Autumn closed her office door, then turned back to her desk. “That should help us get back on schedule, since we weren’t able to review the lists yesterday.”
Sister Lou settled onto the thinly cushioned guest chair, smoothing the skirt of her pale peach suit beneath her. “Marianna’s fine with us going over the list as long as it’s understood that this is a preliminary list.”
“As long as it’s understood that the estimate I give you today will be a preliminary estimate.” Autumn grinned as she returned to her chair.
“Of course.” Sister Lou inclined her head. “Most of the presentations will have audiovisual needs. For the weeklong retreat, we’ll have—”
The office door slammed open, the sound a sharp explosion. Sister Lou sprang to her feet and spun around. Vengeance faced her from the doorway.
Autumn’s administrative assistant rushed in behind the tall, angry woman who’d crossed into the room. Kelsey Bennett’s yellow blond corkscrew curls shook nervously around her chubby features as she jostled for position with the female force of nature. “Autumn, I’m so sorry.”
Sister Lou watched Autumn rise to her feet. Her movements were wary, bordering on defensive.
“You stupid slut,” the tall woman raged over Kelsey’s words. She bore an uncanny resemblance to the resort owner, with her thin features, dark blue eyes, and light brown hair.
“Ms. Potts pushed her way past me. I’m so sorry.” Kelsey raised her voice to be heard over the antagonist.
“I know you’re sleeping with my husband!” the woman screeched even louder.
“What?” Autumn couldn’t have looked more surprised if an alien spaceship had landed in her office and its crew had invited her to tea.
“You heard me.” Amazingly, the screaming woman’s volume increased again.
Sister Lou feared her ears would bleed. Dogs all over Briar Coast County must have been on their way to the resort.
Autumn pulled her gaze from her accuser and shifted her attention to her assistant. “Kelsey, there’s nothing to apologize for. I’ll take care of this. Thank you.”
Kelsey didn’t wait to be told twice. Her curls hopped frantically as she turned and hurried from the room, bouncing on her toes. Sister Lou stood to follow her.
“I’ll wait outside.” According to her crimson Timex wristwatch, it was just after ten o’clock on the last Friday morning of October. Hopefully, this interruption wouldn’t last long.
Autumn raised her hand, palm out. “That won’t be necessary. My cousin’s leaving.”
Cousin? That explained the resemblance. How do they explain the hostility? Reluctantly, Sister Lou sat.
The other woman stood, arms akimbo. Her figure-hugging bronze dress skimmed past her full hips to end midthigh. “The hell I’m leaving. Not until I damned well have my say.”
“January!” Autumn sounded scandalized. She gestured toward Sister Lou. “This is—”
Sister Lou understood that Autumn felt uncomfortable with her cousin’s use of coarse language in front of a member of a religious order. But one of the reasons she and other sisters chose not to wear traditional habits was to allow them to move freely among the community they served. After Vatican II, many orders chose not to wear habits because it made them seem less approachable. Besides, it wasn’t the language that concerned her as much as the emotion behind it. What was the cause of it?
January’s cap of light brown hair swung forward as she leaned toward Autumn. “I don’t give a damn who that is. Did you think I wouldn’t find out that you were screwing my husband? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Sister Lou’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to believe that of Autumn. She turned to the resort owner.
A furious blush stained Autumn’s sharp cheekbones. “You’re interrupting a business meeting. Leave now. I’ll call you later so we can straighten this out.”
“Your damn meeting can wait, you traitorous skank. I’m not going to let you ruin my marriage.”
Sister Lou flinched at January’s ugly, angry language. “Ms. Potts, Autumn makes a good point. Neither of you is in a position to clear up this misunderstanding right now.”
January swung her glare to Sister Lou. “Mind your own damn business.”
That order was laughable, considering January was the one who interrupted a private meeting. Sister Lou spread her arms to indicate Autumn’s office. “By charging in here, you made it my business. This isn’t the time or the place for this argument.”
