Miranda's Revenge

by Ruth Wind

  “Oh, you are my hero.” Desi took the chai and inhaled the scent with her eyes closed.

  “Where’s Tam?”

  “I made him go home. He’s exhausted and hasn’t slept since this happened.” Her mouth turned up in a wry smile. “I’m sure he’ll be back before long, but at least he’ll have some supper and a rest.” She eyed the fabric on Miranda’s arm. “Is that my sari?”

  “Yes! You remember James, right?”

  “Sure. You catch the killer yet?”

  “Working on it.”

  Desi nodded, then gestured to Miranda. “So—? Let me see it already!”

  With a pleased grin, Miranda unfurled the luxuriously beautiful sari, pink banded with apple-green. The scarf was shot through with gold, and with a flourish, she draped it over Desi’s torso. “What do you think?”

  Desi squealed. Actually squealed. “It’s fantastic, kiddo! You have such an eye! I would never have chosen these colors, but I love them.”

  “They look very nice on you,” James said.

  “Thank you.” Desi put down her chai and held out an arm to her sister. “Come here and let me give you a hug.”

  Shyly, Miranda bent and allowed herself to be hugged. There was something homey—literally—about the way Desi smelled, and her heart lifted that she’d been able to do something to help. But she still felt awkward, and endured it only for a moment.

  “Well done,” Desi murmured.

  As she straightened, she turned to include James. “He’d like to talk to you about a few things to do with the case.”

  “Only if you feel up to it,” James added.

  “I’m fine. Well, I mean my brain and voice are fine.”

  He drew a chair forward and sat down. “Do you think Claude might have known about the aquifer under the land?”

  Desi’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know,” she said in a tone that said this was the first time it had occurred to her. “It’s possible. He had some surveys done so we could dig the hot springs pool.”

  “Okay.” James flipped open his notebook and tugged the lid of the pen off with his teeth. He made a note. “I’m going to tell you the honest truth—I know human nature. Whatever happens with this case, however it started, it’s being fueled now by people who want that land, even if they were not responsible for Claude’s murder.”

  “Okay,” Desi said with a frown.

  “You are not going to have a minute’s peace as long as that aquifer is there, luring big money.”

  “Which means what?” Desi asked calmly. “That I have to sell it?”

  “Might be the best answer.”

  Desi looked at her hands, and Miranda was surprised she didn’t protest outright. “I’m listening.”

  “Here’s the thing—if you don’t sell it to the developers, you can probably find a lease agreement with the government.”

  “Ew. The government?”

  “I’ve done a lot of work for my village back home, negotiating contracts to rent land from the state government. If the government owns it, they protect it and their investment—and their law has a lot of teeth—but you can also work out a lease agreement with them, so you can keep the wolf sanctuary and your home and maybe even into the seventh generation.”

  “Is that a legal term?” Miranda asked, folding the scarf.

  “No. Or a least not that I know of.”

  “They’ll never pay me what it’s worth,” Desi said.

  “Undoubtedly true. You could get more from developers. But I assume you’ve protected the land from them for a reason.”

  Desi nodded. “It’s important to have some land that’s not all built with million-dollar houses. The animals and trees need to live, too.”

  “I agree with you,” he said calmly. “Here’s the thing—the government is the only body that can really protect you. Once they own it, the deal is done, and nobody comes after you or your wolves anymore.”

  She gazed at him soberly. “I never thought about the possibility of leasing it back. I don’t want to leave the land, but I am really tired of this struggle. I’m afraid—” She paused, then said more clearly, “I’m afraid that even if I don’t go to jail, eventually somebody will succeed in killing me.”

  “That’s my worry, too.”

  “That would suck,” Desi said, and smiled. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Don’t talk about it yet, though, except with your fiancé.”

  “Okay.” Desi shifted her attention to Miranda. “Hey, do you think you could do me a really big favor?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  “Crazy Horse, the big white dog?”

  “I know who he is!”

