Bed Of Roses (The Five Senses Series Book 4)

by Gemma Brocato

  “Ms. Eckert, good evening.” The elderly gentleman who’d accompanied the girl extended his arm. Mal’s hand was swallowed in his calloused fist. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Anthony Fleming.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “And this”—he gestured to the girl at his side—“is your sister, Gabriella Jansen.”

  Gaby’s lip curled in a sneer the second the attorney had uttered “your sister.”

  Should she hug the girl? Shake her hand? Maybe reach out and smack the sneer off her face? Unsure of how to proceed, Mal simply nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Gaby’s brown eyes narrowed under stormy brows. “It’s not nice to meet you. In fact, it sucks.”

  Malin flinched. Clearly, she and her sister weren’t going to be gossiping late into the night, braiding each other’s hair and talking about boys. She darted a look at Fleming. A disapproving frown echoed the look of censure in his muddy brown eyes. When she shifted her gaze back to Gaby, sad had replaced sullen in the girl’s face. She recognized the expression from photos of herself when she had been that age and missing her mother. “Yeah, it does suck. Won’t you come in?”

  Taking a step backward, she gestured to the living room. Gaby ducked her head as she slid past, then cast a curious glance around the entry and living room as she moved to the Mission-style chair angled by the fireplace. Not bothering to unbutton her coat, she threw herself onto it. Surprise broke out on her face as she sank into the butter-soft leather. Running her hands over the quarter-sawn oak wood of the arms, she snuggled against the back cushion. When she glanced up and caught Mal looking, the surly curtain dropped back into place on her face.

  Okay, her new sister wasn’t going to make this easy. Mal busied herself taking Fleming’s coat and hanging it next to hers on the rack by the door. She followed him to the sofa and took a seat as he surreptitiously checked his watch. Really? His mission was about to change two lives and he’s worried about the time?

  Silence stretched out awkwardly in the room as Gaby avoided Mal’s gaze and Fleming fussed with his briefcase. For crying out loud, this was his meeting. Tension settled more firmly between her shoulders. “Where are my manners? Would you care for something to drink? A soft drink or water?”

  Fleming shook his head. “Nothing for me. I have to be back in Boston by six for an appointment.”

  “Oh. That doesn’t give us much time to get acquainted.” She twisted to face Gaby. In spite of what it would cost her to say it, she had to address the elephant in the room. No one had bothered to say it to her when Harriet had left. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  Gaby shrugged, but didn’t reply. Mal reminded herself that the girl’s mother had just died. She had a right to be glum.

  “Ms. Eckert, I have a copy of your mother’s will for your records. And some papers she specifically requested I deliver pertaining to Gaby’s trust fund. Also, there is a rather large insurance policy naming you as the beneficiary. I think you’ll find everything detailed in the letter of instruction she wrote for you.”

  Harriet had named her as beneficiary? He extended a large-clasp envelop toward her. She took it and toyed with the metal prongs but didn’t open it. She looked at Gaby again and found her studying her fingernails like they were the most interesting things in the world. This was not going well.

  “Um...when will Gabriella be moving here? I have some things I need to arrange, and I’d like to know how long I have to get her room ready.”

  “I’m sorry. Apparently I didn’t make myself clear when we spoke on the phone. I’ll be leaving Gaby with you today. Her suitcase is in the car.”

  Today? As in, he was planning to walk out the door without the young woman he’d dragged here tonight? Her jaw had dropped open, and she snapped it shut, her teeth clicking together audibly in the tense silence in the room. “I don’t...I don’t understand. You’d mentioned the end of the month earlier. This is my busy season in the shop, and I won’t have time to get anything ready until after the fourteenth.”

  “The family Gaby was staying with has had to adjust their moving date. They’ll be packing and leaving for Nebraska by the end of the week. They are unable to keep her given this new schedule.”

  “But...but I’m not prepared. I mean, I only found out yesterday and haven’t had an opportunity to... I’m sorry. I’m simply not ready.”

