Tart of Darkness

by Denise Swanson

  “Have you sent out any résumés?” Ivy pressed.

  “Not exactly.” Dani didn’t meet her friend’s eyes. “I was going to do that this afternoon, but then I found this new recipe and…”

  “And you got distracted,” Ivy finished for her, then said, “Maybe, now that you’re going to own a place with a fabulous kitchen, instead of looking for a new HR job, you could open your own catering business.”

  “I need a salary, not a boatload of debt.” Dani doused the flicker of interest Ivy’s suggestion had stirred up. “Besides, I’m probably not good enough to be a professional chef.”

  “You are too.”

  “Even if I have the skills, I’m not sure I’m interested in doing that sort of work.”

  “Seriously!” Ivy squealed. “You watch cooking shows like sports fans watch football.”

  “I do not.” Dani’s cheeks burned.

  “You so do.” Ivy poked Dani in the arm with her index finger. “You yell stuff like ‘That’s too much lemon juice, idiot’ and ‘Are you blind? Those scallops need two more minutes.’”

  “I might have done that once.” Dani refused to meet Ivy’s stare.

  “Once?” Ivy raised a brow, but when Dani remained silent, she shrugged and said, “I better bounce. My homework isn’t going to do itself.” Grabbing another cookie, Ivy paused with her hand on the doorknob, then chided, “Anyway, I’m just saying that you’re an awesome chef.”

  With Ivy gone, Dani turned on the television. After flipping through a couple hundred channels without finding anything that caught her interest, she shut it off. Staring at the blank screen, she considered her existence.

  She closed her eyes and visualized what her life had been like a few months ago. She’d had a well-paying professional position, a handsome boyfriend, and a bright future. Levering herself off the sofa, she started to pace. She had vowed not to think of her ex or her resignation or the fact that she’d turned twenty-nine yesterday.

  Thank goodness Ivy and her roommates didn’t know about Dani’s birthday. If they had, they would have wanted to throw her a party and Dani wasn’t in a celebratory mood, especially since her father apparently had forgotten the day his only child was born. He hadn’t even sent his usual impersonal greeting card. Or maybe he had remembered but was still angry at her for breaking up with Kipp. It couldn’t be because she’d quit her job; she hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him about that yet.

  What would her dad say if, instead of finding a spot in a new HR department, Dani did as Ivy suggested and started her own company? Cooking had always been her first love. She’d wanted to go to culinary school, but her father had refused to pay for anything other than what he termed a “real degree.”

  In the silence, Dani heard the loud ticking of the vintage Gilbert wall clock hanging in the apartment’s tiny foyer. Suddenly, it sounded as if it were counting off the seconds of her life.

  Coming to a full stop, Dani stood frozen. She was twenty-nine freaking years old. It was past time to stop trying to please her father and start living for herself.

  Chapter 2

  Six months later

  At the sound of gunfire, Spencer Drake exploded out of bed. Although he’d been out of the business for the past year, after being undercover for so long, his actions were automatic. Jerking open his nightstand drawer, he grabbed his Glock. Eyes scanning for any sign of an intruder, his gaze fell on his cell phone and he realized that the shots were coming from it—which, for some ungodly reason, was playing Pink Floyd’s “The Final Cut.”

  Scooping up the annoying gadget, which he both loved and hated, he squinted at the screen. Why was Ivy calling him at three in the morning? And when had she programmed his phone with that annoying ringtone? She knew he was more of a country music buff than a psychedelic rock fan.

  Spencer tapped his niece’s picture, then wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear and grunted, “Yeah?”

  “Uncle Spence?” Ivy sounded as if she wasn’t sure he was who she had intended to call, and he could hear the loud babble of several excited people talking in the background.

  “Yep. Who were you expecting?” Spencer’s pulse was still pounding from his rude awakening, but he finally succeeded in pulling on his pants. “You better not have butt dialed me.”

  “No.” His niece’s voice wobbled. “Can you…uh…come over to my apartment?”

