Southern Spinster (Frostville Book 2)

by Cassie Mae

  She couldn’t possibly answer that, even if she tried. Somehow things had gotten scrambled, pain and embarrassment mixing together in a concoction that left a sour taste on her tongue. The thought of facing either man in the morning had her itching to run straight into the damp night.

  “I…” she started, her breath hitching. “I think I wanna go home.”

  Will’s brows shot upward, and Maybelle slammed her eyes shut and took a breath. Home sounded so safe; it was a place where she was the one left in pain, not the one inflicting it. She could handle that. She could handle being the person on the side of rejection.

  Her back straightened, and her jaw clicked into place. “Yes. I think it’s time to go home.”

  She made a beeline for her room, not hesitating to hoist one of her many suitcases up on the bed and flipping open the lid. Monday, Tuesday, and her backup outfit was already stuffed into place by the time her brother made his way into the room after her.

  “Wait, Bells—”

  “If you want, I’ll say it,” she said, grabbing a pair of stockings from the dresser drawer. “I’ll say it, even though it’ll kill me. You were right.” She felt a sniffle coming on, and she shoved it in her suitcase alongside her clothes. “This place? It’s a joke. And I’m a silly woman who actually thought that Eros or Cupid or whatever his name is was gonna shoot me in the butt and change my life.”

  Oh, he’d shot her all right, but with what? With the arrow of indecision? With the arrow of deception or cruelty or was this somehow a messed up multiple choice quiz she was supposed to pass?

  She cursed under her breath and glared at the jeans she’d worn the night Garreth kissed her as they sat next to the swimsuit she’d worn just hours before when Michael’s lips had met hers.

  Will shuffled through the door, confusion wrinkling his forehead. “Weren’t things going well with Garreth?”

  She gave her brother a nasty look he didn’t deserve, chucking a towel on top of the clothes she wanted to hide from. “It don’t matter anyhow,” she said. “You wanted to leave, and now I’m sayin’ let’s go.” If anything, she could make Will happy by getting him outta there and back in Alabama where he felt so at ease. “So… let’s go.”

  There was a twitch near the corner of his mouth she’d never have seen if he hadn’t trimmed down his beard earlier. “Don’t you wanna see who the murderer is?”

  A snort rumbled her nose. The murder mystery was about as far away from her focus of thought as possible, and with Garreth so in tune with how things work around here, she guaranteed he was right about who dun it.

  And just the reminder, the image of his face when he enthusiastically told her who he thought it was, dug at her chest and made her resolve to run that much clearer.

  Will cleared his throat, his voice rushed. “What about the ball?” he asked, and she furrowed her brow at his frantic behavior, how he looked at her packing like she was taking away his favorite pizza cutter. “There’s a ball or somethin’, right?” He offered up a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You wanna go to that; I know ya do.”

  She eyed him, trying to read his expression. “Not anymore,” she admitted. Yes, the dance that ended the murder mystery week had been one of the many highlights of the schedule, especially when she imagined dancing in Garreth’s arms, watching his nervous smile and wondering if he’d trip over his toes or if he’d have moves like Swayze. Then there was Michael, who had most likely been to a million of these dances, and he could dip and twirl her around like she weighed no more than a flower.

  Oh, did she want to experience what it’d be like to dance with either of them… or both of them… geez, why couldn’t she make up her mind?

  “That’ll just make things messier,” she muttered, tossing a heel into her second suitcase.

  Will’s brows pulled the slightest bit together, but there was still that look of anxious panic in his eyes. “But… didn’t you promise Winter you’d do her hair?”

  Maybelle paused mid-throw, her other heel suddenly weighing a thousand pounds in her hand. A light clicked in her mind, and she tried not to look at her brother in complete shock.

  Yes, she had promised that the other night when Winter had asked Maybelle what she did for a living. She’d jumped at the chance to style that gorgeous head of platinum blonde hair, but she was sure that if she ran tonight that Winter would be just fine without her.