  Mal detested the stern look on the attorney’s face. He wouldn’t look so mean if he had an inkling of understanding of Mal’s history with Harriet. Gaby’s mom. Mal lifted her chin and looked him square in the eye.

  He straightened his shoulders and frowned at her. “Ms. Eckert, Gaby either needs to move in here today, or she’ll have to go to the Department of Children and Families. I’m not sure we can get a placement into foster care tonight. She’ll have to stay in a group home.”

  Gaby stared into the cold fireplace, pretending nonchalance. But the physical cues over her level of discomfort were there. Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes, and the way her lip trembled tore at Mal’s heart. She’d lost everything. Father, mother, home...and now, her friends. Finding herself in new surroundings with a sibling she didn’t know might be paralyzing. Spending the night in a residence where she might be viewed as fresh meat by much tougher kids had to be terrifying. Mal wasn’t going to make her distress worse by consigning her to that fate.

  “That won’t be necessary. She can stay here. That is, if she wants to. Gaby?”

  Gaby whipped her chin up, blinking her eyes hard. “So, it’s the devil I don’t know, or the devil I don’t know. Not much of a choice, is it?”

  Fleming harrumphed loudly. “Gabriella, we discussed this on the way here.”

  “Wrong. You lectured. I tuned you out.”

  “Adjust your attitude, young lady.” He spoke to the teen as if they knew each other well. “Your mother would be ashamed. Stop acting like a child.”

  Did he really just tell her that? Mal intervened on her sister’s behalf. “Mr. Fleming, it’s all right. I think I understand what Gaby is feeling—”

  “No way in hell do you understand what I’m feeling. We aren’t anything alike. My mother didn’t want to leave me.”

  Mal gasped. Twenty years later that fact still stung. Gaby’s words were a low blow, even for someone struggling with grief. She had to believe the girl was speaking out of fear. Gaby’s life had been turned topsy-turvy only a week ago. She’d need time to acclimate to all the newness in her life. But rationalizing the girl’s words didn’t lessen the sting.

  “Gabriella!” Fleming’s tone held a distinct warning. “Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.”

  Gaby muttered under her breath and trained her gaze on the bricks surrounding the hearth. She cast a sideways glance toward Malin and shrugged. “Sorry. That was mean.”

  Okay, Harriet had taught her some manners. “You’re right, you know. She didn’t choose to leave you. I’m sure she wouldn’t be any happier with this situation than you are. I can see her squinting her eyes and pursing her lips.”

  “She did do that whenever she was unhappy about something.” A ghost of a smile graced Gaby’s pretty face for the first time. Then her eyes turned cold and flinty. “You were probably more familiar with it than I was.”

  All right then, bonding time was over. She addressed the lawyer who was consulting his watch again. “My spare bedroom needs some work, but it will do for now. Is there anything I need to sign, or whatever? Do you want to bring in Gaby’s suitcases?”

  Fleming stood and brushed the wrinkles out of his trousers. He gestured to the packet of papers in her hand. “I’ve given you all the paperwork you’ll need. Including her school and medical records. You’ll need those to register her at a new school. Until you do, Gaby will have to continue going to her school in Boston. She’s already missed too many classes. You can share the paperwork with your attorney, and if he has any questions, have him call me. I’ve added my card to the package for your convenience. I’ll g
et Gaby’s belongings and be right back in.”

  He strode to the door. After flinging it open, he all but raced down the porch steps to the Mercedes in the driveway. The rhythmic ticking of the clock in the entry hall punctuated the heavy silence in the living room. Mal twisted her fingers together and searched for something to say to her newfound sibling.

  “Um... Have you eaten?” She got a “well, duh” look in exchange for her question. It was only a few minutes past five. “I’ve got some leftovers in the refrigerator, or we could order in.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Snark dripped like daggers off Gaby’s tone as she fiddled with a button that hung by a thread.