  “What’s wrong?” Spencer’s irritation turned to alarm, and he shoved his feet into a pair of motorcycle boots while plucking a T-shirt from the drawer.

  “It’s not my fault,” Ivy said. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

  “Just tell me.” Spencer’s patience wasn’t great at the best of times, but after an evening spent arguing about the sale of their condo with his ex-wife, it was practically nonexistent.

  When his ex had called, he knew the discussion wouldn’t be pleasant. She’d started the conversation with the words First of all, which meant she’d done research, made charts, and was prepared to destroy him.

  Not that her viciousness was a surprise. Her wedding dress hadn’t even come back from the cleaners before she’d drained their joint bank accounts and run off with his former best friend. Someone really should have warned him that marriage was the mourning after the knot before.

  Ivy’s cry broke into his thoughts. “Hurry!” A second later, the phone went dead.

  Son of a—

  Spencer snagged his keys and wallet, sprinted into the garage, and slammed his palm on the button to open the door. Hopping on his Harley, he headed toward Ivy’s apartment.

  The cloudy sky obscured the moon, but the bright streetlights guided his way down the deserted roads and the roar of his bike masked any other sounds. It was almost as if he were the only person on earth.

  Although spring had officially arrived more than a week ago, the temperature hovered in the forties, and Spencer kicked himself for forgetting to grab his jacket. He wasn’t used to being shocked awake in the middle of the night anymore, and his brain was still half-asleep.

  He made the drive in a record three minutes and hurried to the building’s only elevator. The Up button didn’t light when he tapped it, remaining dark even after several pushes. He swore and ran for the stairs. Ivy lived on the fifth floor, and he was panting by the time he burst into the hallway.

  The sickly sweet stench of pot, stale beer, and idiocy surrounded him and his scalp prickled. Skidding to a stop, he rubbed his eyes.

  In the bright, florescent light of the hallway, several college boys were lined up against the wall. The only things between them and an indecent exposure charge were the NU baseball caps covering their crotches. How the hats were staying in place, he didn’t want to know.

  Against the opposite wall stood four young women, including Ivy, who had tears streaming down her cheeks and was wringing her hands. Mercifully, the girls were fully clothed because Spencer could do without seeing his niece naked.

  Spencer noticed that the corridor was littered with empty cans and discarded clothing. Closing his eyes, he counted to twenty. Ten was not enough in this situation.

  When he felt calmer, Spencer opened his lids and spotted a fifty-something woman striding toward him. Her face was nearly purple, and the lines around her mouth were dug in deeper than the furrows in a freshly plowed field.

  Meeting her halfway, Spencer identified himself as Ivy’s uncle, then asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Your niece and her roommates’ party has gotten out of hand.” The woman used the sharp edge of her voice like a chisel. “Unlike those gigantic complexes that use management companies, I run a respectable apartment building.”

  “Of course you do.” Spencer pasted a pleasant expression on his face. “That’s why my brother and his wife allowed Ivy to live here.” Turning to his niece, he said, “Your parents told you that you had
three rules when they agreed to let you move out of the dorms: no drinking, drugs, or hooking up in your apartment.”

  “Uncle Spence,” Ivy sobbed. “Tippi, Starr, and I were at the library studying for next week’s finals, and when we got home, there was this gigantic party in our apartment. Kylie was locked in her bedroom with her boyfriend, and we tried to make everyone leave, but they were too drunk or high to listen to us. None of this is our fault.”

  “The library closes at two.” Spencer crossed his arms. “You called me at five after three.”

  “We thought we could handle it.” Ivy scuffed the toe of her sneaker on the brown carpet, sliding a glance at Tippi, whose guilty expression revealed exactly who had been behind that idea. “Then when those guys tore off their clothes and started having dick races in the hall, I knocked on my friend Dani’s door for help. But I forgot she’d moved away. Remember I told you about the house she inherited?”

  “Uh-huh.” Spencer held on to his patience with a firm hand. If he’d learned anything about dealing with his niece, it was that she’d get to the point only after she told the whole story.