  It wasn’t the promise that held her in place, that took Maybelle aback so much that she could hardly stand straight. No, it was the way Winter’s name had fallen off her brother’s tongue—a way she’d never heard him say a woman’s name in his life.

  “She’s been excited,” he continued, his smile growing on his face. He must know Maybelle’s resolve was temporarily diluted. “And it’d be good for you, yeah? Maybe she could recommend you to some of those famous people you want to style for.”

  Oh, he was reaching, and Maybelle’s heart brightened just the slightest degree for him. Her eyes welled up for the first time that night with happy tears. She knew better than to call him out on his infatuation; he’d only deny it and run off, much like she was doing. Monroe’s were loud and fun, but they didn’t know how to handle the deep waters of emotion. Maybelle gazed down at the open suitcase, clothes overflowing and bundled in her haste to leave, to avoid seeing Garreth and Michael ever again, to avoid having to make a choice between them, or worse, having either choice taken away.

  She shut her eyes and tried to imagine if she heard a knock at the door right then, which man would she want it to be. But both men flickered, like a deck of cards, Michael Garreth Michael Garreth, back and forth without landing on an answer.

  She sniffed and opened her eyes, Will waiting for her with baited breath. He’d done so much already, coming along with her, forcing himself out of his comfort zone just so she could entertain the idea of Cupid and finding a man to marry. It all sounded ridiculous now, and she loved her brother even more for never questioning her sanity.

  “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “I did promise her…”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up, and that alone was enough to have Maybelle ready to dump her clothes back in the drawers.

  “Maybe sleep on it,” he said, still not realizing her resolve to now stay. “You may change your mind after you’ve slept.”

  She shook her head and slumped down on the mattress. “I won’t.” The morning would only be scarier, and even though she’d still want to go home, that didn’t mean she was going to.

  Will sighed. “What happened?” he pressed again. Maybelle shook her head harder, burying her face into her hands. He’d think her a terrible person, too, she knew it. She wasn’t the person to toy with emotions, especially after having been toyed with so many times before. But there she was, playing away and unwilling to let either of them go.

  The mattress dipped with Will’s weight, and she felt him nudge her into his shoulder. She went easily, resting against his soft shirt, his unusually smooth chin.

  “A’right,” he said, running a hand up and down her arm. She breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to push her into talking. It was the best thing about her brother, but also the worst. She probably needed to be pushed.

  She watched his free hand play with the frayed fabric around the tiny hole in his jeans. Did he wear those to dinner? Oh, brother… She hoped Winter was really attracted to the rugged type.

  A small smile teased her lips, and it felt good to be thinking of someone else’s love life for a change.

  “I’ll stay,” she said, lifting her head from his shoulder. A light flickered on behind his eyes that he could not hide.

  “Yeah?”

  “I promised.” She gulped. “But I want to leave first thing on Saturday.” The mystery would be over by then, and even though check out was at noon, she didn’t think she could survive so much downtime without the mystery there to distract her.

  Will nodded once. “You got it.”

&
nbsp; She slipped out from under the comfort of his arm and grabbed her heels, placing them neatly back in the closet. Will leaned back on his elbows, unable to erase the tiniest glimpse of satisfaction from his face.

  “It was only pizza,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Winter wanted me to make pizza for dinner, so you only missed the stuff you get all the time.”

  She snorted. “Every darn day, it’s another pizza.” She tucked her bathing suit into the dirty laundry bag. “Glad I didn’t miss much.”

  “Yeah…”

  She paused in her unpacking and watched her brother go off into la la land, gazing at the ceiling and reliving whatever night he’d had with their gorgeous host. Maybelle grinned. She supposed if Cupid was going to mess with her, at least he’d been sweet to her brother.

  Maybelle’s elbow knocked a clip to the tile floor with a clatter, and she let out a growl over having done that for the millionth time that afternoon.

