“Why was your mother so fucking twisted?” Jen asked. “I mean, as bad mothers go, she went off the charts straight into malignant psychopath territory. I wonder if she was always that way or if something flipped her switch. And why target you? Aren’t mothers supposed to love their children? Isn’t there some sort of maternal bonding thing that happens at birth? I mean, even monsters like Godzilla love their children.”
“Godzilla isn’t real, you know,” Stacey pointed out.
Jen flipped her off. “You get my point. I wonder if she left anything that could tell you. Letters or a diary or something.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to know,” I said, which was totally not true, but I didn’t want to care why. There were no good reasons for anything she’d done to me. No justifications. No circumstances that could possibly make the way she treated me anything but pure evil.
“Don’t you?” Lorraine nudged my leg with her foot. “Maybe not the why part, but what about her past? Your father? Any other family you might have?”
“If they’d given a shit, they’d have showed up and done something to help me,” I said, not entirely reasonably.
Stacey made a face, tapping her lips with cranberry fingernails. “She might have driven them off. I wonder if any of her family or your father even knew about you.”
“Doesn’t matter. The only family I want or need is right here in this room. Everybody else can fuck off.”
That declaration resulted in a group hug, more drinks, and eventually we got off onto other subjects.
Around one in the morning, I declared myself out. “I’ve got to be out at the sale by O-dark-thirty. You all know where everything is. I won’t wake you when I leave.” I had two extra bedrooms and the couch. No one would be uncomfortable as they slept off the booze.
I sat on the back of the rectangular couch and swung my legs over the other side. We all took Ajax outside and after giving him his medications, he and I went to bed. I set my alarm for four-thirty and crawled between the sheets. He ignored the dog bed on the floor and climbed up beside me and whuffled my ear before snuggling in to sleep.
If I ever got a love life, Ajax would probably put a crimp in it. Not that I ever would get one. I doubted I’d trust any man enough to let him spend the night, much less actually have a relationship with. Ajax was a much better bet. And he wasn’t going to try to kidnap me.
On the other hand, Ajax wasn’t nearly as good a kisser as Damon. For the first time since I walked away from him tonight, I thought about what he’d said. He wanted me. He was jealous of Garrett. I marveled at that. Did I want him? My body sure as hell did. But the rest of me wasn’t ready to trust him. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to try.
Sleep swallowed me before I’d figured anything out. It pulled me down into a deep well of dreamlessness.
Chapter 11
It was still dark when Ajax and I left the apartment. He was moving easier, though still very slowly.
“At least sleeping on a real bed is a lot better for your body than shit-crusted hard ground,” I said, opening the front door of my Thunderbird to let him inside.
He hopped in and sat in the passenger side. I put my tote with my thermos in it on the floorboards along with my purse and got behind the wheel. I felt sluggish and tired. I’d have liked to crawl back into bed for the rest of the day, but there’s no rest for the wicked or the owners of businesses.
The estate we were selling nestled in the hills above the river and had a wrought-iron gate. Thank goodness, because there were already early birds assembling. Not only early birds, but at least a dozen news vans and a bunch of other reporters were parked along the road and stood in front of the gates.
I scowled. They came here but not to the shop?
But as soon as I asked the question, I figured out the answer. Damon. He’d used his magic to keep them away. I wanted to resent it but I couldn’t. I appreciated the gesture far too much. It almost made up for his wrecking my meeting with Garrett. Almost.
I drove up through the reporters, my doors locked and my windows up. I honked at them, and they didn’t move. I gave a little push of magic to make sure all their pictures came out badly, and then I released a cloud of magical gnats. They swarmed, biting at every square inch of exposed fleshy real estate they could find. They flew into noses, ears, eyes, and mouths.
Within seconds, the horde started shrieking and dancing and flapping their arms and slapping themselves. The early birds watched their antics, amazed. The gates opened and I rolled through. I didn’t call off my annoying little pests. What did I need Damon Dickweed for anyway?
I parked behind the house and went inside to find Monica. I’d stopped for coffee on the way and handed her a large cup.
“You’re a goddess.” She closed her eyes as she sipped.
“My trunk’s full of pastries too.”
“I knew I liked working for you. Terri! Grab Amy and go dig the food out of Beck’s trunk and let everybody know there’s breakfast.”
“How’s everything looking?” I asked.
“Perfect.” She lifted a brow at me. “You, on the other hand, look like death warmed over. Not that I can blame you after what I saw on the news. You’re going to have to tell me all about it later.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Sure it wasn’t.”
Ajax chose that moment to step between us. Her gaze dropped. “That’s the dog, isn’t it?”
“I adopted him. His name is Ajax.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “Should he be here? Is he friendly? Is he okay?”
“Jury’s still out on his friendliness, but so far so good. Right now, he seems to want to be wherever I am.”
“I’ve heard wolves bond like that.”
“You too?”
“Me too what?”
“Except for his coloring, I just don’t see the wolf. He looks more like a German Shepherd to me.”
“Then you’re blind. Anyway, I need to double-check the pricing of some things. I set up the smaller collectibles and antiques in the library and east salon.”