  “So with Dani gone…” Ivy sniffed back a tear.

  Although Spencer had never met the woman, Ivy had been telling him about her neighbor Danielle Sloan for the past eight months. At first, he’d thought she was a college student like his niece, but then he realized that Dani had to be close to thirty. He’d wondered about their friendship, but Ivy had said that Dani was the big sister she never had and that she supplied Ivy and her roommates with baked goods and nourishing meals. In his mind, Spencer pictured her as the supporting character in a movie, someone who played the star’s best friend.

  “Anyway, with Dani gone…” Ivy sniffed again and glanced at her friends. Spencer noticed that they stepped backward. “Before we could decide what to do, Mrs. Edwards came running down the hall and threatened to call the police.”

  From the safety of the wall, Tippi muttered, “And she stopped the elevator so no one could leave.”

  Although a couple of years older than Ivy, Tippi looked about twelve. When Spencer first met her, he thought she resembled a tiny, dark-haired pixie, but he’d quickly learned that she was often the instigator when his niece and her friends got into any mischief.

  “Probably a good thing.” Spencer glared at the punks. “I doubt that bunch should be allowed to go anywhere on their own.” Turning to the apartment manager, he said, “Mrs. Edwards, if my niece and her roommates agree to shampoo the hall carpet, pay for any damages, and put a deposit down against any future problems, can we pass on involving the police?”

  “Well…” Mrs. Edwards looked Spencer over and licked her glossed lips. Spencer briefly wondered if the landlady slept in her makeup, then refocused when she clasped his hand to her chest and said, “I suppose I could do you a personal favor and not call the cops.” She turned toward the girls. “But no matter what, I’m terminating your lease and you have to be out of the building by Sunday.”

  Ivy gasped. “But that’s only five days from now! And we have finals starting on Monday.”

  Mrs. Edwards smirked. “I guess you should have thought of that before you violated the morals clause in your lease.”

  Chapter 3

  Probate had finally been settled yesterday morning, and Dani had officially moved into Geraldine Cook’s mansion that afternoon. The sensation when the lawyer had handed over the keys was indescribable. She owned a home. As long as she paid the taxes, no one could throw her out. It was the first time she’d ever felt secure.

  And today, she could finally examine her new kingdom in detail. With the exception of the two unfinished bedroom suites, the rest of the house was amazing. Dani fell in love with the arched doorways, the perfectly restored front parlor, and the stately library—a spot she planned to spend a lot of time in as she read though all the books on its packed shelves. And her suite on the third floor was the pièce de résistance: the cozy sitting room, spacious bedroom, and huge bathroom were almost too good to believe.

  Finishing with the interior, Dani walked outside. The exterior of the Italianate-style Victorian was in good shape—the tan clapboard and dark-brown, ornate trim freshly painted, the metal and cedar-shingle roof brand-new, and the cupola on top of the house tempting Dani to break out her telescope and star charts. She hadn’t been stargazing in years, but her interest was still there.

  Unfortunately, before she indulged in any hobbies, she needed to do something about the overgrown weeds and bushes that overwhelmed the front yard. A lawn service wasn’t in her budget, but she wasn’t sure she could hack through the enchanted forest growing around the mansion by herself. Besides, she was only willing to get sweaty for two activities: one was cooking, and the other certainly wasn’t doing yardwork.

  Moving on to inspect the carriage house, Dani was disappointed to see that it was pretty much just a huge, empty building. Maybe someday, she’d make the structure into apartments, but for now, she’d use it as her garage.

  Suddenly, her stomach started growling, and she checked her cell. Seeing that it was after five o’clock, she let herself in the back door and headed for the refrigerator. She was contemplating what to make for dinner when the doorbell rang.

  She hadn’t expected to receive her first visitors so soon, but she wasn’t too surprised when she opened the door to find Ivy and her posse on her front porch. The girls strolled inside, taking turns hugging Dani, who showed them into the front parlor.

