Ripple of Secrets: Rose Gardner Mystery Novella #6.5 (Rose Gardner series Book 3) (8 page)

Bruce Wayne blushed.

I shook my head and laughed. “I think I’ll leave you to your imagination because it’s way more exciting than what’s really goin’ on.” I opened the front door and walked out into the late December day, hoping I hadn’t just told a big fat lie.

Joe

After Mason left, I sat behind the old Sinclair gas station for a good five minutes, replaying the conversation in my head and debating whether to call him and tell him that he was still in danger. I decided to sit on the decision for the moment. Mason likely knew, anyway, and I didn’t feel up to dealing with him after the way our talk had ended.

I drove away from the gas station without knowing where I was headed. I was moving into the farmhouse out by Rose this week, but there wasn’t much to pack. Most of my things were still in my old apartment in Little Rock, not because I planned to move back there, but because that life felt like a million years ago. I wasn’t ready to face the specter of my old self yet.

I’d made this move to Henryetta mostly to win Rose back, but I also felt something here that I hadn’t found anywhere else—a sense of belonging. There was the potential for me to make a real difference here, and my father was going to ruin it, just like everything else in my life. There had to be a way out of this situation that would allow me to do my job without endangering Rose, but I’d be damned if I’d figured it out yet.

Suddenly I knew where I needed to go, though I didn’t question the irony of my destination until I parked at the curb in front of her house. After I got a couple of parts and my toolbox out of the trunk, I headed up to the front porch to ring the bell.

Maeve Deveraux opened the door wearing a ruffly apron and a warm smile. The house smelled inviting—like sugar and spice and something warm baking in the oven. Then again, it always seemed to smell that way. “Good morning, Joe! Happy Day after Christmas.”

“I hope I’m not here too early.”

She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Don’t be silly. You know I’m an early riser. The question is what are you doing out so early on such a dreary day?”

I stepped through the front door. “I had an early meeting that didn’t last as long as expected, so I thought I’d make good use of the time and fix the pipe under your sink. I got the part I needed.”

She shut the door behind me as I headed into the kitchen. “You know you don’t have to do this, Joe. I could just hire a handyman. I feel badly about not paying you.”

I set my toolbox on the floor in front of the sink and patted my stomach. “You pay me, Maeve. Good food is worth more than gold to a bachelor like myself.”

She waved her hand. “Please. I have it on good authority that you’re a great cook.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Where’d you hear that?”

She paused and broke into a soft smile. “Why, from Rose.”

I swallowed, riding out the stab of pain in my heart. “She talks about me?”

“You were an important part of her life, Joe. Of course she talks about you.”

I glanced out the window over the sink, then back at her, surprised she was telling me this. “What does she say?”

“She says you’re a wonderful cook and she’s gotten out of the habit because of you. She’s quite self-conscious about it, actually. I do a lot of the cooking when we get together, and she was worried I would think her incapable of making a meal. But she cooked most of Christmas dinner yesterday despite my insistence on helping. She made a lasagna, so it wasn’t a typical Christmas dinner.”

I chuckled. “She made a lasagna.” Leave it to Rose to make something non-traditional. But it only made the ache in my chest more intense. “I’m sure it was delicious. Don’t let her fool you. I may have done most of the cooking when we were together, but whenever she did cook, I’d have to fit in extra workouts because of all the helpings I’d eat.”

“I believe it.” She moved to the oven and turned on the light, revealing a pan inside. “And speaking of food, I’m baking a batch of cinnamon rolls that should be out in a few minutes. You’ll have one, of course.”

I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and dropped to the floor. “You spoil me, Maeve. So let’s call it even.” I looked up at her. “You haven’t told Rose I’m helping you out, have you?”

Her lips pressed together before she answered. “No. I’ve respected your request for privacy. I haven’t told anyone.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what Rose would think about me helping Mason’s mother. Would she assume I was spying on her? Trying to worm my way even deeper into her life? Whatever the case, I was positive Mason would presume I was up to something. And honestly, I could see why he might think that. Maeve Deveraux had a good heart. I was fairly sure she was incapable of forming enemies, if only for the fact that she was so kind to me, the man who was partially responsible for the murder of her daughter. Savannah’s death still weighed heavily on my conscience, so when I realized Maeve had some odd jobs that needed doing around the house, I showed up with my toolbox one day and spent an hour or so taking care of them. It had been the first of several visits.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I felt a smug sense of satisfaction that I was doing something for Mason’s mother that he couldn’t. It was just further proof that he couldn’t give Rose what she needed. And while I still believed that, it wasn’t my primary motivation for helping her. I genuinely liked Maeve. She reminded me a lot of Roberta, our housekeeper when I was a boy.

I set to work on replacing the PVC elbow of the drain while she puttered around the kitchen, softly humming as she worked. When I stood and ran some water to make sure the new joint didn’t leak, she set a warm frosted cinnamon roll and a fork on a plate for me.

“I hope you have time to stay and eat with me today,” she said as she put the plate on her small kitchen table, across from an identical one.

I turned the water off and hesitated. I was tempted. Very tempted. But I wondered about the intelligence of spending more time with her than was necessary to do repairs. I was pressing my luck as it was. “I need to get back to…”

“Poppycock,” she said in a good-natured tone. “You can spare ten minutes. I want to hear about your Christmas.”

I snorted. “I assure you, you
don’t
want to hear about Christmas with my family.”

Her eyebrows rose with a playful look. “Now I
really
want to hear it.” She grabbed a couple of coffee cups out of the cabinet and filled them before setting them next to the plates. “Did I mention I make the best cinnamon rolls in the state of Arkansas?”

