Black Rose gt-2

by Nora Roberts

  “Seeing Lily’s not quite a year old, I don’t imagine it made much of an impression.”

  “Regardless, I was nearly out of my mind with temper, and I got it under control, but it was simmering in there for a while. I wanted to cool down, all the way down. And I had to go meet with my lawyer, make a courtesy call at the club. Smooth everybody else’s feathers.”

  “Next time it might occur to you that I’d like a chance to smooth yours.”

  “I’m mean when I’m mad.”

  “Bet you are.”

  She sank into a chair.

  “Roz, you should go to the police with this.”

  “I did. One more embarrassment. And you don’t need to tell me I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. I feel it, so there it is. Nothing much they can do, of course, but I’ve documented all the things I know about. If and when it can be proved he’s behind this, it’s fraud, and it may be considered stalking. If I can burn his ass, Mitch, you can bet the bank I’ll do just that.”

  He came over, crouched in front of her. “I’d like to help you light the match.”

  She laid a hand on his cheek. “I wasn’t brushing you off. I was thinking of you, of finding you and seeing if you’d spend the evening with me. Right before I walked into that nasty little waking nightmare.”

  “Coincidentally, I’ve been thinking of you, and wondering if you’d spend the evening with me. Do you want to get out of the house for a few hours?”

  “I don’t. I really don’t.”

  “Then we’ll stay in.”

  “I’d like to ask you for something.”

  “Ask.”

  “There’s a big, splashy affair coming up at the club. Formal dinner dance, the annual spring one. David was going to escort me. Even with what’s happening with us, I’d planned to stick to that because I didn’t like the idea of the talk and gossip that’ll start if I was to show up with you. But screw that. I’d like you to go with me.”

  “Formal, as in tux?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I can manage it. We’re all right, you and me?”

  “We really seem to be, don’t we?”

  “You want to take a rest now?”

  “No, I don’t.” Content, she leaned forward to kiss both of his cheeks. “What I want is a long, hot bath. And I’d really like some company in the tub.”

  “That’s a hell of an invitation.” He got to his feet, drew her to hers. “Accepted. It may just be the perfect venue to tell you about my recent visit with Clarise Harper.”

  “Cousin Rissy? This I have to hear.”

  IT FELT LOVELY, it felt decadent, and exactly perfect to soak in a bubble bath in the deep old tub, with her back resting against Mitch’s chest.

  Not even the end of the workday, and here she was having a sexy bath, with a man, music, and candles.

  “Clarise gets meaner and leaner every blessed year,” Roz commented. “I swear if she ever dies—because I’m not sure she’ll agree to that eventuality—they won’t even need a coffin. They’ll just crack her in two like a twig and have done with it.”

  “I could tell she holds you in the same high regard.”

  “She despises me for many reasons, but the main is that I have this house, and she doesn’t.”

  “I’d say that’s high on the list.”

  “She’s lying when she says she never saw or felt Amelia. I heard my grandmother talk about it. Clarise’s memory is convenient and to suit herself. She doesn’t tolerate any nonsense, you see, and ghosts fall into that category.”

  “She said ‘balderdash.’ ”

  Letting her head fall back, Roz laughed herself breathless. “Oh, she would. I can just hear it. Well, she can balderdash all she likes, but she’s lying. And I know damn well she should have letters, maybe even journals, quite a number of photographs. There were things she took from the house when my father died. She’ll deny it, but I know she helped herself here and there. We had one of our famous set-tos when I caught her taking a pair of candlesticks from the parlor, while my daddy was still being waked. Vicious old badger.”

  “I don’t imagine she walked out with them.”

  “Not that time, anyway. I didn’t care about the damn candlesticks—ugly things—but my daddy wasn’t even in theground . Still burns my ass. She claimed she’d given them to my father—which she certainly had not—and that she wanted them for sentimental reasons. Which was a load of stinking horseshit, as there isn’t a sentimental cell in her dried-up body.”

