Emily selected a cookie and a white petit four with pink frosting and put them on her plate. I took a petit four too before setting the tray back on the cart.
“Did you and your mother have tea?” Emily asked as she placed a lump of sugar in her cup.
“Uh… no.” I wondered what she knew about me, if anything. Did she know my real identity? I suspected not, but then a forgotten memory surfaced, one that caught me off guard. “But I remember having a tea party with my dolls.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “With my dad.”
“How lovely. I always wanted a daughter, but I’m not sure Bart would have lowered himself to having tea parties,” she said wistfully, stirring her tea. The spoon clanged daintily against the thin china. “I would like to think he would have treated his daughter different than he did his sons.”
I wasn’t prepared to hear her admit he’d treated his boys so poorly, and thankfully, she didn’t give me a chance to respond.
“I miss my boys. They rarely come around these days.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “I keep telling Wyatt to bring you to the house for lunch on a day when Bart’s not around, or arrange for us to meet at a restaurant in Ewing, but he insists your schedule is too busy, and when I pester Max to let you off, he always has an excuse.”
She clearly thought Wyatt and I were still dating, four months after we’d broken up. Why hadn’t they told her the truth? “Mrs. Drummond—”
“Call me Emily, dear. Mrs. Drummond is much too stuffy.”
“Emily, Wyatt and I…” But something held my tongue. If the lies or evasions had come only from Wyatt, I might have written it off as his usual mysterious behavior, but Max? Was the fact that Emily thought Wyatt and I were together keeping me safe? That made no sense, especially since Bart thought I was seeing Marco. “Max is right. It’s been especially busy lately with all the construction crews coming in. This is the first half day I’ve had off in weeks.”
“And you came here to see me?” She placed a frail hand on her chest. “That means more to me than you could possibly know.”
Now I was filled with guilt. Damn Bart Drummond. I wanted to ask her about Heather, but if I jumped right into the questions, I’d look like a jealous lover—a crazy jealous lover since Heather was dead. Which made me wonder if Emily knew the truth. Although the news was all over town, she didn’t get out frequently, and Bart clearly didn’t feel the need to keep her informed.
“Has Bart told you much about the bones they found?” I asked, picking up my teacup and taking a sip.
“Not much. He thinks they came from Floyd Bingham.” She curled her nose. “Nasty man.”
“I thought so too.” When she gave me a curious look, I added, “Marco told me how awful he was.”
“It’s a wonder that Todd survived living in that hell,” she said. “I couldn’t believe his stepmother didn’t take him or Rodney.”
She didn’t know about the rumors about Floyd’s wife? Or she didn’t believe them?
“Emily, do you have any idea about the identity of the person they found buried out there?”
“Bart says it was likely an ex-employee of Floyd’s. He didn’t believe in firing people. Once you worked for him, you were his for life.” She made a face. “Which makes it all the more strange that his wife ran off.”
“Emily,” I said before I could stop myself, “do you really think he’d let her go?”
Sadness filled her eyes. “No… I suppose he didn’t.”
Just how sheltered was Emily? I knew Wyatt had come back to Drum because of her, and both he and Max had spoken of her fragility from the cancer. But did it go deeper than they let on? Was she emotionally fragile too?
I found myself thinking of what Abby had said about Mitzi, and how her husband had acted like I had the potential to break her.
Seems to be a weirdly common ailment in these parts.
“Do you think his wife is buried out there?” she asked, her voice breaking. Then horror filled her eyes. “Rodney! Oh, that poor dear boy.”
“No,” I rushed to say. “They didn’t find a child. I asked. Marco confirmed it.” But I was sure he was buried somewhere.
Her eyes sank closed and she set her teacup on the tray. “I had nightmares after he disappeared. I dreamed of my own boys going missing. I dreamed of Rodney being buried in the ground.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “He was friendly with Max and Marco, although Bart didn’t like it much. I saw him during my room mother functions at school. He was such a quiet boy. He had a haunted look. Too many kids in these parts do.” Tears swam in her eyes. “I asked Bart to put up a reward to find him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said it would be unseemly, and it could cause a war with Floyd. He was already dealing with enough trouble from Hank, he didn’t need to go courting any more. And that poor boy was never found.”
“I’m sure that must have been very hard for you as a mother. Especially since your son was friendly with him.”
She gave me a tight smile. “Bart accused me of smothering the boys for a while after that. I had a hard time letting them out of my sight. Wyatt was easier—he was twelve, goin’ on twenty-two.” She chuckled. “Kids seem to be in such a hurry to grow up, Wyatt in particular. But soon Bart put a stop to my fussin’ and decided to send Max off to summer camp in North Carolina. Wilderness training. Said I was makin’ him into a sissy and it would toughen him up.” She shuddered.
“Did he want to go?” I asked, in disbelief she would share all of this with me.
“Oh, dear. No. Wyatt was loud and boisterous and larger than life in everything he did, just like his father wanted. But Max…”
That was so unlike the Wyatt I knew; I had a hard time imagining it. Wyatt was quiet and withdrawn. Was that a result of his break from his father or his time in prison? Maybe both.
