Thirty-Two and a Half Complications

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Obviously what you have is a rare talent that many people would kill for,” he said. I had a feeling that he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. “I want to buy you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He waved his hand. “Your services. I want to buy them.”

  “They aren’t for sale.”

  “Then the deal’s off.”

  I stood, squeezing my hands into fists at my sides. “You can’t do that. I gave you my information. You agreed.”

  “And I warned you that you couldn’t trust me.” He laughed. “Too bad you didn’t have a vision of that.”

  I spun around and headed for the door.

  “Don’t leave, Rose,” he called after me, sounding amused. “We’re not done.”

  “I am. I have neither the time nor the patience to play your games, Skeeter Malcolm.”

  “Rose. Stop. I was joking.”

  I turned around, irritated as snot. “You don’t seem like a joking kind of guy.”

  “I’m not. That’s part of the reason I like you so much. You bring out the fun-lovin’ side of me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Enough of this fool nonsense, Skeeter Malcolm. Are you gonna help me or not?”

  He laughed. “You know I’ve killed men for lesser offenses than the disrespectful way you’re talking to me now.”

  “You won’t kill me. I’m too valuable.”

  “No?” He grinned at Bruce Wayne. “But what’s to stop me from killing him to make you do what I want? Or threatening your sister? And you know I’d gladly have your boyfriend out of my way. Heck, either of them. What’s to stop me from threatening the people you care about to get you to do what I want?”

  I moved toward him, my expression cold. “Because I took you for a smart man, Skeeter Malcolm. Fear works as a motivator, but not for long. Smart men know that there are more effective ways to get what they want.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And what do you propose that is?”

  “Mutual need. I have something you need. You have something I need. We stick to our deal, Mr. Malcolm. You can threaten me and the people I care about all you’d like, but then I’ll be lookin’ for the first door out. Why would either of us want to bolt if we’re scratchin’ each other’s backs? The longevity of your asset will be more certain if you don’t resort to scare tactics.” Who knew those business books I was reading would come to good use with a thug? But business was business, whether it was above board or below.

  “Huh. You might have a point.”

  “I’ll try to have a vision of you as a gesture of good faith.” As soon as I uttered the words, I wished I could take them back. Jonah said Skeeter spent all his money on booze, women, and cars. What if I had a vision similar to the one I had with Samantha Jo? But I usually saw whatever I intended to see when I forced a vision. With Samantha Jo, I hadn’t focused on anything, which had resulted in my unfortunate encounter with Moose in all his glory.

  Nevertheless, it didn’t matter whether I changed my mind or not. Judging by the gleam in Skeeter’s eyes, it was too late to take it back now.

  “I like it.”

  “Then you’ll help me get my money back. And if I get any new information, I promise to share it with you.”

  “Deal.”

  “Which means nothing to you, but I can assure you that I’ll never purposely give you useful information or have a vision for you in the future unless you follow through with your end of the deal.”

  A grin spread across his face. “You’re quite the firecracker, aren’t you? Okay. I agree.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I said I liked you, and I meant it. Hell, I’d consider proposing marriage to you to have more control of your gift, but I’m not a one-woman man. I suspect you might cut off my junk if you caught me cheatin’, so we’ll stick to business for now.”

  If he weren’t serious, I would have laughed.

  “How do you do this?”

  “Stay where you are on the desk. I’ll hold your hand, and we’ll see what happens. But it might take a bit. Even a minute or more, so don’t be asking how much longer it’s gonna be every ten seconds.”

  He held out his hand, smiling from ear to ear, and I wondered again at my folly. But it was too late to change anything now. Though I could sometimes see the future, I couldn’t do a darn thing to change the past.

  “When I have a vision, I see it from the perspective of the person who’s nearest to me. So I’ll be you in the vision. I’ll blurt out something that I saw when I come to. It’s usually the most important part, but there’s always more, and I’ll tell you that part too.”

  He waved his hand. “Fine. Sounds good. Let’s get to it.”

  “One more thing. If I see something bad—like, suppose I see you dead—you can’t take it out on me or anyone close to me.”

  “Got it. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  I heaved out a sigh. I had a feeling that I was gonna regret this. I only hoped I saw something he found useful or he might make me try it again. I grabbed his hand and closed my eyes.

  “Are you—?”

  “Shh!” I hushed.

  He laughed, then settled down. My hand began to get clammy, but he held on tight. After thirty seconds or so, I felt a vision coming on.

  I was in a hazy room that looked like a warehouse. The room smelled like smoke, sweat, and stale beer. A crowd of about fifty people filled the space, mostly men, but a few sluttily dressed women hung on them like accessories. The voices echoed in the space while men were lifting paddles and shouting numbers.

  “Fifteen thousand.”

  “Fifteen–five!”

  “Eighteen!”

  I didn’t lift the paddle in my hand or say anything until the bidding started to slow down.

  “Do I hear twenty-six?” the auctioneer called out.

  I lifted my paddle. “Twenty-six.”

  The other bidder was silent.

  “Twenty-seven,” a man called out. I turned my head to see it was a guy lowering his paddle. I knew who he was. The man who’d worn the Batman ski mask.

