30

Alison peered around the damask drapes. On the street, a cop sat in his car. Gathering her courage, she exited the house and strolled over to him. Sighting her, the officer lowered his window.

“Hi.” She fluttered her fingers. “You’re going to watch the house all night, correct?”

The patrolman nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m staying put right here in this exact spot. Don’t you worry.”

She smiled. Big. A little sweet magnolia . . .

“With you guarding the house, I don’t have anything to worry about.”

She handed him a plate of the chocolate chip cookies Claire had taken out of the oven before she and the guys left for church.

Back inside, she grabbed her purse and keys. But she turned off her cell phone. Mike would have them home by nine o’clock. The board meeting started in about thirty minutes. It should finish in plenty of time for her to get back to the house before he arrived with the kids.

She grunted. As if she had to sneak into her own house. She didn’t answer to him. She would’ve stayed home, but since the kids wanted to go to their meeting, she had one of her own she definitely needed to attend.

Raising the garage door, she backed out onto the street. As she passed the patrolman with his mouth full of cookie, she waved at him and got out while the getting was good.

She blessed Mike and his literal-minded pals on the force who strictly followed the letter of the law. Mike told the officer to watch her house, and watch it he would.

Mike never said to watch her.

Semantics. She’d learned a long time ago with Frank it was all about semantics.

No doubt the cop was frantically calling Mike right now. She only hoped Mike had turned his phone off as a courtesy while within a house of worship. That should buy her enough time to pick up the food at Angelo’s, serve it, and gather intelligence on the board of directors.

A sliver of doubt niggled at the back of her mind like a rat terrier with a bone. Mike would call her all kinds of names, the least of which would be obsessed. But at this point, she’d decided, like Ivy, it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Later, with gyro and souvlaki boxes piled to her nose, she raced up the stone steps through the yew hedge to the docent porch at the back of the house. Using her hip to prop open the door and balancing the boxes, she erupted into the conference area.

Nothing like making a grand entrance.

Her eyes rounded, and she dropped the boxes. “What are you doing here?”

Was there no one she could trust? She’d imagined the people at Redeemer to be her safe haven. And for the first time, she wondered at the timing of him showing up to her house right after . . .

Robert, in a teal golf shirt and casual khaki chinos, hurried over to help. “Here, let me.” He scooped up the boxes.

She glared. “What are you doing here?” Noting they alone occupied the room, she gave an involuntary shiver.

Unspoken accusations vibrated the air between them.

Robert’s brow furrowed into a V. “Joan, my wife, was one of the charter members of the board at Weathersby before she became ill. When she stepped down, Frank was elected to take her place.” He dropped his gaze. “Hilary asked me to finish Frank’s term.”

He shuffled the boxes in his arms. “I tried to tell you the day Stephen and I took Justin to the club, but we were interrupted.”

“And you never saw fit to rectify that error since?”

He stiffened. “Error? It never came up.”

“Even when I told you I was taking the job here?”

Did she have stupid tattooed on her forehead?

Robert threw the boxes on the floor between their feet. “Perhaps I didn’t realize we had progressed so far in our relationship where I had to account to you for my every movement. My mistake.”

Her breath hitched. She took a step backward, tensing as he drew closer.

Robert’s eyes drooped. “I’m sorry, Ali. I shouldn’t have said that. My temper . . .” He caught hold of her arm. “It’s just you sounded so . . . You don’t honestly believe I was involved in Frank’s . . . I would never betray you like Frank did.” He tugged at her sleeve.

Wrapping one arm firmly about her body, with his other hand underneath her chin, he urged her mouth closer to his lips. She let him kiss her, his cheeks smooth against her flesh, a faint scent of an expensive aftershave filling her nostrils.

It had been a long time since she’d been kissed. Life with Frank those last years had been anything but sweet and tender. Robert held her tight, both arms around her. She could feel his yearning for her. Her heart beat as wild as a bird in a cage.

What did she feel for Robert? Fear? Or desire? Why was she so confused?