Autumn sent Sister Lou an apologetic look before returning to her cousin’s wrath. “January, listen carefully. I don’t know what makes you think I’m sleeping with Sherrod. I’m not. I’ve never slept with him. I never would sleep with him. He is and always has been all yours.”
“Bull—”
“January!”
“You’re a damned liar!” January marched back to the door and yanked it open. She glared at Autumn once more from over her shoulder. “You’ve already destroyed your marriage. I will kill you before I let you ruin mine!”
January slammed the door hard enough for the walls to shake. Sister Lou flinched. The exchange had been tense and uncomfortable for her. She could imagine how upset Autumn felt. “How are you?”
“I’m sorry for the interruption.” Autumn reclaimed her seat. Her face was flushed and her eyes were downcast.
Sister Lou empathized with the younger woman’s discomfort. “You don’t need to apologize. Take a moment to collect yourself.”
“I’m fine.” Autumn’s stilted response contradicted her words. She seemed to brace herself before meeting Sister Lou’s eyes. “I’m not having an affair with my cousin’s husband.”
“Why does she think that you are?” Their discussion of the congregation’s audiovisual needs for the retreat could wait. In any event, Autumn didn’t seem in a condition to return to their meeting’s original purpose.
Autumn expelled a breath. “Sherrod, January’s husband, is very handsome and successful, and January’s . . . insane.”
The resort owner’s eyes were dark with sorrow rather than anger. The cousins must have loved each other very much once, or at least Autumn had loved January. What had happened to end that bond? Had it involved Sherrod? Or was it something else entirely? Old hurts long forgotten perhaps but not quite forgiven.
“Is she dangerous?”
The confusion in Autumn’s expression cleared. “Oh, you mean her death threat? I’m not worried. January’s high-strung. She thrives on creating drama. She always has.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Besides, if she were serious, she’d have to stand in line. I’m at the top of quite a few people’s hit lists for one reason or another.” Fact or fiction, the idea seemed to weigh on Autumn.
“I hope you and your cousin are able to work this out.” Sister Lou drew a deep breath. The cedarwood and pine scents that lingered in the office soothed Sister Lou. Hopefully, they would have a similar effect on Autumn.
“The only way I could imagine reconciling with January is if she apologized. I can’t believe she thinks I’d sleep with her husband.” Autumn’s voice trembled. The accusation must have hurt deeply.
“Why is she so insecure about him?” The old Sister Lou would never have dreamed of asking such an impertinent question—out loud. Shari’s influence was connecting her with her outer voice.
Autumn’s gaze circled her office as though searching for something among the wood-framed artwork in the spacious wood-paneled room. “Sherrod is the full package: looks, money, and he’s really very nice. Much better husband material than my ex turned out to be.”
“Your cousin must love him very much.” Sister Lou hoped the two women would reconcile. Family was so very important.
You don’t even realize how important until you lose them.
“I’m afraid our relationship has other problems, Sister.” Autumn drew her writing tablet closer to her, then picked up a pen. Her smile seemed forced. “But you’
re not here to talk about my dysfunctional family. Let’s go over the audiovisual needs for your event.”
Sister Lou managed to refocus on the retreat, but Autumn wasn’t as successful. She was tense and distracted. Even from the other side of the desk, Sister Lou could sense the younger woman’s agitation. Sister Lou’s heart was heavy. For Autumn’s sake, she hoped the situation didn’t deteriorate further.
Chapter 5
“Can you tell me anything more about Val’s idea or did she swear you to secrecy?” Sister Lou lowered her glass of ice water to their lunch table in the Briar Coast Café.
Coming from anyone else, Chris would think the person was fishing for information. But he knew his aunt’s question was genuine. “Sister Valerie didn’t swear me to secrecy, but I think she wants a complete plan before she presents her proposal to the college’s board of directors.”
In addition to being a member of the leadership team for the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Hermione of Ephesus, his aunt was on the college’s board of directors. How had she found time to solve her friend’s murder last month?