A soft smile covered Emily’s face. “Max… he was more easygoin’. Less intense. Bart called him a momma’s boy who needed toughening up. But Max went to camp because his father had asked it of him. He would have done anything to make his father proud, but I knew he was scared. So I snuck behind Bart’s back and offered to send Marco to camp with Max, unbeknownst to Bart. His mother was hesitant at first—no one wanted to face his wrath—but I convinced her in the end.”
“Did Bart ever find out?”
“Good heavens, no,” she said, picking up her tea again. “And Max never mentioned Marco while he regaled us with tales of his adventure. He had his father’s attention for three days, and those were three of the happiest days of Max’s life.”
I stared at her in shock. “Mrs. Drummond—I mean Emily…why are you telling me this?”
She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “Because while Bart has been a good husband, especially in our later years, he’s been an equally terrible father.”
“Again, I have to ask—”
“Every bad thing that has happened to my boys is because I didn’t protect them from him. I let him convince me that he knew best. That he was makin’ them into real men. By the time I realized what was happenin’, it was too late. I was trapped, and so were they.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. I had no money to support myself let alone both boys. And if he’d found me, he would have taken them from me. So I stayed to keep them close. And over time, they convinced me they were glad we had stayed. That they had the life I wanted for them, and that I’d given them that by staying.”
“Emily…” I said, not knowing how else to respond.
“I’m not sure what Wyatt’s told you about his childhood or his relationship with his father, or with me for that matter, but my boys haven’t had an easy life. I did the best I could. I’m sure the boys have kept you away from me because of Bart. Worried about what he might do to you.” She tsked. “He would never approve of you for a wife. Just like he didn’t approve of Heather. Only you’re as sweet as molasses and Heather was a viper.”
“Bart paid Heather to leave town after Wyatt’s arrest?”
“He doesn’t approve of me. Do you think he’d try to pay me off to leave?” I knew the opposite was true—he’d blackmailed me into staying—but I wanted to see how she’d respond.
“Oh, no, dear. I told him if he tried that stunt with you, I’d leave him.” She poured more tea into her cup, then held the pot out to me. “A refill? You haven’t even touched your cake.”
I forced a smile as I set my teacup on the table. “I had a late lunch.”
In reality, my stomach was churning. If Wyatt and Max were attempting to hide the fact that I’d broken up with Wyatt to keep me safe, they’d done a poor job of it. Bart knew.
What were they all up to? Why were there so many secrets?
“Do you think Heather left town?” I asked as she topped off my cup.
“Of course she did. We never saw her again. She told us she was headed to California.”
California? According to Abby, Heather said she was going to Tulsa.
“You were at the meeting with her?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“It was my idea,” she said, picking up her cookie and taking a nibble. “I had to protect my son.”
“And you don’t think he needs to be protected from me?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a laugh. “Why would he need to be protected from you? Everyone—including Bart—tells me how sweet you are. That’s the kind of woman Wyatt needs. Someone soft enough to round off his rough edges.”
Wow. That sounded like the basis for a great relationship.
“Did you see Bart give her the check?” I asked.
“I filled it out myself and handed it to her,” Emily said, her chin lifted. “On that topic, Bart and I were united. In fact, it drew us back together, reminding us why we’d married in the first place.”
“Love?”
“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “Bart was inheriting his father’s fortune. He needed wise counsel, not a nitwit.”
I wondered how well that had worked out given that he’d bullied his sons and her wise counsel had been dismissed again and again.
“I see the look on your face. I know what you’re thinkin’,” she said, sipping her tea with a satisfied smile. “You think I’m powerless.”
I couldn’t hide my shock at her accusation.
“We all have our strengths and our weaknesses. I can still get one up on Bart from time to time.”
It hit me full in the face why I was here. Bart was using me against his wife. He expected me to give her the news that Heather had never left Drum after all. This was yet another game he was playing.
“Emily,” I said, trying not to show how unnerved I was. I was here for information, and I still intended to get it. “Do you know if Heather cashed her check?”
“Well, of course she did. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Just curious,” I said with a tight smile. “She seems like she’s fond of games. Maybe her request for money was a game too, and she just wanted to see if you’d pay.”
“Oh, no. That’s not Heather at all. She’s a conniving gold digger,” she said with a sweet smile. “She was interested in Wyatt for the money. Nothing more. Nothing less. Once we cut her a check, she moved on.”
“But like you said, five thousand dollars doesn’t seem like very much… given all she thought she had to lose.”
“I’ll agree with you there,” she said with a nod. “I have no idea what changed her mind. We were all just grateful she left.”
But something else was going on. Someone else must have promised her more money, because I didn’t believe she’d walk away from what she saw as the Drummond fortune for such a pitiful amount.
“Could I ask you a favor?” I asked. “And it’s going to seem strange, but could you make sure Heather actually did cash the check?”
“That’s silly,” she scoffed.
“I’d love it if you indulged me,” I said, pouring on the charm. “And I’d love to come back for tea.”
As I suspected, her face lit up. “You will?”
