by Ann Charles
“You’re doing ‘fine,’ huh?” Deborah collected her cards. “Boy, have I heard that before. It was your father’s favorite response when I’d ask if everything was okay. Turned out he was fine, especially since he was sleeping with another woman.”
“Mom, that’s enough,” Claire warned, nudging her head in Jess’s direction. Jessica soaked up sordid tales of debauchery like a new chamois.
“I know, I know,” Deborah crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t like it when I bad mouth your father. I was just making a point.”
“How about you just button your lips instead,” Gramps said, “and focus on playing cards?”
Deborah rolled her eyes at him and then returned to Claire. “I couldn’t help but notice the way you were avoiding MacDonald this last weekend.”
“I wasn’t avoiding Mac.” I was avoiding you.
“Before you start your denial routine, Claire, let me finish.”
“You probably shouldn’t,” Gramps said.
Deborah continued, ignoring her father. “If things don’t work out with MacDonald, you can always come home and live with me. I have plenty of room in the house. You can even have your old bedroom back if you’d like.”
Claire recoiled at the thought of living with her mother again.
“Why would Claire leave Mac?” Jess asked. “I saw them kissing before he left on Sunday.”
“Claire tends to have a problem with commitment, Jessica dear,” Deborah said, patting Claire’s hand. “I don’t think MacDonald—or any man out there—has what it takes to get her to settle down and focus on building a successful career. She needs a man who will tame her spirit, not let her run free as MacDonald seems to do.” She pulled her hand away and tucked a strand of blonde hair back into her French knot. “I blame her father for her lack of steadfastness. He insisted I leave Claire be, claiming I’d already spoiled Veronica. But I ask you, which of my daughters has been the most successful in life? Certainly not Kathryn or Claire.”
“Are you done now?” Claire asked Deborah, bored with the subject. She had heard this all before, too many times to care anymore what her mom had to say on the subject, and had long ago given up trying to prove her wrong.
“For now,” Deborah said. “But I won’t truly be finished until you stop hopping from one job to another and settle down to make a life for yourself.”
Claire turned to Gramps. “Did you adopt her?”
“I’m beginning to wonder about that.”
Ruby snorted, reminding Claire of a pissed off bull minus the ground pawing. “After the last couple of days, I’m startin’ to think she’s a chip off the old block.”
Deborah arched one plucked eyebrow. “What are you insinuating, my dear stepmother?”
“Can’t we just play a goddamned game of cards?” Gramps asked.
Everyone quieted, focusing on their cards.
Deborah placed the King of clubs in the center of the table.
Jessica pointed at a card in Ruby’s hand. “Play that one.”
“Would you two stop cheating?” Deborah asked with an unladylike snippiness in her voice.
“Jessica,” Ruby warned.
“What? I’m just trying to help. You never let me help, only Mac.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Gramps said.
Ruby threw down her cards. “What is your problem with Mac?”
“Nothing. He’s perfect. Just calm down so we can finish this game and go to bed.”
“Don’t you tell me to calm down, Harley Ford. You’ve been pokin’ at me about Mac all night. What is going on between you two?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Ruby?” Deborah said. “He’s jealous.”
“Of Mac?” Claire asked.
“No, of Steve. He’s just taking it out on Mac.”
“Why’s he jealous of Dad?”
“I’m not jealous of that horse’s ass,” Gramps said.
“Dad is not a horse’s ass. Take that back!”
“That’s enough, Jessica,” Ruby said. “Go to your room.”
“What? Why? What did I do? He’s the one calling names.”
Ruby reiterated her order with a point. Ranting, Jess grabbed her book off the couch and stomped up the stairs.
“Jealous,” Deborah sang, moving her cards around.
“You,” Ruby snatched Deborah’s cards away, “go to your room, too.”
Deborah’s mouth fell open. Shock, disbelief, and outrage reeled down her face like triple sevens on a slot machine. “What gives you the right to—”
“You’re in my house. That gives me the right to kick you out if I want. For now, I’ll settle for you goin’ to bed.”