Chris bit into his roast beef and provolone on toasted whole grain sandwich. The homemade bread was the perfect consistency—not too soft, not too hard. The spicy, tender roast beef had his taste buds dancing to James Brown.
He’d taken his aunt to the Briar Coast Café for a late lunch Friday afternoon. The café was close to the congregational offices and the college, which made it a convenient destination when they wanted to get away.
The café was bursting with the aromas of warm breads, fresh vegetables, and well-seasoned meats. With Halloween only four days away, the scent of pumpkin spice also teased diners. A handful of other late-lunch customers lingered around the pale wood tables.
“Val’s wise to keep the project silent until she has a full proposal.” Sister Lou scooped her spoon into her bowl of chicken vegetable soup. “The directors are a tough crowd, too many naysayers.”
“Sister Valerie seems to encounter a lot of those.” An image of Lorna Alexander came to mind.
“She does have a lot of experience dealing with pessimists.”
Chris silently agreed. “I hope I can meet her expectations.”
“Concentrate on satisfying your expectations and you’ll do better than fine.” Sister Lou gave him a proud smile.
“But I don’t—”
Sister Lou held up her small hand, palm out. “Chris, Val made you vice president for advancement because you hold yourself to a much higher standard than anyone else could. If you approach this project with the same commitment you give every project, you won’t fail.”
Chris smiled. “Thanks for the pep talk, Aunt Lou.”
“You’re welcome.” She picked up her soup spoon again. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep Val’s secret.”
Chris finished his sandwich. He poured vinaigrette dressing over his small house salad. “Speaking of secrets, I think Shari’s keeping secrets about her past.”
“What makes you think that?” There was a note of caution in his aunt’s voice. Perhaps Shari was keeping secrets only from him.
“She never talks about her family or the friends she had before she came here. It’s as though she’s running from something.”
“Or perhaps she values her privacy.”
His aunt knew something. “Why would she get an apartment that offered a month-to-month lease?”
Sister Lou’s movements were very deliberate as she moved aside her now-empty bowl of soup and replaced it with a small bowl of salad. Chris sensed her measuring her words and weighing her response. “I’m sure Shari will tell us all about her past when she’s ready.”
But will he live that long? “Do you know why she won’t talk about it now?”
Sister Lou’s eyes twinkled with good humor. “Do you know anyone who, within days of meeting people, will pull up a chair and tell them his or her life story? Would you do that?”
“We’ve been friends with Shari for almost two months. I don’t know any more about her today than I did the first day we met. Whenever I ask her something, she changes the subject.”
“Give her time, Chris. She’ll tell you everything you need to know—when you need to know it.”
“We’ve proven that she can trust us. Why won’t she confide in us now?”
“I can’t answer that.”
Can’t—or won’t? “How do we know she’s not in some kind of trouble?”
“If she was and she wanted us to know, she’d tell us.”
Now Chris was sure of it; his aunt was withholding information. It was in the way she avoided his eyes. The too-casual gestures she made with her hands. “What do you know, Aunt Lou?”
“Chris, it’s not my place to share Shari’s personal information any more than it was my place to tell Shari all about you when she asked me.” Sister Lou gave him a shaming look. It didn’t work.
“She asked about me?”
“That’s not the point.” Sister Lou’s tone was midway between amusement and exasperation.
He tried to identify his reaction to learning that Shari was curious enough about him to have questioned his aunt. “I think I’m flattered.”
Sister Lou gave him a reluctant smile. “If you want to know something about Shari, ask her. Or better yet, listen. She’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
Chris swallowed a groan of frustration. “Aunt Lou, I can’t do that Vulcan mind meld with people the way you do.” His reference to the Star Trek mythology made his aunt chuckle.
“Then either try harder—or be patient.”
“I’ll try harder.” Patience wasn’t his greatest gift. It was in even shorter supply when it came to learning about Shari.
* * *
“Excuse me, Autumn? Isabella Fortney is here.” Kelsey made the announcement from the doorway of Autumn’s office Friday afternoon. “She doesn’t have an appointment, but do you have time to see her?”