  “Okay.” Gaby’s button wasn’t the only thing in the room barely hanging on. Mal gathered the thin shreds of her patience. “Gaby, please remember I’m not the enemy. I’m out of my depth here as much as you. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

  The girl lifted her upper lip in a sneer, and she sent a withering look at Mal across the coffee table. Mal was saved from Gaby’s response by the sound of the front door opening and the thud of suitcases dropping on the hardwood floor in the hall. Sparing a last glance at her sister, Mal stood and crossed the room. Fleming was putting his coat on. Panic crested like a wave then crashed against her breastbone. He was leaving her alone with a hostile, frightened teenager. The only thing they had in common was a shared bloodline. Mal was in so much trouble.

  She took a couple deep breaths to dispel the dizziness invading her brain. She did not need this in addition to the demands of her business. Suddenly, the idea of having a glass of white wine to ease the situation seemed like a good one. Ever since she’d realized her father had become an alcoholic, she’d made it a rule to never drink. It was too much like condoning his nasty habit. At the moment, she’d be willing to break that rule.

  “Keep my business card handy. I’m available to answer any questions you might have,” Fleming said. He peered around her toward where Gaby remained seated. “Gabriella, this is what your mother wanted. Please try to keep that in mind. Call if you need me.”

  He was leaving, and Mal still had tons of unanswered questions. And no foreseeable way to get the answers she needed from Gaby. “Mr. Fleming, I—”

  He reached out and shook Mal’s hand, cutting her off. “I really must be going. I’ll be in contact once a court date is established. Good luck.”

  The door banged shut behind him, sounding an awful lot like a nail being pounded into a coffin. Mal leaned her forehead against the wood and sighed. Standing motionless for a moment, she hoped to settle the nerves bouncing around in her chest. Gradually, the sound of quiet sniffing rose over the tick-tock of her clock.

  Chapter 7

  Malin stepped cautiously toward the living room. She paused in the doorway, unsure if she should intrude on Gaby’s grief. Her heart jerked when the girl swiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. Like she didn’t want to be caught crying.

  “Uh...” Mal gestured toward the stairs. “Would you like to see your room?”

  Gaby shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Fleming had left two large suitcases and a smaller overnight bag in a heap near the stairs. “Help me drag your bags upstairs. Once we get you settled in, we can either go out for dinner or order something in.”

  Dammit, she’d resorted to talking about food again. Even if Gaby wasn’t hungry, the discontented growling in Mal’s stomach served as a reminder that her only meal in the past ten hours had been a yogurt. And she’d spilled half of it.

  Shooting Mal a cold look, Gaby stormed past and seized the handle of the smallest bag and hefted, leaving the other two oversized bags for Mal. Resentment reared its ugly head. Selfishness might have been acceptable in Gaby’s old home before. But it wouldn’t be tolerated here.

  Mal bit the inside of her cheek, hoping to hold back the snippy comment on her tongue. She’d never been shy about expressing her opinion before, but she’d never met a sister she didn’t know she had either. The oddness factor had to count for something.

  Mal picked up one of the larger bags. The kid’s disrespectful behavior needed to be nipped in the bud immediately. She was the girl’s guardian, not her butler. Mal grabbed one of the other cases and started up the stairs. “Come on. You can come back for the other after we get these upstairs.”

  It was gratifying to hear Gaby’s heavy boots clunking on the steps behind her. Leaning to the side to balance the weight of the suitcase, she led her new housemate across the narrow upstairs landing to the room across from Mal’s bedroom. She pushed the door open, then crossed the threshold. She dropped the bulky case near the foot of the bed.

  A mountain of boxes that contained supplies for her soap-making business covered the mattress. She regularly experimented at home with scents and oils. Limited space in the shop meant it was easier to create at home and transport the finished cakes of soap and bottles of lotion to the store. Once she remodeled the new location in Boston, she’d have a large workroom in which to produce everything. For now, the spare room was her storeroom and the master bedroom on the first floor, her lab.

  “This place is a pit. I’m supposed to sleep in here? What is that God-awful smell?” Gaby wrinkled her nose.

  Mal sniffed. What the heck was she talking about? It smelled like a botanical garden, like sunshine and fertile earth and summer blossoms. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting you this soon. I’ll clear this stuff out of here while you unpack.”

  Wrapping her arms around her waist, Gaby asked, “What is all this crap?”

