Trouble In Bloom (20 page)

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Authors: Heather Webber

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My mother said, "She's had that same style for as long as she's been on
Hitched or Ditched
."

"It'll come to me," Maria said.

And it would. She had a talent for remembering faces.

Ana held her fingers to her lips. "Shh! I can't hear Carson ."

Coochie-cooing noises came from the kitchen—Tam obviously having a conversation with Nic. Well, I hoped it was Nic. If it was Ian she was talking to like that, then I'd be worried.

My mother sipped her drink. "I give her till midnight."

"Who? Nic?"

"Tam."

"Shhh!" Ana glared.

Brickhouse nodded. "I say one."

"That long, Ursula?" My mother tsked.

Maria snapped open her Chanel handbag. "I've got five dollars that says, oh, four-thirty."

Brickhouse reached for her tote, my mother for her Louis Vuitton. Ana pulled a five from the depths of her cleavage, and without ever taking her eyes off the TV, passed it behind her and said, "Three."

My mother looked at me just as Tam paced by the kitchen doorway. The light from the TV caught the tears in her eyes. "Closest without going over?"

Everyone nodded.

"Eleven," I said, knee-walking to my backpack on the table near the door.

"But it's ten-thirty now," Brickhouse felt the need to point out.

"I'm aware." I pulled a five out of my wallet just as Tam came back into the living room.

"I think she misses me," Tam said. "Ian says she's okay, but I don't know. There was something in her voice when I spoke with her."

We all nodded, though I personally thought she might have had a little too much to drink.

"Maybe I should go home," Tam said, dropping onto the fl oor.

My mother, dressed in silk pajamas, easily slid across the sleeping bags and wrapped an arm around Tam. "It's okay,
chérie
. Why don't you give it a little time." She caught my eye, winked. "At least another hour or so."

"Or two!" Brickhouse shouted.

"Or four!" Ana threw over her shoulder.

Tam's eyebrows dipped. "What's going on?"

"A little pool." I tossed my money at my mother, who glowered at me for telling.

Tam threw her head back and laughed. "This is just what I needed," she said. She dug around in her canvas bag and pulled out a five dollar bill. "I take six A.M. By then I'll be able to get home in time to say good morning to Nic when she wakes up."

"See what you did," my mother said to me. "I'd have won that bet."

Brickhouse clucked. "Not likely."

Maria yawned. She wore one of those long fl owing Mommy Dearest peignoirs, with the feathers along the bottom hem and the high heel slippers. A sleep mask sat atop her head. "Do you have a vacuum?"

I eyed the popcorn bits on the floor. "Since when do you do housekeeping?"

"It's for my bed."

"Bed?"

Brickhouse smirked, and nodded to the box in the corner. It was one of those inflatable mattresses. Queen size.

"And could you fill it up for me?" Maria batted her eyelashes.

That would be no. Oooh—my new self could even withstand Maria. That alone made the process worth it.

Ana turned off the TV. "Maybe I'll call Andy the tech at the M.E.'s office tomorrow morning, see what he knows about Thad's death."

My mother rose. "I'm going to need another pitcher of margaritas if she's going to keep talking about dead bodies."

Tam leaned back on her pillow, set her travel alarm clock. "Easiest money I'll ever make."

"Oh," my mother said. "The construction foreman called. He won't be able to make it tomorrow."

I groaned. It figured. I finally got rid of the picketers, and now the construction guys were going to be a no-show.

"Someone put on the movie," Brickhouse said.

"Movie?" I asked.

Maria sighed. "
Love Story."

I wondered if Mr. Cabrera would mind if I bunked on his couch.

I couldn't sleep.

Between Brickhouse's and my mother's snoring, Maria's tossing and turning on her squeaky inflatable mattress, and Tam getting up every half hour to call home, I'd maybe dozed five minutes.

I blinked to clear my vision. The digital readout on the VCR told me it was 3:53 A.M.

