by Miles, Ava
She hadn’t brought up the song, and because he was feeling raw, he hadn’t either. He’d always let his music speak for him, but for once he was afraid he’d made a mistake.
He levered himself up and glanced at the clock. 8 a.m.? Where would she have gone this early? He stubbed his toe on the way to the shower and swore.
Clayton was waiting for him in the bedroom when he walked out in a towel. Rye’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t even bother to ask his friend how he’d gotten a key.
“You here to give me a special birthday present?” he asked.
His mouth was grim, Clayton flipped over a newspaper. “I wish I were.”
The tabloid’s headline had his knees going weak, a first. “Crenshaw Pays One Million for Sister’s Divorce.”
Clayton handed him the paper. “It provides details about your silver spoon upbringing, your estrangement from your family, and your recent visit to Meade. Everything.”
Oh Jesus, he thought. This was going to kill his family. They were going to bear the brunt of the ridicule, especially Tammy. The betrayal burned like peroxide on a wound.
“Dammit!” He scanned the article. Clayton was right. It was all there. The most intimate details of his past and his visit to Meade.
“It was written by the same reporter who broke the story when we were in Oklahoma City. Georgia and I are meeting with the investigator right after I finish with you to go over the information we have again. But I have to warn you, Rye, there aren’t too many people who knew about this besides your family, Mama, me, and Tory, and so far nothing has popped on your former brother–in–law. Besides, these details would be pretty embarrassing to him, don’t you think?”
Rye fisted his hands by his side, reeling from the news.
“And of course the bank employees would know, but we doubt the leak came from there,” he continued. Then Clayton’s phone burst into a rousing rendition of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”
He held up a hand, and Rye waited, his mind swirling with the news. This couldn’t be happening.
When Clayton snapped the phone shut, he took a deep breath before talking. “That was Mama. We had people reexamine the background checks on the crew and get confirmation on anyone who had a break in employment.”
“What did they find?”
“One of the lighting techs, a Luke Mardel, was out of work for a while. He’s kept his nose clean, but our investigator called in a favor at the IRS and discovered that he worked for a tabloid about ten years ago. We didn’t catch it because we don’t go far enough back with the tax records. Mama and someone from security just tried to corner him in the breakfast room, but he slipped away when he saw her coming. When they went through his room, they found his phone charging and… Rye, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Tory called him yesterday.”
The news was worse than a sucker punch. Why would she know a lighting tech? Least of all call one? The hammer came down on his heart and shattered it. “It has to be a mistake.”
“Why would she call him, Rye? And right before the tabloid goes to press with this story! What possible explanation could she have?”
“I don’t know.” He pressed his hand to his pounding forehead.
“Has she mentioned being friends with him?”
“No, dammit, she hasn’t!” And why would she if she’s guilty? a dark whisper asked.
“Rye I know you don’t want to believe—”
“Maybe he was using her the same way that reporter manipulated Myra?” Tory cared about him. She adored his family. She wouldn’t do this. The evidence didn’t matter.
“Maybe.” But he could tell Clayton didn’t believe it.
Rye turned around and walked to the window, and all he could see was Tory’s smile, all he could feel was her comforting touch. “It can’t be true,” he muttered, staring across the hazy city.
“You’re being blind about this, Rye.”
“Don’t tell me that!” he shouted. Did Clayton not realize that his accusations were tearing him apart? “I didn’t want to dredge up the past before, but don’t let your own trust issues sour you here. I’ve forgotten all about that undercover reporter sleeping with you and pumping you for information about me.”
Clayton slapped his hat against his knee, his mouth twisting. “Well, at least I found her out before I told her anything.”
Amanda Grant had been an ambitious reporter for a gossip rag in Nashville, and she’d set an enticing lure for Clayton with the intention of learning dirty secrets about country singing’s newest star. Clayton had fallen for her hard, Rye knew, and had felt betrayed when he’d discovered it was a set up, even if she claimed to have developed feelings for him. Now his friend kept all his relationships simple and short–term. And he didn’t date professional women with any ambition.
“It wasn’t your fault, Clay,” Rye said softly.
“Leave it. Back to the matter at hand. Has Tory’s money situation improved?” Clayton asked.
He ran his hands through his hair, the hurt searing through him. Since she never talked about it, he didn’t know. “Why wouldn’t she have come to me if she needed the money so bad?” he cried. He had plenty.
Clayton slapped his hat against his thigh. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. We need to find her and question her.”
He suddenly had a thought and rushed to their walk–in closet. Her clothes were still hanging next to his, her suitcase open. “She didn’t leave.” Didn’t that mean something?
“She doesn’t know we’re…looking into her.” He was acting like her guilt was certain. “Call her.”
He picked up his phone, and when she didn’t answer, he wanted to punch a hole in the wall.
Clayton just shook his head. “We have people looking for her.”
“Call them off,” he said, something new burning in his gut. “She’s coming back. I’ll handle her myself. And keep looking into other suspects. Sterling, the bank people.”