  She wrapped her hair up around her fist and bent to retrieve it, then placed it in her lump of locks. Her hair had been through the ringer already. With her practice dummy head back home and no courage to ask for volunteers, she’d been testing out different styles on her own, trying to imagine Winter’s blonde hair in place of her bright red.

  “Now, it’s a bit longer, so I could probably do tighter curls…” she mused, springing a loose curl near the nape of her neck. Her mind was thoroughly distracted, and it was a welcome relief to be thinking about something other than dating and men and future families. Will might have been trying to get her to stay by using whatever excuse he had in his arsenal, but he’d had a point. Styling Winter’s hair could definitely help her career. Winter’s business savvy and fortunate lineage probably had her in contact with more than one person in show biz, and fantasies had started swirling through Maybelle’s mind the moment she’d thought of actually styling the hostess’s hair.

  There was brilliant New York with its Broadway. She pictured chaotic dress rehearsals and exotic hairstyles. She’d pal up with the actors and actresses, the makeup artists and costume designers. There would be coffee chats and girls nights out.

  Or there was sparkling Hollywood with its up and coming stars, vision boards, and days at the beach. She saw herself making homes in either place until reality hit her that finding affordable one-bedrooms was a long shot, and her lack of resume wasn’t going to help any.

  But it was nice, anyhow—to picture a life that wasn’t revolving around a husband and children. It seemed in her control, something attainable instead of impossible. Michael might have had a point the other night, and she was just now understanding what he meant when he’d said he gave up trying. Focusing on her career didn’t mean she was anti-marriage or anti-family. It just meant that if she never found those things, happiness wasn’t tied up in it. She could be happy without, right?

  She unclipped her hair and let it fall to her shoulders. It’d be helpful to know what color Winter would be wearing; she could plan on sparkled accents which she herself couldn’t pull off.

  A few more lonely hours later, her stomach grumbled like a tidal wave. She tucked a hand over her gut and let out a sad laugh. Her cowardice had kept her locked in her suite with little to no sustenance, other than coffee—bleck—and a box of crackers Will hadn’t managed to gobble up. Her gaze flicked to the clock, and she bit her lip. According to the itinerary, everyone should be in the theater room watching one of the many action flicks Winter’s father had starred in back in his heyday. The very beginning of a fantasy started growing her mind, of a strong arm over her shoulders as she tucked into a button down shirt that smelled of cinnamon, but she chased it away before it could form fully. Michael and Garreth both were probably watching the movie with girls who hadn’t played them both all week and then disappeared.

  She sighed as another grumble went through her belly. If there was any time to risk sneaking some food, it was now.

  She quickly slipped a dress over her head and opened the door a crack, peeking up and down the hallway for any movement. Once she made it to the elevator, she paused, and decided to take the stairs instead. They were easier to use in sneaking around situations.

  She followed her nose as soon as she hit the landing. The overwhelming scent of popcorn filtered from the left, and while she salivated over it, she turned right and avoided the area altogether. The kitchens were off limits to guests, but maybe she could ask one of the many servers going in and out of there if she could have something. A story of not feeling well and wanting to rest with a bowl of that amazing soup they’d had the other night started forming in her mind, and she had it at the ready if she ran into trouble.

  A loud bang of a door slamming sounded from behind her, and she let out a surprised yelp and slammed her hand over her mouth. She ducked into the shadows, hiding behind a plant while she waited for someone to pass by. After several minutes, in which her growling stomach would’ve given away her position anyway, she stepped back into the hallway and quickly made her way to the kitchens.

  When she passed the dining hall, a different, yet still mouth-watering scent, filled the air. She inhaled deeply, sighing out loud with a smile. “Good gracious, what is that?” she said, unable to help herself. A mansion staff member just down the hallway chuckled and nodded her toward him.

  “Chef is making one of my favorites tonight,” the young server told her when she got near. His expression probably matched hers in excitement over what was on the menu. “Triple cheese macaroni.”

  She laughed, surprised. “It smells like heaven.”

  “Just you wait till dinner.” He fiddled with his tie, loosening it and tightening it back up again. “That’s just a side dish.”