  “Well, he’s a big fat baby and he’s really bummed out that Helene didn’t get his special blanket.” She winced and said, “Do you think you could drive up there and get it for her? She’s working tonight.”

  “Of course! That’s not even a big favor. It’s very little.” She grinned. “How will I know it?”

  “It’s a very hairy blue and red plaid that sits near the woodstove.”

  Miranda saw it in her mind very clearly. “I remember it. No problem. I’ll run up there after dinner.”

  “So are you going to dinner with Juliet and Josh and the parents?”

  “Yeah.” Miranda widened her eyes. “James, darling creature, is going, too.”

  “You’re a brave man.” A sideways smile touched Desi’s lips. “Glory and Mother should be an interesting combination.”

  “Yeah.” The five-year-old was not known to hold her tongue. “Do they know about the baby yet?”

  “Yes. They met Tam, too, just a little while ago.” Her eyes glittered. “I can’t wait to hear what Mother has to say about him later. She wasn’t thrilled with his tattoos. And she’s very upset about me having a baby out of wedlock.”

  “Well, it is kind of weird that you’ll have the baby, but not get married.”

  “If I go to jail, I don’t want him to feel obligated. I want him to find someone to love him and our daughter.”

  “We’ll love him or her!”

  “I know, Miranda. This makes sense to me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And where does she get off making judgments on other people?” Miranda exclaimed. “It’s not like she’s been some big model of morality.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Miranda rolled her eyes. “All the affairs she and Daddy had, all their weird little games they played.”

  “Affairs? Really?”

  And only then did Miranda realize she was too forthright, that her sisters did not know, had never known, the truth of things. The only reason she had the information was that she’d been subjected to their fights all those years. “Yes,” she said, and cast a glance toward James, who probably didn’t want to hear all this. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay.” Desi looked a little troubled.

  “We’d better go. It’s time for dinner.”

  Desi smiled. “I’ll think about what you said. You guys have a real good time.”

  Juliet had arranged a reservation for all of them—Carol and Paul, Juliet, Josh and Glory, Miranda, Desi and Tam. Tam chose to spend the evening with Desi, keeping her company, so there was plenty of room for James. The dinner was in the rustic, decidedly unposh Hungry Cattleman restaurant, which featured steaks and baked potatoes and baked beans. Homey.

  She felt tense. Tired. Juliet directed them all to their places, and Miranda had to admit it was a brilliant design, meant to nip problems in the bud—on either side of Carol were Josh and James, two men she could flirt with. Next to Josh was Glory, then Miranda, then her father, then Juliet.

  “This is quaint,” Carol said. “Was it your choice, Josh?”

  Josh, dressed in a crisp plaid shirt, his dark hair drawn into a shiny thick braid, mildly raised an eyebrow at Juliet. “Don’t look at me.”

  “It’s Glory’s favorite.”

  Miranda looked at he
r niece-to-be, who gazed solemnly at Carol for a moment, then said, “You don’t like it, do you?”

  “Oh, no, dear. Of course I do. I just wish I’d been warned to wear jeans.”

  “It’s the mountains, Mother,” Miranda said. “A person might think to bring some jeans.”

  Carol held up the menu. “Well, yes, of course, but when one goes out to dinner, one doesn’t think of that.”

  “I’m not wearing jeans,” Glory said. “I’m wearing my pretty dress, so you don’t have to feel bad.”

  The adults chuckled. Not Carol.

  Just sitting there, Miranda felt the tension rising, both internally and externally. A thousand family dinners passed through her mind, when one or the other of the sisters had been the focus of Carol’s sharp tongue and eternally dissatisfied eye. Most often, it had been Desi, who was too tall and round and serious for her mother’s tastes.

  “You do look wonderful, Mother,” Juliet said, offering an olive branch. Behind her menu, she shot Miranda a glance that said, help me keep the peace.

  “I agree,” Miranda said. “Have you been working out?”

