Stipulations and Complications

by Becki Willis

  A news crew conducted interviews under the bleachers. They snagged people as they went to the concession stand to get their cheese nachos and overpriced soft drinks, speaking with anyone willing to share their version of local legend. The team from Ghost Buffers handed out stickers and ghost-figure balloons, along with advice on how to best protect people’s home from ghostly infestations. A preliminary assessment was only $49.95, but if the home team won today, they were offering a one-time discount of twenty dollars off. Another camera from Home Again took it all in, gathering plenty of footage for their ongoing background story.

  Overall, there was a festive spirit in the air, more like that of a carnival than of a high school baseball game.

  Perfect, Madison bemoaned silently as she went to her car. My life has become a carnival sideshow. She pretended not to notice Myrna Lewis waving at her with a fake smile plastered across her round face. The woman never came to games, and she was never friendly to Madison. Funny, how the chance to be on television could change all that.

  “At least we won. And Blake made two homeruns, right there on camera,” she muttered aloud. Glimpsing Sadie Bealls getting into her truck, Madison’s lips dipped downward. “Not that it will make the cut. I’m sure they’ll be much more interested in how Sadie once saw a ghost float through the window of the Big House, right as she was driving down Main Street. My son played brilliantly, but that won’t make the news. No, sir, not when they have some really juicy news, like the time Dolly Mac Crowder was having tea with Miss Juliet and saw a saucer float through the air. That, I’m sure, will make the headlines.”

  When her phone binged with a message, she saw a link to another news story that ran this morning on a Dallas station. After mentioning the ghosts, the commentator rehashed discovery of the skeleton, and showed an unflattering picture of Madison from that day, huddled beneath the old pecan tree, her face pale as death itself. He went on to mention that she was the widow of Dallas’ own Grayson Reynolds. Viewers might remember the investigation that surrounded Reynolds Investments and his sudden death last November in an automobile accident.

  “It was so kind of everyone to send me the link,” Madison grumbled, erasing the message with a jab of her finger. “This is only the fifth person to do so. Not a single one of them bothered to call after I left Dallas, yet they all are sweet enough to send me this link. So thoughtful.”

  By the time she wove through traffic and pulled onto the road, Madison’s nerves coiled into a tight knot. Her plan was to go home, open that bottle of wine, and have a nice, quiet evening to herself. No phones and no television. The twins were both spending the night with friends and Granny had Bingo. With any luck, she might salvage what was left of the day.

  The dream of a peaceful evening died a quick and sudden death as her phone rang. When she saw the caller ID flash across the screen, she took it as an omen.

  “Mother Reynolds, what a surprise.”

  Her mother-in-law had not called in weeks. If she put her mind to it, Madison could probably count on one hand the total times Annette had called since Gray’s death. Two hands would cover the past twenty-four months. Which suited her just fine.

  Madison’s relationship with her mother-in-law had always been strained. Annette Reynolds had lofty plans for her only son, and they had not included a headstrong college girl with no pedigree. Much to her dismay, Grayson married the girl and brought her home to Dallas, where Annette was forced to act the proper mother-in-law. She dutifully included Madison in family events. Made certain she was in the highly commissioned family portrait. Introduced her to the cream of Dallas elite and secured her placement into all the social clubs and organizations. Bought her expensive gifts at Christmas and on her birthday. But the one thing Annette never quite mastered was the way her lip curled downward, each time Madison referred to her as ‘mother.’ And from the wedding day forward, anything that went wrong had been ruled Madison’s fault.

  Not bothering with niceties now, Annette charged into the reason for her call. Her tone was accusing. “Is it true? I’m hearing sordid reports about you being on television!”

  Not certain if her horror related to the ghost sightings or the scandalous fact that her daughter-in-law was the star of a reality show, Madison hedged. “Oh? What exactly have you heard?”

  “Why, it’s all over the Dallas stations. You have been implicated in some sort of murder mystery, and it is hardly the first time! You have only been there four months, Madison, and apparently, this is the third scandal you’ve been involved in. What sort of environment have you taken my grandchildren into?”

  “And we’re all doing fine, Annette, thanks for asking.”

  “You do not have to be snide, Madison. It hardly becomes you.”

  Madison could picture her mother-in-law, sitting on one of her plush designer sofas, most likely in the salon, as she preferred to call the pretentious room. Perfectly coiffed hair, tinted a flattering shade of pale gold, sprinkled with just enough silver frosting to look natural. Impeccable makeup. A neat and stylish wardrobe. Madison could also envision that sharp patrician nose undoubtedly stuck into the air. Even now, the disdainful sniff carried over the airwaves.

  “And you have not answered my question. It is bad enough that you took the children away from us and everything that was dear and familiar to them. Their home. Their friends. Their school. You dragged them to the ends of the Earth, to some backwoods town in the middle of a cotton field, and now I am learning that there is a decided criminal element there, with which you are apparently quite familiar! I must insist that you bring the children back immediately. They can live here at Ivy Hall.”

