by Lea Nolan
“Great.” Her tone is clipped, leaving an awkward silence hanging in the stifling air. Her piercing sparkles, mocking me.
“So what does a personal assistant do anyway?” I might as well collect a little intel of my own for Miss Delia.
“You’d be surprised.” She flashes a prissy smile that lets me know that’s all I’m getting out of her.
As expected, it’s the world’s shortest funeral. What is there to say about someone so mean no one besides her mom showed up to pay their respects? Not much it turns out, so after a few compulsory prayers, a short eulogy that proved the reverend had never met Missy, and a few words by us, it’s over. We watch the gravediggers slowly lower her casket.
Taneea fans herself. “Can we go? It’s so frigging hot out here I’m sweating to death.”
If only.
Lost in his thoughts, Cooper doesn’t move. He spent most of the service staring out at the Beaumont family tombstones. Some look ancient, their words nearly worn away from the elements and salt in the air from the adjacent salt marsh. Others are broken, slanted, and vine-choked. A few are carved in the shape of a cross, and one looks like a miniature version of the Washington Monument.
“Hello?” Taneea nudges him as she rises to her feet and pushes past Jack to the end of the row.
Jack stands and leans toward me, “I’ll take her back to the Big House. That way you and Coop can have a few minutes of peace without her.”
My chest swells with joy. For as much as Jack sometimes hates sharing Cooper with me now that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, he’s also ready to help when he can, too.
“Hey, T, you wanna come with me to the Big House to set up for the reception?”
“Uh, I’d rather go with Cooper.”
“Actually, he asked me to take you. He said with your sense of style you’d know how to make it look really good.” He plasters on his best snake-charmer grin.
“Well, he’s right.” She shoots me a quick sideways glance, as if debating whether to leave me alone with Cooper, but then a trickle of sweat runs down the side of her face. Annoyed, she wipes it off and turns to Jack. “Do they have air-conditioning up there?”
He grins. “On full blast.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Come on. If they want to melt, let them.”
She and Jack head down the path to one of the golf carts. Moments later, they zip away to the Big House.
Reaching my hand to stroke Cooper’s back, I ask, “You okay?”
“Huh? Yeah.” He’s quiet for a long moment before he stands and approaches my father who’s busy folding chairs under the tent. I follow close behind. “Uncle Jed, where’s my mother’s grave?”
Dad sets the chair on a rack with the others. He walks up to us, squinting in the bright sunlight, and points to a section just past a cluster of live oaks that is coiled with kudzu. “She’s over there.”
“Thanks.” Cooper pulls his Swiss army knife from his pocket, pries open the large blade, then heads in that direction.
Dad rushes toward him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to cut back that crap on her grave.”
“No!” Dad grabs his arm, forcing Cooper to stop. “You can’t. Beau won’t allow it.”
“I don’t care what my father wants. If he won’t take care of her the way she deserves, I will.” Cooper wrenches his arm away and then charges toward the headstone.
As if fire ignites inside my father, his chest expands and his eyes fill with steely determination. “I can’t let you do that.” He races after Cooper and leaps in front of him. “Someday you’ll run this plantation but today is not that day.” His voice is low-pitched and gravely.
Who the heck is this guy and what did he do with my dad? I’ve never seen him so bugged-out before, not even when we came here when we were little.
“But she was my mother.” The knife falls to Cooper’s side.
Dad nods. “She was. And my friend, too. We went back almost as far as Beau and I do. But that doesn’t change what Beau wants or my duty to follow his wishes.”
“But why? What would it hurt to clean this place up?” Cooper gestures to the graves. “It’s our family for cripes’ sake.”
“When you’re in charge you can do things as you see fit. But until then, this site is off-limits unless I’m around.” He narrows his gaze at me. “That goes for you too, as well, Emmaline. And your brother. Don’t even think of being slippery and saying he wasn’t around to hear me say it. Are we clear?”
I nod, stunned by his forcefulness. “Yes, sir.”