She didn’t really think of Robert as one of her “suspects,” did she? What possible motive . . . ? Not Robert, beloved by children and dogs. Her safety net.

Perhaps obsessed would be a correct description of her behavior lately.

That and paranoid, too. Not that she didn’t have good reason to be, after the day she’d had so far, but it wasn’t fair to take out her angst on Robert.

Still . . . something didn’t feel right to her.

Her lips broke free of his. His chest heaved, and her breath came in short spurts.

“Don’t shut me out, Ali,” he whispered into her hair. “I know it’s too soon. But give us a chance. Give yourself a chance. I love you, and I would dedicate my life to making you the happiest woman on earth.”

And she believed him.

“Forgive me? I should’ve told you about taking Frank’s place . . .” He looked away at the awkward pause. “At Weathersby.”

“No.” She smoothed the silver tendrils that had escaped from their usual place behind her ear. “I’m the one who’s sorry for snapping your head off. It’s been a bad day.” She lifted one hand and dropped it to her side. “Actually, it’s been a bad year. Forgive me, please?”

The twinkle returned to his eyes. “And us? Will you promise to consider my offer?”

Offer? That sounded so . . . so like real estate.

Which, to be fair, was his area of expertise.

“Only God knows the future, Robert.” She bent once more to retrieve the boxes, praying the board dinner was salvageable. “And the future, as I’m learning, is best left in His hands.”

“I’ll take that statement with cautious optimism.” He made a move as if to touch her.

“Good. The food’s here.” Lumbering in, Hilary tossed her stack of papers on the table.

Alison sidestepped Robert’s extended hand. “I’ll get the plates.” She slipped into the kitchen before Ivy could arrive and throw her out on her ear. Time to get busy or at least act like it.

When she returned, she found Hilary seated, as were the Lawrences. A young man wandered in with Erica. Bill frowned at the sight of Alison. Linda put a tissue to her nose as if smelling something unpleasant.

Alison puttered around, setting out the place mats and dishing out the individual orders.

“So nice of Alison to offer to take care of the food for us.” Hilary favored her with an approving glance. “Now we can get started on the last-minute details for this weekend’s Spring Ball and festival fundraiser.”

Alison headed to the kitchen to retrieve the tea pitcher Lula had left in the fridge for the meeting. She also placed enough glasses on a white tray for everyone.

Hilary had begun to fidget when she returned to the conference room. Several chairs remained empty. Though Hilary gave every appearance of being laid back, she liked to get down to business on time. As Alison poured tea or water as requested, the young man seated beside Erica introduced himself.

“Todd Driver.” He offered a limp hand.

Juggling a pitcher in each hand, she nodded.

“Oh,” Todd retracted his hand. “I guess you do have your hands full.” He was cadaverously thin, about Erica’s age, but pale. The beginnings of male pattern baldness on his high forehead gave him a windswept look.

Erica took a glass from Alison. “Todd is our city council representative. He tries to keep us on the straight and narrow, budgetwise, that is.”

At the sound of his name on Erica’s lips, Todd lit up like a firefly in July. Erica patted his hand and then blushed, becomingly.

Hadn’t Erica mentioned a boyfriend, a rock ’n’ roll band drummer?

Who was the real Erica? Demure textile conservationist or a pothead wild child? Interesting, though, how Erica could switch personas at will for her own purposes. It never hurt to have friends in high places, especially on the city council, Alison supposed. What exactly was little Miss Erica’s agenda?

The sound of angry voices filtered in from outside. Natalie and Ivy emerged, locked in verbal combat.

“I don’t care if you’re the director,” Natalie shouted. “I’m family.”

“Just because your father was related—distantly,” Ivy pursed her lips, “to Ursula Weathersby does not give you the right to make decisions without my approval.”

Natalie sneered. “Daddy and I don’t know how you bamboozled the old lady into handing Weathersby over to you and the city, but I’m not going to let you get away with it.”

Hilary cleared her throat. Loudly.

Apparently realizing for the first time she had an audience, Ivy’s eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Alison trying to disappear into the safety of the kitchen, pitchers still in hand.

