Hattie’s death must’ve really struck a chord with my aunt. This was so unlike her.
“I’ll start,” Florian said. “I’m grateful for this sumptuous meal we’re about to enjoy, for the expensive wine to wash it down with, and for the beautiful fairy I’m going to see afterward.”
I rolled my eyes. “Another fairy? Is this what happens in the wake of your breakup with Delphine?”
“Nothing wrong with fairies,” Florian said. “You have no idea how flexible those wings can be. Inspiring stuff.” Was he as bad as Fitz? No, certainly not.
“What about you, Ember?” my aunt asked, eager to move on from her son.
“I’m grateful for the obvious things—my fabulous daughter. A roof over my head. Loved ones around me.” I smiled across the table at Alec. “A boss I don’t despise.”
“My beautiful family,” Sterling said. “The fantastic two-week trip Aster and I were able to take and reconnect.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder.
“Same for me,” Aster said, beaming at him. They seemed much happier now that they’d taken active steps to work on their marriage.
“I’m grateful for pea soup,” Ackley said. “Because I can use it to look like vomit.”
“That’s gross,” Aspen said.
“You’re gross,” his brother shot back. They began elbowing each other fiercely.
“That’s enough, boys,” Aster said in a sharp tone. The twins immediately went still.
“I’m grateful for the chance to meet a witch like Linnea,” Rick said. The minotaur gazed lovingly at her. “If anyone had told me I had a chance with her, I wouldn’t have believed it. She’s out of my league, as far as I’m concerned.”
I glanced quickly at my aunt, wondering whether she’d make some acerbic remark. To her credit, she remained silent.
“I’m grateful for my sensible, well-behaved children,” Linnea said. “It could easily have gone the other way, given their genetics.” She laughed. “I’m teasing, kids. And I’m grateful to be a member of this family and for finding someone like Rick, who not only loves me unconditionally, but proves it every day.” She slid her hand over top of his.
“Relationship goals,” Florian breathed.
“Liar,” I said. “If those were your goals, you would’ve settled down with Delphine.”
“I said goals, not imminent deadlines,” Florian replied.
“I’m grateful for doing well in school and my family and friends,” Bryn said. “And for the car that I’ll be getting for my next birthday.” She batted her eyelashes at her mother.
“Nice try,” Linnea replied.
“I’m grateful for sports,” Hudson said. “The end.”
Alec’s gaze swept the table. “I am eternally grateful for a long, well-lived life and the opportunity to indulge my fantasies and earn a rather nice living from them.”
“I’m grateful for those, too,” Marley said.
“What a coincidence?” Florian said. “I’m grateful for the chance to indulge my fantasies, too.” I punched my cousin in the thigh and he winced. “You’re going to be the death of me, Ember.”
“I’m grateful for this family,” Marley said. “I don’t know how our lives would have turned out in New Jersey.” Her eyes met mine. “I mean, I know my mom would’ve done a great job with me no matter what, but Starry Hollow is so much better.” She smiled like a lunatic and, in that moment, I recognized myself in her. The apple didn’t fall far from the crazy tree. “Plus magic! I’m soooo grateful for magic.”
“Be grateful once you have it,” I said carefully.
“And why wouldn’t she have it?” my aunt asked. “She’s a Rose, after all.”
I cringed. She wasn’t just a Rose. She had a father named Karl. A human father.
“What about you, Aunt Hyacinth?” Marley asked. “What are you grateful for?”
My aunt placed her fingertips lightly on the end of the table. “Thank you for asking, my dear. I am grateful for our proud heritage, for my position in this community, and for my loving family. I have not always handled family disagreements in the best way—Ember’s life is proof of that—but I am thankful for the opportunity to set things right. I miss my brother. I miss my husband. But I have all of you and my beloved familiar, and I don’t take any of it for granted, though it sometimes might seem that way.”