A warm laugh rumbled in my chest. “I’m sure my old housekeeper Roberta would have a thing or two to say about that.”

“Then sit down, and you can be the judge.”

I tilted my head to the side and grinned at her. “It’s hard to turn down a challenge like that.”

“Then have a seat.” I did, and she took the seat across from me.

After several bites, I murmured my appreciation. “I think you might have an honest claim to that cinnamon roll title.”

She grinned and took a sip of her coffee. “So your housekeeper made you cinnamon rolls?”

I sliced my fork through the gooey baked good. “Roberta was our housekeeper, but she was more than that. I never officially had a nanny, but she pretty much raised me. And while we had someone who cooked when my parents entertained—which was a lot—Roberta was more into comfort food. She could always tell when my sister Kate or I was having a bad day, and she’d make our favorites to cheer us up.”

“Are you close with Kate? I don’t think I’ve heard you mention her before.”

“No.” I took a bite of the roll to stall. I wasn’t sure I should tell her anything about my family, but for some reason it felt right. “In fact, I hadn’t seen her for two years until she showed up unexpectedly for Christmas dinner yesterday.”

“So it was a family reunion?”

I gave her a wry grin. “Of a sort.” When she gave me a questioning glance, I continued. “My parents weren’t expecting her either, and Kate has always had a mind of her own. My parents can’t control her, which means they don’t know how to handle her.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I picked up my coffee cup. “She doesn’t care about anyone or anything, so my parents have nothing to leverage over her. She’s untouchable.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

I took a sip of coffee. “We hadn’t heard from her in two years. That sounds pretty untouchable to me. And trust me, if my parents could figure out how to force her to toe the line, they’d do it.”

“But is she happy?”

My eyebrows rose. “
That
is a good question. I intended to talk to her and find out what she’s been doing, but my father insisted we have a chat before I left.” I’d been so aggravated by my conversation with my father, I’d left before I’d had a chance to talk to her. But I needed to steer this conversation in a different direction because there was no way we were going down that path. “Hilary was there with her parents, and Kate had a field day with her.”

Maeve paused, then asked, “Your old girlfriend?”

“Go ahead and say it—the mother of my unborn child? Yes. Hilary’s parents have been close friends with mine since before we were born. We all grew up together, and Kate and Hilary’s mutual animosity goes back to our early childhood. Hilary and I are the same age and Kate’s two years younger. Hilary always saw Kate as competition, and Kate was more than happy to accept the challenge.”

“So it was an entertaining day, I take it?” She chuckled. “And here you said it wasn’t exciting.”

“Kate’s one of the few people who can get under Hilary’s skin. That was indeed fun to watch.”

“I take it that you don’t get along well with the mother of your child.”

I sighed. “We have a very complicated relationship.”

“I’m not judging, Joe. Just trying to understand.”

Oddly enough, I believed her. “Hilary’s like a crutch. A very bad habit. It just took me too long to realize that. I was weak after I was forced to leave Rose and Hilary took advantage of that fact.” I realized my error as soon as the words left my mouth. Would she pick up on the meaning behind what I’d said, or did she—like most people probably did—think I’d purposely left Rose behind to chase my supposed dream of running for political office?

Maeve went in a totally different direction. “So you’re sure the baby’s yours?” She looked pained to ask.

I was silent for a moment. “I’ll insist upon paternity testing, but yeah, I’ll be shocked if the baby isn’t mine.”

“But you don’t plan to marry her?”

“No.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “If you don’t love her, that’s for the best. Many a marriage has begun with an unplanned pregnancy only to end in a disastrous divorce later. Then the poor child gets caught in the chaos. It’s a new day and age, and it’s much more acceptable now for parents to remain unmarried. As long as you’re a good father to your baby, that’s the important thing, right?”

I didn’t have an answer as to what would happen after the baby came. I still struggled to wrap my head around the idea. Would I be a good father? My own parents hadn’t been the best role models. I knew part of the reason I was balking was because Rose wasn’t the baby’s mother. All my dreams of having a baby had been with her, and I still couldn’t let go.

Maeve leaned closer. “You know Hilary’s telling everyone you’re engaged?”

I released a heavy breath. “I suspected. It’s never going to happen.”

She watched me for a moment, then said quietly, “I know you don’t love Hilary, but is part of your reason for not wanting to marry her that you still hold out hope for you and Rose?”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Rose could see the future; could Mason’s mother read minds? I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure we should be having this conversation.”

She reached out a hand and covered mine. “I know you still love her.” When I started to protest, she smiled softly. “It’s written all over your face whenever you talk about her. You can’t hide it.”

“Maeve…”

“If you still love Rose, then it’s only further confirmation that you shouldn’t marry Hilary.”

I gaped at her. “But wouldn’t it solve a pesky problem for Mason if I did? If I were married to Hilary, I’d be out of the way.”

“It’s not that easy, Joe, and you know it.” She sat back in her chair and seemed to consider her next words carefully. “Rose Gardner is an intelligent woman who is capable of making up her own mind. Trying to keep someone who wants to be somewhere else is like trying to hold sand in an open hand. Your love for Rose has no bearing on Mason. It’s only Rose’s feelings that need concern you.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer. It wasn’t what I’d expected her to say.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, and perhaps I’m biased since I’m Mason’s mother, but Rose seems very happy to me. I think you need to ask yourself if you want to possess Rose…or if you want her to be happy.”

I set my fork on the table. “I think I should be goin’ now.”