Ivy jabbed a finger in her direction. “What is she doing here?”

Robert shuffled his feet under the table. Bill buried his head in his laptop.

“I asked her to help with the meal.” Hilary rose. “Now, I suggest the two of you calm down or take your dispute elsewhere. We’ve already waited long enough for the both of you. I call this meeting to order.” She banged a gavel on top of her file folder, careful not to mar the antique finish of the oval conference table.

Natalie flounced into her seat. Ivy gripped the top of her chair, not ready to surrender the fight. “Board meetings are not open to the public, and you, Mrs. Monaghan, left your post early this afternoon.”

Linda Lawrence heaved a dramatic sigh. “For the love of preservation, Ivy, sit down so we can get started. Some of us have other things to do tonight.”

Hilary leaned forward for emphasis. “Alison is not the ‘public.’ She’s a member of our staff and,” with a sly look at Ivy, “she had every right to leave early today since she’s working for Weathersby tonight per my instructions. I, for one, assumed Weathersby lacked sufficient funding to pay overtime. Isn’t that correct, Bill?”

Hearing his name, Bill buried himself further into his computer. “Yeah, right,” he mumbled.

“So, Ivy, I repeat,” Hilary grimaced, “if you have no other issues,” in a tone that indicated how much she doubted the likelihood of that, “let’s get down to business.”

Ivy fumed, looking long and hard at Bill’s bowed head. Alison realized he’d taken the seat Ivy preferred, the one at the other end of the table opposite Hilary. Bill ignored Ivy. Rattling the chair to show her displeasure, Ivy sat down.

Alison retreated to the kitchen to give Ivy time to cool off. She spread her pirated copy of the agenda on the countertop with one ear figuratively pressed against the open threshold into the conference area and one eye peeled around the door frame.

Functioning in Frank’s role as secretary, Robert read the minutes of the last meeting. Six months ago, she realized with a pang, Frank had been alive, probably sitting in the same chair Robert occupied, reading the minutes.

Hilary flipped through her folder. “Old business?”

Erica, in the sweet, schoolgirl role she was playing tonight, raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I want to remind everyone being on the board doesn’t give anyone the right to meddle with archivally preserved textiles that have been carefully stored and tagged.”

“I second that.” Ivy nodded. “It’s ridiculous how many people have keys to this complex. Only the president,” with a nod in Hilary’s direction, “staff, and of course, myself as director should have that kind of access for security and liability reasons.”

Linda took umbrage and fluffed like an angry, molting bird. “Are you accusing someone, Miss Chambers, of wrongdoing?”

Erica flushed. Todd stood, sending his chair back with a crash. “Now see here, Mrs. Lawrence. No one said anything about you.”

Natalie laughed. “My daddy used to say the ‘bit dog always barks the loudest’.”

Ivy rounded on her. “Exactly, Ms. Singleton. I forget, is it still Mrs.? Or after four failed marriages, do you prefer to revert to Miss?”

Natalie reached across the table for Ivy’s throat.

“Ladies!” shouted Hilary.

How much of this was Robert bothering to record in April’s minutes? He looked over the top of his laptop and winked at her.

Hiding a smile, she ducked into the depths of the kitchen to prepare after-dinner coffee. At the rate they were shouting, she’d have no trouble following their conversation during her preparations.

“Let’s move on,” Hilary encouraged, striving to regain some semblance of order. “And Mr. Driver, please resume your seat.”

A chair scudded across the floor.

“Please . . .” Ivy moaned. “Those floors are two hundred years old. Were you raised in a barn?”

“Some of us were,” Linda hissed with meaning.

Hilary sighed but brought their attention to several committee reports: the garden committee report prepared by Polly, the gift shop proceeds from Winnie, docent training from Ginny, and a report of educational outreach in the Wake County public schools, this one read by Erica herself.

During the seeming lull in hostilities, Alison set out the rest of Claire’s cookies and, with the tray full of coffee mugs, offered decaf or regular. The rich coffee aroma floated above the table. She’d brought her own stash from home. The stuff they kept here for the docents tasted plebian to a coffee connoisseur like her.

