting bad enough that she can’t take Bryson very often,” Maisey was saying. “But Laney’s there to help, and I felt I really needed to be free today.”
“I can watch them for you, too,” Nancy said, “on days like today, when I’m off, or after work. So keep that in mind. I’m sorry about your mother, by the way.” They’d talked once, briefly, over the phone, but Nancy didn’t feel she’d properly expressed her condolences. She’d been too stunned to hear that Josephine had died.
A sad smile curved Maisey’s lips. “I appreciate that. Thanks for the flowers you sent home with Rafe.”
“I knew he was working over at the church, and I didn’t want to intrude on your grief, in case...in case you needed some time alone.” She’d paid for those flowers herself, and hoped Maisey would realize that but didn’t mention it.
“You’re always welcome at my house, no matter what,” Maisey said.
Guilt for feeling relief at Josephine’s passing made Nancy cringe. Here she was expressing her sympathy, and yet she was secretly glad Josephine was gone. “So...what’d you stop by to talk to me about?” she asked. “Have you decided on the date of the funeral?”
A shadow passed over Maisey’s face. “Not yet. We’re getting our own pathologist to do the autopsy, and that’ll take more time, which makes it difficult to proceed with...what normally happens when you lose a loved one.”
“Why go to the trouble? Of hiring a pathologist, I mean? Haven’t they already determined what...you know...caused her death?” Nancy hesitated to use the word suicide. That was such a painful thing for surviving family members to face. But even if Maisey hadn’t called on Tuesday morning, Nancy would’ve heard what the police had found—and what they thought. Everyone in Keys Crossing was talking about the fact that Josephine had taken her own life. Not much happened on the island that didn’t churn through the gossip mill. Josephine had been an important person, after all.
“Between you and me, Keith feels the coroner has reached the wrong conclusion. He wants someone who’s unbiased to take a look,” Maisey said.
No one would be keen to accept a suicide ruling. Nancy understood that and felt sorry for Keith and Maisey. But she was more affected by the mention of his name than any other aspect of the conversation, which only made her more disgusted with herself. She should hate him for using her the way he had. And even though she didn’t—couldn’t, for whatever lame reason—she would never be stupid enough to get involved with him again. So why was she still hanging on?
It was pathetic.
“What does Keith think happened?” she asked.
“He’s not sure,” Maisey replied. “No one is. We just...need more information.”
“Because she must’ve had a heart attack or slipped and hit her head, right? Not because you suspect foul play.”
Maisey grimaced. “To be honest, we’re not ruling anything out.”
“Wow.” Nancy shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe.
“It’s hard to imagine that anyone would hurt her,” Maisey said. “But we should gather all the facts before...before we proceed.”
Nancy nodded. She wouldn’t bury her mother, either, not until she’d done everything possible to answer any questions that remained—except this could never happen to her, since her mother had passed away years ago. “It’s always better to be thorough. If that includes getting someone you feel more comfortable with to do the autopsy, then so be it. That way, if questions arise later, you’ll be able to feel you did all you could.”
Maisey frowned in apparent uncertainty. “I hope it’s the right move.”
“How can it be the wrong one?”
“I’m just worried in general. What if the autopsy isn’t conclusive? What if it sends us on a wild-goose chase? What if we start to believe my mom was murdered and begin to suspect our friends? What if those friends are innocent? Or what if she was murdered and we can’t find the culprit—or he gets off for some reason? None of that would be easy to deal with.”
Nancy slid the clasp of her necklace around to the back. In that case, maybe ignorance was bliss. “Was she having trouble with anyone in particular?”
“My mother had trouble with everyone. Well, I guess you couldn’t call it trouble. It was too one-sided for that. Other people put up with her because they had to, while she did pretty much whatever she pleased. Maybe someone got sick of her throwing her weight around.”
Nancy was one of the people who’d had to put up with Josephine and hadn’t always liked it. But she would never have done anything to harm her. She had, however, imagined—more than once—telling her off. “You mean someone here on Fairham?”
“If we’re lucky, it was an outsider.”