  The house’s fancy Victorian furniture was a far cry from the comfy old couch and the pair of recliners in Dani’s old apartment. The parlor’s stiff settee and Eastlake chairs had been designed for a time when young ladies sat with their feet together and their backs straight. The three young women lasted less than five minutes perched on the uncomfortable furniture before sprawling on the brightly colored Persian rug covering the hardwood floor.

  “So what brings you to see me instead of studying for finals?” Dani asked.

  Ivy squirmed, then spilled the beans about the previous evening’s party and the girls’ looming eviction from their apartment building.

  When Ivy stopped to draw in a breath, Starr said, “Which resulted in the fams freaking out and all getting together today at lunch to hold an ‘intervention’ with us.” Her air quotes were exaggerated. “They told us no more apartments.”

  “But then I had an awesomely brilliant idea.” Ivy flung out her arms. “You don’t want to run this place as a B and B, but you need some way to pay the expenses of such a monster house. So you should let us live here.”

  “No.” Dani shook her head vigorously at the girls as they lounged on various throw pillows they’d grabbed from the furniture and scattered on the floor.

  “You can’t just say no,” Ivy whined. “Why not?”

  “Yes and no are completely adequate answers to most requests.” Dani stared at the weak light filtering through the grimy panes of the fan-shaped transom above the front casements. She really needed to get those washed. Refocusing, she added, “I’m not becoming your landlord.”

  “Just listen,” Ivy pleaded. “If you don’t agree to this, we have nowhere to live during finals and our parents will make us live in the dorm for summer school.” Then, with disgust dripping from her voice, she added, “The only one with space doesn’t have air-conditioning, and the cafeteria food is repulsive.”

  “Yeah.” Tippi Epstein, the tiny brunette on Ivy’s right, slumped. “All our parents are real hardcore about no more living on our own.”

  Three pairs of sad eyes gazed up imploringly at Dani, but she hardened her heart. “As well they should be.” She crossed her arms. It took more than a sorrowful expression and some begging to change her mind. “What in the world were you thinking?”

  “It was all Kylie’s fault.” Starr Fleming tossed her head, causing the beads woven into her multiple braids to click t
ogether. “When she moved in with us, we told her no booze, drugs, or guys.”

  “When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.” Dani wrinkled her nose. She sounded like an old woman. “Clearly, Kylie didn’t listen, and now you all have to pay the price.”

  “But—” A gust of wind blew through the house, slamming the parlor door closed, and the girls jumped.

  Spring had finally tiptoed into Normalton, and the temperature was a pleasant sixty-eight. It was a little cool for open windows, but Dani had been dying to air out her new home. The mansion had been sitting closed up and empty for more than six months, and the mustiness was killing her sinuses.

  “But nothing.” Dani shook her head. “Underage drinking. Weed. And naked guys chasing half-dressed girls down the hallway.”

  “Most of them were over twenty-one,” Starr argued like the lawyer she hoped to become.

  “And the guys had hats strapped over their junk.” Ivy giggled.

  “Besides, we weren’t even home,” Tippi added as a closing argument. “That is, not until near the very end.”

  “As soon as you walked in and saw what was happening, you should have left.” Dani ignored their excuses. “You’re lucky the apartment manager didn’t call 911.”

  “That uptight, old bag only agreed not to contact the cops because Uncle Spence talked her out of it.” Ivy’s disapproval hummed like a swarm of bumblebees. “You should have seen her hitting on him.”

  “Yeah.” Tippi frowned. “She was licking her lips like she couldn’t wait to take a big bite of his a—”

  “I get the picture.” Dani’s voice held a sharp edge.

  “It’s a good thing Ivy’s uncle is head of campus security.” Starr’s dark-brown eyes sparkled. “Not to mention attractive, in a mature-man kind of way.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Drake was thrilled to step in.” Dani pictured the poor old guy summoned from his bed at three in the morning.

  “Spence was cool,” Tippi said, then added, “Well, until he called our parents, that is, and got them so worked up they wanted to move us into a dorm.”