  He rubbed his cheek over her hair as if to soothe, but she felt his body shaking with laughter.

  “Oh, go ahead and let it out. I know how I sound.”

  “I love how you sound, but back to the subject. She might have taken other things, things you didn’t see her with.”

  “I know she did, greedy vampire bat that she is. There was a picture of my grandfather as a boy, in a silver frame—Edwardian—a Waterford compote, two Dresden shepherdesses—oh, and other things that vanished after she paid calls.”

  “Hmm.” He rested his chin on the top of her head, lazily soaped her arm. “What do you know about this Jane Paulson?”

  “Not very much. I’ve met her at various weddings and funerals, that sort of thing, but I barely have a picture of her in my head. And when I do, I see this sweet-faced little girl. She’s nearly twenty-five years younger than I am, if my math is right.”

  “Made me think of a puppy who’s been kicked often enough to keep its tail between its legs.”

  “If she’s living with Cousin Rissy, I can only imagine. Poor thing.”

  “She knows something, though.”

  Curious, Roz turned her head so she could see Mitch. “Why do you say?”

  “Something went over her face when Clarise claimed not to have any journals, any diaries. As if she were going to be helpful and say: Oh, don’t you remember the one . . . whatever. Then she caught herself, folded up. If I were a betting man, I’d wager heavy that Prissy Rissy has some information we could use.”

  “And if she doesn’t want to share it, she’d burn it before she’d give it to you. She’s that perverse.”

  “Can’t if she doesn’t know I know she’s got it—and if we can persuade Jane to help us out.”

  “What are you going to do, seduce the poor girl?”

  “Nope.” He bent down to kiss Roz’s wet shoulder. “You are. What I was thinking was that the girl could use a friend—maybe the prospect of another job. If you were able to contact her without Clarise knowing, give her some options . . .”

  “And try to recruit her.” Pursing her lips, Roz thought it through. “It’s very sneaky, very deceptive. And I like it very much.”

  He slid his hands up, covered her breasts with them, and with frothy bubbles. “I was hoping you would.”

  “I don’t mind playing dirty.” With a wicked gleam in her eye, she squirmed around until she faced him. “Let’s practice,” she said, and dunked them both.

  SIXTEEN

  UNDER THE HUMMINGchaos of spring season was a kind of simmering stress for the grower, especially if she happened to be the owner as well. Had she prepared enough flats, was she offering the right types and numbers of perennials?

  Would the blooms be big enough, showy enough to attract the customers? Were the plants strong enough, healthy enough to maintain the reputation she’d built for quality?

  Had they created enough baskets, pots, planters—or too many?

  What about the shrubs and trees? Would the sidelines compliment the plants or detract from those sales?

  Were the mulch colorants she’d decided to carry a mistake, or would her customer base enjoy the variety?

  She left a great deal of this in Stella’s hands; that’s why she’d hired a manager. Roz wanted to compartmentalize many of the details—in someone else’s compartment. But In the Garden was still her baby, and she experienced all the pride and worry a mother might over any growing child.

  She could enj
oy the crowds and confusion, the customers wheeling their wagons or flatbeds around the tables, over gravel and concrete to select just the right plants for their gardens or patio pots. She could and did enjoy consulting and recommending, and used that to balance out the little pang she experienced at the start of high season when she watched the plants she’d nurtured ride off to new homes.

  At this time of year she often lectured herself about being sentimental over what she’d grown. But they weren’t, and never could be, merely products to her. The weeks, months, often years spent nurturing specimens formed a connection for her that was very personal.

  For the first few days of every spring season, she mourned the parting. Then she got down to business.

  She was in the propagation house, taking a break from those crowds and calculating which plants to move into the retail area next when Cissy burst in.

  “Roz, I’m desperate.”

