chapterELEVEN By the time Isobel returned to the kitchen, freshly washed with her hair down, half-covering her face, everyone had finished breakfast, and even Constance and Lewis had arrived, eaten, and left again. Kit was off in Mrs. Pan’s office—as she called it, though it looked more like a kid’s playroom to me—while Mrs. Pan herself stood at the sink with a handful of tools, ready to hand them to me when I asked for them. And me…well, I was stretched under the sink, trying to figure out what was wrong with the garbage disposal.I had just forked up my last bite of pancake when Mrs. Pan had tried to dispose of…well, garbage, I guess, and it had made the most god-awful grinding sound before the smell of burning electrical wires and smoke filled the kitchen.Good thing the new handyman was on hand. Swallowing the last of my breakfast, I’d gotten to work. I had a little experience with garbage disposal repair. The one at the bakery had gotten jam
chapterTWELVE When I drove home that night, I expected red and blue lights to start flashing behind me any second with some cop threatening to arrest me for theft. I drove with my eyes more on the rearview mirror than on the road ahead of me.By the time I made it into town, handcuff-free, my worry only gained volume. People didn’t own rides as nice or new as this in my neighborhood. If I parked this thing on my street, I might as well paint a huge target on it. It wouldn’t survive the night.Swearing under my breath, I found a better neighborhood about a fifteen-minute walk from my own, where the cars and trucks started to look nicer and were safer to park on the street. I still felt wrong about leaving it there, so far from my apartment, but hell, it had a better chance here.“You’ll be okay,” I said, stroking the paint job and reassuring myself more than I was the truck. Then I stepped back, took a deep breath, and hurried home. Once I reache
chapterTHIRTEEN Planning bookshelf projects and reading about bookshelf projects were entirely different beasts than actually building fucking bookshelves.“Dammit,” I muttered, tossing down another board I’d cut a fourth of an inch too short. “I suck at this. I so totally suck at this.”You’d think routing fancy edges or aligning and screwing boards together would be the real challenge for me. But nope, I just couldn’t measure and cut worth crap.“Too short again?” Isobel asked from across the room, where she sat at the opened window and brushed wood stain across a freshly sanded shelf. Between us, the floor was covered in plastic drop cloths while sawdust fluttered in the air and the crisp scent of lacquer floated to me from the breeze the window let in.“Yes,” I mumbled, tearing off my hat to run a hand through my hair and trying not to lose my shit. But seriously, you’d think I’d learn not to fuck up the length so badly after the first five
chapterFOURTEEN Weeks passed, the library transformed, and a routine sprouted between Isobel and me. We’d run, I’d take my dream shower—I was becoming increasingly spoiled by those showers—then we’d eat breakfast together after everyone else had eaten and cleared out of the kitchen, and after that, it was off to the library for renovation time. In between the woodworking part, we painted the walls a glossy eggshell color and installed more lights.I asked Isobel if she wanted me to find some professional painters and electricians to take care of that part, but she’d admitted she liked this do-it-ourselves thing we had going on. It made it more meaningful to her. That had me grinning until she added, “Besides, you’re such an anal-retentive perfectionist, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”So I read more books and learned about wiring, and it ended up I only electrocuted myself twice before all the new lights were installed.We were finishing the last book
chapterFIFTEEN I’d only suggested one, so the fact that Isobel was willing to give up a couple of her roses made my eyebrows lift, impressed.But she must’ve mistaken my expression as me thinking I considered her offer meager. So she sighed. “Fine. I can put together a full dozen.”Holy shit. I hadn’t thought she’d go that far. But I smiled. “Mrs. Pan is going to love this.”Still appearing put out, she huffed, “Which color?”“I don’t know.” Again, this was out of my territory. “What do the different colors symbolize?”I thought she’d give me another look that told me she had no idea about that either, but nope. When it came to roses, Isobel knew her shit. “Well, red is obviously for love, passion, beauty, courage, or respect. White roses are for purity, innocence, silence, or secrecy.”I shook my head. “Nah, we don’t want it to be a secret admirer thing. She needs to know they’re from him.”Nodding in agreement, Isobel ticked off another fi
chapterSIXTEEN A day after our matchmaking endeavors, Isobel and I officially claimed the library shelving project complete. I had wanted to call everyone into the room immediately and show it off, even though most of the staff had stopped by periodically to follow our progress, anyway. But Isobel wanted everything cleaned and all the books shelved before our “grand opening.”So while I removed the drop cloths and ladders and tools, Isobel dusted and began to vacuum. When it came time to shelve the books, our great debate about how to organize them started.“This is where I had the mysteries before,” Isobel started, narrowing her eyes as if daring me to disagree.I just grinned, ready to play. “But this is a darker corner. Don’t you think mysteries should be in the darkest, most mysterious part of the room? And romances belong by the light, since they’re, you know, light and full of love with happy endings and stuff.”She blinked at me as if I’