My head swam with information. As much as I'd tried to drown it out with the margaritas, it floated there on the edge of my consciousness.

Neither Thad's nor Genevieve's deaths were any of my business. It was happenstance that I'd been thrown into the situation, bad luck that I'd stumbled on the two of them in the bathroom, and Willie and Sherry in each other's arms.

However, as I lay there, staring at the hole in my ceiling, I couldn't help going over everything again, the events that had happened in the last couple of days.

First the death threats, then the death of Genevieve, then Thad.

If I looked from the outside in, and asked who gained from their deaths, there was no clear answer.

If Willie was the murderer, what did he gain? His freedom, sure. Maybe even revenge. But he lost so much more. Genevieve was the ink in his network deal.

If Sherry killed them, what did she gain? The same as Willie, I supposed. But she also lost her meal ticket. I couldn't imagine that Thad made much money on HoD— his star was just rising, fame and fortune within his grasp.

But now Willie and Sherry had each other. Maybe that was the ultimate gain. Not money. Or fame. Or fortune. Or the show. Love.

Had they plotted and planned their spouses' deaths?

I couldn't forget about Thad and his apparent suicide. If

he'd committed suicide, why? Out of guilt? Had he killed Genevieve? A lover's spat gone wrong? Or did he kill himself out of despair? Over losing her and possibly his job?

The sound of a big truck outside filtered through the quiet night. I sat up as the engine idled, then shut off.

People were rarely out and about at that time of night in the Mill. I bit back a groan as I climbed out of my sleeping bag.

Outside, a car door closed.

Muscles ached as I peeked out the window. My stomach immediately knotted.

Rushing to the door, I pulled it open and slipped out.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Kit, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the cold. BeBe slurped my hand. Her tail slammed against my orange mums, sending petals fl ying.

"You said if I needed anything to let you know. I need a place to stay. Can't find a hotel that'll take BeBe."

"You can take Riley's room."

"I can't—"

"He's not home."

"On a school night?"

"You'll see why soon enough."

BeBe followed obediently as we walked up the front steps.

"Is that Tam's car?"

"Yep."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yep." I pushed open the front door. Light spilled across the living room fl oor.

"Good God. Maybe I should just sleep in the truck."

"Nonsense," I whispered. "You're more than welcome here."

BeBe was in sniffing heaven. She licked Maria's toes, and I heard her mumble Nate's name.

I shuddered. Too much information.

"What's on her face?" Kit asked.

"Sleep mask. Keeps the light out."

"Oh."

Kit and BeBe followed me up the stairs. I hoped Kit didn't notice how slowly I was taking them. BeBe slipped a few times on the hardwood but finally made it up. "Let me change the sheets."

"I'll do it."

"You sure?"

He nodded. I popped open the linen closet, pulled out a clean set of sheets. "Towels are in here too," I said.

"All right."

"You okay?" I asked.

"Been better."

I didn't know what to say to that. "Need to talk?"

"Nope." He had tomorrow off, and I hoped he slept in.

My heart breaking for him, I sighed. "You sure you don't want to talk?"

"Not yet."

I backed out the door. "Good night, then."

"Oh, Nina?"

"Yeah?"

"I might need to stay here for a few days while I find a place."

"Stay as long as you need, Kit."

I crept back down the stairs, wincing with each step. Tam was slipping into her jeans. "Is he okay?" she asked me.

"I guess. Doesn't want to talk about it."

My mother's snores filled the room. I motioned to the kitchen. "I heard him fighting with Daisy at Lowther House yesterday. About her doing something dangerous."

I filled Tam in while I rooted around for something to eat. I settled on a low-carb granola bar.

Tam read the wrapper. "What's up with you?"

"What?"

"Low-carb? Ursula says you've been drinking coffee,

Ana says you haven't been sleeping with Bobby, your mother says you're on a diet, and Mr. Cabrera says he heard you listening to country music."

"Chatty bunch."