Deborah let out a huff that blew Claire’s hair back. “Your hostess skills are lacking to say the least.”
“Wait,” Gramps said as she stalked toward the stairs. “We’re not done with the game yet.”
“Oh, we are definitely done.” Ruby shoved away from the table and slammed out the back door.
Claire dropped her cards on the table. “Gee, that didn’t go so well.”
Gramps sighed, scrubbing his hand up and down over his whiskers, making a rasping sound. “Nothing has been lately. Not since I fell off that damned ladder. What do you say we end this bet of ours and go have a smoke?”
Hell, yes! “Not tonight.”
His hand stopped. “Why not?”
“I’m not really in the mood,” she lied.
“First you didn’t want the beer I offered and now you don’t want to smoke.” Gramps blue eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, girl? You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Chapter Twelve
Thursday, October 4th
Ronnie needed a big favor. One that she figured would cost more than any of Lyle’s knockoff sterling silver necklaces or costume jewelry.
She pushed in through the Yuccaville library’s glass doors, sniffing the air for bay rum aftershave. All she smelled was stale paper and a hint of rose-laced perfume. She scanned for Grady or any of his deputies, double-checking that the coast was clear before making a beeline over to Aunt Millie and her cohorts, who were knitting in the sitting area next to the computers as usual. Without saying a word, she took out a pair of real tanzanite studded hoop earrings from the front pocket of her knee-length paisley skirt and placed them on the end table next to Grady’s aunt.
Aunt Millie whistled through her teeth. Dropping her knitting needles, she scooped up the earrings, lowered her glasses, and took a closer look at the purplish blue stones. Her drawn-on eyebrows lifted, along with her gaze. “Something tells me we’re not playing for computer time today, Veronica.”
“I have a problem.” Ronnie kept her voice low in case the Sheriff was hiding behind a bookshelf waiting to pounce. “I need your help.”
“You do, huh? I’m not sure I can offer enough help to cover the cost of these beauties.” Aunt Millie set the earrings back on the table. “Maybe one of the other girls can help you.”
Ronnie shook her head. “Nope. You’re the only one for this job.” She glanced at Ruth, Millie’s second in command, whose lower lip jutted a little. “It’s about her nephew,” Ronnie said, trying to soothe any ruffled feathers.
Ruth tucked her lip back in and returned to the long-necked sweater she was knitting.
“Well, I’ll say one thing, you sure know how to get my attention.” Aunt Millie reached for her walker. “Why don’t we move this conversation somewhere a little more private in case we get visitors. My office will do.”
“Your office?”
Aunt Millie pointed toward the women’s restroom.
“Oh, gotcha.”
The dingle balls on her walker jiggled as she stood, the metal contraption creaking when she leaned on it. “Ruth, you’re in charge. Greta, keep an eye out for Grady and run interference if he comes through those doors.”
Both women nodded without looking up from their needles.
Ronnie followed Aunt Millie into the women’s restro
om and checked under the stall doors to make sure all three were empty. She leaned against the door to keep it that way.
“Okay,” Aunt Millie placed the earrings on the counter. “What is so gol-durn important that you’re willing to exchange an expensive pair of real tanzanite earrings for my help?”
“You know your gemstones.” Ronnie’s face warmed as the realization hit her that Aunt Millie and her friends must have known all along that her jewelry was fake.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, dear.”
“But you let me buy time on the computer with the other stuff.”
“Your costume jewelry is some of the best we’ve seen in a long time.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Lyle would be so proud. Then she remembered how Grady had dragged her outside of The Shaft and chewed on her about the chandelier earrings. “Wait. Does the Sheriff realize that you know the pieces I’ve given you are fake?”
Aunt Millie’s smile lifted her jowls. “There are some things that my nephew doesn’t need to know even though he thinks he does. I let him assume all sorts of things when it comes to taking care of me. It’s easier that way.” She winked at Ronnie. “Easier to hoodwink him, too.”