Anybody.
Anybody but Tory.
His friend studied him for a moment. “Okay, Rye. Look, this is a shit storm,” Clayton continued. “You need to tell your family, and we’ll make arrangements to keep them from the press. I need to get back to Mama so we can figure out a strategy. Do you want to cancel your party tonight?”
He reached out and caressed Tory’s red top, which was still lying on the bed. Party? That’s right. It was his birthday. What a way to welcome in a new decade. “No, everyone’s in town, including Rhett and Abbie. Let’s move it to a secret location. Keep it low–key and closed to the press. No pictures.”
He heard Clayton’s sigh. “I’m sorry, Rye. Happy birthday.”
Yeah, happy fucking birthday.
***
When Rye arrived at Tammy’s suite, the family’s home base since Amelia Ann and Daddy were sharing a connecting suite, they sent the kids into her bedroom to watch a movie. Tammy knew something was wrong immediately. And then he told them about the tabloid story, and she couldn’t stop shaking. Daddy assured her it would be all right, even though his pale complexion told another story. Amelia Ann was quietly crying.
“What are we going to do?” Tammy asked, her eyes searching her brother’s.
Rye had been pacing, but he rushed over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “My people are working on it. You have to trust them to do their job.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Tammy bit her lip when it quivered. “Rye, you don’t think Mama would do this, do you? She hates me now.”
Daddy pulled her into a hug. “No, honey, she would never do something like this. And she doesn’t hate you.”
“Mama can’t abide airing the family’s dirty laundry,” Rye said.
“And Sterling has way too much pride, so I don’t think it could be him,” she said. If there were one thing she knew about him, it was how much he valued his image.
“I still asked Clayton to have the investigator lo
ok at him, just in case,” Rye said, and hearing that, Tammy clenched her hands.
Amelia Ann put an arm around her waist, and the touch was a small comfort in the sea of agony. “Maybe someone in the bank leaked it. It’s a pretty juicy story.”
Rye only shook his head. “They wouldn’t know the rest of it. About the family.”
“Someone from Sterling and Tammy’s bank might,” her sister added. “They could have put two and two together.”
“Perhaps,” Rye growled.
Tammy studied him. He knew something. She saw despair beneath the anger in his red face—after all the sadness she’d experienced in her own life, she knew how to spot it.
“I guess it’s a good thing we’re moving to Nashville, right?” she tried to joke.
Rye pulled her into a hug. “That’s right. Besides, who wouldn’t be impressed by a woman who’s worth a million dollars?”
Who knew her brother could paint a silver lining? Her eyes burned. But she wasn’t worth it. She’d only been sold.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Rye said, rocking her back and forth. “You’re not alone now.”
And despite the huge fear that took her breath away, she realized it was true.
My Grandma made a lot of cakes, but my favorite was her Lady Baltimore—an old school, spongy white cake that you don’t see too much anymore. Maybe it was the name, which reminded me I was special, but I always chose it for my birthday. She’d frost it with a mouth–watering buttercream frosting in the colors I liked best, adding cabbage roses in the corners. Other times, I’d select a “shape” cake, like an elephant or a horse, and she’d cut the cake into pieces and reassemble it, transforming a normal cake into a magical creation. By the time the cake was punctured with candles, it was a work of art. And while you were sad to see the magical cake disappear, you never thought twice about eating it. With one bite, it hooked you.
Lady Baltimore Cake
¾ cup butter
2 cups sugar
3 cups sifted cake flour
3 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
½ cup milk
½ cup water
1 tsp. vanilla
6 egg whites
Sift the cake flour with the salt and baking powder. Cream the butter and sugar. Whip the egg whites to stiff. Combine milk and water with vanilla. Mix half the flour mixture and milk/water mixture into the creamed butter and sugar. Stir. Repeat the process. When blended, gently add the egg whites in batches until thoroughly mixed. Pour into a buttered and floured pan. Bake 25 minutes at 350 degrees.
Tory Simmons’ Simmering Family Cookbook
Chapter 21
When she didn’t find Rye in their plush celebrity suite, Tory knocked on the door of the suite where Tammy and the kids were staying. Her clothes were slightly damp from spending the morning in the stuffy kitchen at The Forum baking Rye’s cake, and she checked her arms to make sure there wasn’t flour anywhere while she waited.
Rye opened the door, and his face was so tense she instantly asked, “What happened?”
Amelia Ann rushed forward and filled her in on the whole messy situation. Her heart started pounding in her ears.
Oh my God, she thought, watching Rye’s face. Gone was the man who’d lingered over her the night before, driving her to passion and then cradling her so tenderly in his arms. His mouth grim, he stared at her with anger and suspicion in his eyes.
He blamed her. Again. After all they’d been through. Shock made her shiver, and the pain of his mistrust was like a spear in her gut.
“That’s horrible,” she whispered back to Amelia Ann, striving for composure. “I’m so sorry.”
