“Why are you here?” Abby demanded. Her arms were crossed over her chest, drawing attention to her pointed elbows.
Scarlett decided to interpret that as why she was in Mystic Cove rather than this office.
“I came back.” Scarlett took the chair and grinned as though she were delighted to be there, “Because I missed my mom and really, really missed Harper and I learned how hard it is to parent on your own.”
Abby’s lips pursed and then baldly asked, “What happened with your husband?”
Scarlett debated for a moment, and then she did something she rarely did—at least to someone like Abby—she told the truth because she knew it would draw Abby in. “He didn’t care about me being as I am…”
“A druid,” Abby asked, leaning forward, eyes wide. She was eating it up, almost salivating at the thought of Scarlett’s sad story. Because, of course, it was sad.
Scarlett nodded and then added, “But the girls…since they didn’t have great control…”
“He had a problem with talented children?” Abby’s voice was shocked and appalled which went to show how far Grant was out of line. How could she understand? Abby couldn’t. As far as Scarlett knew, Abby was as single and alone as she’d been in high school.
But the truth was—yes. Scarlett’s husband, Grant had an issue with talented children, and saying it out loud made that fact hurt all over again. But Scarlett—because she was willing to do whatever it took to keep Luna safe—said, “He hated it. Luna can talk to our dog. Ella’s abilities lean more towards trees. She’s amazing with them like my mother and Gram, and seeing your little girl commune with a tree freaked Grant out.”
“So you left him?”
“No,” Scarlett said, shaking her head. “He knocked-up his assistant and left me.”
“Shut up,” Abby said. There was a bit of joy in her gaze, some she couldn’t hide from the tone of her voice. She was truly enjoying this. “No way.”
Scarlett leaned back and shrugged like what had happened hadn’t killed her. Like it hadn’t destroyed her. Like she hadn’t cried in the shower and wondered what was so wrong with her like she hadn’t lost 20 pounds before he left to see if he’d stay with her. But it hadn’t mattered—skinnier or fatter, with makeup or without, with her hair curled, with a corset—he wanted his little assistant. And Scarlett hated herself, HATED herself for trying to change for someone else, but she had so wanted the fairytale.
She’d wanted the nights where they’d put their girls to bed and had curled up and talked, limbs tangled, voices quiet. She wanted those nights when they’d lain together in the garden when they’d waited until after bedtime and ordered a pizza and played video games together, those Sundays with naps and big dinners, Christmas mornings with squeals of joy, hikes in the woods with Max and the children bounding around Scarlett and Grant.
“Things fall apart,” Scarlett told Abby. “You think you have something and you grow apart and don’t even notice. Then when it’s over, you think…well. That happened.”
By the stars, Scarlett was a liar. If Gus were here, he’d be able to tell. Assuming he remembered their childhood as well as she did. Her tells weren't that different. If her sister, Harper heard the crap that was coming from Scarlett’s mouth, Harper would have immediately gotten into her car and set something else of Grant’s on fire. But as for, Abby—she bought it. Not that it mattered because she was going to spread the rumor of Scarlett’s broken marriage, and she was going to focus on all the worst and probably tell the truth by accident. But of course, Abby would glory in describing Scarlett’s devastation when she whispered it to Mabel at the diner or told Becca Lovejoy when Abby stopped in for some random item, or when Abby sat with old Mrs. Lovejoy and dissected Scarlett’s broken home and failure.
“What are you going to do now that not even your normal ex wants you? Go for Gus? I’m not sure you could catch him anymore. You’re like used goods.”
Scarlett blinked in shock at the backhanded insult that was handed over so casually. At least gear up for that kind of stuff—the blind sucker punch out of nowhere—that was a new level of vicious.
“Um…” Breathe, Scarlett. Think. “I’m focused on getting my family set up.”
Look at that, she thought, she had not punched Abby or even slapped her stupid. That day was coming, though. Scarlett wasn’t the sweet little dreamer druid she’d been in high school, and Abby was going to learn that pretty soon.