"They're worried."

"I'm fine. Just trying new things." I glanced at her jeans. "Leaving?"

"Yeah. I miss them. Is that sappy?"

"Completely." I gave her a hug.

"You know this means Maria wins the bet. We'll never hear the end of it."

I smiled. "She won't gloat for long once she finds out BeBe was licking her toes."

She smiled, then the corners of her lips turned down, into a frown. "There were supposed to be six of us here tonight, Nina."

"Six?" I polished off the granola bar.

"Deanna."

I choked. Tam whumped my back.

"I spoke with her today," she said once I could breathe again.

I wiped down the already clean countertop. "Oh?"

"Listen. She was convinced you were letting her go. She made up that interview at The Grass Is Always Greener."

"So she says."

"I called over there and checked it out."

"Sometimes it's scary how thorough you are."

"Nina . . . "

"Why would she make it up?"

"She's young, foolish. And would like a second chance."

"I don't know, Tam."

"I saw someone on TV recently who said she believes in second chances."

Pulling in a deep breath, I said, "Okay. I'll talk to her."

Tam beamed. "I'll call her first thing."

"Don't have her come in first thing, though. I have to deal with the whole missing diamond ring situation first."

"Diamond ring?" Tam asked. "From Lowther House?"

Nodding, I draped the dish towel over the bar of the oven.

Tam whistled low. "The new guy?"

I shrugged. "Don't know."

"The police interview him yet?"

"The police weren't called."

Her eyebrows dipped, her shoulders straightened. "What? Why not?"

"I'm not sure. I meet with Pippi at eight. Maybe she'll have some answers for me."

And hopefully not leave me with more questions.

Eighteen

"This just came for you." Brickhouse handed me a FedEx package.

"Thanks," I said.

She shifted on her feet. "How's Kit?"

"I don't know."

"I'm going to kill that Daisy with my bare hands."

"I'll help."

Smiling, she clucked. I don't know how she did both at the same time, but she managed.

"Do you think he knows how much we care?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "We? Are you going soft on me, Mrs. Krauss?"

"Never."

"That's what I thought. But yes, I think he knows. I hope he knows." I peered up at her. "Maybe we should tell him?"

"He probably wouldn't take too well to that."

"You're right. His bald head would get all red."

"He'd stammer."

"Glare."

"Bolt," we said at the same time.

"We'll keep it between us," I said.

"Deal."

The chimes on the front door rang out. "Pip's here," Brickhouse whispered over her shoulder.

"Give me a few minutes."

She closed the door on the way out.

I ripped open the FedEx package. Inside was a document from the legal department at
Hitched or Ditched
, releasing me from my contract.

The episodes featuring me and Bobby, Mario and Perry, would never again see the light of day. It was as if the show was trying to erase this week from its memory.

Can't say I blamed them.

Glancing down, I looked at my schedule for the day, and wondered about my appointment with Sherry. I crossed it off. There was no way she was going to keep it, if she even remembered she had one after all that had happened.

I set my new handbag on my desk. My mother had given it to me this morning before I left for work. My backpack had disappeared sometime during the night.

It was a nice bag, Coach, but it didn't feel right.

I flipped the flap, pulled out my cell phone, checked the readout.

Bobby hadn't called since the last time I'd checked it.

I jumped in surprise as it suddenly rang in my hand. I ground my teeth at the strains of "Like a Virgin." Today while I was at the mall with Perry, I would find someone to change that tune.

I recognized Kevin's cell number and answered, trying to sound peppier than I felt. "Good morning."

"What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" I was worried sick about Bobby, but Kevin didn't need to know that.

"You're never chipper in the morning."

"Maybe I'm just happy to hear from you."

He laughed. "Now I know something's wrong."

Really, what wasn't? My life was a mess. "I'm okay."

"Does this have anything to do with that reality show?"

Most, but not all. "Nope."

"Then I don't suppose you want to know what I found out about the case?"