chapterSEVENTEEN Isobel didn’t return to the library for the rest of the day. At first, I was okay with her absence. I mean, hell, I needed a moment to regroup, too.I’d kissed her. Things had changed. We’d probably never get back to the place we used to be. And this new direction could either lead somewhere very good, or very bad. So, yeah, it was scary. I got that. I understood her need for a moment to herself.Maybe even an hour or two to her herself.But when four o’clock rolled around, it was time for me to leave, and she’d never reappeared. I had tried to place as many of her books on the shelves as possible, hoping I didn’t put something somewhere she didn’t want it to go, but it just felt all wrong doing it by myself. We’d started working on this together; we should’ve finished together.The worst of it came the next morning at seven, when she didn’t show up at the lake to run. I stood on the running trail, our running trail, hands on m
chapterEIGHTEEN The silence that followed my confession was resounding. It echoed around in my head until sweat misted on my brow.I opened my eyes to find Isobel watching me, her expression bleak.She shook her head. “What do you mean?”Glancing down at my hands, I began to pick at a piece of skin coming loose around a callus on my palm.“I told you before, I originally went to your dad because of my mom, right?”She nodded. “What? Is that not true?”“No, it’s true,” I said. Then I drew in a deep breath and began my story.“I went to him because she owed him money. He’d given her a loan for her bakery. I swear, she owed everyone money. I have no idea how a single person could rack up that much debt, but she kept it from me for as long as she could. By the time I learned about it, it was out of my control. I sold my truck, sold her house, sold most of our furniture. And it still wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. After I moved her in with me,
behind MONSTER AMONG THE ROSESINSPIRATIONfor Porter Hall, Residence of Entrepreneur Henry Nash:At the time of writing this story, a very real place called Chestnut Hall Estates was on the market for sale in Georgia for a cool $48 million. http://www.priceypads.com/chestnut-hall-48000000/# This 17,000 square feet of living space boasted of sitting on 18 acres of land, but it was the collection of artifacts that came with the house that made it so pricey. Some of the statues came from a garden in Versailles. It contained a chandelier from the Civil War era, which brought about the idea of the chandelier in my fictitious Porter Hall coming from a mansion in France that was confiscated from the Gestapo in World War II. Also in Chestnut Hall, there was a bronze eagle from Benito Mussolini. So I stuck that statue in my Porter Hall as well. Shaw helped Constance move it across the hallway to preserve the carpet.INSPIRATIONfor Isobel’s Rose G
EPILOGUE The bell over the door of Rosewood dinged, alerting me to the entrance of another customer. I smiled even as I lifted my face to greet the new arrival, only for my grin to stretch wider when I recognized him.“Hey, it’s Cinderella.”Ezra’s eyes narrowed as he strolled inside. “That’s still the lamest comeback ever.”I shrugged. “Hey, if the shoe fits…” Then I pointed and started laughing at my own corny pun.His glare was dry as dust. “You are so not amusing. I’m seriously thinking about sending my sister to a psychiatrist for falling for an idiot like you.”“What can I say? Love doesn’t care about brain capacity.” Then I sent him a wink. “Which means there’s still hope for you too, buddy.”He sighed. “Just tell me where my sister is.”“I’m right here.” Isobel emerged from the door behind the counter that led into her workroom. “I could hear you two bickering all the way from the back.”Nearly three months had passed since my mother’s funeral. It’d
chapterTWENTY-NINE One day actually spanned into two. My five siblings cleaned out pretty much everything that once belonged to Mom. The only things left were her walker, some clothes no one would ever want, and a bunch of broken bakery remains. I did find a chipped cup she used to love to drink from, so I kept that, but everything else, I boxed up and hauled down to the dumpster.Every time I passed the base of the stairwell where I’d found her, my throat would go dry and my chest would twist with pain. I really needed to move out of this hellhole.I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I hadn’t received any word that Henry had rescinded any of the loans or bills he’d paid off for my mom, but I hadn’t seen any proof of the opposite either. If I ended up owing him, at least I was free to find a job somewhere that actually paid me so I could attempt to pay him back. I wasn’t tied to taking care of Mom anymore, so I was free
