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After I checked on the lasagna in the oven, I peered out the kitchen window in search of Greg’s car. He should be pulling into the driveway any minute now, or at least I hoped so. I needed to talk to him in private about Annette, and it couldn’t wait. Greg had been in sales meetings all afternoon, with no way for me to reach him. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that Annette had some kind of connection to Mac’s murder.
“Mom? Did you hear what I said?”
Startled, I turned around. “Sorry. What was that?”
Darcy’s face had impatience stamped all over it. “I said the salad’s ready. What else do you need me to do?”
“Thanks, honey. If you’d go and check on your sister, that would be a huge help. She went upstairs to wash her hands about a half hour ago. Goodness knows what she’s really doing.”
Darcy grinned. “Probably playing Barbies in the sink again. She says it’s their hot tub.”
I laughed. “You did the same thing at her age. Your grandmother will be here soon, so tell Grace to put the Barbies away. Can you also let your aunt know that dinner will be ready in ten minutes?”
The smile disappeared from Darcy’s face. “I’d rather not.”
“Honey, I know how you feel, but—”
“You don’t know how I feel,” Darcy broke in. “I don’t want anything to do with her, Mom.”
Yeah, join the club. I understood where Darcy was coming from but still needed to keep peace with my husband. “Look, Darcy. Whether we like it or not, Aunt Annette is family. Your father would be hurt if he knew what you said.”
She bit into her lip. “Mom, I know Dad loves her, but I can’t help how I feel. She’s a manipulative user.”
I secretly admired my daughter’s sharp intuition.
Darcy continued. “Aunt Annette had Grace helping her put away her clothes this morning. She told her they were playing maid. That woman expects everyone to wait on her hand and foot. Well, I won’t do it. And I’m not about to be disloyal to Libby by associating with the likes of her.”
“Have you told Libby she’s here?” I asked.
Darcy shook her head. “Not yet. I haven’t had the nerve. I was going to wait until I saw her in person, but if she finds out on her own first, she’ll hate me.”
“Let me see what I can do. I haven’t talked to Gretchen in a long time. Maybe I’ll pay her a visit tomorrow. Does she still work at the library?”
Darcy’s eyes filled with hope. “Yes, but she doesn’t go into work until one o’clock most days. Maybe you could stop by after you drop Gracie off at school?”
“I’ll do my best.” I didn’t want to commit, in case a showing came up, but also knew how important this was to my daughter.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re the best. Okay, I’m going out for dinner with Lucy. See you later.”
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to eat dinner here with the rest of your family.”
Darcy emitted a groan. “But I don’t want to sit at the same table with her.”
I gritted my teeth in annoyance. This night was shaping up to be a disaster. “Darcy, I love you, but as long as you live in this house, even a few months out of the year, you will follow the same rules everyone else does.”
She stuck her lower lip out. “Please don’t treat me like a child, Mother. I’m an adult.”
“Then try behaving like one,” I said.
Darcy grunted and tossed her head. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Look, if all goes well, maybe Aunt Annette will go home with your grandmother tonight. I don’t want her here either, but let’s try to get along, okay?” Lord knows we didn’t need any extra family drama.
A car door slammed, making me jump. I glanced out the window and saw Greg getting the mail. “Your father’s home. Now, we’re not going to mention this in front of him, are we?”
“Fine. Whatever.” Darcy flounced out of the room as Greg opened the kitchen door. Dobby and Rusty came running up the steps from the family room to greet him. After he’d petted the dogs and let them outside, he returned to the kitchen and held out a long-stemmed red rose.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. “My attempt at an apology. I’m sorry about what happened between us. I love you, Cin, and I hate it when we argue.”
“Me too.” I wrapped my arms around him, and we shared a long, passionate kiss. When we broke apart, I ran my finger through his hair. “There’s something that I want to talk to you about, before your mom gets here and Annette—”
“Whoops! Looks like I’m interrupting.” Annette was standing in the doorway of the study, a broad smile on her face. “Aw, isn’t that sweet? After almost twenty-five years, you guys still look like newlyweds.”
“Hey, sis.” Greg loosened his tie and grabbed a beer out of the fridge door. “How are you feeling today?”
Annette wiggled her hand back and forth. “I’ve had an awful migraine all day. And when Mom shows up, I know it’s going to get worse.” She eyed the pan of lasagna as I removed it from the oven and set it on top of the stove. “Yum! Lasagna is my favorite.”
“It’s your brother’s favorite, too.”
“You shouldn’t eat lasagna.” A cool, crisp voice rang out from behind me. “It’s nothing but fat. All those carbs will go straight to your hips and ruin that perfect figure of yours.”