  Roz pursed her lips. The usually meticulously groomed Cissy had more than one highlighted hair out of place, and a panicked gleam in her eyes. “I can see that. Your hairdresser retire? Your masseuse run off with a musician?”

  “Oh, don’t joke. I’m serious.” She hustled down the tables to where Roz worked. “My in-laws are coming to visit.”

  “Oh.”

  “Just dropped that bomb on me this morning. And they’re coming in two days. Ihate when people just assume they’re welcome.”

  “They are family.”

  “Which only makes it worse, if you ask me. You know she picks on me. She’s picked on me for twenty-six years. If they hadn’t moved to Tampa, I’d be a crazy woman by now, or in jail for murder. I need your help, Roz.”

  “I’m not going to kill your mother-in-law for you, Cissy. There are limits to friendship.”

  “I bet you could.” Eyes narrowed, she took a long and calculating look around. “I bet there are all sorts of interesting poisons around here I could slip into her martini, and end this personal hell. I’ll just hold that one in reserve. You know what she said to me?”

  “No, but I guess I’m going to hear it.”

  “She said she supposed I hadn’t replaced the carpet in the dining room yet, and how she’d just love to go out while she’s here and find just the right thing. Not to worry about the time it took her, she had plenty now that she and Don have retired. And how I’d find that out for myself soon, since I’m reaching that age. I’m reachingthat age . Can you imagine?”

  “Seeing as you and I are about the same age, I might find some poison around here.”

  “Oh, and that’s not the half of it. I’d be here all day if I got started, and I can’t because I’m under the gun. She started snooting at me about the gardens and the lawn, and how she wondered I didn’t do more than I did with mine, why I didn’t take more pride in the homeher son has provided me with.”

  “You have a lovely yard.” Not that it reached its potential, but it was, in Roz’s opinion, well kept and pretty enough.

  “She just pushed my buttons—like she always does—and I just blurted out how I’d been slaving away, and put in new beds and whatnot. I just blathered, Roz, and now, unless you help me out, she’s going to see I was lying through my teeth.”

  “If you want Logan, we can ask Stella what his schedule’s like, but—”

  “I hit her on the way back. He’s booked—solid, she says—for the next two weeks.” She clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. “I’m begging you, Roz. Begging you. Pull him off something and give him to me. Just two days.”

  “I can’t yank him off another job—but wait,” she said when tears gathered in Cissy’s eyes. “We’ll figure this out. Two days.” Roz blew out a breath. “It’s gonna cost you.”

  “I don’t care. Money’s the least of it. My life’s at stake here. If you don’t help me, I’ll just have to fly down to Tampa on the sly and murder her in her sleep tonight.”

  “Then let’s get started saving your life, and hers.”

  She had a vision in mind, and cut a swath through her own nursery as she built on it. Cissy didn’t blink when Roz accumulated plants, shrubs, ornamental trees, pots, and planters.

  “Harper, I need you to go to the house, bring my pickup on around. We’re going to load this up, and I’m going to steal you for a few hours. Stella, you tell Logan to come on by here when he finishes for the day. He’s going to be putting in some overtime. He can pick up what I’ve earmarked, and bring it to this address.”

  She scrawled Cissy’s address on a scrap of paper. “You come with him. I can use your hands, and your eye.”

  “Do you really think you can get all this done in less than two days?” Stella asked.

  “I will get it done in less than two days because that’s what I’ve got.”

  SHE LOVED Achallenge. And there was nothing like digging in the dirt to take her mind off any worries.

  She measured, marked, tilled, dumped peat moss, and raked.

  “Normally I’d want to take more time to prep the soil. Starting a new bed’s an important event.”

  Cissy chewed on her lip, twisted the string of pearls she wore around her fingers. “But you can do it.”

  “Not much I can’t do with dirt and plants. It’s my gift.” She nodded to where Harper was already setting in a decorative metal trellis. “And his. And you’re going to learn something today. Put those gloves on, Cissy. You’re going to do some slaving away, then you won’t have lied.”

