“What would you like to talk about?” she inquired as Jack and Edgar followed her up the stairs.
“You need a new bed.”
Rose frowned. A new bed? The man could be so confusing. “If you’re referring to the mattress, there is nothing wrong with it. I just got it last year.”
Making sure Edgar was tucked in, bowls full, Jack took her hand and led her up to the bedroom. He stopped in front of the bed and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “It’s too short.”
Rose paused to consider. Bigger mattress meant different bed frame and headboard. She liked the one she had, but she didn’t love it. If she got rid of it then she could redecorate the entire bedroom, design an entirely new layout and color scheme.
“Okay.”
Jack had been prepared to wheedle Rose into changing the bed. Pointing out the practicality without making it seem like he was invading her home. He didn’t want to live here. When they moved in together, it would make more sense to use his house.
“No hesitation? No argument?”
“It’s just common sense. When we spend the night together we’re bound to do it here from time to time. I want you to be comfortable. And I like how roomy your bed is. In fact, I like everything about your bed. Give me the manufacturer and style, and I’ll order it tomorrow. Now, if you think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night, let’s go to bed.”
Rose took off her robe and tossed on a chair. She liked how Jack’s eyes lit up when she was naked. It felt good to know he desired her body as much as she desired his. Speaking of which, she quickly scrambled under the covers so she could enjoy the view.
“Aren’t you going to take off your pants?” Then she added. “And get into bed?”
“I’m on it.” Jack pulled off his jeans and hopped over her to the other side.
“I didn’t mean for you to hurry.” Rose stopped him from climbing under the covers. “I was hoping to spend some time admiring your splendid physique.”
More than willing to play, Jack propped himself up on the pillows and put his hands behind his head. “Admire away.”
Where to start? Deciding, Rose used one finger to trace his wonderfully defined abs.
“There wasn’t a man.”
Jack’s lifted one eyelid enquiringly. “Come again?”
“When I wrote Crank. There wasn’t a man.”
“Rose, sweetheart, as much as I appreciate you wanting to share? That is one subject I’d just as soon skip.” Especially if she wanted to tell him about multiple partners doing sexually graphic things to her.
“No.” Rose idly traced a circle on his chest. “I mean there weren’t any men. None. I didn’t write that song as some glowing tribute to a mind-blowing lover. I wrote it out of sexual frustration. Grind isn’t about all the things I’d done. It’s all about what I’d want to do—if I found the right man.”
Sounded like a challenge to him, one he was thoroughly going to enjoy completing. “Look no further.” Jack pulled her up until she straddled his body. “I believe the woman in the song had a list. Let’s start with number one.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WORDS AND MUSIC. You can’t have one without the other. Well, you can, but not if your producer is expecting both. Sam Laughton should have been happy that she’d made a breakthrough, half of the songs were written. But, no, he’d spent the last ten minutes telling her to get her ass in gear.
“One month. That’s all the time you have left to finish the songs for Wishes. And it might help if you stopped spending your valuable time judging rinky-dink high school talent shows.”
"It wasn't rinky-dink. And, by the way, who the hell uses that term anymore? What are you ninety?"
"I'm—"
"Why do you even know about that?" Sam was starting to get on her nerves. Not only was he constantly riding her about her work but he was checking up on what she did in her free time?
"As—"
"It's kind of creepy, Sam. You need to get a life."
"Are you finished?"
Rose thought about it. "Yes, for now."
"First, I know about the talent show because it made a few of the gossip sites. According to my assistant, some of them considered it worthy of a mention."
"Must have been a slow news day," Rose quipped. Personally she hated that kind of stuff but she was happy for the kids in the show. You never knew where even the smallest bit of publicity could lead and some the contestants had very been talented.
"And I do have a life," he continued. "Right now it involves making the best movie I possibly can, and if that means getting on your ass when you take time off for frivolous activities then so be it. Believe me, there are a lot of ways I would rather be spending my time."
Rose stuck her tongue out at the phone. She didn’t know Sam very well, but she was learning quickly. All producers wanted things done yesterday. Sam wanted them done two days before that.
“You wouldn’t stop hounding me until I agreed to take this job. Now you won’t stop hounding me about the work itself. Did you listen to the music? Is it not perfect? One encouraging word, Sam. Would that kill you?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then she heard a deep, heartfelt sigh.
“The music is perfect, Rose.” Good boy, Rose thought. But then he went and ruined their warm and fuzzy moment. “What I didn’t realize was that you needed constant pats on the back to function. One of the reasons I was so keen to work with you was because of your reputation as a self-starter. If I’d known that I would need to heap praise on you every five minutes, I would have gotten someone less needy.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not here right now, Sam or you’d be walking funny for a week.” Rose wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have heard Sam chuckle. Maybe he had a sense of humor after all. “Now, if you’ll leave me alone I’ll get back to work. It’s your constant interruptions that are causing the delay.”
“Fine, call me when you have something for me to hear. And make it soon, Rose.”
