“Now, now, boss.” Jade hiccupped. “Play nice.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel spotted Bill Collins on his early-morning constitutional with his yappy Yorkshire terrier, Queenie. This would fuel local gossip for days—the vicar opening his door, while still in his jammies, to two people who looked as if they belonged in a traveling circus. Good grief, he needed sleep.
“Morning, Bill,” Gabriel said in a too-loud voice.
“Morning, Bill.” Jade swiveled round with a sloppy wave. “Friendly neighbors.”
“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Darius said, with a scowl.
Drunk? At nine a.m.?
“Our flight was super early. Strong tailwind or something.” She moved forward and breathed on him. Yes, drunk at nine a.m. “But it was sooo bumpy at the beginning.” Jade rolled her eyes. “And I saw the Concorde trailing fire on CNN before kaboom! When we landed I was so relieved I had to celebrate with a screwdriver. Or two.” Jade threw up her arms as if to say, What’s a girl to do?
“Maybe if you hadn’t had the other ten vodkas on the plane you’d be sober,” Darius said.
Jade hiccupped. “No way I had ten.”
Queenie flopped onto her stomach and watched, doggy ears alert.
Darius sighed. “My wife? Please?”
“Of course, my apologies. Come in. I was about to make fresh coffee.” Gabriel opened his arm to wave them through the front door but was swept aside by a hurricane of banshee shrieks. Marianne flew past him wearing a towel, which started slipping as she hurled herself toward Darius. Thank the Lord she was still wearing underpants. Darius’s arms shot around her and he buried his face in her neck.
“I love you,” he mumbled. “I love you so much.”
Gabriel looked down at the grass.
“You came!” Marianne laughed. “So much sexy . . . to show. Shopping! Why did you come?” She pointed at Gabriel. “You ratted me out!”
“No, this isn’t Gabriel’s fault. I found you, Marianne.” Jade stood up straight. “You must have known I would.”
“Phone tracker?”
“No, honey.” Jade shook off her mannish suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up and draped it around Marianne. A red bra strap was visible under Jade’s sleeveless black T-shirt, and Gabriel glimpsed the edge of a tattoo on her shoulder. “I tracked you. I miss you when you’re not slamming doors on me.”
“What?” Darius said, but no one answered.
“And when I’m ninety percent sure you’re off your meds, you leave me no choice but to come in person. And Dr. White wants to talk to you pronto. Although not at four a.m. American time. And we brought your phone charger. Tut, tut, tut. Never leave home without it.” Jade wagged a bandaged finger.
“Who needs Dr. . . . Not me!” Marianne attempted to spin as Jade tried to push Marianne’s arms through the sleeves of her jacket. “Look at me! Great. Better than great! On top of the . . . Media Rage . . . Going to make you famous, Ja—! Who needs pills? Haven’t felt this great in . . . Going to win the lottery. God told me. Let’s shop!”
“No,” Darius and Gabriel said in unison.
“Marianne, honey”—Jade had wrestled Marianne’s right arm into the jacket and was now working on the left—“you need to slow down so we can keep up with you.”
Gabriel closed his eyes briefly, imagining the deadening escape of sleep. When he opened them, Bill Collins was leaning back against the telegraph pole, watching him.
Some days Gabriel suspected gossiping about him was all Bill had to live for. Truthfully that was the reason he engaged in their sport, which routinely involved launching a midweek counteroffensive in the butcher’s. No, he didn’t like the man and never had, but Bill’s wife, a bit of an oddball, had died under horrific circumstances. If anyone deserved some leeway, it was Bill. But that didn’t make him likeable. Sorry, God.
“Let’s take this inside.” Gabriel lowered his voice.
Marianne laughed and then pushed Darius away. “Love! Group hug. Now leave. Go home.”
“No, I’m not—” Darius said, but Jade moved quickly, remarkably alert for a woman who had, evidently, drunk all the vodka on the plane’s service cart.
“C’mon, honey. Let’s get you inside.” Jade wrapped her arm around Marianne. “Fuck, I think your house is spinning, Gabe.”
Delightful mastery of the English language.
“Gabriel.” He sighed. “My name is Gabriel. I’m fixing eggs and bacon and strong coffee for anyone who hasn’t eaten breakfast.”
