“I wish!” Sophie’s genuine laughter filled the room. Her eyes glistened as she watched her husband.
John had never touched her with such easy intimacy. Even early in their marriage. But the way Leo’s gaze had scoured her at the doorway earlier had made her toes curl and insides get all steamy. Steamier than she ever recalled feeling around her husband.
Rose shook off the distraction, mad at herself for losing focus around Leo so often. “How long have you lovebirds been married?”
“About a year and a half.”
“Nice.”
Those who wrote in to Rose’s column had problems, making her sad life seem like less of an anomaly. Watching these two gave Rose hope to someday meet someone special.
She cut a glance between them. “Is it hard to work together and live together?”
“Not as long as Duncan does what I ask,” Sophie said matter-of-factly, but her lips twitched.
“She jokes, but always with an ounce of truth.” He kissed Sophie’s cheek. “On that note, I’m off to help Trent.”
As he left the room, Rose asked Sophie. “Do you two have kids?”
“We do. From both our former lives.”
“It’s not easy blending families.”
“You’re right. Most days, it’s okay.” Sophie shrugged. “The kids, they can cause stress for us.”
A statement Rose had heard from many clients in the past.
“Do you have any children?” Sophie corked the merlot.
“No. We never did.” She wondered if John would’ve tried to frame her for those donations if they had a family, but it was a question she’d never have answered.
The back room door swung open and a giggling Meg entered with Charlie on her heels.
“Oh, Charlie, you’re so funny.”
“What are you two up to?” Sophie smiled.
“Miss Meg here is sharing her infinite wisdom with me.” Charlie stared at her with adoration so genuine it had to be real. “She has such a positive way of viewing the world.”
“Well, I hated seeing you down in the slumps.”
Charlie and Sophie glanced at each other, then Sophie said, “You mean down in the dumps, hon?”
“Dumps. Slumps.” Meg waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Nobody wants to be in them.”
Charlie’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Couldn’t agree more.”
The aura of romance surrounded Rose. New love. Married love. These couples both carried ease that hadn’t existed in her past relationships. Being raised in the public eye, she always wore a shield to hide a piece of herself. Her parents had encouraged it. But had she kept it up even with the people close to her later in life? If so, had it stolen her chances at truly loving another person?
Seeing these couples made her want to live it, breathe it, understand what the concept meant. It could help her complete the work assignment her editor had given her. Or at least find a way to write something worthwhile on the topic of love. Because at the moment, she really had nothing good to say about it.
Chapter 8
“No. I’m not positive he took the money, Jo, but where else could it be?” Rose pressed the phone to her shoulder and chopped a clove of garlic, inhaling the pungent aroma rising off the cutting board.
“And you checked everywhere else?” Joanne asked for the second time.
“Everywhere except the spot it’s been hidden.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down. I just can’t imagine someone like him doing such a thing.”
“Are you speaking as a fellow writer or a judge of human behavior?”
“Both. As an author, he earns big bucks and doesn’t need your money. And yes, he sounds anxious to have you gone, but stealing?”
“Why couldn’t Leo’s fears about not getting his book done drive him to steal? Desperation can make people do crazy things.” Rose scraped the garlic into a pan of hot oil and dropped a few handfuls of kale in, too. More quietly, she added, “Look at me, running from North Carolina.”
“With a good reason.”
“Exactly. Oh, I stopped at the drugstore in town and found one of Leo’s books. I can’t remember the name.”
“The Wolfe Wars? It’s being made into a movie.”
“No.” Rose thought for a second. “The Gospel According to…oh, some guy.”
“Stan. That’s the one I told you the critics panned, but I noticed the book still made the NY Times Bestseller list. I wouldn’t be upset if I were him.”
“No?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, he’s clearly bothered about his writing, considering he’d steal—”
“Allegedly steal.”
“—my money.” Rose sliced a chicken breast on an angle then took a small end piece and tossed it on the floor for Bella, who gobbled it up. “At least I have the place to myself. He’s gone tonight.”
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know.” She laughed. “I’m not privy to his private business.”
“I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not sure I’d want to be in that big house by myself.”
“Thanks for planting the seed. I wasn’t afraid, but now that you mention it…”
“Sorry.”
Rose shut off the burner and spooned the kale onto her dinner plate. “On the plus side, right now I’m in the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt without a bra. Freedom only a woman understands.”
“Amen, sister.”
Rose chuckled. “Oh, and once he left, it also gave me a chance to scour the main floor to see if he hid my money anywhere. Nothing turned up. Which leaves the upstairs left to check. He was quite specific about not going up there. Do you think going up there crosses a line?”
“The question is, do you?”
She searched deep, balancing the act of penetrating his privacy against his possible act of theft. “Yes, it does cross a line. Only in this instance I’m making an exception. If I find my money, maybe I can go back to my original plan to hunker down in this house and stay out of the public eye.”
“Then you’ve justified your actions…although I still think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Maybe. I won’t know unless I check. Let’s hope he doesn’t have cameras up there to spy on me while he’s gone.”
