by Becki Willis
“How did it go?” he asked quietly.
“We put on a show worthy of an Oscar,” the older woman beamed. “I was so convincing, I started to believe it myself.”
“Let’s just hope someone else believes it, too. Someone who has been eavesdropping on conversations here in the house.”
“When you find out who it is, I hope you string ‘em up by their balls.”
Brash’s lips twitched with humor at the older woman’s candid choice of words. “Could be a woman, you know.”
She dismissed the notion immediately. “Too messy. A woman’s not going to do that with chicken guts.”
Brash considered her theory. “You might have a point.”
“Of course I have a point. And by the way, the kids are staying with friends tonight. Beth is over at your ex-wife’s.”
“That’s probably for the best,” he said. He looked down at Madison, still sound asleep. “I don’t know how much whiskey you put in her drink, but she is out like a light.”
“Doesn’t take much with that one. Never could hold her liquor.” Granny Bert pursed her lips, then announced, “Maybe you should stay the night. She seems to be pretty content in your arms.”
Brash looked up sharply. He had wanted to suggest it, but worried it might not be prudent. “You wouldn’t object?”
“I don’t want you to make a habit of it, mind you, but you’re both mature adults.”
“I can assure you, Granny Bert, I would never —”
“I know you wouldn’t.” She winked a wizened eye. “That’s why I’ll let you stay.”
The patrol car parked outside all night was easily explained; Brash was providing police protection. No one had to know that he spent the night inside Madison’s bedroom, sleeping there with her in her bed. For benefit of the cameras, Granny made some comment about him staying in Blake’s room.
He slept on top of the covers, fully clothed. He tucked the sheet over Madison and held her the whole night through, knowing he was making matters worse. How would he ever sleep again, without her in his arms?
Very early the next morning, Madison awoke with a groggy, “Brash? What are you doing here?”
“Shh, baby. Go back to sleep.”
She snuggled into his arms and smiled as she drifted back to sleep. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
***
Two hours later, she awoke again, finding him gone. She felt oddly bereft. There was a note tacked to his pillow.
‘Not the way I envisioned our first night together, but the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages. Stay home today and relax. I’ve got this.’
She touched the crease on the covers left by his big body. Her heart curled with tenderness.
For twenty years, she had been infatuated with the man. She suspected she might even be half in love with him.
But she was wrong.
She was fully immersed.
Chapter Sixteen
Madison spent the morning reading through Miss Juliet’s journals. The three she now had at home covered a range of years. Written in beautifully flowing script, the passages reminded Madison of the lost art of a handwritten letter. She felt oddly sad, seeing the articulated thoughts put onto paper by the woman’s own hand. Miss Juliet must have spent hours with her journals, recording her thoughts in solitary because she had so few friends.
One of the earliest journals started while Juliet still lived at home. Although it was interesting to read about life at the turn of the century, a large portion of the writings were dedicated to the rivalry between her and her sister. Page after page was filled with their petty differences. Madison skimmed over the entries, looking for mention of construction at the new house.
She found a few interesting entries near the end of the journal.
… Father is so good to me. Imagine! An entire town at my disposal! No more sharing milliners with my sister! Those petty women offer Naomi first choice on the latest Paris styles, all because she brings them treats. But no more. No more waiting for the train to carry me to civilization. No more living in the same house with Naomi’s temper tantrums. Father is generously building us each our own house in our very own town. I shall have mine constructed in the center of town, so that I might be surrounded with all the conveniences of modern day life.
…Clarence is simply brilliant! It was Clarence who first suggested we make alterations. Father brought the blueprints from Atlanta, but I abhor the thought of having the exact house as my sister. Clarence is full of wonderful ideas. A change here… a wall moved there… My home shall be unique.
…Clarence had the most delightful surprise waiting for me when I arrived today! First, he asked me to read a passage from The Manor. It was my favorite scene, the one in which Theodora slips into the secret passageway to escape Murdoch’s wrath. As I finished reading, Clarence gently pushed on a panel beside the fireplace, and — voila! The wall slid away, to reveal my very own secret passageway! What a thoughtful, delightful surprise my friend has given me.
Excitement surged through Madison’s veins. Progress, at last!
Yet who, exactly, was this Clarence? Madison searched back through the entries, trying to find first mention of the man.
… Father has hired a talented carpenter to erect my new home. His name is Clarence, and he has done work for Father before. He is actually Truman’s son, although the Fords did not raise him. I think there is a scandal in his past, but such things are not spoken of in polite society. Suffice it to say that Clarence is a loner, a quiet soul with thoughtful, brooding eyes. Yet he seems to be brilliant with a hammer and nails, and Father assures me he will do a fine job building my magnificent new home.
…Today I made a new but unlikely friend. As I so often do, I took a book with me when I visited the new house. I adore sitting beneath the sheltering arms of the trees in the front yard, dreaming of what my home and my town will look like when done. I have such plans for my new city! When I tire of plotting streets and neat city blocks, I often read. I was doing so today when Clarence, the carpenter, stopped to greet me.
