Colder Than Ice (18 page)

 

When Beth finished in the shower, she returned to her room to find boxes of her belongings stacked near the bed. More of her clothes had survived than she had expected—all of them freshly laundered and smelling of fabric softener. She went through the boxes, but there was no sign of her gun. Sighing, she picked out something to wear, relieved to have so many of her possessions returned.

When she came back downstairs, Josh was clean, fresh, his hair still damp. He sent her a look, one that conveyed the notion he cared about her, or was perhaps designed to convey it, and asked, “Feeling any better?”

“Not yet. I will be when this is over. How did you manage to shower so fast?”

“I'm male. I've never been able to figure out what it takes you women so long to do in there.”

“I can't figure out how you managed to do more than pass briefly through the spray.”

“I promise, I did more that pass through the spray.”

She forced a smile she didn't really feel. “I believe you.” At least that part was sincere. He smelled damn good.

“You look nice.”

She pursed her lips. Making funeral plans for a friend seemed to her to call for something more than her usual jeans and sweaters. She'd put on dressy black pants with a slender belt, an ivory shell and a tailored black blazer. She'd even donned her most comfortable pumps, which someone had polished for her, and she thought Maude would forgive the trouser socks instead of nylons. No nylons seemed to have survived the blast. The way he was looking at her, Beth thought she might as well be wearing a slinky evening gown. Then again, he had never seen her in anything other than blue jeans or her running clothes. Or a T-shirt nightie. He seemed to like what he saw. Or was that just a part of whatever game he was playing?

“Thank you,” she said, and before he could say another thing, she asked, “What did you find out from the funeral home?”

He looked absent for a second, then stared around the room as if he'd lost something. Finally he headed for the coffee table and grabbed up the yellow legal pad that lay there. He sat down on the sofa and patted the spot beside him.

Warily, she crossed the room and sat down. Josh nodded to one of Maude's antique china cups on the table. “I made that for you. It's still good and hot.”

She blinked in surprise, felt her throat tighten just a little and wondered why. “You found Maude's teacups.”

“Yeah. And I remembered to add the honey.” He took the cup from its saucer and held it to her lips. “Taste,” he said. And she found herself complying, sipping just a bit of the tea. He withdrew the cup, watching her face. “How did I do?”

“It's perfect. Thank you, Josh.” She took the cup from his hand, so he wouldn't feed her from it anymore. It was too intimate a gesture, too tender. She didn't need him building her
ill-advised, and perhaps self-destructive, attraction to him any further. Not when she wasn't even certain she could trust him.

He leaned back on the sofa, picking up the notepad. “Maude wanted only one set of calling hours, held at the funeral home, and a very brief graveside service the following day. She has her headstone and plot ready and waiting, her casket's already been chosen, and Reverend Baker knows what she has in mind. The funeral director says he plans to hold the calling hours tonight, if that's okay with us. Though I didn't get the feeling we had much choice in the matter.”

She shook her head slowly. “It's so soon. But…I guess if that's what Maude wanted…”

“It wasn't all she wanted.”

Beth looked up quickly. “No, Maude never did let people off easily. What else?”

“She left word with the funeral director that she wants a memorial service held in her memory. And she wanted it held here, at the house, exactly a week after her death.”

Beth frowned, drawing her brows together and trying to remember what day it was. “Next Sunday?”

“Yeah.” He handed her the pad. “He gave me the details.”

Beth took the pad and skimmed Josh's handwritten notes. He had nice handwriting, neat and compact. “She wants the house thrown open to the entire town? In one week?” Josh nodded, and Beth read from the notes he'd taken. “To be catered by Sally Peterson. Beverages from the Brown Beaver Inn. Extra folding chairs can be borrowed from the Legion Hall. Cake has been preordered from Susie Q's Bakery.” She lifted her head and her eyebrows. “Cake?”

He nodded. “Not only that, but the announcement was sent to the paper months ago, with instructions to run it the
same day news of her death was published. And they did. It ran this morning, along with the time for the calling hours. The dates can't be changed. She arranged all of it, paid in advance for everything.”

Beth shook her head slowly. “Maude liked things done the way she liked things done. Guess she didn't want to leave anything to chance.”

“We should get over to the funeral home. Mr. Miller said there was more to discuss, but he kept getting interrupted. Said it would be easier in person.”

“All right.” She finished her tea and got to her feet. By the time she did, Josh had fetched her coat and was holding it for her. She let him help her slide into it, and then he opened the door for her.

“Enough already,” she said. She didn't say it harshly, but she did make it firm. “I'm not falling apart. I don't need quite so much of you fussing over me, all right, Josh?”

He licked his lips. “Sorry. I…kind of enjoy fussing over you.”

“I've taken care of myself for a longtime. I like knowing I can.”

“Just because you can, it doesn't mean you have to. Not constantly.” He shrugged and took a garment bag she hadn't noticed before from the coat tree just inside the door.

“What's this?”

“Maude's clothes, I guess. Apparently she had them picked out, packed and ready. The funeral director told me to bring the cranberry garment bag from her closet.”

Beth swallowed hard, silently grateful she didn't have to go through Maude's things and try to decide what she would want to wear for her own funeral. It would have been painful. “She thought of everything.”

“She did. Like you said, she liked things done her way.”

“Yeah, but she also hated being a bother to anyone. I think a lot of this was her way of not putting anyone to any trouble.” She shook her head slowly.