Hugh! Dear Lord, thank you. Hugh was walking up the lane toward the front gate. “Hungry, Hugh?” Gabriel called over Jade’s shoulder.
“Always,” Hugh said. Thankfully he’d left the dog at home.
“A party and . . . Not dressed!” Marianne squealed.
“Rad,” Jade said. “I’m starving. Can we have toast, too? Come on, Marianne.”
Bill shot up, eyes wide.
“Rad?” Gabriel said. Was that drunk talk?
“I know you!” Marianne pulled toward the gate as Jade tried to do up the buttons on the jacket. “Bill Col—!”
“Radical,” Jade said, fiddling with the buttonholes. “Rad means radical.”
Marianne pointed at Bill and laughed. “Remember me? I’m a prophet! ’Cept I didn’t foretell you’d still be . . . Shit.”
The answerphone clicked on in the hall. “Gabriel? Gabriel!” his mother said. “Mrs. Pinker, that miserable old biddy next door, is after your father. Chased him down the street in her electric wheelchair, yelling, ‘Darling, you look delicious.’ I called the police and reported her for lewd behavior, but the policewoman who came by and was fat, fat, Gabriel, as if she had no self-respect, said I had to stop filing bogus complaints, yes, I’m sure that was the word she used, bogus, and . . .”
She chuntered on until his machine clicked off. Crazy women, drunk women, angry husbands, Bill Collins clutching his bag of dog poo as if Christmas had come early, and now old people behaving badly.
Radical shit pretty much described his Friday morning. Was it too early to consider a pink gin? Or he could forget the Angostura bitters and go for a straight shot. No doubt Jade would join him.
EIGHTEEN
JADE
Most men couldn’t multitask without blowing brain cells. But Gabriel was calmly talking to his mom on the phone while cooking enough breakfast to feed an invading army. Or four people plus one starving twenty-nine-year-old with a high metabolism. Jade chewed the inside of her cheek as she watched Gabriel’s butt move around the kitchen in black slouch pants. And what was with the bare feet? Very hipster. Hipster wasn’t normally a good thing, yet Gabriel made the look unbelievably sexy. She’d never paid attention to a guy’s feet before. Must be jet lag setting in. Or the vodka buzz.
Was Gabriel the reason Marianne had run away? Had she kept tabs on him, known all along that he was still in the village and could wear the disheveled-bed-head look like a Greek god? Darius was hardly a male beauty. For one thing, his nose was far too big. But if you liked the darkly tortured types, Darius was sort of sexy when he stomped around, flicking hair out of those brooding eyes. She’d caught plenty of women—and men—watching the way he moved around the studio. But Gabriel? Oh man. Sex on a stick.
Upstairs, Marianne laughed.
Gabriel placed a loaded plate in front of Jade while continuing to talk to his mom. Start, he mouthed.
“No grace?” Hugh said, as he passed the butter and a jar of jam.
Gabriel shook his head, then handed another steaming plateful to Hugh.
Jade slathered her piece of toast with everything Hugh sent her way and chowed down. After a few minutes, she remembered to put her napkin on her lap, and then she paused to check out the non-Gabriel scenery. What a great space. Warm and cozy, light and cheerful with the perfect amount of clutter. The vase of flowers in the middle of the table was unexpected, as were the houseplants on the windowsill. And none of the mugs on the top shelf of the pine dresser m
atched. Some were funny, some serious, some had flowers on, a few advertised businesses, a couple were chipped, and one looked as if it had been made in pottery class by a kid. No way the same person had bought all those. Which meant people gave him gifts and he displayed them without selection. All were welcomed and accepted. Did he have to be a decent guy as well as a hottie? Seemed Darius’s fears had been on the money.
Gabriel hung up the phone. “Sorry. I’m not normally this rude, but I have two aging parents, one of whom appears to be losing her mind. She seems to think the neighbor is out to seduce my father.”
“Maybe she is.” Jade shrugged.
“Maybe.” He smiled. A warm, comforting smile that matched his kitchen.
“Like your kitchen,” she said.