Egotistical narcissist. Rose almost threw the phone across the room. But after calculating the odds of having to go through the trouble of getting a new one, not to mention the damage it might do to the wall, Rose carefully sat it down on the hall table. Damn Sam Laughton. He had a way of re-knotting all the muscles that a night of great sex with Jack had so wonderfully loosened.
It was too nice of a day to lock herself away in her music room. Some sunshine and fresh air might be just what she needed to generate her creative juices. Her backyard wasn’t huge, but it suited Rose’s needs perfectly. Every spring she would hire a couple of neighborhood kids to come in and do a general clean up. Rake leaves leftover from last fall. Pull any weeds that reared their ugly heads. Basically, get the yard as pristine as possible before she had the fun job of planting whatever flowers caught her fancy at the local nursery. At the moment the beds were bursting with early spring flowers in shades of yellow, pink and red.
Rose was fixing herself a cup of tea to take into the back yard when the doorbell rang. For a brief moment she considered ignoring it. She wasn’t expecting anyone or any deliveries. Tyler and Dani would call if she didn’t answer and Jack would just pound on the door until she let him in. She wanted whoever it was just to go away. The bell went off again. With a resigned sigh, she made her way to the front of the house.
“Yes?” Rose didn’t recognize the man on her front steps. He was older, with brushed back gray hair. He wore a black suit, black tie, and crisp white shirt. He gave a slight bow and presented her with a white envelope. It was heavy for its size and made of expensive watermarked paper. Across the front her name was neatly written in black ink.
“I am to await your answer.”
Await her answer? Well, aren't we formal? Rose inspected the envelope again before opening the sealed flap. It wasn't every day she was hand delivered a letter.
“THE LONGER I live, the more convinced I am that the world is full of crazy people. A
nd Regina Harper is their leader.”
Tyler handed the embossed paper to Dani. As soon as the man had left, Rose had called her friends. They were sitting in Rose’s living room passing around the invitation, or summons, depending on how you looked at it.
“Your name has been printed on the paper. Do you think she sent out to have just one invitation specially made?” Dani turned the paper over in her hands. “This is high-grade stuff. I can’t quite picture old Reggie having an arts and crafts room. Martha Stewart she isn’t.”
Rose was invited for tea at Harper House on Wednesday afternoon. And for the life of her she couldn’t imagine why. In all the years she’d lived in Harper Falls she had never met personally with Regina Harper. They lived in the same town but existed in different worlds.
“And having it hand delivered,” Tyler scoffed. “What did you tell, Lurch?”
“He didn’t look like Lurch, more like Alfred from the old Batman TV show. And I said yes, of course. Wouldn’t you have?”
“The day I’m invited anywhere near that place will be the beginning of the apocalypse. But damn right I would have said yes. If only to spit in the grand lady’s eye.”
“I don’t plan on doing any spitting, but I’ll leave my options open,” Rose promised. “I’m going out of curiosity. What does she want? What will she be wearing? I mean, how formal is afternoon tea? Pearls or diamonds?”
“Does she pour the tea herself or is there a person whose only job is to pour tea?” Dani asked. “And will she serve those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off?”
“I doubt Reggie has ever seen a crust in her life,” Tyler sneered.
“Well, I guess I'm going to find out on Wednesday.”
“We expect a full report,” Dani told her. “How about dinner at my place that night, say around six thirty?”
“And if you can,” Tyler said, “get pictures.”
ROSE FELT FOOLISH, which didn't make any sense. No one knew that she had spent an hour researching afternoon tea. But in spite of it, she still wasn't sure what to expect. Almost every source she referenced agreed on one thing—afternoon tea is less formal than high tea. With that in mind, she had chosen a crisp cotton dress in the palest of yellow. The flared skirt hit her just above the knee and the belted waist was flattering to her figure. She wore heather gray sling back pumps, the four inch heels giving her confidence. It was ridiculous to be nervous but as the butler—she would always think of him as Alfred—led her across the highly polished marble floors, Rose felt the distinct stirring of butterflies.
She had never been in this part of the house, during the Lilac Ball access to anything but the ballroom and bathrooms was strictly enforced. Rose tried to take in all the details without looking like she was gawking. Elegant. Rose supposed this is what the rich aspired to one hundred years ago. Dark wood paneling on the walls, ornate sconces that at one time must have been powered by gas, and expensive little do-dads that had to be a pain in the ass to keep dusted. It was hard to imagine children running through theses halls, they would be in constant worry of damaging something. No, the children raised here would have only two choices—either conform or rebel. Regina Harper’s only child had rebelled—big time.
“Miss O’Brian, Madam.”
“Thank you, Potts. I’ll ring if we need anything else.”
Potts? Well, that was disappointing.
“Miss O’Brian.” As Regina Harper came forward to greet her, Rose was taken aback at how tiny the woman was. With her heels Rose was close to a foot taller. Slender to the point of gauntness, the woman glided towards her in a subtle cloud of expensive perfume and breeding. There was nothing common about Regina Harper. The high cheekbones, perfect nose and a thin, hard mouth that time, not genetics, had given her. Her eyes were a dark brown but completely devoid of warmth. Any nerves Rose had been feeling dissipated the moment she made contact with the other woman’s cool, boney hand. Outer trappings aside, it was like looking at her aunt. Both women knew how to get what they wanted and had perfected their own forms of intimidation. Well, Rose didn’t let anyone intimidate her, not anymore. Whatever Regina Harper wanted, she wasn’t going to get it with an icy stare and superior attitude.