Bill took a cautious sip. “Mmm. Good stuff,” he mumbled around another mouthful of cookie.

Was Bill coming down with something? He’d been unusually quiet, and he wore a navy blue turtleneck, more than a little unseasonable for April in Raleigh.

Ivy puckered her lips. “Brackish.”

Talk about winning friends and influencing people? She’d just made Ivy’s you-know-what list. She removed herself without comment to the kitchen.

“New business?” Weariness colored Hilary’s voice. Hers was a thankless job. “How are the plans proceeding for the ball on Friday night?”

Natalie rested her sun-kissed bare arms on the table, showing just enough cleavage to intrigue. Todd blushed. Robert kept his nose in his laptop. Bill appeared transfixed until a not-so-subtle jab from his wife brought his attention to the present.

“The caterers have been confirmed.” Natalie recited the menu. She tossed her dark tresses, whiplashing Erica in the face. “Erica and I set up the fashion exhibit in the upstairs’ rooms.” She favored each of them with a languid smile. “I encourage all of you to preview the collection tonight before you leave. Friday will be hectic, to say the least, for those of us acting as hosts and hostesses for this soiree.”

Ivy jutted her jaw. “As director, I should be the hostess.”

“Oh, dear me. Ivy’s jealous,” Natalie mocked. “Must I remind you—yet again—that you are an employee?”

Ivy sizzled.

“And how are the ticket sales going for the ball?” Hilary swiveled to Linda.

Hoping to distract the combatants? Good luck with that. Alison dumped the coffee grinds into the trash.

Linda cleared her throat. “At five hundred dollars a ticket, our attendees will be the cream of Raleigh society. Sales are brisk, and I expect this ball to be a resounding success for Weathersby at sell-out capacity.”

“Outstanding.”

“Great job.”

Linda preened. Bill said nothing.

Ivy crossed her arms. “Are we done yet?”

Hilary gave her a pointed look. “Not yet. I don’t believe Bill has given us the monthly financial report.”

“Bill’s been under the weather this week.” Linda laid a wifely hand on his sleeve. He coughed. “He got behind with the paperwork what with the ticket sales, too. He’ll e-mail everyone the report.”

Hilary sighed. “This is most irregular, Bill. If you’d told me earlier I could’ve pitched in.”

Bill kept his head down.

Alison chanced peering around the door frame. He must be sick. He looked terrible. Shadows pockmarked his face, especially under his eyes and his right cheekbone.

Ivy squirmed. “Are we done now?”

“Where’s the fire, Ivy?” joked Robert.

She gave him a nasty look. “I make a motion this meeting be adjourned.”

Natalie, bored now her time in the spotlight was complete, played with a fingernail. “I second.”

Hilary threw up her hands. “All right already.” With a much-maligned expression, she banged the gavel on her folder.

Did Hilary ever wish she could bang this crowd’s head instead?

“The meeting is adjourned.”

Natalie leaned over the table. “Anyone want to accompany me on a tour of the exhibit? I hate to go up there in the dark all by my lonesome.”

Chairs scraped.

“Come, Todd. I’ll show you the collection.”

Alison watched Erica grab his arm. She bit back a smile. Keep it up, love; you’ll turn him into another Henry.

Robert and Bill shut down their computers. Linda and Bill were the first out the door.

“Thanks so much, Alison.” Hilary caught hold of Robert’s arm as he moved to join Alison in the kitchen. “A question for our secretary, Robert?”

Frowning as he bent his head to listen, Robert gave Alison a wave good-bye as Hilary pulled him out the door toward the parking lot.

Ivy marched straight into the kitchen. “Yes, so considerate of you, Mrs. Monaghan. Don’t forget you’ll have a lot of work to catch up on bright and early tomorrow.” She smiled.

Wait for it.

“And,” Ivy gestured around the kitchen, knocking Alison’s cup across the counter. “Be sure and clean this mess before you leave.”