I spun around. Helen was standing under the archway that led to the living room. Maybe she’d knocked on the front door and we hadn’t heard her, but I doubted it. She always breezed right into my house, like she owned the place.
“Thanks, Helen, but my figure is far from perfect,” I said.
She frowned. “I wasn’t talking to you, Cindy. I was addressing my daughter.”
My face began to warm. I should have known better. What were the chances that Helen would ever pay me any kind of compliment?
Helen York is sophisticated and attractive for her age, which is somewhere in the early to mid-seventy range. She could easily pass for ten years younger, and knew it. Helen has the same blue eyes as both her children, but hers are more direct and without any of the warmth that Greg’s contain.
The first time Greg took me to meet his parents after we became engaged, I’d known Helen was not a fan of mine. I’d recently lost my own mother and had fantasized about Helen becoming a substitute one of sorts. It hadn’t taken long for me to realize that was never going to happen.
Over the past couple of years, we’d finally learned to tolerate each other. We would never be close, but I no longer cared. For my children’s sake, I always made an extra effort to be civil to her. She was their only living grandparent and loved them dearly. I wanted my kids to have a special relationship with her, even though she and I would never see eye to eye on many things.
Annette placed her hands on her hips. “Hello, Mother. A little lasagna isn’t going to hurt my hips.”
Helen sniffed. “Well, dear, it’s your profession that will suffer, not mine.”
“For God’s sake,” Annette spat out. “This is why I didn’t want you here. You never let anything go. I told you that I stopped dancing five years ago. I managed the books for the nightclub. It was an accounting job. A real job—one you never thought I’d be able to get.”
“Yes, well, you still managed to lose it anyway,” Helen pointed out.
Annette gritted her teeth. “I didn’t get fired. I quit.”
Helen ignored her comment and glanced around the room. “Where are those beautiful grandchildren of mine? I must see them.” Without another word, she turned and went back into the living room.
I followed her with an armful of dishes. Our formal dining table sat in a corner of the room. Most of the time, we ate at the table in the kitchen as it had a cozier feel to it. My instincts told me that there would be nothing cozy about this meal.
Greg brought a couple of chairs in from the kitchen while I placed salad and lasagna on the table. A few minutes later, all eight of us sat down. The mood was unusually subdued and strained. Even Grace, who was a constant chatterbox at mealtime, was quiet. She began to sniffle loudly as she ate. Concerned, I touched my hand against her forehead. It was warm. “Don’t you feel well, baby?”
Grace looked at me and shook her head mournfully. “I’m cold, Mommy.” She edged closer to me, and I lifted her onto my lap and kissed her cheek. Grace was getting too big to sit on my lap, and the realization made me sad. She was my last baby, and I wished that she could stay little for a while longer. I didn’t know how Greg and I had ever lived without her.
“No wonder she’s cold. She’s practically wearing nothing,” Helen pointed out.
Greg frowned at his mother but forked some lasagna into his mouth. Grace was wearing blue shorts and a short-sleeved white top with a red flower on the front. “She’s not exactly naked, Helen,” I said. “It’s seventy degrees outside.”
Helen picked at her salad. “There’s enough people in our family who prefer to run around naked.”
Annette slammed her fist on the table. “You see? This is why I can’t live with you, Mother. I’ll stay with Greg and Cindy until everything gets settled.”
Oh, hell, no. “Maybe you should go to your mom’s,” I put in. “You two really need to work things out.”
“There’s nothing to work out,” Annette insisted. “Things are never going to change between us. Anyway, it shouldn’t be long before I can move back into Mac’s place.”
“Who’s Mac?” Stevie asked. “Your boyfriend?”
Helen let out a queen-sized snort. “Well, if she’d had a little more time, I’m sure he would have been, dear. Especially if he was married.”
“Mom.” Greg narrowed his eyes at her. “Not in front of the kids, please.”
Darcy was reaching for a second piece of lasagna and trying to pretend that Annette didn’t exist. In the meantime, Annette started to walk away from the table, then thought better of it. She sat back down and helped herself to some salad.
It was obvious that she hadn’t heard the news yet. I wondered why the police hadn’t notified her personally, like they said they would. “Annette, there’s something you need to know about Mac’s house.”
She added blue cheese to her salad. “Did you find out when I can move back in?”
“You can’t move back in at all,” I said. “Mac’s children have decided to put the house up for sale.”
Annette’s mouth dropped open. “But they can’t do that! What about the money I paid him?”
“I have your money. Tricia Hudson, Mac’s realtor, wrote you a check. I stopped by her office after the wake today and picked it up.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I can’t use a check. I need cash!”
“Annette, it’s not a big deal,” Greg said calmly. “Sign the check and I’ll cash it for you tomorrow.”
Annette’s lower lip trembled. “I can’t.”