I spent the rest of the morning until opening helping to price, organize, and fill whatever needs Monica had. She’d been running my estate sales for more than a year now. I’d taught her everything I knew, and then she zoomed past me, implementing methods and means that I’d never begun to think of.
We didn’t do waitlists, so it was a first-come sort of thing. We did make sure only a few people entered at a time to keep from having stampedes. We also kept a big staff, both to help shoppers and to monitor for theft, with extra security to make sure nobody got robbed on the way out. It was expensive, but then, these sales were extremely lucrative and what we sold was valuable. I’d skimmed off the truly unique and important pieces to sell either at auction or to brokers such as Garrett, or to consign in my shop.
In an irony of epic proportions, my mother had done everything she could to make my business a success—recommending me to her clients and friends and talking me up on every occasion. It was all because she feared that I would fail on my own and my failure would humiliate her in the heady circles she traveled in. Now, between the shop, estate sales, and occasional auctions, Effortless Estates had cleared more than a million in profit last year and was on its way to doing better this year.
I’d retreated to a chair behind the cashier desk to keep Ajax from scaring people. I still couldn’t seem to wake up, even with four shots of expresso in my coffee, and he refused to be peeled away from my side. I hoped he relaxed at some point. It could get awkward if I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without the dog’s company.
At the moment, he slept beside me with his head propped on my left boot. The bustle of people had unnerved him for a bit, but he’d calmed when I told him everything was all right and he didn’t need to worry.
I glanced down at the star sapphire still on my finger. It wasn’t nearly as pretty now as it had been the night before. The lavender blue had clou
ded, and I could barely see the star. The gold had darkened, turning almost gray. Even in death, my mother ruined things. I slipped the ring off and tossed it into a box of things that someone had left on hold while they continued shopping. It could be their bonus treasure.
For the next hour, I took money and chatted, though my brain was working slowly and I had a hard time focusing. I felt lethargic and drained. I was more than a little ready to go see if any beds hadn’t yet been sold and take a nap.
All of a sudden, a microphone thrust in front of my face. “Are you a suspect in your mother’s murder, Miss Wyatt?”
I blinked at the speaker, trying to process her rapid-fire words. The perky, black-haired reporter had pale skin and almond eyes. A square logo on the microphone read KLON. A scruffy man with a brown beard and shaved head held a camera on his shoulder just to the side as he recorded me.
“Have the police questioned you? Were you angry at your mother? Did she deserve to die?”
The questions were ludicrous and insulting. Well, except for the last one. My mother sure as hell deserved to die. Too bad she could do it only once. My mother would have hated this attention. One thing we had in common. I smiled tiredly and looked at the camera. Magic flowed from me, eating the pixels from the hard drive inside.
“I have spoken to the police Miss— I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?”
The reporter flushed, whether it was because she hadn’t offered her name, or because I’d implied she wasn’t famous or important enough to recognize, I didn’t know.
“I’m Angela Cho, Channel Six News.”
“Of course you are. I’m sure you meant to offer your condolences for my mother’s violent passing, and I thank you for your obvious concern. She meant so much to so many people, to this city, and to me. Her loss is impossible to measure.”
I let my voice catch and wiped invisible tears from under my eyes as I sniffed. “It’s still so raw. I’m grateful for everybody’s kindness and support through the terrible circumstances of her death.” I covered my mouth and dropped my head, looking into my lap as if overcome with emotion. My shoulders shook, though from laughter, not grief.
A pool of silence fell around us. The waiting customers stared at the reporter in disgust. The lady in front of me wearing Chanel, her silver hair frosted white, bent and grasped my hand in hers and glared at Angela Cho.
“You ought to be ashamed, coming here and harassing this poor woman. I’m going to call your station and complain to your manager.”
“No respect,” someone added. “Harassing this poor woman right when she’s grieving.”
“You need to leave,” a man declared, and everybody else echoed him.
Then a mob collected around Angela Cho and every other reporter who had sneaked inside and they were pushed out none too gently.
I decided that that was my cue to leave. I gave Monica a little wave, and then Ajax and I slipped out the back door. Angela Cho hadn’t asked about him. Apparently his story wasn’t as exciting as my mother’s murder. Either that, or they hadn’t figured out that the woman who’d talked the dog down and the daughter of Anne Wyatt were one and the same.
The estate had a back entrance, and I used it. I decided the day was nice enough that I’d take Ajax to the river, and given how crazy lethargic I felt, I needed a little R&R. And maybe another gallon or so of coffee.
I drove out of town and out along the south fork of the river. I parked at a fishing access and Ajax and I followed a deer track about fifty yards through close-growing trees and scrub bushes. I stepped carefully over the thick line of red-spotted, cream-colored mushrooms that crossed the track. As soon as my foot came down on the other side, the air shimmered crystal clean, like the morning after a rain.
The spot was like a little piece of Eden. It felt sacred and clean. I’d found it a few years ago during a particularly bad time and it had become my personal sanctuary, where none of the shit of my world could intrude. I was safe here. No one could find me here, and everything about the place rejuvenated me, heart, mind, and soul.
I went a little further, coming out in a verdant hollow just below a white roll of rapids. Miner’s lettuce and grass covered the ground, with flame-bright poppies growing down the bank to the drop-off a few feet above the water.