“Of course, she’ll see me.” Isabella shoved Kelsey out of the way and took her position in the doorway.
A surge of fury propelled Autumn from her chair. She slammed the bowl of salad she was eating for lunch onto her walnut wood desk and confronted her ex-husband’s trophy wife.
“Don’t you ever touch any member of my staff. Ever. Again.” She was shaking with anger. “Kelsey, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Kelsey could be heard but not seen behind Isabella.
Autumn wasn’t satisfied. She pinned Isabella with a look meant to shrivel her from the inside out. “Apologize.”
Isabella’s jaw dropped. “I will not.” In her irritation, her fake British accent was more pronounced. Isabella was born and raised in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Autumn settled her fists on her hips above her pale gray pants. “You will if you don’t want me to throw you out. Literally.”
Isabella crossed her arms. She glared in the direction of Kelsey’s voice. “I apologize.”
Kelsey’s round features, framed by swinging corkscrew blond curls, made a brief reappearance in Autumn’s doorway. Her dark blue eyes were warm with gratitude. “I’ll be at my desk, Autumn.”
“Thank you.” Slightly mollified, Autumn returned her attention to Isabella. “What do you want, Izzy?” As though she needed to ask.
“Don’t call me that.” The former aspiring catalog model and current drama queen stomped farther into the office. She wore a red spring cape that pulled the pink accents from the abstract pattern of her multicolored wraparound dress. The clingy garment showed off her every curve. How much had that dress cost? “Autumn, you simply have to end these alimony payments. They’re destroying us. Roy can’t continue with them.”
What on earth had she done to deserve this much drama in one day?
Autumn glanced down at the advertising proofs she’d been reviewing during her working lunch. Both the proofs and her homemade grilled chicken salad would have to wait. Autumn snapped the lid back onto the pl
astic salad bowl.
“Why can’t he continue the payments?” Autumn returned to her cushioned executive chair. It took everything she had to remain calm while confronting the woman her husband had left her for five years ago.
Isabella sank onto one of Autumn’s guest chairs with a dancer’s grace. “Our business has not been making as much money. The alimony is taking far more of our profits.”
Our profits? Autumn’s eyes stretched with disbelief. She’d worked two jobs to support herself and her husband while Roy had established his accounting firm. She’d even helped manage his company—for free. That’s how much she’d believed in the man she’d married and the dreams he’d had. But once the snake had grown his firm and was bringing in profits, he’d divorced her to marry Isabella. The profit they were enjoying now was hers, not Isabella’s.
“You and Roy are enjoying the lifestyle that my sacrifices have made possible for you. You’re welcome.” She gave a mock salute with her bottle of diet soda. “Izzy, the fact is that a judge awarded me a monthly alimony that recognizes my contributions to the creature comforts of your life.” She gulped the soda to help dislodge the boulder-sized lump in her throat.
“But we simply can’t afford to keep paying you.” Isabella crossed her long, shapely legs, drawing attention to her dagger-toed red stilettos.
“According to the terms of my divorce decree, only my marriage to another man could end my well-deserved alimony payments.” Autumn shrugged coyly. “Unfortunately for you, I haven’t found my soul mate. I’ve been spending all of my free time with my resort.”
“Autumn, you can’t keep asking for these alimony payments.” The British accent Isabella had appropriated was slipping with her growing desperation. “Roy and I are pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”
Someone had thrown a bucket of ice in Autumn’s face. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She could barely speak. “Baby?”
“Yes.” Isabella’s smile revealed the joy of an expectant mother.
The announcement was another knife to Autumn’s gut. While they’d been married, Roy had insisted that they didn’t have enough money to raise a child. They should wait until the business was stronger, more established, successful, he’d said. But once that happened, he’d had her served with divorce papers, then submitted the announcement of his engagement to The Briar Coast Telegraph. Yes, that’s how she’d found out her husband had been having an affair with a wannabe catalog model.
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