  “Your mother has hired a personal trainer,” Paul said proudly. “Best-looking woman in her age class by far.”

  “In my age class,” Carol echoed, and it was as if her breath was blue freeze.

  “Well, you know what I mean.” Her father, Miranda noted, went very red in the cheeks. Unexpectedly she felt sorry for him. She looked back at the menu. “You always look great, Mother.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  That was the worst of the evening. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. Miranda noticed her father wasn’t drinking, and commented on it. “No martini, Daddy?”

  “Not with a race in the morning.”

  Which gave James a chance to say, “Do you have a goal?”

  “I can’t win,” Paul said, nodding. “But I’m hoping to end at the top of my age class.” He cut neatly into his chicken breast. “How about you, son?”

  James had a giant plate of spaghetti he was slowly making his way through. “I want to win,” he said, and smiled.

  That smile knocked Miranda sideways. Slow, confident but not cocky, acknowledging the cheekiness of his intention while not discounting the possibility. An echo of warning moved through her. He wasn’t just dangerous. He was mortally dangerous. Loving him could kill her.

  “Can you do it?” Carol asked.

  “Maybe. Depends on who is running with me.”

  “Good for you.” She shifted her gaze to Josh, on her other side. “And will you run?”

  “No. Never have been a runner.”

  “I see.”

  The conversation drifted, ebbed and flowed. They got through the appetizers and the salads, and Carol had only drunk a single glass of wine. When she ordered another, Miranda felt herself shrinking in her seat.

  And sure enough, Carol found much to disdain as the meal went on. The bread was cold. The green beans were cooked to death. The waiter was too slow. The meat was tough.

  Sometimes, Paul tried to ease things, joke Carol along, smooth the whole thing. Which generally made it worse. Maybe he’d learned that, because he didn’t say a word to his wife, just let her bitch and moan about all the things that were wrong with the restaurant, the meal, whatever.

  Mostly the rest of the company just talked around her. Then Juliet began to talk about various color schemes and flower choices for the wedding. In the midst of a description of the flowers for the altar, Carol cut in, “you can’t mean to use lilies! They’re funeral flowers.”

  “They’re calla lilies and they’re beautiful,” Juliet said, smiling.

  A few minutes later, Carol said, “I hope you’re planning to get an updo or something for the wedding, Juliet. Your hair is looking a little thin to be wearing it long.”

  Woe be unto those who messed with the princess. For some reason no one could discern, Glory—age five—had gotten it into her head that Juliet was a princess, and nothing would dissuade her. Juliet was the greatest thing to land on earth. Ever. It was hero worship of the most profound sort, and she did not take kindly to Carol’s tone.

  “You’re mean!” she said.

  “Well, you’re a rude little girl,” Carol said without missing a beat. “You shouldn’t speak to adults that way.”

  “Neither should you! My grandma says if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

  “You didn’t listen to her very well, did you?”

  “Mother!” Juliet said.

  “I know who you are,” Glory said, drawing herself up to her full height, wiggling in the booster chair to be a little taller. “You’re the wicked witch, aren’t you?”

  Chapter 12

  For a long moment, silence engulfed the group. Under the table, James took Miranda’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. She looked pale and strained, and he wanted nothing more than to whisk her out of there. This was obviously a very damaged family group, and while he still didn’t know where, exactly, Miranda’s need to be in control came from, he saw what must have been a highly difficult childhood. She clung to his hand as if it were a lifeline.

  All at once, the whole group burst into laughter—and once they started, there was no stopping. It was laughter fueled with the gasoline of tension, and the more they laughed, the hotter the hilarity.

  Carol stood stiffly. “I don’t think this is even a little bit funny.”

  Juliet tried to stop laughing. “Mother, where is your sense of humor?”

  “You need to rein that girl in.”

  Josh stood. “With all due respect, Dr. Rousseau, Glory was only responding to your tone. If you want kindness, that’s what you have to give.” He picked up his daughter, who looked close to tears, and cuddled her. “It’s okay, honey.”