“Thanks, me too.” He sounded exhausted. “The rectory comes with the job, so when I leave it’ll pass to the next incumbent. Can’t really claim this house as my own, but the kitchen has always spoken to me. It seems to change with the seasons: snug in the winter, light and airy in the summer, and”—he pointed to the window behind her—“you can watch the world go by.”
Highly unlikely given that they’d seen no one except for some old dude with a cane and a little dog.
Jade shoveled in several forkfuls of scrambled eggs.
“Wonderful to see a young woman with healthy eating habits,” Hugh said.
“Yeah, well. I do have a few strands of semidecent DNA,” Jade said. “My birth parents were deadbeats, but hey, they were both size zero. Of course my mom was an addict. Don’t remember my dad other than as a skinny white dude who chain-smoked.”
“And Marianne’s your real mother?” Hugh said.
“Word,” Jade said through a mouthful of toast and jam.
“Word what?” Gabriel said.
“Dude!” She swallowed. “I might be a little drunk, but word.”
“Repeating something I don’t understand isn’t going to help.”
“Ohhh.” Jade slapped her forehead. “Totally my bad. I forgot you guys are uptight Brits.” Gabriel frowned at her. “Word is everyday-speak for I agree.”
“Thank you for explaining,” Gabriel said, like a parent faking patience with his preschooler. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t that hot.
“We never made it legal or anything. But she helped me become an emancipated minor at sixteen, and then I lived with her until—” Jade looked from Hugh to Gabriel. “Why are you both staring at me? Do I have something caught in my teeth?” She stuck a fingernail between her front teeth.
“What does it mean to be an emancipated minor?” Gabriel ruffled up his hair. Damn, no, he was that hot.
“In America, I believe minors can be legally freed from parental control under certain circumstances,” Hugh said. “I’m suitably impressed, my dear.”
“I can’t take the credit. It was Marianne’s idea, to make sure my mom couldn’t come after me. Fat chance. She never turned up for the court date. No one wanted me except Marianne. So, yeah, if I had a mom, Marianne would be it. You got enough room to put us up here, or should I decamp to the nearest hotel? Do you have hotels in bumfuc—around here?”
“You can use my bedroom,” Gabriel said. “I’ll take the sofa.”
“Nonsense. I’ll bring my blow-up bed,” Hugh said. “I can have her sectioned, you know.”
What the hell was he talking about?
“Not you, my dear, Marianne.”
Bedsprings squeaked above them, and Darius swore.
“I should warn you guys”—Jade tore off a hunk of bread—“their makeup sex gets loud.”
“Lovely. We do have a bread knife,” Gabriel said.
“Sorry. I’m—”
“Starving. Yes, I gathered.” He placed another plate of food on the table.
Jade picked up the knife and cut a thin slice of bread.
“Want that toasted?” Gabriel said.
“Nah. Just an excuse for more of that delish jam. Blackberry?” She pointed at the jam jar with the knife.
“I picked them myself last September, in the hedgerows along the lane.”
“Let me guess, they were covered in early-morning dew. Did you also smear goat’s blood on the lintel at the time of picking?”
“Wrong religion, my child,” he said with an angelic smile.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Hugh said, “nature calls. And then I suggest we get Marianne and Darius down here for a meeting. I’m assuming you did not, in fact, persuade her to register with your GP, Gabriel?”
“Sorry, that was a no-go from the start. She resisted, and I mistakenly thought I could handle things.”
Hugh gave a nod, then swiped a piece of bacon off Gabriel’s plate. “Bloody good bacon,” he said before disappearing.
Gabriel folded his arms behind his head and stretched, revealing a flash of navel. Jade crossed her legs.
“I’m sorry, Jade. I seem to have made an almighty mess of everything.”
“Things can spiral out of control fast with Marianne. Some days we’re all just along for the ride—and that’s when she’s medicated. Thanks for feeding the starving masses. Feel loads better.”
“Has my house stopped spinning?” Gabriel scraped back a chair and sat down.
“Yup. Think so.” She picked up her last piece of bacon and tried not to think about having breakfast across from Gabriel every morning. “Listen, also sorry for not texting when we landed, I was—”
“Drunk, I know. Is Darius always so brusque?” Gabriel cut up his bacon with a knife and fork.
People ate that way—for real?