I sat there, stunned. I’d never heard so much honesty and emotion from my aunt in one short speech. And she rarely mentioned my father.
“Thank you, Mother,” Linnea said. “We’re very touched.”
My aunt raised her cocktail glass. “As Alec said, to a life well-lived, and the warm embrace of love all around us.”
We raised our glasses and toasted. I couldn’t see Hattie’s family in quite the same light as this. There’d been something missing from that birthday gathering. A feeling—a connection. Whatever it was, I felt it here tonight and I was grateful for that, too. My aunt probably had less reason to worry than she believed.
The conversation during dinner flowed as quickly and easily as the booze, and I was reminded of how engaging my family could be. Even the children were on their best behavior. The twins managed not to spill anything and Hudson and Bryn refrained from arguing. Much. It was a wonderful evening.
“As lovely as this dinner has been, I’m afraid I must take my leave,” Alec said. “I have edits to push through tonight and any more wine will be the death knell for my brain power.”
“Understood,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “Thank you for your company. You know how much I value you as an employee, but also as a friend.”
Alec inclined his head.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said. “I want to update you on my article.”
“Oh, you want to update him, do you?” Florian whispered. “‘Update’ is a euphemism I haven’t used yet.”
I gave him a threatening look before leaving the table and joining Alec in the foyer. “I now understand why you chose me to write the article on Hattie,” I said.
Alec offered a half smile. “I told you that all would become clear. Have I ever lied to you, Miss Rose?”
“No, never.” Inwardly, I sighed. “Honest to a fault.” We stepped outside and stood under a canopy of stars. They didn’t call this town Starry Hollow for nothing.
“I knew you were the right choice for the article because of your experience here,” Alec said. “Of course, I had no idea that the social event would turn into such a prime assignment. Bentley is undoubtedly kicking himself.”
I laughed. “I enjoy that part the most.”
His mouth twitched. “I imagine so.”
“Why no Holly this evening?” I hated to ask…Bah! Who was I kidding? I didn’t hate to ask. I was nosy, especially after their office fight.
“Holly has been…under the weather recently,” he said. “I thought it best to come alone, although I did appreciate that your aunt extended an invitation to her. I don’t take it lightly.”
“Gods forbid,” I said.
The vampire gazed at me with his usual intensity and I felt my insides warm. “You look very pretty this evening, Miss Rose,” he said and then immediately closed his eyes in frustration. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re allowed to pay compliments,” I said. “You look as handsome as ever. That’s just a fact.”
His sensual lips eased into a smile. “I would much rather you be less attractive to me. It would make both of our lives easier.”
“And I would much rather you look like a sloth with a hangover, but we don’t all get what we want.” I shrugged. “That’s life.”
He stood there watching me for a moment, bathed in moonlight. He appeared ethereal in the golden glow, more like an angel than a demon. “Goodnight, Miss Rose,” he finally said.
My heart pounded. “Goodnight, Alec.”
Chapter Seven
Margery Robson’s office was an attractive building on the corner of Wisteria Lane and Black Cauldro
n Road. It looked more like a residence than a law office with its white shutters and wraparound front porch. I was tempted to take a turn on the porch swing.
“Let’s try to maintain a professional decorum,” the sheriff said, as though reading my mind.
“I don’t know,” I said, gazing at the porch swing. “We are courting, after all. A porch swing seems like a necessity.”
He crooked a finger at me. “Come on, Rose. We’re trying to investigate a murder, remember?”
“Maybe I should’ve come with Bolan,” I grumbled. “He would’ve taken a turn on the swing.” I laughed to myself. “I can just imagine his tiny little legs not even skimming the porch.”
The sheriff tapped his foot. “You finished, Rose?”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Professional decorum has been initiated.” I smoothed the front of my clothes and headed inside.
The secretary was a gnome by the name of Albert with thinning hair and thick glasses. “Is Ms. Robson expecting you?” he asked.
