had not forgotten. Damn.
She took another sip of coffee with an unsteady hand. She’d once read an Emily Dickinson poem in college where Death had politely rung the doorbell. When answered, Death had taken the dude on a trip that ended at the cemetery. This felt a little like that.
The doorbell sounded again.
“I’ve got it,” Kate called out, forcing herself to move. She didn’t want Nellie to answer. Almost always reserved, Nellie left the outlandishness to Kate, but if and when Nellie got her dander up, there was no subtlety about it. And last night, Nellie had been as mad as Kate had ever seen her. She wasn’t sure if the fury was at her, Justus or Rick.
Kate threw the door open, and Rick jumped back before giving her a quasi grin. “Good morning, cupcake.”
She snorted. “I’ve been called lots of names before, but never cupcake. Come in. I’ll grab my purse and gun.”
“Bring plenty of ammunition. His wheelchair is motorized and he’s pretty fast in it.”
“I have a whole box,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen where she’d left her purse. Nellie hadn’t appeared. Thank the Lord. She figured her friend didn’t trust herself not to lash out at Rick for carrying out Justus’s heinous mission. Kate hadn’t been able to reason with her over this whole fiasco. And it was a fiasco, but Nellie didn’t seem to understand Kate had asked for this when she’d written that damn letter. Nor did she understand why Kate hadn’t come to her for the money.
Kate had thought Nellie would get why she hadn’t made that call. Everyone in Oak Stand knew Kate and her grandmother had lived off donations and cast-off clothing, and everyone knew Kate was embarrassed by that fact. Kate had never asked Nellie for anything. Ever. No matter how desperate she felt, it was an unwritten code they never talked about. Another elephant in the room of Kate’s life, one that had so many pachyderms in it, it was a wonder she had air left to breathe.
Kate wouldn’t take charity. Not from a friend.
But she would take Justus’s hush money.
She scooped up her purse and checked herself in the den mirror. She looked good for someone who had a raging sinus headache. She’d made up her eyes a little too heavily, but the blue streaks in her hair balanced the look. She’d finger-combed her hair into a straight edgy look and added dangly hoop earrings. The outfit was cutting-edge fashion. Overall, she looked like Justus’s worst nightmare—something like Posh Spice meets Reno prostitute.
She sauntered to the foyer where Rick studied a collage of Mae. The whole damned house was Ode to Mae. Nellie must have taken a picture of the baby every single day of her fifteen months of life.
“She’s a cute kid,” Rick said as he turned to her. His gaze swept her length, lingering on the high points. Namely her small breasts. She hadn’t worn a bra because she didn’t really need one. She felt her nipples harden under his perusal. The friction of the sweater dress only served to incite the heat in the pit of her stomach.
Rick Mendez was a nice piece of work. He’d look good on her, no doubt.
“Yeah, she is,” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But they could give the camera a rest. Jeez.”
“Ready to go?” Rick stepped back to let her pass through the door he’d left open. The last day in January felt cool and rain-soaked.
“Yeah. You have the blindfold ready?” She shrugged into her coat and tugged the ties.
“Blindfold?”
“For the firing squad.”
He narrowed his eyes. They were nice eyes. Chocolaty-brown, but forceful all the same. Like they’d seen and endured much.
She shot him a brave smile and trotted down the steps toward the ’66 convertible Mustang parked in the curved drive. The car was salsa-red with a white top. A muscle car to match the intensity of the man walking behind her.
“I carry the blindfolds in my glove box,” Rick said, following her to the passenger door. He
She took another sip of coffee with an unsteady hand. She’d once read an Emily Dickinson poem in college where Death had politely rung the doorbell. When answered, Death had taken the dude on a trip that ended at the cemetery. This felt a little like that.
The doorbell sounded again.
“I’ve got it,” Kate called out, forcing herself to move. She didn’t want Nellie to answer. Almost always reserved, Nellie left the outlandishness to Kate, but if and when Nellie got her dander up, there was no subtlety about it. And last night, Nellie had been as mad as Kate had ever seen her. She wasn’t sure if the fury was at her, Justus or Rick.
Kate threw the door open, and Rick jumped back before giving her a quasi grin. “Good morning, cupcake.”
She snorted. “I’ve been called lots of names before, but never cupcake. Come in. I’ll grab my purse and gun.”
“Bring plenty of ammunition. His wheelchair is motorized and he’s pretty fast in it.”
“I have a whole box,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen where she’d left her purse. Nellie hadn’t appeared. Thank the Lord. She figured her friend didn’t trust herself not to lash out at Rick for carrying out Justus’s heinous mission. Kate hadn’t been able to reason with her over this whole fiasco. And it was a fiasco, but Nellie didn’t seem to understand Kate had asked for this when she’d written that damn letter. Nor did she understand why Kate hadn’t come to her for the money.
Kate had thought Nellie would get why she hadn’t made that call. Everyone in Oak Stand knew Kate and her grandmother had lived off donations and cast-off clothing, and everyone knew Kate was embarrassed by that fact. Kate had never asked Nellie for anything. Ever. No matter how desperate she felt, it was an unwritten code they never talked about. Another elephant in the room of Kate’s life, one that had so many pachyderms in it, it was a wonder she had air left to breathe.
Kate wouldn’t take charity. Not from a friend.
But she would take Justus’s hush money.
She scooped up her purse and checked herself in the den mirror. She looked good for someone who had a raging sinus headache. She’d made up her eyes a little too heavily, but the blue streaks in her hair balanced the look. She’d finger-combed her hair into a straight edgy look and added dangly hoop earrings. The outfit was cutting-edge fashion. Overall, she looked like Justus’s worst nightmare—something like Posh Spice meets Reno prostitute.
She sauntered to the foyer where Rick studied a collage of Mae. The whole damned house was Ode to Mae. Nellie must have taken a picture of the baby every single day of her fifteen months of life.
“She’s a cute kid,” Rick said as he turned to her. His gaze swept her length, lingering on the high points. Namely her small breasts. She hadn’t worn a bra because she didn’t really need one. She felt her nipples harden under his perusal. The friction of the sweater dress only served to incite the heat in the pit of her stomach.
Rick Mendez was a nice piece of work. He’d look good on her, no doubt.
“Yeah, she is,” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But they could give the camera a rest. Jeez.”
“Ready to go?” Rick stepped back to let her pass through the door he’d left open. The last day in January felt cool and rain-soaked.
“Yeah. You have the blindfold ready?” She shrugged into her coat and tugged the ties.
“Blindfold?”
“For the firing squad.”
He narrowed his eyes. They were nice eyes. Chocolaty-brown, but forceful all the same. Like they’d seen and endured much.
She shot him a brave smile and trotted down the steps toward the ’66 convertible Mustang parked in the curved drive. The car was salsa-red with a white top. A muscle car to match the intensity of the man walking behind her.
“I carry the blindfolds in my glove box,” Rick said, following her to the passenger door. He
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