“How hard can that be? Or maybe your girls are feeling how their dad rejected them. Are they acting up? Is that why you sent them off with your family? Or did you come back so you could foist them off on your mom?”
What had she done, Scarlett thought. She pushed one hand into her hair and watched how Abby took note and delight in how she was making Scarlett squirm.
“I think the real question,” Scarlett said, taking off the gloves. “Is why you spent so much time with Lacey? You hated her.”
“In high school…” Abby started to lie, acting as if she’s somehow gotten over years of abuse. If Lacey and Kelly had been mean to Scarlett and Gus, they’d been downright nasty to Abby.
“Please, you expect me to believe that?” Scarlett laughed simply because Abby had always hated being laughed at. “You brought up the old days like they still mattered—because they matter to you still. And if there was one thing you weren’t in high school, it was friends with Lacey Monroe.”
The knowing of druids came to the front of Scarlett, and she was sure she was right. Abby hated Lacey. She’d never gotten over high school, and she wasn’t going to anytime soon. It didn’t matter that Lacey was dead, Abby hated her still. But it was more complex than that and Scarlett couldn’t quite understand what the universe was telling her.
“You hated Lacey and you hate her still even though she’s dead. So why were you spending so much time with her?”
“I don’t have to answer your questions,” Abby said, but her gaze was shifting around like she was trying to find a way to take back all she’d given away.
“You don’t,” Scarlett agreed, glancing around the office which was only kiddy-corner from the alley where Lacey died.
Scarlett stood, walked to the window, and realized how much of Arbor Avenue and its traffic you could see from Abby’s desk. Scarlett could immediately understand why Abby, who’d always watched from the fringes, must have loved this office. Must've loved watching Kelly trot down the street like she was doing now, looking at merchandise she’d already viewed a hundred times, crossing to talk to Old Mrs. Lovejoy who was sitting on the bench across from the bakery. Becca Lovejoy was laughing up at Lex four buildings down, and Mabel from the diner was sweeping her shop right into the sidewalk outside, more to observe than for any real effort at cleanliness. Wally was walking into the Italian restaurant. It was, no doubt, meatball sandwich day or lasagna day or some other such calorie-laden, heart attack waiting to happen.
It didn't matter that the woman who had considered herself the town princess had died—the town was carrying on. Even her best friend was shopping, though Kelly was doing so with her hair pulled back tightly and what seemed like no make-up on her face. It was probably some sort of makeup trick that made you look flawless but unpainted.
Scarlett thought quiet stream thoughts and then said, softly, “Henna told me about you and Lacey. Henna couldn’t understand why you spent so much time together. How she never could see you two as being friends but that Lacey almost seemed to trot to your tune. Tell me, please. How did that come about? Tell me what’s being going on?”
Scarlett’s tone was all supplication, but she would make Abby pay, and pay hard if she was the one who hexed Luna.
“I think I told you all I’m going to say, Scarlett Oaken. I don’t have to put up with your skipping around town, like always, pretending to be some bigwig adventurer. You’re a weird druid who can’t accept that druids stay home. You’re nothing but a freak.”
Scarlett turned and faced Abby, hiding all th
e fury that was boiling inside and said softly, “I’m on your side, Abby. I didn’t like Lacey either. We can work together on this.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Scarlett.” Abby was dripping sheer vitriol.
Scarlett took a step back and then tried again, “I’m here for you. I could help you with whatever Lacey was doing to you. I could be on your side. I could be a friend. Let me know.”
Scarlett stepped out of the office, letting the wind sweep away the darkness that seemed to seep from Abby. Scarlett knew she’d handled it all wrong. She never should have come at Abby like that. Scarlett should have remembered how sensitive Abby was, how you’d always had to be careful of her feelings, of the way she perceived things.
Damn and damn again, Scarlett thought.