“I apologize for the early hour, but I have an appointment this evening that dictates a less than the traditional hour for our tea.”
Right, Rose remembered, four o’clock was the usual time for afternoon tea. That had seemed strange until she read that they didn't eat dinner until eight. How could you keep a schedule like that and not have really bad digestive problems? Maybe that accounted for the pinched look on Regina's face.
“Do you take anything in your tea? Lemon, sugar, perhaps some cream?
“No, nothing, thank you.”
Regina went through the process of pouring them each a cup and then offered Rose an assortment of crustless sandwiches, good call Dani, and delicate little cookies. It was quite a show, smoothly executed, without a single spill or bobble. Rose realized that Regina, straight-backed and knees together, took her tea seriously.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you here today.”
Very Agatha Christie, but Rose was almost certain no murdered had occured, so that couldn't be the reason. “I admit you have piqued my curiosity.” Great, she’d been there less than thirty minutes and she was using piqued in a sentence.
“This fall we will be celebrating the centennial of the founding of Harper Falls. Preparations have been ongoing for over a year. Now we are dealing with the final details and it was suggested that a piece of original music would lend a nice touch to the proceedings.”
Was she asking Rose to write the music? Or perhaps was she needed the name of a current classical composer? That seemed more like Regina's style. Since it appeared as though the woman wasn’t going to elaborate, Rose decided to wing it.
“Music is always a lovely addition to any event. The idea of an original composition that the town will be able to use for years to come is brilliant.”
“Yes.” Regina seemed to think brilliant was overstating it a bit. “Several members of the committee thought it would be appropriate to have someone from the community do the composition. Your name come up.”
“I’m flattered.” Rose was trying to think of another person in Harper Falls who had the qualifications for the job, but she drew a blank. Either way Regina didn’t seem terribly pleased. So why the one on one meeting? Why not have one of the faceless committee members contact her?
“We can pay you Of course, I don’t know what you’re usual fee is for the little songs you write. But with all the prestige associated with the commission we hope our little stipend will be enough.”
Rose wondered if the woman was trying to be insulting or if it just came naturally.
“If I agree to the commission, Mrs. Harper, I would naturally donate my fee to charity. That said, I couldn’t possibly agree until I had a better idea of what you and the committee wanted. The general tone of the piece, do you want words? Should it be rousing or reflective? I also need a timetable for when you would want the music. I would hate to accept and then find out that I couldn't finish in time because of my schedule.”
“I see. We just assumed that you would make the time.”
“Well, you know what they say about people who assume things.” Hardly an original comeback but Rose was happy with it.
“No, what do they say?” Regina managed to raise one eyebrow and look down her nose at the same time.
Rose had never had anyone call her on that one, but what the hell. “If you assume, it makes an ass out of you and me.” Ball in your court, bitch.
“Ah." Again, Regina was not amused. "Then perhaps we should leave it for now. After I speak to my fellow committee members, we will get back to you. That is if we’re still interested in your services.”
Rose desperately wished Tyler was there. She was so good at putting people in their place, and the fact that it was Regina Harper would have been a nice b
onus. But Rose had peaked with the whole assume thing. So instead of verbally eviscerating her hostess, she set her cup on the coffee table and stood to leave.
“Before you go I have a question for you.”
Rose sat back with a sigh. She’d been so close. Two stiffly exchanged goodbyes and she would have been out the door to fresh air and freedom. Instead, she plastered a polite smile on her face and waited.
“Why did she come back?”
“I’m sorry. Who are you talking about?”
“Your friend. Tyler Jones.” The name seemed to stick in Regina’s throat.
That was it. Conversation over. Rose gathered her purse and stood again.
“I will not discuss Tyler with you, Mrs. Harper. If you want the answer I suggest you go to the source. But if you do I suggest wearing goggles.” Before she left, Rose couldn’t resist one last little twist of the knife. “Or you could always ask your son. Oh, that's right, he never speaks to you so you still wouldn't have your answer. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from the committee.”
Rose turned and walked out the door. From the stunned expression that she'd left on the woman's face Rose imagined it had been a long time since anyone had had the last word with Regina Harper.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“IT WAS LIKE something out of a Bette Davis movie.”
Rose snuggled up next to Jack. They were in his bed; her new one hadn’t arrived yet.
“Which of you was Bette Davis.”
“Depends on the movie. The setting was definitely Now Voyager, but the dynamic was more like Old Acquaintance.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Jack loved how Rose’s brain worked. He didn’t feel the need to know all the references she made; it was just fun to hear her make them.
“I couldn’t raise an ounce of sympathy for her, Jack. Her husband is dead, her son won’t even be in the same room with her. And don’t get me started on living all alone in that museum. Shouldn’t I have felt a teeny bit of sympathy for her?”
If I Loved You (Harper Falls Book 1) Page 19