The sheriff pointed to the star affixed to his chest. “I’m not in her calendar, but I guarantee you she’ll want to speak to me about Hattie Rollins-Mahoney.”
Albert pushed out his fat lower lip. “Such a shame. Made it all the way to two hundred and then didn’t get to enjoy a slice of cake.”
“Did you have a lot of interaction with Hattie?” I asked.
“Here and there over the years,” Albert said. “Mostly, Ms. Robson went to see her at the estate. Hattie preferred everyone come to her.”
“Was that an age-related thing?” I asked.
Albert chuckled. “No, miss. I’m fairly certain that was a privilege-related thing.” He pressed a button on the desk. “Ms. Robson, I have Sheriff Nash and his associate here to see you.”
“Thank you, Albert. Please send them in,” came the quick reply.
Albert directed us to the office at the end of the corridor. “No need to knock,” the gnome said. “Just go right in.”
“Thank you,” the sheriff said. We walked past a few other offices and several impersonal paintings of flowers. Snooze art.
“Sheriff Nash, so good to see you.” Margery Robson crossed the room to shake his hand with both of hers. The slender werefox was average height and her auburn hair had a streak of white running through it. She shifted her focus to me. “Well now, you’re not Deputy Bolan. I’d recognize that little green man anywhere.”
I stifled a laugh. “I’m Ember Rose, a reporter for Vox Populi.”
She pointed a finger at me. “Yes, you’re the long-lost Rose. I’ve heard about you.”
“All good things, I’d imagine,” the sheriff said.
“Depends on your definition of good, I suppose,” Margery said, returning to the chair behind her desk.
The alarm in my head sounded. “Excuse me?”
“I’m kidding,” Margery said, laughing. “There’s no such thing as a bad Rose, in my experience.”
“Do you know my family?” I asked.
“Not as well as I’d like,” the werefox replied. “I’ve tried to court your legal business over the years, but I haven’t been able to make inroads.”
“Once someone has earned my aunt’s loyalty, it’s difficult to sway her,” I said. As challenging as Aunt Hyacinth could be, that was still one of her best qualities, as far as I was concerned. She’d think nothing of throwing her weight around for a friend or trusted employee.
“Have a seat,” Margery said. She motioned to the two plush chairs in front of the desk. “I don’t suppose you’re here for a prenuptial agreement.”
The sheriff coughed. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
Margery glanced from the sheriff to me. “You are an item, though, aren’t you? I can smell the chemistry from here.”
Sheriff Nash tried to relax, but he was clearly thrown off track. “Why don’t we focus on the reason for our visit? I need to see the will of Hattie Rollins-Mahoney.”
Margery seemed blasé about the request. “I was wondering when you’d get around to paying me a visit. I was beginning to think the rumors weren’t true.”
“Which rumors are those?” the sheriff asked.
“That Hattie didn’t die of natural causes,” the lawyer said. “She was murdered. I’ve delayed the reading and the accountant has frozen all of Hattie’s assets.”
“Sounds like you have experience with this sort of thing,” the sheriff said.
“Before your time, Sheriff,” Margery said. “Any leads? I mean, the woman was two hundred. What was the point?”
The sheriff wore a sympathetic expression. “Maybe someone tired of waiting for the reading of the will.”
Margery lifted a thick document off the desk. “I have it right here. I was reviewing it earlier today, in fact. There’s nothing earth shattering in it that I can see. Most of the contents are known to the family already.”
The sheriff held out his hand. “May I?”
Margery hesitated. “There’s no point in making you jump through hoops for this, is there?”
“Wouldn’t help anybody,” the sheriff said.
Margery nodded and handed over the document. “I don’t know if this’ll really help you anyway. Like I said, nothing is a surprise.”
Sheriff Nash flipped through the will. “Just the grandkids named in here or others, too?”
“Ella, her great-niece, and Sampson, her butler are included.” Margery looked thoughtful. “Sampson only takes a small share, though.”