“Yes. When you find out about the check, you can leave a message with Max at the tavern and tell him I’m invited for tea, but please don’t let on that we’ve been discussing Wyatt’s ex. I don’t want him or Wyatt to know I’ve been asking questions about her.” I feigned a shudder. “Nothing like a jealous girlfriend to sour a relationship.”
“You have no reason to be jealous,” Emily said, looking pleased. “Heather is ancient history. Don’t worry even a little bit that she was prettier than you.” Her eyes lit up with kindness. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”
I studied her in disbelief. Was she playing me or was she serious? Oddly enough, I was fairly certain it was the latter.
“Well, thank you, I think.”
“Now, now. Don’t be offended. Know your opponents’ strengths and weakness, but also know your own.”
Did she see what she perceived to be inferior looks as a weakness? It was time to end this conversation, even though our talk had left me with even more questions.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” I said with a genuine smile. “But now I have to go. I’m late for work, and we’re always busy now that the construction crews have moved into town.”
“I haven’t been to the tavern in ages,” she said wistfully.
“You should come in sometime,” I said as I got to my feet. “I’m sure Max would be thrilled.”
Happiness lit up her face. “Maybe I will.”
“This has been lovely, Emily. I look forward to chatting again.”
“Yes, I’ll look into the check matter, even if I think it’s silly.”
“Thank you.” I headed for the door, and then impulsively stopped and turned back to face her. “Emily, if I could ask one more thing. When you came to see Max at school after Wyatt’s arrest, what did you tell him that convinced him to come home?”
Her smile wobbled, and although it quickly righted itself, it no longer looked genuine. “I reminded him of his obligations to his family. Of course.”
Her answer shook me, so I gave her a wave and hurried out of the house and to my car, holding my breath until I was off the Drummond property.
Emily had reminded Max of his family obligations, which had sent him on a multiday bender that had ultimately brought him back to Drum.
What were his family obligations? One thing was certain—nothing good.
Chapter Sixteen
Ruth was watching for me when I walked in the back door close to four, and she followed me into the back room.
“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped.
“I had a lot of errands to run,” I said as I shoved my purse into a small locker, then unzipped my duffel bag to retrieve my Max’s Tavern T-shirt. I paused, considering, and asked, “How hot is the dining room today?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “What?…Oh. Warm.”
I nodded, then quickly stripped off my long-sleeved tee and pulled my work shirt over my head.
“Damn, girl,” Ruth said in an appreciative tone. “Just strip that shirt right off.”
“It’s the same as hanging out at the pool in a bikini. Besides, we’re friends and I’m late.” I sat down and jerked off my shoes and made quick work of putting on my athletic shoes with the cushioned insoles that helped keep my feet comfortable—or at least more comfortable—during a long shift. “Is Molly still here?”
“She took off an hour ago.”
“How’d she do?” I asked with some hesitation.
“Better than I would have expected, but she’s not up to speed.”
“Well,” I said, lacing my shoes. “Let’s give her a few days.”
Ruth made a face like she’d consider it. “There’s a family out in the dining room askin’ about you. They ordered drinks and fries and nothin’ else. The mother said you offered to help her kid with his hom
ework?”
Oh crap. I’d forgotten about Annette and her son.
“Yeah. I’ll take care of them. Have they been here long?” I finished tying my shoes and jumped to my feet, starting to push past her.
She grabbed my shoulders and held me in place. “Whoa. Slow down.” She cocked her head to study me. “Something’s not right with you. You seem a bit unhinged, and you’re never unhinged.”
I wasn’t about to admit that I’d had tea with Emily Drummond, especially since our conversation had given me some worries about Max. Like the timing of when he’d been summoned home and what, exactly, he’d been asked to do. “This whole Heather thing has got me spooked.”
“You think the Drummonds are gonna come after you next?” she asked, half serious, half derisive.
“You think they killed her?” I asked. “Not Wyatt?”
She snorted. “Why would Wyatt kill her? At that point, he was probably happy she was leaving.”
“Did you know she had a going-away party the night before she supposedly left town?” I asked.
Her eyes flew wide and she pointed a finger in my face as she took a step back. “I knew it! You are investigatin’!”
“Shh!” I practically shouted. “It’s an active investigation. If the sheriff department thinks I’m looking into it, I could get arrested.”
“I get why they’re lookin’. The question is, why are you lookin’?” she asked.
“I just want to know what happened,” I said, then for good measure added, “And I’m nosy.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re not nosy…not unless you’re tryin’ to get to the bottom of something. Are you doin’ this to try to save Wyatt? Did he ask you to do this?”
That was the reason I’d started looking into it, but if he told me to stop, I’d keep right on pushing. Especially after my conversation with his mother. I sensed there was more to this—that I could truly find something that implicated Bart. Still, I wasn’t ready to admit any of that. I had questions for Ruth, but I’d ask them later.
“I’ve got to get to work.” I hurried past her and came to an abrupt halt at the entrance to the dining room—Wyatt was sitting at the end of the bar closest to the back room, his dark gaze aimed at me. He’d changed shirts since I’d last seen him hunched over in the nursing home parking lot. His eyes didn’t look very bloodshot, which confirmed I hadn’t reached his face with the pepper spray.
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