… We have only conversed on matters concerning the house, but I saw no harm in engaging in a light conversation with the man. He seemed genuinely interested when he asked what I was reading. I found myself sharing the plotline of my newest book, the exciting new mystery novel The Manor. I saw the spark of interest flare in his eyes. I do believe the man enjoys a good mystery as much as I do! Before I quite knew what was happening, he asked me to read the story aloud to him, while he worked on properly aligning an inner wall. He listened with rapt attention and absorbed the story with a sharp mind and eager ear. He may only be a carpenter, and in essence my employee, but by the end of the chapter, I knew Clarence Ford had become my new literary friend.
There were a few more scattered entries concerning Juliet’s unlikely friendship with the carpenter. Madison discovered that while Juliet Randolph may have been a social snob, she had a different scale of equality for those sharing her love of reading. Intellectually, she considered the man her equal. Madison had no sense of a budding romance between the two, merely shared appreciation for a well-crafted story.
The other journals were not sequential, skipping ahead to later years in the heiress’ life. Madison skimmed through them, but found nothing of particular interest.
She needed the journal written immediately after this one, but she had no way of getting down to the station to retrieve it. Her car had already been hauled away for repair, and Granny Bert was out running errands in the Buick.
Oh, darn. Guess I’ll have to call Brash. She reached for her phone and dialed the number with a little rush of anticipation.
He answered with a brusque, “deCordova.”
Her anticipation shriveled like a popped balloon. “Oh, sorry. Bad timing?”
She heard his weary sigh and imagined him rubbing his neck in frustration. “You might say that. Schimanski made a drug bust last night. Turned out to be a pretty big
stash.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Good that it’s off the street, bad that we’re no closer to finding the source. Drug labs are popping up all over the county, worse than weeds. I have a feeling this one is close by.”
“I can call back.”
“Nah, I can use the break. What’s up?”
“Are you still coming over tonight for the ‘premiere’?” He could not see the air quotes she put around the word, but he heard the slightly scornful note in her voice.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Megan even made brownies for the occasion.”
“Think you could smuggle me in some more reading material?”
“Uhm, yeah, sure.”
“I need a specific one. I found a few promising entries, but the journal ended in early 1915, when the house was first being built.”
She heard him sigh again. “I’ll try to find the next one in the sequence, but I’m not promising anything. I have a full day if I want to be out of here in time for the show.”
“If not, it’s okay.” She tried to sound more genuine than she felt.
“I’ll do my best, Maddy.”
This time the smile in her voice was real. “I know you will, Brash. I’ll let you get back to work. See you tonight.”
“Can’t wait.”
***
They made a party of the premiere.
What started as an intimate group quickly mushroomed into forty or so of their closest friends and relatives gathering at Granny Bert’s to watch the first official episode of Home Again: Starting Over.
One of the stipulations for taking the cameras down was that the plug was pulled after tonight’s event; Amanda wanted to record everyone’s first impressions of seeing themselves on television. Tomorrow, the feeds would halt temporarily, until Brash was satisfied his investigation was not being compromised.
So tonight the cameras rolled, capturing the party and its well-dressed attendees. It amazed Madison how everyone primped for the camera, including her great-uncle Jubal; he broke out a new pair of overalls for the occasion, complete with a bright red shirt that still sported factory creases.
“Hurry up, Mom, it’s almost time!” Bethani tugged on her mother’s hand as Madison put out another bowl of dip. Even though everyone had pitched in and brought a dish, the food was disappearing at an astonishing rate.
“I need to put out this last tray of meats,” Madison protested as she turned back to the refrigerator.
“Here, I’ll take that.” The police chief appeared out of nowhere, swooping in to take the heavy tray from her mother’s hands.
Megan hadn’t mentioned it again, but Bethani could not forget her friend’s claim that their parents were into each other. She watched them now, trying to read their body language. Mr. de certainly stood closer to her mom than necessary. His fingers brushed hers as he took the tray. And was her mom blushing? What was that look that passed between them?
She had to act fast, before this thing got out of control. “Come on, Mom, I saved us a spot on the couch.” Bethani grabbed her mother’s arm and pulled her from the kitchen.
They wove their way through the crowded living room, to their place of honor on the sofa. Blake squeezed in between his sister and Granny Bert. “Come on, Aunt Genny. You, too.”
“Yes, Genesis,” Madison insisted, her pointed gaze seeking out her friend. “You’re as much responsible for this as Granny Bert.”
Cutter nudged Genny’s arm and muttered, “Somehow, I don’t think that’s a compliment. Better get up there before she demands blood.”
The five of them lined up on the couch as the intro began to play. Nestled between Genny and Bethani, Madison grabbed a hand from either side and squeezed. She felt inexplicably nervous. This was their life, about to be broadcast before a national television audience. After the success of the pilot teaser, this first full-fledged episode was sure to draw millions of eyes. Was she ready for this?
If she wasn’t, it was too late now. Her face flashed across the screen, set in a particularly poignant expression.