  She was spoiling for a fight. That was the only explanation for the haze of red appearing before Madison’s eyes. After a stressful week filled with pranks and ghosts and elusive journals, a ridiculous day filled with posturing fans and phony friends and pushy reporters, and a long history of snide remarks and ridicule from a woman who presumptuously named her four-thousand-square-foot home Ivy Hall, Madison was primed for a fight.

  Maddy whipped the car onto the side of the road. She ignored the car behind her. Let them blare the horn. She shoved the gearshift into park and prepared for battle.

  Out of respect for her husband, Madison had never confronted Gray’s mother head-on. She stood up to the other woman in her own quiet, dignified way, admittedly allowing small matters to slide in the name of family unity. Throughout the course of her marriage, Madison had learned to choose her battles wisely.

  But Gray was gone. There was no family unity left.

  And, yes, she was spoiling for a fight.

  Madison kept her voice deceptively cool and steady. “First of all, Annette, I did not take the children away from their home. The bank threatened to do that, when your son failed to make the mortgage payments on time. I was fortunate to get out from under the staggering debt he left me with, even though I sold our home at a loss.” The coolness sharpened into frost. “You remember the house, don’t you, Annette? I wanted the smaller, more affordable one in another neighborhood, but you insisted we needed a house befitting Gray’s status as an up and coming ‘mover and shaker,’ I believe you called him.”

  “Grayson was a brilliant businessman. The markets turned on him, but he would have seen his way out of the slump. I’m certain it was only temporary. And he chose that house, not me. I merely put him in touch with my agent.”

  “We both know you pushed him into buying it, Annette. Not that it mattered in the long run. The children and I were forced to leave Dallas because your son left us penniless when he died. I brought them back to my hometown, where we would be surrounded by true friends and family. Yes, it is a small town, but I prefer the word quaint over backwoods. And it’s hardly the ends of the Earth. We are three hours from Dallas, Annette, not that you have bothered to visit. And by the way, I’m not the one living in a gated community, locked away with alarms and deadbolts because I don’t trust my own neighbors.”

&
nbsp; “I have some of the finest neighbors in the city,” Annette sniffed. “Pillars of the community. Lawyers. Judges. A Congressman. Highly respected business people.”

  “And I live in the same house as the former mayor of Juliet, a pillar of our community.”

  “Hardly the same caliber of people,” Annette intoned stiffly.

  Even though her mother-in-law could not see her, Madison smiled. “I agree wholeheartedly. There are few people in this world with the honesty and integrity of my grandmother.”

  Annette ignored the comment and continued with the tenacity of a bulldog. “Dead bodies, Madison? Ghosts? Whatever have you gotten yourself involved with? Are my grandchildren in danger?”

  “Of course not, Annette. I would never let anything happen to them, and you know it.”

  “And yet you somehow think it is acceptable to parade them across national television?” Her voice dripped with drollness. “A reality show, Madison? Whatever were you thinking?”

  Ah, she should have known. Annette disguised the reason for her call as concern, but the truth was that she was appalled to have members of her family associated with something as tawdry and undignified as a reality television show. As if what your son did was dignified, Madison snorted to herself.

  Her voice was amazingly calm as she replied to her mother-in-law. “I was thinking that I needed to provide for my children, since your son did such a poor job in that department. Did you know our new home is larger than yours, Annette? A historical landmark, in fact. It’s being completely renovated and restored, at absolutely no cost to me.”

  “There is always a cost, Madison. I think your children’s safety is far too high of a price, don’t you?”

  “If you are implying that I have put the twins at risk by being on television—”

  “I am not implying anything. I am saying it outright. There are vile sex offenders in the world, Madison. Pedophiles. And yet you choose to parade your innocent children in front of them, right there on the television screen for the entire world to ogle. Charles and I will not stand for it. I insist that you end this ridiculous nonsense this instant.”

  Her control began to slip. Madison’s voice wavered ever so slightly, anger causing her growled words to tremble. “You and Charles have no say-so in the matter.”

  “I believe a judge may see things differently.”

  Madison clutched the steering wheel with enough force to turn her knuckles white. The blood draining from her face surged sure and strong throughout her flushed body.

  “Are you threatening me, Annette?”

  “Of course not, Madison. I am merely expressing concern for my grandchildren. Naturally, Charles and I want what is best for them. We happen to believe that we could provide a much more stable and secure environment than the one they currently live in. I urge you to allow the children to come live with us, in the manner in which they are accustomed.”

  “My children have always lived in a home filled with love and warmth. That is the manner in which Blake and Bethani are accustomed.”

  “You must consider what is best for them.”

  “I always consider what is best for my children.”

  “Charles and I can provide for their needs, Madison. If they have fallen behind in their studies, we can hire private tutors. They will be up to task in no time. I’m certain we could use our influence and have them accepted into Wiltshire Academy.”