  Maybelle gulped, her stomach barking at her to get some of that food stat. She put on a smile, hoping to charm him but also convince him that she had a slight headache or something that would excuse her from sitting down with the entire guest list. Just as she was about to put on the act, the kitchen door swung open and smacked her clean in the face.

  “Oh my… Oh! Maybelle, I’m so sorry.”

  Alexis rushed toward Maybelle, her notepad and pen in her left hand while she fussed over Maybelle with the other.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was standing there… Are you okay?”

  The sharp pain that ran through her nose dulled to a throb, and Maybelle blinked away the water in her eyes and nodded. “A’right here. Don’t need to fuss.”

  Alexis gave her an apologetic grin, her cheeks a bright shade of red. “I should be more careful. Get carried away sometimes. Really focused in on this, you know?” She held up the notepad, the entire page filled with her scribbles. She leaned forward, and the server behind her disappeared into the kitchen. “I wasn’t supposed to be in there,” she said. “But I swear, the kitchen staff is in on this mystery, too.”

  Of course she was still mystery solving. Maybelle’s smile faltered a bit, remembering Garreth keeping the murderer from Alexis just so she could have the pleasure of solving it herself. Why did he have to be so wonderful?

  “Well, that’s better than my excuse,” Maybelle said, and her stomach growled again, clarifying her reasoning for kitchen sneaking. Alexis’ eyes bulged and then she laughed in surprise.

  “Hang on,” she said. “I’ll get you something.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen, was gone for maybe ten seconds, then emerged with a Styrofoam bowl and plastic fork rested across the lid.

  “Here. Say you got it from Kelsey.”

  “You are a saint.” Maybelle’s hands grew warm from whatever it was in the bowl, and she couldn’t wait to get it upstairs. She’d probably rival her brother in wolfing it down. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I hope you feel better.”

  It took Maybelle three seconds to remember that she hadn’t told Alexis that particular fib, but someone else must have. People noticed she’d been gone?

  “It’s just a headache,” she
lied, touching a finger to her temple. “I’m sure it’ll go by tomorrow.”

  Alexis nodded. “Don’t want to miss out on the murderer reveal.” She leaned in once more. “But between you and me, I think I’m gonna blow the lid off it before they can. I’m so close.”

  “You should,” Maybelle encouraged. She could just imagine the hilarity of having a guest reveal it before the actors. Michael would get a kick out of it, she was sure. “Make a whole scene of it.”

  Alexis laughed through a sly grin. “Garreth would love that.”

  Maybelle nodded, but her growling stomach suddenly felt full of rocks. She knew Garreth and Alexis collaborated a bit together, but how much of their interaction was innocent mystery solving? Had he shared an electric kiss with Alexis as well?

  Alexis pulled out her notepad and flipped to a page that had neat and all-caps handwriting, obviously not her scribbles. A leap ran through Maybelle’s chest as she realized it was Garreth’s notes.

  “He’s really on to something,” Alexis said, a dip of admiration in her voice. “I’m pretty sure… Well, I’d like to think that the rumor to this place isn’t just, well, a rumor.”

  “You mean the spirit of Cupid and all?” Maybelle asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her tone.

  Alexis bit her lip, a fresh wave of blush going through her cheeks. She was pretty, girl-next-door type. Probably very analytical and maybe geeky—knew Lord of the Rings references. If there was a contest for perfect match for Garreth, and it was down to the two of them, Maybelle wasn’t so sure she’d win.

  “Yeah,” Alexis said, flipping her notepad closed. “If I get the nerve, I think I’ll ask Garreth for his number before this is all over.”

  Maybelle only grinned, unable to form words. Encourage it, and she’d have a clear conscience moving toward Michael. Discourage, and she’d feel second best throughout the rest of her stay.

  Yes, best to just smile and nod.

  “Well, I better lie down,” she said, quickly making an excuse to get back to her room. “Thanks for the food.”