The next two hours were painful, almost physically so. Madison had to give Amanda Hooper credit: the producer certainly knew how to weave a powerful story. She played up Madison’s sad past as a recent widow. Hinted heavily at her dire financial status. Twisted just enough key elements and rearranged just enough facts to portray Madison as little less than a saint, trying to provide a home for her poor children while preserving the pride and joy of the town, the aged old mansion on Main. According to the narrator, Madison had reached out to Home Again as a last resort, determined to do whatever needed to save the historical landmark and her family’s future.
They even had a few unflattering clips of her to prove it. One caught her at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of her finances. The despair was clear upon her face. Another clip was from the day she hobbled in from Hank Adams’ place, arms full of paraphernalia, one boot missing, hair disheveled and strewn with bits of leaves and twigs. Still another caught her in grubby clothes, cleaning out a closet at the Big House and hardly looking her best.
The final straw was an out-of-text clip of her and Nick. Madison remembered the day it was taken. They were discussing replacing the fretwork on the porches and as she stepped over a pile of rubble, she stumbled and almost fell. Nick had been there to catch her and help her stand upright. The clip omitted the rubble and showed her leaning into him, his arm tucked around her waist. The narrator mentioned something about new possibilities. Verbally, it was a reference to the trim, but Madison knew the visual clip was hardly random.
As the room broke out in chuckles and good-natured heckling, Madison stole a glance at Brash. He stared at the television screen as a nerve jumped in his clenched jaw. Beside her, Bethani bumped her shoulder and teased in a voice just a bit too loud, “Oooh, Mom, you go, girl! He’s hot!”
At the next commercial break, Madison murmured something about needing a sip of water and picked her way into the kitchen. She mingled along the way, laughing with friends over her newfound stardom and asking if anyone needed more to eat or drink. As the show came back on and all eyes returned to the screen, Madison quietly slipped out the back door.
There was a far corner of the backyard where the cameras did not reach. Madison headed straight for it, needing a few moments of obscurity.
Brash found her there, swaying on the old swing that dangled from a weathered A-frame. “Room for two?” he asked quietly.
It was a tight fit, but she had no complaints. She leaned into his strength, pulling the masculine scent of his cologne into her lungs.
After a moment, he tried consoling her with a half-hearted, “It’s not so bad.”
“It’s not so good, either.” Her voice sounded glum.
“Actually, I think it’s pretty good. Amanda has a flair for storytelling.”
Madison blew out a long breath. “If it wasn’t my story, I might be inclined to agree. But that’s me up there, Brash. That’s my life. Some of the things she showed, some of the details she shared… those were personal. Not something I wanted a million or so people to know about. Like you said, so much for our opt-out agreement.”
“All in all, you seem to be taking it rather well.”
She lifted the shoulder that wasn’t tucked beneath his. “What can I do? I agreed to this mess. The damage has already been done. I just have to find a way to deal with the humiliation of having my family secrets aired on public television.”
“It really wasn’t that bad, sweetheart.”
“We’ll know tomorrow, if Jerry Springer calls for an interview.”
He chuckled at her wry attempt at humor.
“Brash, about that shot of Nick and me… It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“You mean that wasn’t really a gleam in his eye? He wasn’t leering at you like a wolf leers at a lost sheep?”
Madison scowled. “Leer? Really?”
“What else would you call that look?” he
sulked.
“I nearly fell over a pile of lumber. We were both startled.”
“He sure seemed eager to help you.”
Madison put her hand onto his chest. “Brash,” she said softly. “We only have a few moments, alone out here with no cameras and no party. Do you really want to spend it talking about Nick?”
He immediately saw her logic. “I don’t want to spend it talking, at all.”
The kisses were just turning interesting when the kitchen door creaked open and a patch of light spilled out into the darkness. Well beyond its splash of illumination, Brash was slow to release her from his arms.
“Maybe they’ll go away,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Mom? Are you out here?”
Hearing her daughter’s voice, Maddy pulled away guiltily. Nothing like getting caught necking, particularly by your own child.
“Y-Yes, honey?” Maddy reached up to wipe Brash’s face clean of any trace evidence. He caught her finger in his mouth and gently suckled, sending fire throughout her veins.
“The show is nearly over. Are you coming back?”
She much preferred the show out here, but she could hardly say so. “Sure, honey. Be right there.” Maddy pressed a kiss onto Brash’s lips. “We’ll continue this later,” she promised on a whisper. “You coming?”
“Not yet.”
Maddy smoothed her clothes and tried straightening her hair as she crossed the darkened yard to where her daughter waited. “Did I miss anything good?” She tried to sound more enthusiastic than she felt.
“They showed some pictures of the Big House back in the day, and interviewed a few of the old-timers. Granny Bert put on quite a show.”
“I’m sure she did,” Madison laughed. “I’ll watch the recorded version later.”
Bethani peered out into the darkness. “I thought I saw Mr. de come out here.”
Trying to sound casual, Madison forced another laugh. “There’s so many people in that house, how can you keep track of them all? Come on, let’s go catch the end of the show. Did they show that segment of you and Megan practicing your cheerleading?”