  “Supplies for part of my business.” A simple explanation seemed easier. Besides, second-guessing the younger girl’s temperament was becoming an exercise in futility.

  Gaby grunted and looked at her, drawing her light brown brows together in a frown. “You have your own business? What do you do?”

  “I own a flower shop in town. The Secret Garden.”

  The girl’s eyebrow shot up. “You’re a florist? I thought you were...I don’t know...like a receptionist in an insurance agent’s office.”

  Mal paused and canted her head to the side. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”

  Gaby gestured at Mal’s outfit with a sneer. “You sort of dress the part.”

  Shrugging, she lifted a box from the bed and walked toward the door. “Nope, I sell flowers. I also plan weddings and parties, and I make natural soaps and shower gels.” She’d move everything to her room for now. There was plenty of space there. It wasn’t like she was sharing it with anyone. Like Gunnar Sims.

  “Oh.”

  That small word held mountains of information. First and foremost, that she and her sister didn’t know anything about each other. Gaby had been on the earth for fifteen years, and Harriet had deliberately kept them apart. Despairing at the steep vertical climb she faced and the challenge of the learning curve, Mal silently cursed their mother.

  Mal worked in silence, alone, while Gaby stood in the corner of the room, her arms crossed in front of her chest, creating a barrier to conversation. Her expression a mask of frozen disgust. Each time Mal returned to the room to get more stuff, she found Gaby in the same position. The girl didn’t pitch in or even offer to help. Didn’t make a single move toward her suitcases to unpack or any effort to bring her other bag upstairs. She barely spared a glance for Mal.

  “Okay, that’s the last of it. I’ll leave you alone to unpack.” And I’ll make my escape to the kitchen where your surly attitude can’t reach me. She gestured out the bedroom door toward the hall landing. “Bathroom is through there. I’ll clear a shelf in the cabinet for you later. There are clean towels in the linen closet behind the door. Help yourself. Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

  Receiving only a grunt for an answer, Mal exited the room with a small shake of her head and started down the stairs. A loud bang echoed when Gaby slammed the bedroom door shut. Mal paused her descent and rolled her eyes. Yeah, this is going just peachy.

  O
nce in the kitchen, she drew a glass of ice water from the dispenser in the fridge door and leaned against the counter. Alternately sipping the water and sucking in deep breaths, she massaged the base of her neck. The pressure of her fingers didn’t do anything to relax the nerves that had twisted into a frazzled knot the instant Fleming had walked out of her home.

  She was so far out of her depth. The extra weeks she thought she’d have to prepare for a new roommate had vanished like magnolia blossoms in a hailstorm. It wasn’t going to be easy to navigate this relationship without a map. Add to that the eighty-hour weeks she’d be putting in at the store to prepare for Valentine’s Day.

  In spite of rubbing hard on her shoulder, tension flared like a time-lapse video of a flower bud opening, popping into existence suddenly, dramatically.

  Mal eyed the bottle of wine her dad had left on the counter last night. Dad had always found solace in the bottle. Maybe—

  No! She wouldn’t go there. The wine bottle represented the easy, stupid way to deal with her emotions.

  She didn’t drink on principal. It would have been wrong to indulge after being angry with her dad for drinking. She’d asked him before to avoid bringing alcohol into her home. And he hadn’t since he’d been in rehab. But everything had gone to hell this past week.

  She couldn’t govern what Dad did in his house, but she didn’t want alcohol in hers. He’d disregarded her wishes and brought the poison, anyway. At least, he’d left it unopened. Their conversation had been too intense, and Dad had been too distracted. Jesus, just the fact that he’d shown up with bottle in hand, when he knew she wouldn’t drink with him, pissed her off. The wine was a liquid security blanket for him.

  A loud thud sounded above her head. Gaby’s room. She must have dropped something on the floor. At least it meant she was unpacking. She had to. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.

  The inevitable nature of her situation smacked Mal right between the eyes. Her head pounded in time with the jackhammer of her heart against her ribcage. Another dull thud from overhead punctuated the staccato beat. It sounded like something had been hurled against the wall.