  Madison’s lip curled in distaste. “And I’m sure you would hire a five-star chef to prepare their meals and a maid to prepare their rooms and a chauffeur to drive them back and forth to their fancy school.” Her voice took on a hard edge. “Allowing employees to raise your children may have been good enough for you, Annette, but it’s not good enough for me, and it’s certainly not good enough for my children. They deserve better. They deserve home-cooked meals and a mother who is there for them.” Feeling particularly malicious, Madison hit below the belt. “Having had neither himself, that was something Gray insisted upon when we started our family.”

  After a sharp intake of breath, Annette repeated, “Consider what is best for the children, Madison. You are practically living in squalor, and now you have sold your soul to national television. Why, you might as well have prostituted yourself!”

  The haze of red thickened. It’s true what they say. The vague thought registered somewhere in her rage-filled mind. I can literally feel my blood boiling. Lordy, I hope I don’t have a heart attack, right here on the side of the road.

  Madison chose to ignore the inflammatory remark. She could have said something like ‘Your son might have preferred that. Perhaps then he would not have cheated on me.’ It might even have been true, but she refused to dignify the horrendous insult with a reply. Instead, she concentrated on what was important: Bethani and Blake. Madison’s voice trembled with the rage that built inside her.

  “The children have names, Annette. Not once during this conversation have you referred to them by name. Not once have you asked how they were doing, how they are adjusting without a father. That’s because they are nothing more to you than a possession, something pretty to set upon a shelf and look at once in a while, something to show off to your friends and neighbors while you play at being a grandmother.” Madison stopped to pull in deep, ragged breaths, as spent as if she had fought a physical match.

  “Why you —”

  Accustomed to having the upper hand, Madison knew her mother-in-law could not abide dismissal. That knowledge became her most powerful weapon. Before the other woman could launch a counter-attack, Madison delivered her final punch.

  “Goodbye, Annette.” Madison ended the call with a decisive click.

  She sat on the side of the road for a long moment, knowing she was unfit to drive. She tried deep breathing techniques. She tried counting to ten. Fifty. She tried running her hands through her hair until it spiked it all directions. She tried massaging her neck and tense shoulders. Her hands still trembled on the wheel.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, she picked up her phone and made a call.

  “Hello?”

  The deep voice warmed her. She spoke quickly, before she lost her nerve. “Does your offer still stand?”

  “Offer?”

  “You once offered me use of your thinking spot. Does the offer still stand?”

  He countered with a question of his own. “Have you had supper?”

  “It’s barely five o’clock. Why are you asking me about supper?”

  “Have you or have you not eaten this evening?”

  “No, Brash, I haven’t eaten,” she replied testily.

  She heard the smile infuse his deep voice. “I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes. And don’t spoil your appetite.”

  “Brash, what does —”

  “Details, Maddy. Let me take care of the details.”

  Details.

  A smile touched her lips. She liked details.

  Chapter Eleven

  She refused to acknowledge her sudden change of mood. Her nerves were calmer now, calm enough to drive herself home, where she changed from her slacks and sweater set into something more suitable for the outdoors. Sliding into her borrowed boots, a pair of soft jeans, and a simple cotton shirt, she grabbed a light jacket in case the evening turned chilly. Resisting the urge to re-apply her makeup — this wasn’t a date, after all — she ran a comb through her sassy new haircut, added a low-luster gloss to her lips, and waited nervously for Brash to arrive.

  Had she acted in haste? He might misinterpret her call. What if Brash thought this meant she was ready to start a relationship with him? Perhaps she had not stopped to think this through.

  Perhaps, she grudgingly admitted, that is the point. I didn’t stop to think.

  Determined not to overthink things now, Madison met him at the curb, away from the prying eyes of the camera. Best not to get this on film, after all. She slipped into the truck before it came to a full stop.

  “I’d like to think you’re eager
to see me,” the police chief said, his dark eyes twinkling with wry humor. “But judging from the worry lines, I’d say it’s been a rough day and you’re just using me as a means of escape.”

  As she struggled for an appropriate comeback, he gave a lighthearted laugh. “I’m just kidding, Maddy. I figure if anyone deserves an escape, it’s you. I’m honored you chose me as your partner in crime, so to speak.”

  She started to warn him not to read too much into her call, but she wisely bit her tongue. Besides, her curiosity was piqued. “You mentioned supper?”

  “Ah, so you’re hungry,” he teased. “That’s why you jumped in while the truck was still moving. If you absolutely can’t wait, there’s an energy bar in the console.”

  A note of impatience slipped into her voice. She was hardly in the mood for his teasing. “What, exactly, am I waiting for?”

  “Well, neither of us have had supper yet, so I figured we could have a bite to eat while we’re solving all your problems through my highly scientific method.”

  “I’m not dressed for dinner.” She glanced down at her faded jeans in dismay. If she had known this was to be their first date, she would have made more effort with her wardrobe. And she definitely would have touched up her makeup.

  “Don’t worry, you look as beautiful as ever.” His brown eyes caressed her, warming her with their sincerity. “And as far as I know, there’s no dress code for a picnic.”

  A goofy grin took over her face. “A picnic?”