“We don’t get a lot of those this time of year.”
“Exactly,” Maisey said on a sigh. “An outsider would stand out.”
Nancy hadn’t noticed anyone around town she didn’t recognize. And how would Josephine make someone who didn’t even live in the area angry enough to murder her? What would this person’s motivation be? “Could it have been a man she was dating?”
“Possibly. Or an old flame. Like Keith, she left quite a few broken hearts in her wake.”
Nancy’s heart was one of those Keith had broken, but she was glad Maisey didn’t acknowledge that.
“I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, though,” she went on. “I actually had another reason for stopping by.”
“What is it?” Nancy tightened the belt on her robe. “If there’s anything I can do, I will.”
“There’s nothing. Not yet. But thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. I just... I wanted to let you know...Keith’s back on the island.”
Already? Nancy suddenly found it difficult to breathe, although she’d expected him to show up. “I’m glad he was able to make it,” she lied. “Considering what’s happened, this is where he should be.”
Maisey peered at her more closely. “You’re okay that he’s here? You won’t mind if you run into him around town?”
She shook her head as carelessly as possible. “Of course not. We may not even bump into each other.”
A skeptical expression claimed Maisey’s face. “Keys Crossing isn’t that big. And I’m guessing he’ll stop by the store. Since you’re usually there, you’ll probably see him. I know how you used to feel about him, and—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Nancy interrupted with a dismissive gesture. “That’s in the past. I’m dating someone else now—a guy I met online who lives on the Isle of Palms.”
“Tom?”
Nancy wished she had another name to offer up, but she couldn’t think of one fast enough. She wasn’t used to lying, wasn’t much good at it. “Yeah. Tom.”
“I thought you said there weren’t any sparks between you.”
She wished she hadn’t volunteered quite so much information. She wasn’t interested in Tom, but he was still emailing and texting her, hoping to get her to go out with him again. That should count for something. And she had plenty of other men on that same dating site who were showing interest. “I’m trying not to make up my mind too soon.”
“Smart.”
Nancy almost asked where Keith was staying, if he was at Coldiron House or the rental bungalows on the other side of the island, which Maisey and Rafe managed. The vacation properties at Smuggler’s Cove were empty during the winter, so there’d be room. If he stayed there, it’d be a lot easier to avoid him.
But if she really wanted Maisey to believe she wasn’t interested in Keith, she couldn’t probe for information, regardless of the reason for her interest. “Tom’s a nice guy.”
“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve the best.” Maisey bent to pet Simba. “So how are you doing at the store? You don’t mind keeping the business going until we can get my mom’s affairs sorted out, do you?”
“Not at all.” Nancy enjoyed her work—and would enjoy it even more now that she knew Josephine wouldn’t be coming in to lambaste her with one complaint or another. Since learning of her employer’s death, she’d been toying with the idea of buying Love’s in Bloom. She’d thought that might be a possibility one day, but it had seemed much further off...
“Can you keep up?” Maisey asked. “Or do you need help?”
“Everything’s under control,” she replied. “I’ve got Marlene to spell me when I need it. She’s there now. So don’t worry about Love’s in Bloom. With Christmas over, it won’t be terribly busy, not until February when we gear up for Valentine’s Day. Marlene and I can manage for the next few weeks.”
The concern on Maisey’s face cleared, which lifted Nancy’s spirits. Perhaps she could take some of the pressure off Josephine’s daughter during this difficult time. That assuaged her conscience for being so darn relieved that Josephine was out of the picture.
“That’s comforting. I appreciate it.” Maisey straightened. “You’ll call me if anything changes, won’t you?”
“Don’t worry. I’d never let the business fall apart.”
Maisey gave her a quick hug. “Of course you wouldn’t. I’d trust you with my life. Somehow that renegade brother of mine has gotten filthy rich, so I’ll make sure he pays you until we can get my mother’s estate sorted out.”
Great. Just what she wanted. Keith paying her salary. But at least he was capable of doing so. He wasn’t on drugs anymore; he’d exhibited quite a dramatic turnaround. Not many people could pull that off.