They walked into the main room of the suite, where Mr. Hollins and Tammy welcomed her with hugs. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Rory and Annabelle sitting on the floor in Tammy’s bedroom in front of the TV.
“So, where have you been, darlin’?” Rye drawled.
The petty endearment was like a slap. “I was out getting your birthday present.”
“This early? Where were you really?” he growled, grabbing her arm.
“Rye.” She flinched and tried to pull away. His grip wasn’t strong, but the intensity of his anger made her shake.
Suddenly Rory heaved himself at Rye and swung a fist at him. “Don’t hurt her!” he cried. Tory’s throat closed as the little boy started whaling on Rye.
“Rory!” Tammy cried out, lurching forward to stop him.
The boy’s eyes were wild. “You leave her alone.”
Rye grabbed ahold of Rory’s arms. “Son, it’s okay,” he said, his voice gentle now. “I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
The boy’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. “You grabbed her arm like Daddy does to Mama when he makes her cry!”
Oh no, Tory thought. Not that. But Tammy was shaking so hard her heel was tapping the floor, and her reaction was all the verification that was needed.
Hampton staggered back into a chair, and Amelia Ann’s gasp was audible.
Holding his hands up, Rye said, “I wouldn’t hurt her like that, Rory. I promise.”
Everyone seemed to have frozen in place, so Tory crouched down in front of Rory. “I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.” She pulled him to her and held his trembling body in a tight embrace. It wasn’t enough. She picked him up even though he was heavy, and he wrapped his arms around her neck. “There now. It’s all right.”
Rye’s jaw ticked as he watched the scene.
Tammy picked up Annabelle, who had followed her brother into the main room. “Excuse us,” she muttered, disappearing into her bedroom.
Amelia Ann followed them, brushing away tears.
“Why don’t you go on with your mama?” Tory said to Rory. “It’ll make her happy.”
When he finally nodded, she lowered him to his feet and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for looking out for me, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”
He stared at Rye with narrowed eyes before following the others.
Hampton stood and walked over to Rye, gripping his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay, son,” he said, his voice shaking. “We’ll make it right somehow.”
Rye just shook his head. “My God, Daddy. Thank God we’ve gotten them away from him.”
“Tory, I’m going to excuse myself,” Hampton said, looking ten years older.
Her heart was pounding in painful beats and she watched as Rye headed for the door.
“I have to get out of here too,” he muttered.
Tory stopped him in the entryway. “So you aren’t even going to ask me? It’s written all over your face. I was out baking you a birthday cake just now, if you really want to know! It was going to be a surprise. But go ahead… I want you to ask me. I want you to say the words to my face."
His face went from white to green, and he leaned a hand on the doorframe. “Did you sell that article to the tabloid?”
“No. I would never do that! How could you even think it?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“The lighting guy you called yesterday before the story broke?”
Her mouth parted, and dread stole over her. “Luke?”
“Luke, how quaint. Well, your friend used to work for a tabloid, and he took off when Georgia tried to talk to him, so given your call—”
“But Luke’s one of the nicest—”
“So you didn’t know he was a reporter?” he said, his eyes boring into hers.
“No, of course not,” she protested.
“Then why did you call him?” he shouted.
“I asked him to help me find a kitchen where I could bake your birthday cake,” she answered, breathing shallowly now in the face of his rage.
“Why didn’t you just bake it on the bus?”
“I was afraid you might swing by. You do have most of your things on the bus, and I wanted it to be a complete surprise.” Her voice trailed off when his expression remained thunderous.
So, he actually b
elieved she’d done it…
“Did you tell him things in confidence because he was…nice or because he paid you?” he scoffed.
So, he’d already pronounced her guilty in his mind, but he was hoping she’d betrayed him unintentionally?
“I told him nothing. I haven’t even told Myra anything after the first incident, and do you know how that feels? Being so isolated and alone?”
Lowering his eyes, he said, “Yes, I do.”
“Rye—”
“Tory, look at the evidence. The first story hit right when we got back from Meade, and this one contains information only a few people know. Are you sure you’re telling me everything? Are you sure you didn’t give Luke any details?”
Her lip started to tremble. “How could you believe I would ever hurt you or your family like that?”
“Maybe it was an accident or maybe you need the money,” he said flatly. “You haven’t said anything about that lately…”
“Because it’s my problem!” Taking a deep breath, she looked him in the eye. “Yes, I need money, but I would never earn it that way. Never! You might as well suggest that I’d go out and hook for it.”
“Goddammit! Do you think I don’t want to believe you? But I can’t this time. I just…can’t.” Something flickered in his eyes before his expression went blank. “Perhaps it’s a good thing you’re leaving tomorrow. Go ahead and say goodbye to my family because it’s the last time you’re ever having contact with them. I just can’t risk it now. And Clayton will arrange for you to have another room until you leave.”
The door clicked as he let himself out. Tory wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to curl into a ball and cry her heart out. For herself, for all of them.
After all of the pain she’d been through, this was one wound she was afraid would never heal.
***