“Next time I need plot help, I’m coming to you. Your imagination is showing real promise.”
They both laughed; then Joanne got serious. “Think John suspects anything yet?”
“Probably not. It’s been just five days since I left. We’ve gone weeks without speaking. The private investigator is watching him in DC, and I will hopefully hear from him any day now.”
“You may need a good lawyer pretty soon.”
“I know. One step at a time. My dinner is done. How about I call you after my first day on the job? Maybe I’ll become an expert in wines.”
“Glad to see you taking a step onto the sunny side of life.”
“Don’t go overboard.” Rose said goodbye.
As she hung up, the home’s silence seemed to shout. A creak from upstairs. An odd noise in the basement. A shiver rushed up Rose’s spine before she rationalized it was only the hot water heater. She grabbed her phone off the counter and sent Joanne a short text.
Thanks again. Now I’m hearing noises.
Her gaze landed on a boxy General Electric transistor radio on the counter, plugged into the wall. Rose went over and twisted the round dials until she found a rock station. After putting Bella’s dinner bowl on the floor, she got Leo’s book from her room and returned to her meal.
She ate slowly and read the first few chapters, surprised by how the story read so beautifully. Pushing her plate aside, she sat for another hour reading. Pain jumped off the paper in some scenes, wrapping Emma up into the world of a man so deeply wounded and tangled in his own needs that he couldn’t live.
She finally closed the book and washed out her pans. The story had bee
n labeled as fiction, yet she couldn’t separate the angst she’d sometimes see in Leo’s eyes during his less pleasant moments. How much of Leo was in this story?
Once finished, she used a dishtowel to dry her hands and considered checking upstairs for the missing money. Nerves danced inside her belly. Snooping. So morally wrong. Only if he had taken her cash, that was wrong, too. Sure, two wrongs don’t make a right, but in this case, the dishonest move might make things right for her.
Rose coaxed Bella into the apartment, shut her inside, and headed for the staircase to the second level. She flipped on the stairwell light and took slow steps up, her heartbeat pulsing faster as she neared the top. At the landing, she paused as Leo’s request echoed inside her mind. An image of her missing envelope silenced his “rules” and propelled her forward.
Most of the doors in the hallway were shut, but as she passed the only open one, she glanced inside. The hallway light cast a bright beam into the large bedroom, the same one she’d looked inside the other day when she came up here. On the nightstand was a glass of water, bottle of Tylenol, and small stack of hardcover books. She entered and turned on a light. The mahogany dresser with heavy brass hardware held some toiletries, not that he’d be stupid enough to leave her money in plain sight.
She quickly canvassed the dresser drawers. At the bed, she lifted the thick mattress and slipped her hand along the box spring. Nothing.
Rose turned to the nightstand. An unframed, close up photograph of a very pretty woman with golden hair and eager eyes rested on top. She lifted it, studied it for a second then turned it over. “I have nothing to give you but my heart.”
She quickly put it down, ignoring the shame worming through her and lifting another picture in an antique silver frame. Leo wore a dark suit, a red rose tucked in the lapel, and every hair combed into place. Next to him was the blond beauty from the other photo, her arm looped through his. She wore a flowing, fitted white dress and carried a bouquet of red roses. Leo stared at her, his face beaming with such an intense outpouring of affection that it made Rose’s heart flutter. Blue Moon Lake glistened in the background, like stardust stirred by their obvious love. Rose couldn’t remember when anybody had ever looked at her with such devotion.
She left the room, more curious about Leo than before. His exterior didn’t quite match something she sensed was hidden inside.
For a few long seconds, she stood in the hallway thinking through the next steps. Just as she turned, committed to finishing her task, a groan sounded from above. A creak followed. Fear brushed the back of her neck.
The last tenant’s departure came to mind, along with the haunting story from Meg about a murder taking place here decades earlier. A gruesome murder.
Not that she believed in this stuff, but she rushed downstairs. Daylight would be a better time to venture up into the attic.
* * * *
“Yes, it was good to meet you, too, um…Theresa.” Leo’s face hurt. Forcing himself to smile again at the attractive friend of his sister’s was the way this game was played. A game he had little interest in, although his sister’s persistence at matchmaking was admirable.
“I look forward to reading your books.” Theresa headed for her car, turning once to flash him her brilliant smile. She did have a pretty smile.
Mallory’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You almost forgot her name, didn’t you?”
“What? Of course not.” He put his arm around his sister’s shoulders and glanced down at her. “Shorty.”
“Don’t change the subject. How could you forget her name?” Mallory shook her head and the flipped edges of her ash-blond hair jiggled. “We just sat at dinner together for more than two hours.”
He lowered his arm and tucked a hand in his sports jacket pocket. “I didn’t forget. It was a dramatic pause. To show her I’m the kind of writer who uses those techniques in real life, not only my fiction. I think it may have worked. She said she’d buy one of my books.”
Mallory rolled her eyes.
Stan chuckled. “Aw, let him off the hook, Mal.” He hit the unlock button on their new car, another Mercedes Sedan. “So, what do you think of the new wheels, Leo?”