Nancy felt a measure of pride in what he’d done—and tried to quash it. She didn’t need anything else to admire. His good looks and sex appeal already created a formidable challenge.
“I’ve got some savings, so I can wait if you need me to,” Nancy said.
“No need for that.”
Nancy kept a smile pasted on her face—and waved cheerfully—as she stood at the door and watched Maisey go. But as soon as Keith’s sister was gone and she allowed her hand to drop, her smile faded, too. She’d expected Josephine’s death to be difficult, had known there’d be a lot to resolve, with the flower shop, all the Coldiron real estate holdings, which included a good portion of the land outside Keys Crossing, and Josephine’s many other assets. Nancy had also known the whole ordeal would start with a funeral and the very real possibility that Keith would return for that reason.
But she’d assumed he’d stay for a few days, maybe a week at most. If Josephine’s death turned into a full-fledged murder investigation, who could say how long Keith might remain on Fairham?
“Hopefully, he’ll have too much business in California,” she muttered and decided to get her grocery shopping done before taking Simba for a walk.
5
A KNOCK ON his bedroom door woke Keith. He’d been up so late the sun was about to rise when he’d fallen asleep. His mind had been too busy to let go—and it didn’t help that he was still on California time. With the shades drawn, he’d slept late as a result.
“Mr. Lazarow?”
He yawned and adjusted his pillow. “Come in.”
Pippa poked her head into the room. “I hate to disturb you, sir, but your sister is here and would like to speak to you.”
Keith’s first thought was of the letters he’d found in his mother’s desk and the odd, haunting sensation that reading those letters had given him. He’d loved his mother; he even missed her, in a way. They’d had some good times. But loving someone and being able to get along for more than an occasional day or two were sometimes different things, at least when it came to Josephine.
I had to leave to survive, he reminded himself. But he’d been reminding himself of that ever since he’d received word of her death.
“Sir?”
Rising up on one elbow, Keith blinked at the housekeeper. “I called you last night,” he mumbled.
“Yes. By the time I got your message, it was too late to call you back. But...thank you for telling me I can return to work.”
Except for the extra gray in her hair, she hadn’t changed a bit. She was still wearing her crisp blue and white uniform, as if she’d stepped out of the 1960s South—or as if his mother was around to make a fuss if she didn’t. “Just so you know...you don’t have to wear that anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
He almost repeated himself, then sighed. “Never mind.” Perhaps she gained as much comfort from custom and tradition as his mother had. In any case, now wasn’t the time to challenge such trivial things.
His bleary eyes sought the fancy perpetual-motion clock on the nightstand. It was nearly eleven. H
e’d had all of five hours’ sleep. “You said Maisey was here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“In the drawing room.”
“Why didn’t she come up?”
“To your bedroom?”
He nearly laughed out loud. Pippa had been trained by his mother, all right. “No, of course not. That would be unseemly,” he said. “Tell her I’ll be down as soon as I get dressed.”
“Yes, sir. And...Mr. Lazarow?”
He paused before throwing off the covers. If Pippa was scandalized by the idea of his sister coming straight up to his bedroom, she’d probably faint if she saw him buck naked, the way he liked to sleep. “It’s good to have you back, sir. I’m sorry your return is under such dreadful circumstances.”
She sounded sincere, so sincere that it took him off guard. “You liked her, didn’t you?”
She seemed startled by the question. “Her?”
“My mother. You liked her.”
“She was a dynamic person,” she said as she left.
Keith fell back on his pillows. Even Pippa had admired Josephine but couldn’t quite say she’d liked her. “Pippa?” he called in an effort to catch her before she could move out of hearing distance.
Now that she’d done her duty by letting him know he had a visitor, his door inched open only as far as necessary. “Yes, sir?”
“I’d like to talk to you after Maisey leaves. Will you be around?”
“I’ll be here as long as you need me. With Maisey’s permission, I stayed home for the past few days. I was too upset to do much else. But I was grateful you offered to have me back today. I’ve been coming here for so long. And the place needs looking after.”