Chapter 11
As she stepped away from Abby’s office, thinking of tracking Kelly down, a hand grabbed Scarlett’s arm. She twisted away immediately, freeing herself and swinging around to confront the person only to find Lex.
With his wide shoulders and roving eyes, she snapped “What do you think you’re doing?”
Lex lifted his hands in surrender and said, “Whoa, sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“By the stars, you have a voice. Use it.”
“I’m sorry,” Lex said, hands still up in supplication. "I really didn't mean to scare you."
Scarlett glanced past him and around. They were alone on this side of the street. All signs of Kelly were gone and whatever she’d been up to.
“I'm sorry,” Scarlett snapped. She paused took a deep breath and let it slowly out. Her head cocked and she looked him over carefully before she asked, “Why are you lurking around here?”
“Hey now,” Lex said, “I’m just getting a little air.”
“In the shadows of a building when the sun is shining across the street?”
They both glanced over where a couple of the town’s septuagenarians were sitting on the sidewalk’s bench, sharing roasted peanuts and gossiping.
“They’re who you should talk to,” Lex said with that arrogant grin. “Those two are out all the time, they see everything.”
“And they won’t talk to you?” She smirked at him, knowing it was true. Mystic Cove could be pretty insular, and Lex wasn't from around here.
He shrugged which she took as an acknowledgment that they wouldn’t speak to him. They didn’t know him and were probably suspicious of his intentions. Kind of like Scarlett.
“Why do you think I’m going to help you?” She shoved a few loose strands of hair out of her face and shook her head. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he bothering her? Did he really think she would be his errand girl?
“I don't need you to help me,” he said. “Or at least not me alone. I’m not in any real danger, but your sister might be. All I need is for us to figure out who the killer is and you to convince Wally before he ruins everything.”
“And what is everything?”
His shrug was the only reply he gave. She shook her head at him. She was frustrated with herself for even listening to him and irritated with him for thinking she should. She turned away, but he asked, “What did Abby say?”
Scarlett didn’t bother to reply.
She stared around, met the gaze of those two old coots. They’d been sitting out on that bench in any tolerable weather since she was a little girl. One of then grinned at her while the other tossed peanut shells in the gutter. She sighed before she crossed the street to Mr. Throdmore and Mr. Jueavas.
“Hey boys,” she said silkily, winking at them and then sitting down to the right of Mr. Jueavas. One of them nudged the other and they both started chuckling.
“Heard you were back, missy,” one said. Scarlett wasn’t paying enough attention to realize which. She met the ice blue gaze of Lex Warder and shot him a glance that she hoped he translated to get lost.
Scarlett leaned back, closing her eyes, and letting the sun seep into her.
“Of course you did,” she said agreeably.
They both chuckled punctuating the sound with cracking peanuts between their fingers.
“What you getting at, Miss Sassy?” one of them asked innocently.
Scarlett didn’t bother cracking her lids to see which one it was. They both knew what she meant—inveterate gossips that they were.
“Mmmmm-hmmmm,” she said. “Tell me what’s been happening? How did Lacey Monroe get to be mayor?”
“Fools,” Mr. Throdmore said and she sat up to face them. “Fools voted her in as if a viper can change its stripes.”
“Don’t you know it,” Mr. Jueavas said. “Blind idiots.”
“So you didn’t vote for her?”
“Didn’t bother voting,” Mr. Throdmore replied. Scratching his nose and clearing his throat, he said, “Other option was Wally.”
Mr. Jueavas chuckled grimly and then cleared his throat as well, shaking his bald head. “Heard he was going after Michelle Jones about the murder. Because, last year, she protested something or other and Lacey had her arrested.”
“After a year?” Scarlett’s shock made both of the old gents laugh.
“Always was a fool,” Mr. Throdmore said.
“I like you two.” Scarlett let her shoulder lean into the man next to her. “So tell me what you saw.”
She didn’t need to expand on when. Of course, she wanted to know all about the murder. They’d heard of her argument with Wally.