She needed to take a few lessons from Aunt Millie. So far, all she had managed to do was set off his radar at every turn. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“Well, let’s hear it, dear. What’s got you digging deep in your jewelry box for the good stuff today?”
Ronnie clasped her hands together, wondering how much she could trust Aunt Millie, if at all. “I have a little problem.”
“Is this about that castle over in Germany?”
Yes, but she did not want to drag Aunt Millie into that mess. Her family was already at risk. Grady would throw her in a cell and swallow the key if he found out she put his aunt in danger, too.
“No,” she lied. “It’s about your nephew.”
Aunt Millie’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “You aren’t in cahoots with his ex-wife, are you?”
“Grady—I mean Sheriff Harrison—has an ex-wife?” Ronnie had trouble picturing the hardass relaxing enough to wine, dine, and bed a woman, let alone marry her.
“Yes siree, and she is a real dandy, too.”
Dandy as in beautiful with big blue eyes like the blonde Lyle had been screwing around with behind Ronnie’s back?
“I’d have taken that bitch down a notch if I were ten years younger,” Aunt Millie told Ronnie, lifting her walker and shaking it at an imaginary villainess. “No man deserves to be treated the way she did my nephew.”
Ronnie wished there had been an Aunt Millie standing up for her when the shit had hit the fan in her happy little world and sprayed out the other side, coating her and everything she had owned. “What happened?”
Aunt Millie snorted, disgust curling her upper lip. “She ripped out his heart, tossed it out the window like a cigarette butt, and then backed over it for kicks.”
“That’s tough,” she said, comparing her heartbreak to Grady’s. While she had not really loved Lyle, Ronnie had thought they had a mutual respect for each other. That was before she’d found herself facedown with a set of tire tracks running down her backside.
“Did she have an affair?” Ronnie asked.
“Not just one.”
“How did he find out?”
“She told him after the baby was born.”
“The baby?” Ronnie blinked in surprise. Grady was a father?
“Yep.” Aunt Millie slapped her hand down on the sink counter. “The painted strumpet waited so that the birth was covered by Grady’s insurance because her boyfriend was unemployed at the time. After she left the hospital, she told Grady that the baby wasn’t his and filed for divorce. The blood test proved she wasn’t lying before a full-fledged child custody battle could get rolling.”
Ronnie grimaced. Damn, no wonder the Sheriff was such a hardass. The poor guy must have a hollow, broken shell where his heart had been. At least there had been no kids caught up in her mess.
“How long ago was this?” she asked. Guilt filled her, making her gut heavy. She probably should have taken it easy on Grady instead of being so quick to argue with him.
“It’s been about five years since the divorce was final. She packed up and moved to Nevada with the baby’s real daddy as soon as the papers were official.”
“So Grady hasn’t seen the baby or her since?”
Aunt Millie shook her head. “It’s a subject his momma, sister, and I talk about only when he’s nowhere around. Grady once told me that as far as he’s concerned, his ex-wife and her kid never existed. I think that’s his coping mechanism for losing the baby boy he had thought was his for nine long months.”
Ronnie thought of the Sheriff, how cold and hard he had seemed since they first met. It all made sense. “The poor guy.”
“Yep, yep.” Aunt Millie tapped on the counter. “After the dust settled, he dove headfirst into his job and he hasn’t come up for air since. His momma figures work was all he had after she left him knocked flat on his ass like that.”
She knew that ass over tea kettle sensation quite well. Her head was still spinning from Lyle’s lies and betrayal. “That really sucks.” Both for her and for Grady.
Ronnie had something in common with him now, both having been royally screwed by their exes. Truthfully, she would rather they just cut their thumbs and shared a little blood and a matching scar. Not that they would ever swap ex stories over a couple of drinks or anything like that. Grady was broken; she could see it now.