“Nothing specific to the great-grandchildren?” I asked.
“No.” Margery clasped her hands on her desk. “She wasn’t overly fond of children. Sometimes I wonder whether she’d have excluded the grandchildren had they still been minors upon her death.”
“Any conditions on the distribution?” the sheriff asked.
“A couple that have already been satisfied,” Margery said. “If Lacey was still married to Weston, she would’ve been disinherited. If Fitzgerald had married a non-nymph, he would have been excluded. Those conditions won’t extend beyond the distribution, though. Once Fitzgerald gets his share, he can marry a Kraken if he wants.”
“I can’t believe Hattie cared that much,” I said. “It seems ridiculous.”
“She liked to exercise control over her family,” Margery explained. “After her daughter and son-in-law died in that tragic accident, Hattie grew more rigid in her approach to the family. Their deaths weighed on her, I think, and she wanted to make sure that no one made any grave mistakes.”
“Mistakes like marrying a shifter instead of a nymph?” I queried. “That hardly seems on par with guilt over a yachting accident.”
Margery nodded. “I agree with you, but Hattie was my client with a mind of her own. As long as it didn’t contravene the law, I followed her wishes.”
“You never tried to talk her out of anything?” the sheriff asked.
“Are you kidding?” Margery looked appalled by the suggestion. “Hattie would’ve fired me without a second thought. She was accustomed to getting her way in every aspect of life. Another reason I think she took her daughter’s death so hard. It was a blow to her ego on top of the normal cycle of grief and loss.”
I couldn’t imagine feeling so privileged that I thought I was above loss and tragedy. Death came for us all eventually, and rarely in the order we expected.
“Mind if I take a copy of this?” the sheriff asked.
“Feel free. I have extras for the family,” Margery said. “Is there any reason to delay the reading longer?”
“Go ahead with the reading,” the sheriff said, “but the distribution itself will have to wait until the murder has been solved. Obviously, the guilty party can’t inherit.”
“Assuming the murderer is named in the will,” Margery said.
The sheriff gave her a half smile. “I think the odds are pretty good, don’t you?”
After our visit with Margery, the sheriff and I parted ways. He had to handle a brawl at the Whitethor
n that got out of hand, so I decided to drive over to Divine Beverage Distributors to question Stone Beauregard. His office was located on the fringe of Starry Hollow in a building that seemed like more of a warehouse than a business. The receptionist behind the front desk was a gruff-looking troll by the name of Gregor.
“Hi, there,” I said, adopting my friendliest tone. “I’m hoping to squeeze in five minutes with Stone Beauregard. Is he around, by any chance?”
“You got an appointment?” Gregor asked. His voice was so deep, I was pretty sure it reverberated inside me.
“No, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in,” I said. “I’d like to see how he’s doing after his grandmother-in-law’s death. Is that a word? Grandmother-in-law?”
A fairy fluttered past behind the reception desk and seemed to stop mid-air. “You’re here for Stone?” she asked. I didn’t miss the flash of annoyance across her delicate features. She was pretty, with an attractive figure, and wavy, blond hair with purple tips to match her wings.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m Ember Rose, a reporter with Vox Populi. Stone and I met at Hattie’s birthday party.”
“It’s all right, Gregor,” the fairy said. “I’ll escort her back.”
Gregor grunted a response.
“Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t mean to drop by unannounced.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have,” the fairy said. “Stone is a very busy man. He barely has time to eat his meals, let alone entertain unexpected guests during business hours.”
Her tone was so hostile that I knew there had to be a story. “And what do you do here?” I asked casually.
“I’m the Director of Marketing,” she said. “Fern Galloway.”
“Nice to meet you, Fern.” But not really.
She made a disgruntled noise before stopping in front of an office door. She cracked it open and poked her nose in. “Stone? There’s a woman here to see you by the name of Ember Rose.”
“Thank you so much, Fern,” I said. “I really appreciate your help.”
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