“Good, now help me finish folding these chairs and we’ll go up to the Big House. Maybe some of Missy’s friends will show up for the reception.”
…
Cooper hardly says a word while we help my dad, or on the way back to the Big House. Though we sit on the rear-facing backseat together, he barely glances my way. When Dad drives up to the plug-in charging station, he cuts the engine and hops out, heading straight for the Big House.
Cooper goes to jump off his seat, but I grab his hand to keep him in place. “What’s going on?” I search his pale gray eyes.
“Nothing. Why?” His tone suggests that’s anything but the truth.
“You’re acting weird.”
“No I’m not.” His gaze shifts down.
“Yes you are. We’ve hardly seen each other lately and when we do it’s like you couldn’t care less to be around me. And I still can’t understand why you wanted Taneea here. It’s not like she’s family.”
He pulls his hand from my grasp. “I just did, okay? It’s my house. I can invite who I want. And for the record, the Guthries aren’t actually family either.”
Though true, his words hit like a sucker punch to the gut. A gush of breath whooshes out my lungs. “Yeah, but you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”
“I’m not. I’m just stating the facts.”
I shake my head. “Wow. I know things have been hard with the Beaumont Curse still hanging over your head and Missy’s death reminding you of your mom. And it’s pretty clear you’re still ticked about what I said about your dad and Missy. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I can’t sugarcoat what I think. Maybe some couples do, but that’s not us. We’ve always been honest with each other.”
“Why do you have to bring my father into this again? The coroner’s report said Missy died from natural causes.” His eyes are icy.
I level my gaze. “Are you kidding me? After everything we’ve been through this summer, why are you so willing to take things at face value? Can’t you see the weird similarities between your mom’s death and Missy’s? And don’t you think it’s strange that your dad doesn’t care enough about her memory to at least keep her grave cleared?”
He runs his fingers through this thick, golden-brown curls. “How am I supposed to know? I’m sure he’s got his reasons. It doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”
I search his face. It’s rigid, almost fierce. And not my Cooper. I recoil. “Since when did you start defending Beau?”
And then a devastating thought hits me, sending a chill over my body even though it’s nearly a hundred degrees. What if the Beaumont Curse is starting to set in early? Cooper’s birthday is four days away, but no one ever said there was a precise start date to the curse, only that it would take hold when Cooper came into his manhood. What if that’s now?
I yank open the top button of his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.” I reach in and grasp the mojo. Clutching the small bag in my palm, I close my eyes and breathe deep, clearing my mind of all negative thoughts. Its electric energy flows through me, dancing up my arm and through my heart. Its power is strong. At least for now. I pull back my hand.
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You done?”
I nod. “Yes. You haven’t taken that thing off have you?”
“Just to shower. Why?”
I consider sharing my suspici
on but given the situation, it’ll likely only add insult to injury. I know I promised to be honest with him at all times—and I fully intend to—when I’m absolutely sure I’m right. “Just make sure you wear it. It’s still working so it should protect you from all forms of black magic. But still, we can’t be too careful. Your birthday is really close.”
“Yeah. I know.”
I grab both his hands in mine and peer straight into those cool gray eyes. “Hey, you promised you wouldn’t give up without a fight. I need you to stay focused.”
He blinks. The creases in his brow relax and his gaze softens. Gently, he grasps my hands, entwining my fingers in his. My shoulders ease. He’s my Cooper again. “I will, Emmaline. I don’t want to lose you. Or myself.” He smiles, and then dips his head to place a kiss on my knuckles.
Warmth spreads over my chest. “Miss Delia and I are going to break the curse. I promise.”
I sincerely hope it’s the truth.
We hop off the cart and walk hand in hand up the path to the Big House. Cooper’s muscular hand feels warm and strong against mine. I’ve missed this. After we’ve figured out this curse thing, we’re definitely going to have to spend more time together.