She was, too, for that matter. Two broken lives added together equaled a visit on a Jerry Springer type talk show where someone usually ended up throwing a chair, not a two-hour movie on one of those romance channels with a sap-happy ending.
Veronica Jefferson had died of humiliation in that interrogation room months ago while the government sponsored suits snickered around her, leaving Ronnie Morgan to pick up the pieces and keep going. She would not trust so blindly again or maybe ever trust at all. Life would be much safer that way.
“You nailed it, dear,” Aunt Millie scowled across the small room at Ronnie. “It sucks donkey dicks.”
Ronnie blinked out of her empathy-filled meanderings. Did Aunt Millie just say donkey …
“But we don’t get to choose the cards life deals us. We have to decide whether to stick with what we have or risk going bust by asking for another hit or two.”
Had Gramps been whispering in Aunt Millie’s ear? That sounded like something he’d say in between puffs on his cigar. After sticking with what life had dealt her during the first thirty-five years of her life, Ronnie was ready to risk going bust.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you need from me that’s worth parting with these here earrings, or am I going to die of old age before then? Because if I keel over first, I want you to bury me in these earrings.” Aunt Millie waved her liver spotted hand over the tanzanite hoops. “They’ll look good with my favorite periwinkle dress.”
“I need you to keep a secret for me.”
“You’re buying my silence?”
“If your nephew asks you anything about that castle article we pulled up yesterday, I want you to tell him we stumbled across it by accident in our search for an article written in German.”
“And why were we looking for an article written in German?”
“Greta is teaching me the language, remember?”
“Oh, right.” She frowned down at the earrings for so long Ronnie wondered if she had drifted off while standing there. When she looked up, her forehead was tight with what looked like concern. “Are you in trouble, Veronica? Because you’ve kind of grown on me and I hate to see something bad happen to those I like in this town.”
That Aunt Millie cared enough to ask warmed Ronnie’s lonely heart, making her want to share every little detail about Lyle and the mess he left her mixed up in. But she kept the lid sealed tight on Pandora’s box. No matter how much it rattled, th
e chain needed to stay locked tight. “Not any more than the normal amount.”
“Is there anything we can do to help? Besides keeping quiet about that article?”
Ronnie shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, holding in the truth even tighter. “No, but thanks for the offer.”
“I don’t feel right taking real jewelry in exchange for keeping my lips shut.”
“Please take them. Your silence on this means a lot to me. I don’t want your nephew digging into my business.” Actually, it was Ruby’s business, but Ronnie preferred to have Aunt Millie and the girls thinking she was the one tied up in something shady.
Aunt Millie pocketed the earrings. “What German article, my dear nephew?” She pretended, talking to the mirror in the sweet old aunt tone Ronnie had heard her use with certain library visitors, like yesterday with Grady. “Oh, that one? We found it and thought it would make great practice for Veronica since she is so interested in learning the language.”
“Thank you,” Ronnie said, holding open the door for Aunt Millie to shuffle-roll out.
“My pleasure.” She paused as she drew level with Ronnie. “And I expect you to keep your lips zipped about my nephew’s history.”
“You got it.” Ronnie pulled her finger across her lips.
“You are welcome to the computers, honey,” Aunt Millie said as she and her walker led the way back to the other ladies.
“Thanks, but I think I’m good for now.” She didn’t need to risk Grady sneaking up on her again and peeking over her shoulder at another article about a stolen artifact “Here’s my phone number,” she wrote down her cell number on a piece of scrap paper from one of the computer desks. “Give me a call if anyone starts asking any questions, if you know what I mean.”
“This is so cloak and dagger like.” Aunt Millie grinned. “I haven’t had this much excitement since Ruth and I got booted from the senior center last year.”
Why had they been booted? Ronnie shook the question from her thoughts. That was not important at the moment.
After making sure Aunt Millie made it back to her seat without a problem, Ronnie gave her farewells to each of the ladies. She handed out a holiday themed brooch to each one and told them she would see them again soon.