Leo’s brother-in-law’s passion for cars always transformed him from a prematurely gray investment banker to sounding like a sixteen-year-old who worked in a garage.
“Impressive. Sleeker than the last one. How’s the mileage on this thing?”
“We were talking about your blind date.” Mallory held up her hand, a rather militant pose for someone who held a Gucci bag in the other. Both men knew enough to listen and turned her way. “Did you like Theresa?”
“She was pleasant. Pretty smile.”
“Pleasant?” Mallory pulled a disgusted face as she walked around the car and opened the front passenger door then slipped inside. “Guess I bombed.”
Leo climbed into the backseat as Stan started the car. “You didn’t bomb.” He shut his door, buckled up, and searched for words to make her feel better. “Attraction can’t be forced.”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this…” Mallory turned around, her expression serious. “Camille would want you to date.” She quickly turned her back on him.
Stan drove out of the parking lot. The fragile edges of Leo’s heart wilted, leaving him disappointed in himself by the truth in Mallory’s remark. For several minutes, he sat and sulked. He wanted things right with his sister, the one person who always had his honesty.
Finally he replied, “Mal, I have gone out. Just because I don’t tell you everything, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. And I’m trying to move on. Honest to God.”
“Okay. As long as you’re dong it.” More quietly, she asked, “Are you angry with me for trying?”
“I’d never get angry with my favorite sister.”
She turned around, already smiling. “You dork. I’m your only sister, but that stupid joke never gets old.”
“Good, then you’ll hear it again. Now about my only brother…” Leo let it hang. Unfinished. A little like his real relationship with Everett.
“Please stop letting him eat away at you.”
“Too late. That house is in my name, too. Jesus, if he’d accepted my offer to buy out his half, we wouldn’t have to go through this.”
“Dad hoped that by leaving it to both of you, you’d somehow come together. You both loved the place.”
Like they had both loved Camille.
Leo let the ache of his loss own him for a moment, suddenly certain his love for his wife stood on solid footing. Not a way to punish his brother over a childhood filled with sibling rivalry abuses.
One summer in particular, in their adolescent years, it had grown worse. Everett and his pranks. All childish and mean spirited. All leaving a mark on Leo. Like the red food dye soaked on Leo’s toothbrush and switching the contents of his dresser drawers. Another day he’d poured vinegar in Leo’s soda when he’d turned his back. Back then, Leo wondered if the rituals were a strange way to show brotherly love. Deep down, though, they always stung.
Dad! How about a little time for your real son?
Everett’s hateful words, uttered during a deep conversation about books between Leo and his dad. The remark made clear the motive behind Everett’s hurtful actions that summer.
“Does that sound right, Leo?”
He tuned into his sister’s voice and let his childhood pain wash away. “I’m sorry. What?”
“That Everett hasn’t been to the house since we buried dad at the cemetery in town.”
“Sounds about right. When he has come back, he usually heads for his place on Montauk. This renting out bullshit, it’s a way to get back at me.”
Mallory glanced back. The headlights from the car behind them caught her worried expression. “Maybe I’ll call him.”
“Please don’t. We’re grown men who should be able to handle this ourselves. I’m just venting. You’ve always been my sounding
board. Besides, I emailed and called again. Ball’s in his court.”
Leo stared out the car window. The final straw drawn in his battle with his brother had been at Camille’s funeral when Everett uttered four hateful words.
You didn’t deserve her.
Despite everything, though, Leo let go of his anger. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to feel thankful for the chances and the love he’d been given. The desperation to feel grounded in the love of a family he could truly call his own slipped through his fingers the day Camille died. And he didn’t want to lose what family he had left.
Chapter 9
Low murmurings roused Rose. She tossed. Turned. Fought with a force keeping her legs bound. All as she slipped between consciousness and dreamland. Where soft voices breathed unnatural whisperings, the sounds making her heart beat faster. And faster. And faster.
She woke and bolted upright, blinking into the dark room. Goosebumps tingled along her spine and her heart raced. A nearly full moon outside cast a shine into the room, enough for her to see the top sheet tangled around her leg. As she worked it free, she glanced at the alarm clock. One thirty. She lay back down and breathed slowly, trying to stay calm and forget the strange dream. Squeezing her eyes tight, she concentrated on better things. Drifting, drifting, drifting…
A hiss. A faint laugh. A gentle moan. She stirred again and a breathy whisper whooshed by her. She wanted to rush, escape from the terrifying sounds but hard as she kicked, she couldn’t escape from the confines of the bed. Opening her mouth, she tried to scream, only her vocal cords had frozen. The terror she was truly alone and unheard stole her ability to move.…
Her eyes flashed open as her own voice reverberated inside her mind as she moaned, unheard by anybody. Darkness greeted her. Her skin was cool and clammy, and the racing beat of her heart pounded in her ears.
This time she sat up and flipped on the light. Rubbing her bare arms, she realized her sheet had fallen to the floor this time. She glanced to the clock. Two o’clock. Bella lifted her head off the dog bed and her ears perked. Had she heard the sounds, too?
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