  My fists tightened with rage. I was starting to lift my paddle when someone brushed past me. I felt a prick on my leg, and within seconds my thigh muscle was burning and my head was fuzzy.

  “Do I hear twenty-eight?” The auctioneer looked at me.

  I wanted to lift my paddle, but I was struggling to breathe.

  “Twenty-seven going once…twice…”

  The men next to me were staring me in shock. “Skeeter! Make the damn bid!”

  But I dropped to my knees, my vision fading, my lungs refusing to inflate. Every muscle in my body had become useless.

  Everything went to black as I heard the auctioneer yell, “Sold to number fourteen.”

  The vision faded and my eyes flew open. “Someone’s gonna kill you at the auction.”

  Then my knees buckled and I started to drop.

  Bruce Wayne reached over and helped me back into my chair.

  Skeeter’s face was beet-red. “What did you see? Who did it?”

  I was struggling to catch my breath.

  “Rose?” Bruce Wayne asked. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, trying to keep my fear under control. “I’ve never died in one before. Give me a minute.”

  Skeeter wasn’t so patient. Bending down in front of me, he growled, “What did you see?”

  “What happened to don’t shoot the messenger? Give me a minute! I’m a little freaked out.”

  “You’re freaked out?” he shouted. “I’m the one who’s gonna die!”

  “Stop,” I said. “You’re not gonna die.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “You just said I was.”

  “And I also told you we could prevent something from happening if we knew about it in advance.” I told him what I had seen. When I was finished, he looked angrier than before I’d started. “You have guys watching out for you in a situation like that, right? Just make sure they’re being extra careful. But the needle hit your
leg while you were bidding, so I’d bet anything one of those other three guys in Batman’s team did it.” Then I smacked his arm. “You cheater!”

  “What did I do?” he shouted, looking confused.

  “Those guys had enough money to bid on Crocker’s business, which means you didn’t get my cash back. You weren’t even gonna try!” I smacked him again. “Serves you right that they killed you.”

  Skeeter scowled.

  I stood and picked up my purse, pulling out a piece of paper on which I’d already printed my cell phone number. I slammed it on his desk with a thud, then pointed my finger at him. “When you have some information for me, text me. But Mason sees my phone sometimes, so be discreet.” The last thing I needed was for Mason to know I’d made a deal with the devil.

  Then, as I stomped out of the office, Bruce Wayne trailing behind, Skeeter broke out into laughter.

  “I’m gonna like working with you, Rose Gardner.”

  Too bad I couldn’t say the same.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I called Neely Kate on the way home to let her know that we were safe and sound. I hadn’t planned on telling her everything, but I couldn’t tell Mason and I had to talk to someone.

  Since I’d originally planned on being home much earlier, I’d told Mason I would cook dinner. The pickings were slim at home, so I decided to stop at the Piggly Wiggly. I still needed to shop for Thanksgiving, but I only had time to grab some pork chops and potatoes, along with a few rolls from the bakery department.

  I was trying to figure out which ones were freshest when I saw a man out of the corner of my eye who looked like the Batman robber from the bank. My head jerked up and I moved down the aisle, trying to get a better look at him, but no one was there.

  I was officially losing my mind.

  Mason’s car was parked in front of the house along with his mother’s. I burst through the front door, the shopping bags hanging from my arms.

  They were both in the living room, and they got to their feet as soon as they saw me.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!”

  Mason’s mom moved toward me and pulled me into a hug, grocery bags and all. She was a startlingly beautiful woman in her early sixties, but her warm heart was what drew me to her.

  “Rose! It’s so good to see you again. Thank you so much for inviting me to stay with you for the holiday.”

  I gave her a warm smile. “You are always welcome here, Maeve.” It felt strange calling her by her first name, but she’d insisted against Mrs. Deveraux and Miss Maeve was out of the question. “You have no idea how happy it makes me that you’re here.”

  “Mason tells me I didn’t need to come to Henryetta so early. He’s going to stay with you here at the farm?”

  I looked for any hint of disapproval in her expression, but found none. “Yes.” I set the bags down on the coffee table and hugged Mason’s arm. “I’ve grown very fond of your son. I suspect if he moved out, we’d just take turns staying at each other’s place’s anyway, so why not keep living together?”

  She clasped her hands together. “Well, I’m thrilled. I was just telling Mason he couldn’t find a sweeter girl.”

  I tilted my head to look into his face. “I think I’m the lucky one,” I said.

  Mason leaned down to give me a kiss. “Let me help you with dinner.”

  I stepped away from him and grabbed the bags. “Don’t be silly. You talk with your momma.”

  “Rose, I don’t feel right not helping,” Mason’s mother said.

  “Don’t you worry! I’ll put you to work on Thanksgiving. But tonight you relax and let us take care of you.”

  I hurried into the kitchen to get started, but Mason rounded the corner and pulled me into a hug to give me a better kiss hello.

  “I missed you at lunch today,” he murmured.

  “I missed you too.”

  “You look nice.” I could hear the question in his voice. “I figured you must have come home since Muffy was here when I got back.”