  Carol stiffly left the table and the restaurant. The others slowly sobered. Miranda took a big gulp of margarita and smiled with exaggerated cheer at her sister. “That went well.”

  “Could have been worse,” Juliet agreed.

  Paul Rousseau stood, placing his napkin carefully beside his plate. “I guess I’d better go patch things up. You all have a good night.”

  “Sorry, Daddy,” Juliet said.

  “Don’t you apologize,” Paul said, and pulled out his wallet and put some bills down beside Juliet’s plate. “This is on me, too, so you young people just have a good time.” With a wink at James, he said, “Especially you, young man. Party on.”

  James lifted his chin. “See you in the morning.”

  After he left, Josh sat Glory back in her chair. “It’s all right, honey. Let’s have dessert, huh?”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Sure.” Josh looked around the table. “Who else?”

  “None for me,” James said, gesturing at the demolished plate in front of him. He had his hand firmly on Miranda’s thigh, supple beneath the silky fabric of her skirt. She smelled of oranges and spice, and he thought the nightcap might be a cup of hot chocolate taken on the balcony of his room.

  “Me, either,” Miranda said.

  He took a chance. “Are you ready to go, then? Check out the lead we talked about?”

  Miranda looked at him. “Yes. I’m ready.” She stood up. “Sorry to bail, you guys, but now you can have your dessert in peace.”

  “I don’t like that lady,” Glory said.

  “I don’t blame you,” Miranda replied, and kissed her on the head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Are you getting your dress?”

  “Yes. It’s pink!”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Watching, James wondered who had been so tender with these girls. They had a vast kindness in them, all three of them did. It showed in Juliet’s passion for providing help and concrete services for the working poor, in Desi’s quest to save the wolves and he saw it now in Miranda’s gentle touch on the girl’s head. She did not hug her sister, he noticed, but patted her shoulder.

  “Don’t wait up,” Mi
randa said.

  “I’m not sleeping there tonight. I’m too tense.”

  Miranda grinned. “Okay. See you tomorrow, then.”

  Outside the restaurant, it was still light out, with heavy gold dripping across the skies and the rocky tops of the mountains. The air was crisp, fine, light. Miranda let go of a gusty sigh. “Now what?”

  “I have an idea,” he said, taking her hand.

  “So far they have proved to be very good. What did you have in mind?”

  “The balcony of my hotel room. Room service hot chocolate and cookies.”

  She slowed. “But that seems a little too tempting, if you know what I mean.”

  “I have pretty good discipline.”

  “Maybe I don’t.”

  “Maybe I have enough for both of us.”

  Something fiery blazed in her eyes. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Maybe,” he said with a little smile. “Maybe not.”

  Her laughter was throaty. “All right, I’ll go with you to your lair.” She swung her handbag on her free wrist. “So, did you learn anything?”

  “Your mother is an alcoholic. That can’t have been easy.”

  “We don’t call it that.”

  “Maybe that’s part of the problem.”

  “At least part of it. The other part would be that she’s the wicked witch.” She laughed. “Oh, was that priceless?”

  “She is not a very pleasant woman, that’s for sure. Why is she so evil, though?”

  “Oh, who knows, James? We survived her, that’s all.” She tickled his palm with her finger. “Can we change the subject, please? My mother has to be one of my least favorite topics.”

  They reached the hotel and Miranda scowled. “You need to do some reconnaissance, to make sure they’re not in the bar. I don’t want to deal with them.”

  He nodded, ducked into the hotel and looked around carefully, then went back out and took Miranda’s hand. “All clear.” He stopped by the concierge and asked for a pot of hot chocolate and cookies to be delivered to his room.

  As they waited for the elevator, there was a soft space of awkwardness between them, the awkwardness of two bodies still unjoined. He found himself noticing the white corner where her neck met her shoulder, and thought about kissing it. Biting it. It would not take much to bruise that delicate skin—he would need to be careful.