As we make our way up the driveway we pass a string of fancy luxury cars. Some of Missy’s friends have decided to show up for the reception after all. Figures. Why bother with the sad funeral when you can party instead? Then I notice the shiny, vintage Lincoln. A pit forms in my stomach. Claude’s here. What a way to make the day go from bad to worse.
I point to the car. “Why do you think Claude’s here today?”
He shrugs. “Who knows? My dad’s probably mixing business with personal stuff. As usual.”
“I don’t like him.”
“My dad? Who does?”
I chuckle. “No, Claude. There’s something not right about him. And I think it goes beyond his museum investigation.” I’d say more, but I’m not sure Cooper’s ready to hear the full depth of my suspicions. Plus I don’t have any real proof.
“You’re just being protective of Miss Delia. But that’s what I love about you. You’re always thinking of everyone else.” He stops and cups my face in his palms, then plants a kiss on my lips. It’s nothing like that pathetic, robotic kiss he offered earlier at the gravesite. This time his soft lips yield to mine and send waves of tingles over my flesh. I reach my arms around his back and caress his broad muscles.
I suddenly realize we’re in the middle of the walkway that leads to the Big House, in full view of anyone who might look out one of the many front windows. Even though we’re dating, it’s probably not what a bunch of mourners are interested in seeing. I pull away slightly, just enough to break the kiss.
“Listen, we better save this for later. Someone might see us.”
He wipes my bottom lip with his thumb and smiles. “Who cares?” His half-veiled eyes are so gorgeous I can barely stand it.
“I don’t. But what about your dad or his guests?” I catch my breath.
“What about them? You’re my girl, Emmaline. If I want to kiss you in front of the whole state of South Carolina, I will.” He steps close and plants an even deeper, hotter kiss, causing my head to swoon and legs to wobble. His scent, a mix of fresh, piney deodorant and salty sea air envelops me, nearly dragging me under. I reach my arms around his neck and give in as his tongue grazes mine. Turning his head, he trails a line of kisses along my jaw, making his way to the soft spot just behind my ear. My skin sizzles with energy.
But then another strange sensation makes its way up from the nape of my neck, pricking my scalp as it makes its way to the crown. A deep sense of foreboding constricts my chest. Suddenly the pricks intensify until it feels as if a thousand needles are jabbing at my head. My eyes fly open.
Taneea’s standing in the window, staring at us, her arms crossed, and a scowl on her pink lips.
Talk about a buzzkill.
Feeling like I’ve been caught with a forbidden box of chocolates, I gasp, then unlock my hands from around his neck and step back. Which is totally ridiculous because he’s my boyfriend for cripes’ sake. We weren’t doing anything wrong. In fact, people in a relationship are supposed to kiss. Still I can’t shake the creeping sense that I’ve broken some sort of rule.
“What’s wrong?” Cooper gazes into my eyes.
“Nothing. Except Taneea’s watching us like some kind of perv.” I gesture to the window behind him.
“For real?” He turns his head to look at the window.
But Taneea must either be able to read his mind or know what’s coming because she loses the scowl and replaces it with a big, juicy, fake grin and waves like an idiot.
He holds his hand up and returns the gesture. “Can you two be nice?” he asks, under his breath and barely moves his lips. “Just for a little while?”
“Sure, so long as she stays out of my way.” I laugh.
Squeezing my hand, he pulls me toward the front porch steps. We climb them together, our legs in perfect tandem, then push open the double doors.
Once inside, I set all those mushy-gushy feelings aside and start scoping out for Claude. And, while I’m at it, for Taneea, too, if only to avoid whichever room she’s in. She’s not in the front parlor and the foyer is empty. The sounds of chatter and tinkling glass carry from the end of the hall. Everyone must be in the Great Room. Cooper and I follow the sound, our hands entwined, ready to get the last part of this day over with.