  “We didn’t have anything for dinner. So I came home and showered and put on nice clothes for your momma. I don’t want her thinking I’m always grungy.” I laughed even though I felt bad for fibbing. “She’ll figure that out soon enough.”

  “You sure I can’t help you with dinner?”

  I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a long kiss. “Go talk to your mother, who you don’t call often enough. She misses you. And then after we go to bed, I’ll show you how much I missed you today.”

  He groaned. “That’s hours from now.”

  “Get!” I gave him a tiny push.

  He grinned and my heart flooded with love.

  Mason and his mother ended up helping me in the kitchen anyway. We ate at the never-used dining room table and sat talking and eating long after we finished. Mason’s mother was funny and sweet, and she regaled me with stories about Mason and his sister when they were kids.

  I drank it in, so grateful I nearly burst. This was what I’d spent my whole life longing for—a loving family. Was that why I was so worried it was about to be snatched away from me?

  We left the dishes in the sink and Mason stood on the front porch with me while we waited for Muffy to do her business. He kissed me in the moonlight…and in that moment, I was almost happy enough to take that stupid test I’d started to carry around in my purse. I just needed to get everything settled with my business first.

  “Mason, I think I’m going to split my share of the business from Violet’s. It’s just not a good idea for us to work together anymore.”

  “Rose, it’s your business. It may say ‘Gardner Sisters’ on the sign, but you’re the complete financial backer. If you want her gone, you can get rid of her.”

  “That doesn’t seem right. She may be acting like a total witch right now, but she loves what she does. And honestly, I wouldn’t be doing what I love right now if she hadn’t goaded me into it.”

  “So maybe you split it up and you take over full ownership of the landscaping portion and you’re the silent partner in the greenhouse side.”

  “That might actually work. Only I won’t be full owner of the landscaping side.”

  He leaned back and studied my face. “Why not?”

  “I want to be co-owners with Bruce Wayne. He feels a sense of ownership already and the work makes him so happy. I realize he didn’t put any money into it, but neither did Violet and she—”

  He kissed me for several long seconds, then lifted his head and gave me a grin. “If you’re worried about my reaction, you needn’t be. For one thing, it’s your business. You can go to work wearing clown suits without it being any business of mine. And if you’re worried about whether I think it’s a wise business move…well, Violet didn’t put any money in and she’s a great co-owner, your personal arguments aside. Bruce Wayne is loyal and hardworking; he’d be thrilled to have more of a stake in the business.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What are you and Violet doing about the missing money?”

  Oh, crappy doodles. “We’re working on it.”

  He took my chin between his finger and thumb and tilted my face up to his. “If I’m going to be living here, I need to start contributing to the expenses more than I currently am. And if you need money to help with the nursery, I can cash in part of my 401K to help.”

  I gasped. “Mason! I can’t let you do that!”

  “You love it and it makes you happy. I would gladly do it. Just tell me how much you need and I’ll have my financial planner put things in motion.”

  Putting my pride aside, surely taking Mason’s money was better than getting in any deeper with Skeeter Malcolm. While Mason wasn’t as freaked out over my amateur sleuthing as Joe had always been, he would never approve of me doing business with Skeeter. “If I accepted your help, how long would it take to get the money?”

  “Well, it will slow things down with Thanksgiving coming up, but I suspect we could have it by the first week of December.”


  I rested my cheek against his chest so he wouldn’t see my disappointment. “I love you, Mason. Thank you.”

  “How much do you need?”

  I wasn’t sure what to tell him, especially since it would be too late. “I’ll figure it out and let you know.”

  “Okay. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  The next morning, Mason and I both went to work late so we could have breakfast with his mother.

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do all day,” she said, carrying breakfast dishes to the sink.

  “I haven’t talked to Violet for a few days, but she probably needs help getting ready for the open house on Friday. I suspect she’ll put you to work, though.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect. I’d love to help.”

  I gave her the directions to the shop, then texted Violet. I hadn’t talked to her since Friday, so I was almost sorry I’d made the suggestion, but Violet had met Mason’s mother when he was in the hospital. I knew the two of them got along well.

  Mason’s mother is in town and would like to help you get ready for the open house. PLEASE be nice to her.

  She answered back a few minutes later.

  I would never consider being anything but nice to her. That’s just insulting. Tell her I look forward to seeing her.

  Typical Violet.

  Are you still planning on coming for Thanksgiving?

  There was a ten-second lapse before she answered.

  Are we still welcome?

  Despite everything, we’re still sisters, Vi. Of course you’re welcome.

  There was a pause again, then: I’ll let you know.

  Bruce Wayne and I met at our new jobsite. It was a small job and would only take a few days. “We need to scrounge up some follow-up work,” I said as we used a garden hose to figure out the curve of the short landscaping wall we planned to build. “The trouble is that most people think we can’t work in the winter. We need to make them realize that as long as the ground’s not frozen, the cooler months are the best time to plant.”

  “Have you got any ideas?”

  I sighed. “Not a one. I guess we should worry about surviving first.” I told him about Mason’s offer of financial assistance. “But it’s a few days late and probably several thousand dollars short. Not that I told him how much we needed.”