Mr. Throdmore shrugged and said, “It happened early. We weren’t out here yet. Hadn’t even gotten out of the house yet.”
Scarlett considered for a long moment and then said, “Bummer. What’s been happing? Are Lacey and Kelly still friends? What about Abby? What about Brad? What about…” Her heart clutched before she got out, “What about Gus?”
The two old gents laughed at her and then Mr. Jueavas said, “One of those things is not like the other.”
“Mmmmm-hmmmm,” Mr. Throdmore said, and then it was his turn to chuckle grimly before he said, “Gus is a good boy.”
Scarlett considered the newest memory of her friend. He was 6’4 if he were a foot, he was broad and muscled and very clearly not a boy. They were both in their 30s and they showed it.
She grinned at Mr. Throdmore and asked, “Am I a good girl?”
“Heard you sassed off to Wally,” Mr. Jueavas said.
“Oh, I did,” Scarlett agreed, crossing her ankles and stealing a peanut.
“Heard you came back to town without tellin’ your Mama,” Mr. Throdmore added.
Scarlett shrugged on that one. She had. But, she wasn’t going to say so. She’d have liked to know who was spreading that nasty rumor. Henna was as gossipy as they came, but she didn’t pass confidences given to her by friends. Harper wouldn’t have said a word and neither would her mother.
“Your Gram isn’t too pleased with you,” Mr. Jueavas added.
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed on his big veiny nose, so she didn’t have to meet his eyes to see what he was thinking. She didn’t want his shame or his understanding. And if he were friends with Gram…well…just because Scarlett had forgiven her mother didn’t mean she’d forgiven Gram.
“Your Gram’s a good woman,” Mr. Jueavas said as if he was reading her mind. He was a warlock like Lex and didn’t have the knowing of the druids.
“Do you have a thing for my Gram?” Scarlett asked.
He shrugged.
But there was something about how he shrugged. She groaned and said, “You nasty old coot.”
Mr. Throdmore broke into laughter and said, “She’s not wrong about that.”
“All I’m saying,” Mr. Jueavas started, read Scarlett’s expression and then cleared his throat before he finished, “Is that it’s none of my business.”
Scarlett’s mouth twisted sourly and she asked, “Where does Brad work?”
“Works with his dad over at the car dealership on the edge of town. All smooth,” Mr. Throdmore started.
“And arrogant,” Mr. Jue
avas interjected.
“Ego the size of the Atlantic,” Mr. Throdmore agreed.
“He always was a nasty one.” Scarlett took another peanut, cracking it and then asking, “Who do you think did it?”
“You don’t buy that it was a homeless person, passing through?”
Scarlett looked up and glanced around. Mystic Cove was as quiet as they came. They didn’t have one homeless person. Certainly not one passing through. What was this some Victorian novel where it was either the butler or a gypsy who “did” it? Wally had the imagination colored entirely by too many soap operas.
“Is that Wally’s latest theory?” Her disgust was evident.
“He doesn’t want to face off with either the Day or Wattsy clans. Someone passing through is easiest.” Those were the last names of Brad and Kelly. She'd never taken Brad's last name, preferring her own. They were pretty powerful families in Mystic Cove. But that was like being the king of a tiny little hill. No one took it too seriously if you had money. Or at least, no one that Scarlett cared about. She bet that the sheriff, Wally, cared. And that Abby cared. Scarlett was sure that Lacey had cared.
“But why? When was the last time you saw someone homeless around here? The theory is idiotic.”
“Wally is an idiot,” Mr. Jueavas said with a shrug, but his face belied that lack of care the shrug showed to reflect how worried he was.
“For the killer, it’s peachy keen,” Scarlett snapped, “So do you think that Brad or Kelly is the killer?”
“Maybe,” Mr. Throdmore drawled. “They’re like hamsters. Seemingly harmless and entirely too willing to eat their own kind. Better to stay away from them.”
Bedtimes and Broomsticks Page 9