Beau’s reclined in the crook of a sofa, doing his best imitation of a grieving husband for the assembled guests who have formed a circle around him. His face is paler than normal and smattered with blotchy red spots. And his eyes are puffy, no doubt from the tears that are streaming down his cheeks. Reaching his plump hands to his eyes, he dabs at the fluid with an already soggy handkerchief. Under the pressure of his heavy fingers, his face sags, his flesh almost drooping and then snaps back when he withdraws his hand. Then he throws his head back and emits a mournful sob, his chest trembling as he sucks in a few breaths of air. But something catches in his throat and he starts to cough. Clutching his side, he rolls forward, spewing phlegm into his handkerchief.
One of Missy’s friends, a redhead in a green sundress and spindly heels, scampers to his aid. “Oh, Beau. I know this is hard on you.” She snatches a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table and thrusts them at him.
“Thanks, Darla. I just can’t believe my angel is gone.”
Darla wiggles around the table and plants herself next to him on the sofa. “There, there.” She reaches her ringless hand to pat his enormous arm.
Jack sides up to Cooper and me. “What the heck took you so long?” he says through clenched teeth, his lips fixed in a sugary smile. “Do you realize how long you’ve left me alone with Taneea? And Beau? Between the two of them, I was about to lose my mind.”
I lean toward him. “Sorry, but we had a couple things to work out.”
“Everything okay?” he asks me and Cooper.
Cooper smiles and smacks his arm with one of those quasi-guy hugs. “Yeah, bro. Everything’s great.” He glances at his supposedly grieving father. “How long has my dad been like this?”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Since the guests arrived. Just after Taneea and I helped set up the buffet and drinks.” He thumbs his fist toward the bar where my father stands ready to mix cocktails. Taneea’s talking to him, coiling a pink strand around her finger. She points to a few bottles on the bar behind him then giggles, no doubt asking if she can try some. Dad shakes his head. Based on the stone-cold expression on his face, he’s figured out her game. She won’t be getting any samples out of him. Awesome.
I scan the crowd, but aside from the Missy clones and their antique husbands, I only see Beau. “Where’s Claude?” I ask Jack.
He shakes his head. “I haven’t seen him. Why?”
“Because I thought I saw his car outside.”
He shakes his head. “Doubt it. I bet one of these geezers ha
s an old town car or something that looks similar.”
Taneea saunters up to us with a pink drink in her hand. “So I know it’s a funeral and all, but this party’s lame.” She takes a sip from the martini glass.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“A cosmo.”
I snort. “With alcohol?” I’d bet my pinkie toe my father didn’t pour her a drop.
She sighs. “The loser bartender doesn’t have the right vodka or Cointreau, so he left them out.” She draws another sip.
I nod. “Really? So then you’re saying my dad mixed you a cranberry juice with lime?” I’m surprised I even remember what goes into that drink, but I’ve helped my father at enough of Beau’s parties to have learned by osmosis.
She glares at me. “Yeah, I guess.” Glancing at Dad, she smirks. “So your father’s a gravesite helper and a bartender, too. How versatile.”
Jack’s head whirls around so fast, I’m afraid it’ll snap. “And he’s the caretaker, too. Got anything clever to say about that?”
She snorts. “I guess not.” Her attention drifts to the buffet. “I’m hungry. Want something, Cooper?”
“No thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite,” he says.
“Your loss.” Her lips part in a wicked grin as she turns toward the buffet and takes a step, but her espadrille catches on the rug and she wobbles, flailing her arms to keep her balance. Her cranberry juice mocktail splashes the front of my new sundress, its bright pink instantly staining the pale blue cotton. She squeals as she teeters toward the Oriental rug, but Cooper lunges forward, scooping her up before she face plants, then sets her straight.
I gape at the huge, clingy, pink stain that covers my abdomen and trickles down the skirt.
“Oh my gosh! Thanks, Cooper. Those muscles really do come in handy,” she gushes.
“Look what you did!” I gesture to the juice that somehow managed to land only on me. There isn’t even a drop on the carpet.
“Oh no!” Cooper races to the bar to grab some napkins. Jack follows.