A scalloped-out area in the wall of boulders below revealed a cupped hollow with a small pool, maybe twenty feet across. A hot spring fed into the chill waters of the river here, and even in winter, the water was delightfully warm. Nature’s magic. The pool was about fifteen feet deep, with ledges in the rocks offering places to sit. It couldn’t be seen from the river. It was my sanctuary and not even Stacey, Jen, or Lorraine knew about it.
I stopped long enough to strip. I was too tired to do more than leave my clothes in a pile on the ground. Normally I just hopped over the ledge and plunged into the pool, but with Ajax, I worried he’d try to follow. Instead I led him around a thrusting boulder and down an embankment to the water’s edge.
A red sand beach filled the flat, six-foot-wide gap between the giant rocks and gave entrance to the pool.
“Stay here,” I said, pointing to the sand.
Ajax sank down and put his head on his paws. He looked as tired as I felt. I stroked his head. “Poor baby. If I could kill the asshole who did this to you all over again, I would. Hopefully he’s spinning slow on somebody’s barbecue spit in hell.”
I waded into the water and slid under. On the side where the spring flowed into the river, the water was practically steaming. On the other side, where the river washed through the rock tunnel entrance below, it was downright chilly. Since the morning was decently warm, I drifted closer to the river side. I let myself float, my head tilted toward the sky.
Tension ran out of my muscles and loosened the knots of emotion tangling my soul, the colder water doing little to cut through my thick exhaustion. Between a night without sleep to rescue Ajax and staying up too late drinking with the girls, I’d overdone it. I vowed that tonight, I’d go to bed early.
But it wasn’t just lack of sleep. I was mentally and emotionally overloaded. With my mother’s death, my whole world had changed. For the first time in my life, I was free. Free to do what I wanted; free to live where and how I wanted; free to make friends without fearing my mother’s retaliation.
Freedom scared me.
I knew who I was when I was fighting my mother. I knew what gave meaning to my days. Every speck of my soul was defined by my mother, by my need to defy and withstand her. Who was I going to be now that she was gone? I had Lorraine and Jen and Stacey, and now Ajax. He needed me. Maybe that’s why it had felt so right, so necessary, that I take him in. I hadn’t even thought about it. His need gave me a purpose.
Pathetic.
What did other people live for? Their jobs? Lorraine saved lives. Stacey saved lives in her own way, too, as a bartender. She listened and gave broken people hope and friendship when they were at their lowest. Jen was a computer whiz, saving people and companies from technological hell. Me? I sold the belongings of dead people. Not exactly profound.
Sure, I gave a lot of money to the clinic to help animals. It was totally selfish. I did that entirely for me. To try to balance some of the evil my mother dumped into the world and to keep from hanging myself. The time I spent helping animals gave me solace and helped temper the bleak shadows that haunted me.
I sniffed and blinked. God, was I crying? I knuckled my eyes, sending a wave of water over my face. I never cried. What in the fuck is wrong with me? I didn’t realize I said it out loud until a deep male voice answered.
“Doesn’t look to me like anything’s wrong with you.”
I stiffened, an electric jolt of adrenaline shooting through me. What the fuck was Damon doing here? Anger ran over me in fiery flames, followed by an aching sense of loss. This place where I felt safe wasn’t anymore. It didn’t matter whether Damon meant me harm or not. It was enough that he’d found me. Th
at feeling of loss quenched my anger and deadened the adrenaline. That emotionally flat feeling I’d had earlier returned, accompanied by a determination to escape.
Robotically I turned on my stomach and swam to the red sand. I stood and walked up out of the pool. Ajax followed me up the trail. I didn’t look at Damon as I collected my clothing and dressed. I didn’t bother pretending modesty. He’d seen all of me already. I didn’t have anything left to hide. Had I really been looking forward to seeing him again? Just now, I couldn’t imagine why.
“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he said.
I didn’t answer. I’d already put on my bra and underwear. I hated putting clothes on when I was wet. If not for Damon, I’d have dried in the sun. I stepped into my skirt and zipped myself into it without tucking in my blouse and then slid my feet into my boots without putting on my socks.
“Rebecca? Is this the silent treatment?”
His voice was mocking, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to leave him, leave this place. I wasn’t ever coming back. Deep down in a place where words didn’t exist, I knew I couldn’t. The safety of the place, the precious serenity and peace of the hollow were shattered for me. The loss hurt more than I would have guessed.
I walked away, feeling like I was dragging a pile of cinderblocks behind me. I’d not yet reached the curve of the toadstool circle when Damon caught my arm. I didn’t fight him. I didn’t seem to have any fight in me. There was no prize to win. The prize was destroyed.
Why did I feel like I was destroyed too? Wow. That was over the top. Where had that come from? All the same, the sentiment felt accurate.
“Look, I want to talk to you about last night.”
He waited for some kind of response. I didn’t have any. Nothing he said mattered. I didn’t even look at him. That would have required effort I didn’t have the energy for.
He growled. “Come on, Rebecca. Cut the silent crap. You aren’t ten. Talk to me.”
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 8