chapterTWENTY-EIGHT My lips parted. “My…what?”Isobel’s eyes were large and horrified. “She...she…”“When the hell did you meet Gloria?”“At the hospital,” she rushed her answer. “I came to visit. She was there with your mom. She said…she said...”I shook my head, then pushed Ezra aside so I could see her better. “You came to the hospital?” My voice cracked and eyes misted. “Really?” My lips trembled, wanting to smile, except…except everything was still so wrong.Isobel bobbed her head up and down. “I wanted to come the first day, but you didn’t ask me to. I wasn’t sure if you wanted—”“Of course I wanted you there,” I hissed before clenching my teeth. “But I didn’t know if I should ask. You said you wanted space, and you acted as if you never wanted to leave your house again. It felt selfish to ask you to come.”“I would have,” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I wanted to, and when I finally did, she was there. She was there with yo
chapterTWENTY-SEVEN Three days passed.They were a complete blur as if they flew by at warp speed, and yet each hour, minute and second ticked along too slowly for me to handle. Time was so messed up.I was messed up.It was hot, dry, and sunny when we buried Mom. Amazingly, all five of her children made it to the service. I don’t know how Alice found them, but they filed into the cemetery just in time for the final farewell to begin. I glanced at them but said nothing. I wanted to be mad that they waited too late to show, except I couldn’t summon the emotion.I was numb.Mom was gone. My purpose these last six months was done.What the hell was I supposed to do now?I’d worked so hard to save her, to make her life better. I was a complete failure.Jesus, I was going to miss her.How could my mother be gone? Forever?After the ceremony, Alice invited the other four to my place. “We need to go through Mom’s things and get all her affairs i
chapterTWENTY-SIX My mouth fell open.Shock and confusion mixed with anger. But seriously, what the fuck? I’d just survived a week from hell, almost lost my mother, and still might lose her if she didn’t recover. Why would he do this to me?Offering no explanation, he held out his hand. “The keys to the truck, if you please.”I blinked, not quite able to process what he was saying. After a second of making no sense of his words at all, I shook my head, even as I dug the keys from my pocket. As I dropped them into his waiting palm, I said, “I don’t understand. What happened? Is this because I missed four days?”“Of course not.” Henry stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. “I thought I made it explicitly clear to you not to hurt her.”I squinted, even more confused. “You mean Isobel?”He drew in a sharp, livid breath as if offended I would dare to say her name.“I didn’t hurt her,” was all I could think to say. “I would never.”“Oh really?” he ch
chapterTWENTY-FIVE It was nearly one in the morning by the time they let me into Mom’s hospital room to see her. Visiting hours be damned, I think they realized I wasn’t going to leave until I could see her in person. And then, once I finally did get shown to her room, there was no way they could pry me away. I was there for good, a permanent fixture plastered to her side.A large white bandage circled her head. She’d received a concussion but that wasn’t the worst of her injuries. I guess whenever she’d fallen, she’d rebroken the not-fully-healed hip from five months before. What was worse, some bone marrow had escaped and gotten into her bloodstream. The doctors had been forced to perform immediate surgery to keep the marrow from reaching her heart.If I hadn’t found her when I had and gotten her to a hospital when I did, she could’ve died right there on those stairs. If my night had gone well and Isobel hadn’t pushed me away, my mother would b
chapterTWENTY-FOUR By the time Saturday arrived, I was nervous.I’d never been to a fancy restaurant before, and everyone said Urbane was the crème de la crème of eateries in the area. I didn’t want to do anything to embarrass Isobel. Shit, I wondered if I should’ve taken one of those lessons to learn which silverware went with which course.I was totally going to bomb this.But at least I was going to look good doing it. Driving Henry Nash’s truck and wearing Ezra Nash’s suit, no one would be able to tell I was a nobody. A fake.Henry had set the reservations for seven thirty. Since I got off work at four, I went home to spend a couple hours with Mom before I dressed. She gave a low, impressed whistle as soon as I exited the bedroom, trying to figure out the cuff links.“My goodness, don’t you look handsome?”I glanced over to where she sat in her worn-out chair, wearing a floral muumuu and watching Wheel of Fortune on TV with her walker sit
chapterTWENTY-THREE The next morning, I woke early, eager to see Isobel. I made myself lie there for a good half hour until it was the usual time I got up. Then I pulled on my jogging clothes, stuffed another outfit into my backpack, tucked my new mirror into the front pocket, and checked on my mom who was still sleeping peacefully, before I hurried out the door. It took me about ten minutes to reach my truck, when it typically took about fifteen. And then I made it to Porter Hall in about half the time I usually spent driving.The gate opened a minute later, letting me in, and I pulled around the back to my parking spot.Isobel hadn’t made it out to the lake by the time I jogged up to our starting spot. I paced and stretched, impatient for her to show. When I finally heard the crunch of gravel as she approached, my body clanged with awareness.“Hey,” she called, her voice full of pleasure when she caught sight of me already here. “You’re early