  “I don’t give a red damn about the lie.” But she tugged on the gloves.

  Roz explained, in basic terms, that they’d do a four-season perennial garden. One that would impress, whatever time of year the in-laws visited. Iris and dianthus, campanula. Bleeding heart and columbine for instant bloom. With spring bulbs, craftily placed annuals, and the foliage from later bloomers filling in now.

  And once the massive planters she’d chosen were done and exploding with flowers, the bed would be a showpiece even a persnickety mother-in-law would love.

  She left Cissy setting in crested cockscomb and dusty miller and moved off to reorganize and fluff up the already established beds.

  At the end of another hour, she realized they would use everything she’d brought with her, and then some.

  “Harper?” She swiped at her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. “You got your cell phone?”

  He stopped working the vines onto the trellis long enough to pat at his pockets. “Somewhere. Truck maybe?”

  Like mother like son, she thought, sent him a wave, and went around front to find it. She called Stella, rattled off another list of needs—having no doubt her manager would record them all, invoice, inventory, and deliver.

  She planted cannas at the back fence, along with blue salvia and African daisies. Then sat back on her heels when Cissy walked to her with a tall glass.

  “I made lemonade, from scratch. For my sins. My manicure is wrecked,” she said as she handed Roz the glass. “And I’m already aching in places I forgot I owned. I don’t know how you do this.”

  “I don’t know how you play bridge every week.”

  “Well, to each his own, I suppose. I owe you a lot more than the check I wrote.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be writing a couple more before it’s over.”

  Cissy just closed her eyes. “Hank’s going to kill me. He’s going to take his nine iron and beat me bloody and dead.”

  “I don’t think he will.” Roz got to her feet, handed the empty glass back, then stretched her back. “I think he’s going to be pleased and proud—and touched that you’d go to all this trouble—ruining a manicure on top of it—to make your home more beautiful for his mother’s visit. To show her, and him, how much you value the home he’s provided you with.”

  “Oh.” A slow smile spread. “That’s damn clever of you, Rosalind.”

  “Just because I don’t have a husband doesn’t mean I don’t know how they work. I’m going to warn you, you don’t take proper care of all this, I’ll
come over here and beat you senseless with Hank’s nine iron myself.”

  Cissy looked around at the dirt, the half-planted beds, the shovels and rakes and bags of soil and additives. “It’s going to look really nice when it’s finished. Right?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I am. Completely. And this is probably not the best time to tell you that son of yours is one handsome devil. I swear, my heart nearly shut right down when I handed him that lemonade and he flashed that grin at me. God almighty, he must have the girls at his feet, four layers deep.”

  “Never known him to have trouble finding one. Doesn’t seem to keep them long, though.”

  “He’s young yet.”

  IT WAS DARKwhen she got home. Dirty, a little achy, she poked her head in the library before heading upstairs. She’d seen Mitch’s car out front.

  “Working late?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You, too?”

  “I had an amazing day. Time of my life. I’m going to go up and scrape several inches of that day off me, then eat like a pig.”

  “Want company? I’ve got a couple of things to run by you.”

  “Sure, come on up.”

  “Been playing in the dirt?”

  “Most of the day. Gardening emergency.” She shot a grin over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. “A friend, an unexpected visit by in-laws, passive-aggressive tendencies, and a desire for one-upmanship. This resulted in a hell of a profit for my business and a terrific day for me.”

  She walked straight into her bathroom, stripped off her shirt. “Been a long time since I got seriously involved in the design and landscaping end of things. I’d nearly forgotten how much I love to get my hands into somebody’s dirt and create something.”

  She undressed while she talked, in a practical sort of way, dumping her clothes in the hamper, leaning in to start the shower and test the water temperature, while he stood in the doorway, listening.

  “A lot of the place was virgin ground—unrealized potential. I should feel guilty for charging her when it was such a good time for me—but I don’t. We earned it.”