Josh nodded his agreement; then he glanced outside. “I wonder where the hell Bryan has gotten to?”

“Don't tell him I said so, but I think he's met a girl.”

Josh looked at her sharply. “What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch.” She frowned, too, though. “It's not like him not to check in, though, is it?”

“No. Not…up to now, at least.”

She stepped out onto the porch and looked around, but she didn't see Bryan. She did see her VW Bug sitting in the driveway, though, parked beside Josh's pickup.

“How did that get here?”

“Frankie said they'd found the keys in the rubble. She had an officer bring it by.” Josh dipped into his pocket for her keys, then handed them to her.

She wondered why people in this town were taking care of her the way they were, and then she knew. It was because of Maude.

Josh was back to scanning the surroundings, a frown etched between his brows. He was worried. Did he have cause to be? “Bryan will come along,” she said. “It's not like you have any reason to be worried. My house exploding was an accident. And Maude died of natural causes.” She licked her lips, focusing on his face once more. “Right, Josh?”

“Right.”

“Because if there's some chance Bryan could be in trouble, then you would say so, wouldn't you? Even if you were trying to keep me in the dark about things for some reason, you wouldn't do it at the risk of your son.”

Josh looked honestly perplexed as he searched her face. “You really don't trust me at all, do you?”

“Maybe we should go looking for Bryan, Josh.”

He looked as if he were going to agree with her, except just then Bryan called from the driveway. “Did I hear my name?”

Josh swung his head in the direction of his son's voice, but Beth didn't take her own eyes from Josh's face, and she saw the relief that surged there. He
had
been worried about Bryan. And that meant he had reason to be—or at least thought he might. She supposed the things she had told him about her past, about Mordecai, might have been enough to shake him, make him nervous about his son. But she had a feeling there was more to it than just that.

Damn him for keeping so much from her.

“Where have you been?”

He shrugged. “Checking out the neighborhood. Did you know there's a trail in those woods out back that leads into town?”

Josh was shaking his head from side to side while Beth said, “Sure. It runs along the bank of the stream. Cuts half the distance off the walk to Blackberry.”

“I thought it seemed like a shortcut,” he said, nodding.

“Be careful about those woods, Bry,” she went on. “There's twenty thousand acres of state forest back there. It would be easy to get lost.”

“Got it.”

She nodded. “So, um, what did you do in town, Bryan? You meet any of the local kids yet?”

“Yeah, a few were hanging out in the park, playing football. I got in on it for a while. They seem cool.”

“Yeah, there are some nice kids around here. Which ones did you meet? Any of my other students?”

He shrugged, averted his eyes. “I didn't write them down. Let's see, there was a Tim, and, uh…Greg, and a Peter or Paul, I keep forgetting which.”

“All guys, huh?”

“There were some girls there, too.” He avoided her eyes when he said that and didn't mention any of the girls' names. She was sure he was keeping something to himself. It must run in the family, she thought. “Why do you ask?”

She shook her head, not about to push it in front of Bryan's father. “No reason.”

“We have to go into town, Bry,” Josh said, and she thought he was interrupting on purpose—whether to tell her his son's love life was none of her business or for some other reason, she couldn't tell. “Gotta take care of the arrangements for Maude.”

“Oh.” Bryan looked again at Beth, his eyes sharp and thorough now. “How are you doing? You okay?”

She couldn't help but warm to the boy's genuine interest—even concern. “I'm hanging in there. You?”

“I'm okay.”

“Are you sure, Bryan? You've lost a lot these past few months. And I know you cared about Maude, even if she wasn't your real grandmother.”

Bryan's eyes went huge and shot to his father's, the look in them unmistakable. It was clear this was information they had both decided Beth was not supposed to have. And even though Bryan tried to hide the look quickly, and Josh jumped in to ask Bryan if he wanted to come into town with them, they both had to know that the damage was done.

Bryan declined and hurried into the house, eager to be
away from her, she thought. She eyed Josh. “It's pretty clear I was never supposed to know that.”

“You're being paranoid,” he said. “Not that I blame you, Beth, given what you've been through. What you're still going through.”

“Am I?”

“We never told anyone she wasn't a blood relative, because it would have gotten back to her and hurt her feelings. Bryan is so used to that, he was surprised I had told you the truth. That's all.”

She pursed her lips. “You didn't tell me the truth. Bert Hammond did.”

“I would have told you myself. Especially if I'd known it was going to make you this suspicious of me.” He shook his head. “I don't know what it is you think I might be up to, Beth, but surely you don't think Bryan's in on it with me. Much less that Maude was.”

It did sound ridiculous and paranoid when he put it that way. Besides, did she really think this man could be in league with Mordecai Young? She'd known many of Mordecai's lapdogs. They were not identical, but they were alike in many ways. They were soft men, needy men, men with holes in their characters big enough to drive a truck through. They were never charismatic, strong men. Mordecai didn't like those under him to be able to offer him any competition. There was only room for one charismatic, charming, handsome leader in Mordecai's life, and he was it.

He would have hated Joshua Kendall on sight.

No. She seriously doubted Josh was working for Mordecai. And yet it would be just like Mordecai to hire someone who could fool her so thoroughly. He was brilliant that way.

Maybe Josh worked for the government, after all. She tipped her head to one side as she considered the possibility. God knew he was nothing like the bodyguards Arthur Stanton had sent to nip at her heels, which would have made him a smart choice.