“Darius? He’s a puppy, but he gets pathologically jealous. If he threatens to pop you one, don’t take offense.”
“Right.”
“While it’s just the two of us, is there anything you want to get off your chest?”
“I’m sorry”—Gabriel put down his knife and fork and reached for his mug—“I know I’m intensely sleep-deprived, but I’m not following you.”
Was she going to have to explain this via kindergarten sketch? “Look. Cards on the table. I know enough to assume you were Marianne’s first love.” She paused; he didn’t contradict her. “Which means you guys once had intense feelings for each other. And you’ve just been shacked up together for a week. Unchaperoned. And neither of you were wearing a whole lot when we arrived. Which means if anything of a sexual nature happened, you should tell me so I can defuse the situation before Darius settles on pistols at dawn.”
Gabriel spat out a mouthful of coffee.
“If I don’t ask, Darius will. And he won’t be so polite.”
Gabriel grabbed a napkin and mopped up his chest. “Jade, I’m a priest and Marianne is married. Marriage vows are sacred.”
“Yeah, right. I’m talking about carnal sex drive.”
“And I’m talking about higher things.” Gabriel clenched his jaw; a muscle pulsed in this neck.
“Oh please. You’re not married. Are you gay?”
“No, I am not gay.” He spoke slowly, as if physically laying out each word in front of her. “Jade, everything that happened between me and Marianne was a long time ago.”
“Was? Seems to me some wounds never heal.”
“They do. This one healed and scabbed over. I have no desire to pick it open.”
“Don’t shit a bullshitter. What about the scars that don’t show?”
Gabriel rested his arms on the table. “The truth is simple. I never wanted to see Marianne again. I certainly never wanted her back in my life. You’re acting out of love. I am not. I feel a certain responsibility—to my brother, to her parents. Possibly to the friendship we once shared.” He took a shallow breath. “But she betrayed me, and I don’t appreciate betrayal.”
He stared at her with cold blue eyes. Interesting. He wasn’t quite the pushover she’d mistaken him for. Ice and anger were slugging it out under that perfect surface. Seemed the vicar might actually be human.
NINETEEN
GABRIEL
> Jade had been wrong. Marianne and Darius were clearly not having wild sex in his spare room. The raised voices suggested a full-blown argument, and then something smashed. With any luck it was the lamp inherited from Great-Aunt Millie. Gabriel had spent years hoping Mrs. Tandy would bash it with the Hoover.
He stood and scrubbed his face with his hands. His visitors could be killing each other, and he was thinking about furniture. Did he have no compassion left, not even for Marianne’s rather unpleasant husband? Sorry, Lord. Will try harder.
Maybe he really was a small-minded weasel. Either that or the relief of no longer being responsible for Marianne had trumped benevolence. No part of him had objected to Darius running upstairs after Marianne. On the contrary, he’d dared to hope they might spend the day up there.
“One of us has to intervene,” Gabriel said. “What if they’re hurting each other?”
Jade, who seemed to be taking control of everything including clearing up the breakfast things—although time would tell if she had a drinking problem—opened the dishwasher, loaded in the plates, and turned to face him. Her red bra strap had slipped down over her bicep.
“You”—she poked him in the middle of his chest and held her finger there—“cannot interfere. This is between them.”
“And suppose one of them has drawn blood?” He pushed her hand to one side and slid up her bra strap. One swift movement, no thought involved, and he had crossed a line. Gabriel braced for the slap he utterly deserved.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” His head and heart pounded in sync. “Lack of sleep. Poor judgment.”
They stared at each other.
“Excuse me, chaps.” Hugh waved. “Can you two stand down for my professional opinion?”
Her eyes lingered on his as she turned slowly to Hugh. “And what is it that you recommend?” Jade’s tone bordered on derisive.
“I recommend hospitalization and treatment in tandem with her psychiatrist in the U.S.,” Hugh said. “And if Marianne’s noncompliant, I shall have to take the next step. Do you have her psychiatrist’s number?”
“Yes to the phone number, no to the rest.” Jade leaned back against the dishwasher and crossed her feet. “You are not admitting her. Darius will never give his consent, and I can handle this if I can get her back on her meds. Which I can. Do you have any reason to believe her old combo of drugs won’t work?”
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