A Sheetcake Named Desire by Jacklyn Brady Page A

said, but I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince. “I’ve barely spoken to him since we separated.”
    Miss Frankie waved away my objection. “You know how stubborn he was. But I knew how he felt. A mother knows.”
    Warmth flickered in my chest, but even if she was right, it didn’t matter now. “I came to town this week to get the divorce agreement signed. If I had seen him before . . . before , he would have signed it, and we’d have been divorced within the month.”
    Miss Frankie sighed heavily, but she put a hand on my arm and gave it a squeeze. “Leaving you was the biggest mistake Philippe ever made. You were good for him, Rita. The best thing that ever happened in his life.”
    I can’t deny that made me feel good, but I wasn’t so sure she was right. “That’s kind of you to say, but I think he might have argued with you about that.”
    Sullivan leaned into the conversation again. “Why did he end the marriage, Mrs. Renier?”
    Miss Frankie’s mouth thinned and her eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t know. That was between Philippe and Rita.”
    “He didn’t talk to you about it?”
    “No.”
    I didn’t believe that either. Philippe had called his mother at least twice a day when we lived in Chicago, and he’d come home to New Orleans at least five times a year, often without me. I came with him for big family occasions like weddings and funerals, but he traveled alone for the other visits he couldn’t seem to live without.
    Apparently Detective Sullivan didn’t believe her either. “That’s unusual, isn’t it? Since you say the two of you were close.”
    Miss Frankie’s spine stiffened. I knew that look on her face. I’d seen it before, and it never meant anything good. “Are you accusing me of lying, young man?”
    Sullivan shook his head. “Of course not, but it seems odd that he never said anything to you about his divorce. Maybe he mentioned something that you didn’t consider important at the time?”
    Miss Frankie lanced him with a steely look. “If you want to know why the marriage ended, ask Rita. She’s sitting right here.”
    I gave Sullivan a little finger wave and tried to reassure Miss Frankie before she got too riled up. “He has asked me. I think he’s trying to find out from you whether I’m lying or not.”
    Miss Frankie’s head pivoted from me to Sullivan. Irritation flared into anger. “You can cross Rita off your list right now. She loved my son. She would never have hurt him.”
    Her loyalty both surprised and touched me. Sullivan opened his mouth to answer, but a loud crash cut him off. Quinn stood in the doorway, oblivious to the broken glass and tea on Miss Frankie’s polished hardwood floor, staring at me with her mouth agape. “ You’re Rita?”
    I nodded, but I have to admit that I was a little disturbed by Quinn’s reaction. She seemed as appalled by me as I was by her.
    “What are you doing here?” It must have been a rhetorical question because she turned on Sullivan before I could answer. “How dare you bring her here at a time like this? Miss Frankie has just lost her son. She doesn’t need . . .”—she wagged a hand in my general direction and made a face—“. . . this!”
    I felt almost as attractive as roadkill. “What Miss Frankie doesn’t need,” I said, “is a bunch of drama. Why don’t we clean up that mess you just made and then we can answer the detective’s questions?”
    I thought my suggestion sounded reasonable, but Quinn boiled over like the filling in a lava cake. “Don’t you dare start ordering me around! You don’t belong here, and you’re upsetting Miss Frankie by being here!”
    “I don’t think I’m the one upsetting Miss Frankie.”
    “You think I am?”
    I’m not usually argumentative, but the day had taken a toll on me. I had no more patience, especially not for a skinny little puta with plastic parts. “You need me to spell it out for you? I’ll use small words so you can understand. Yes,