A chill ran down my spine. What was Annette hiding? Did she want cash because it didn’t leave a paper trail? Was she involved in something illegal?
“Why not?” Greg asked.
“I just prefer cash, that’s all.” Annette quickly plastered on a smile. “I recently closed out my checking account when I knew I’d be relocating. Besides, no one uses checks anymore.”
Stevie nodded in agreement. “I like cash, too. But I never have any.”
“Rolled up dollars bills are Aunt Annette’s specialty.” Helen smiled at her daughter as she took a bite of garlic bread.
Annette pushed back her chair and ran out of the room. A second later, the door to my study slammed. These two women were impossible. I wanted to knock their heads together. “Darcy, would you please take Grace upstairs and start her bath? Make sure that she puts on her warm pink pajamas and robe.”
“No,” Grace whimpered and rubbed her fists into her eyes. “I want you to give me my bath, Mommy.”
“Go ahead, Cin. I’ll clear the table,” Greg said.
“But what about dessert?” Seth wanted to know.
I would never refuse Grace’s request but worried what might happen during my absence. Annette would return to the dining room table to have the last word. She was too much like her mother in that respect. The twins and Greg kept on eating, as if nothing had happened, while Helen continued to pick at her plate. Darcy caught my eye and raised her brow in question, but I pretended not to see it and headed upstairs with Grace.
When Grace was settled in the tub with a mound of bubble bath, I laid out her pajamas and robe. After ten minutes, I coaxed her out of the tub, worried about her getting cold. Once she was dressed, I got into bed besides her and started to read from one of her fairy-tale books.
“Read about the blonde lady, Mommy,” Grace said as she snuggled up against me.
“The blonde lady?”
Grace let out a yawn. “Yeah, the lady with blonde hair, like Aunt Annette. Except her hair isn’t long enough to climb.”
“Oh, you mean Rapunzel.”
“Yeah, punzel,” Grace agreed. “I like Aunt Annette. She played dolls with me after I put all her clothes away.”
“That’s nice.” I didn’t appreciate Annette treating my five-year-old as some type of cheap labor but decided not to say anything. I started to read aloud while my mind wondered what was going on at the dinner table below us. As we reached the part in the story where the prince asked Rapunzel to let down her hair, Grace interrupted. “Can we go visit Aunt Annette at her house sometime?”
I touched my hand to her forehead again. It was still warm. “Aunt Annette doesn’t have a house.”
“Will she buy one?” Grace wanted to know.
Wouldn’t that be nice. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe someday when she has the money for one.”
“Aunt Annette has lots of money.” Grace yawned again. “I saw it. She’s rich.”
“What are you talking about, silly?” I laughed.
“Aunt Annette’s purse was on the bed, so I looked inside it. There was a lot of money. The bills had ones and zeros on them. And she had some number five bills, too.”
I blinked. “No, sweetie. Five-dollar bills aren’t enough to buy a house.”
“Are too,” Grace insisted. “There were bills with a one and two zeros next to it. And the fives had zeros after the. That’s the same age Daddy’s gonna be next week.”
“Never mind,” I said. “You shouldn’t be looking inside other people’s purses. Those are private, and none of your business.”
Grace didn’t reply. I glanced down and saw that she had fallen asleep, her little face pressed up against my arm. Gently I lowered my daughter onto the pillow, kissed her forehead and covered her with a blanket. For a few moments, I stood there and watched as she slept so peacefully, resembling a little angel.
Had Grace really seen fifty and one-hundred-dollar bills inside her aunt’s bag? Annette insisted that she was broke. Why had she really come back to town? None of this made any sense.
Softly I closed the door to Grace’s room and descended the stairs. The sound of someone weeping startled me. I hurried into the living room to find Annette sitting at the table, her face buried in her hands. Helen was standing nearby, arms folded across her chest. She glanced over and rewarded me with a frown.
Greg stood next to Annette, a grim expression on his face. The twins had disappeared from the room. Darcy was still sitting at the table, watching the scenario play out. When she caught sight of me, she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Tell her, Annette.” Greg’s voice was noticeably sharp, like a brand-new razor. “Tell Cindy what you told me.”
Annette lifted her hands away from her face. Her eyes were filled with tears. “You don’t understand.”
“Tell her,” Greg repeated.
Annette swallowed and looked up. “Mac’s death might have been my fault.”
“Dear God in heaven,” Helen murmured. “Were you sleeping with the man? For goodness’ sake, you just met him the same day!”
“No! It wasn’t like that!” Annette cried.
A muscle ticked in Greg’s jaw. “Mom, please. Let her finish.”
Annette hiccupped back a sob, then glanced around the room at all of us. “Someone is trying to kill me.”