He paused before saying, “So, listen, I have a question for you. Do you know what kind of medication they’re giving Ivy?”
“Some kind of anticoagulants, I think.”
“But that doesn’t affect her cognitively, right?”
Zoey rubbed her eyes. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“I need her to sign a few legal documents, but if she’s under the influence of certain substances, her signature might not be considered legitimate.”
“Youmight not be considered legitimate,” Zoey growled, before hanging up and bouncing the phone against the cushion beside her.
Realizing Mark’s initial compassion toward her had just been a front to get her to open up about Ivy’s mental state, she hopped to her feet and paced in front of the fireplace. Their aunt could have died—their auntstillmight die—and all Mark cared about was making sure he could follow through with his plan to push her out of her house in the event she survived.
Now she was boiling mad again. And because she’d taken a hot shower and lowered the windows, Zoey felt physically hot, as well. She tramped into the dark kitchen for a glass of water. As she drank it, a branch tapped the window panes over the sink: Sylvia’s rhododendrons.The minute Aunt Ivy moves, Mark is going have those torn out to let more light into the kitchen,she thought bitterly.Nick might even do it for him for free.
It infuriated her that her cousin had no regard for the things that mattered to Sylvia and Ivy. That he was going to mine her house and yard for whatever would profit him financially and cast everything else aside. And it infuriated her even more that she couldn’t come up with any way to stop him. She set her glass down and began to pace.
Rapping her head with her knuckles, she demanded,Think, Zoey, think!On her second lap across the room, she stubbed her toe hard against Moby’s bowl and sent it skidding beneath the table. Moby! She’d forgotten he’d fled outdoors earlier that evening. Her ire at Mark was instantly replaced with concern for the cat.The poor thing, out on a wretched night like this.
She turned on the overhead light and pushed the window further open so he’d hear the whirring of the electric can opener and come running. But when she checked the back steps, he wasn’t there.He must be taking shelter beneath the wild rose bushes.That was his usual spot to hide whenever he was outside and it started raining. But Zoey knew he wouldn’t voluntarily emerge from his haven into the rain, so she switched the floodlight on and stepped outside. Trotting across the lawn toward the hedge of roses along the back fence, she made a kissing sound and cooed, “Moby. Moby. Come out of there, Mobes.”
When he didn’t, she dropped to her knees beside the sweet, fragrant shrubs. As she parted the abundant lower branches,their prickles scratched her hands. Her pajama top was already clinging wetly to her back from the rain and now her knees were muddy. “Don’t do this to me, Moby,” she pleaded. “Not tonight.”
She continued to crawl down the row, pushing branches aside and peering beneath them until she finally spotted the corpulent creature. She reached in and he allowed her to draw him toward her. Standing, she snuggled him to her chest. “Thought you could fool me, did you?” she asked as she walked toward the house. “I was stashing my cousin’s skateboard beneath the roses before you were even born. It’s the best hiding place in this yard.”
Zoey spontaneously recalled her aunt Sylvia’s final words.For now, it’s best to let the past stay buried in the past,she had mumbled. But then she’d added,Beneath the roses.Zoey had attributed the comment to sleepiness. Or to a kind of end-of-life delirium. But now it struck her that Sylvia may have been indicating where she’d hidden the proof of Marcus Jr.’s paternity.
Thathasto be it!She broke into a run, with Moby bouncing in her arms and epiphanies flashing through her mind. She and Mark had just recently reminisced about the time Jessica had snuck off with his skateboard when they were kids and hidden it beneath the rose bushes, to get back at him for his stories about the dentil molding.Aunt Sylvia was the one who found Mark’s skateboard that summer… She couldn’t have incidentally discovered it when she was clipping a spray of roses—Jessica and I made sure it was completely hidden from view.
Zoey concluded her aunt must have looked beneath the roses deliberately, to spare her darling grandson the frustration of searching for the skateboard himself. What if she had known it was the perfect hiding place because that’s whereshehad concealed evidence about her relationship with Mr. Witherell? She wouldn’t have hidden the evidence inside the house, for fear Marcus or Ivy would discover it. Zoey didn’t know whether that evidence was Mr. Witherell’s letters or something else, but she was determined to find out.
“Moby needs a towel,” Zoey said, handing the cat to a shocked Gabi, who was standing in the doorway. After quickly darting in to put on her running shoes to protect her feet, she dashed to the garage, grabbed a shovel, a hoe and garden gloves and ran back to the wild rose shrubs. Pulling the branches back with one hand, she used the hoe to chop at the ground with the other.
Gabi came out from the kitchen, swaddling Moby in a towel like a newborn. “You’re soaking wet. What are you doing out there?”
“Go back to bed.” She clumsily pushed the blade into the ground, scooped up a small amount of soil and then chucked it to the side. Again and again.
“Aunt Zoey, come inside!” Gabi pleaded from the doorway.
Zoey kept digging.
Her niece came up behind her. “Aunt Zoey, please stop it.”
Zoey ignored her and eventually Gabi left. The rain was coming down in sheets, obscuring her vision, but she kept shoveling and scooping and tossing the soil aside until she’d cleared a hole around the first bush. She pushed on the trunk to wiggle it but its roots were long and intertwined with the roots of the shrub next to it. The thorns bit into her arms and wrists where the gloves didn’t cover her skin.
Zoey gripped the trunk of the shrub and yanked it as hard as she could. Instead of uprooting the plant, Zoey lost her grip and fell flat on her butt. She shifted onto her knees again and thrust her hand into the sodden earth. She couldn’t feel anything so she took off the gloves and tried again. Nothing but a few stones and roots and sodden dirt. She felt like crying. Like quitting.I can’t give up. This is my last hope for stopping Mark.
She pushed herself into a standing position and picked up the shovel to start on the next shrub. The movement of a shadow nearby caught her eye. It was Nick; Gabi must have called him. She began digging but he put his hand on her shoulder.
“You’ve got to stop. You’re scaring your niece.”
“Don’t touch me,” she swatted at his arm, splattering him with muck.
“Please come inside, Zoey.”
“Who areyouto invite me intomyaunt’s house, you-you-you—youtraitor!” She scooped up another shovelful of soil and tossed it sideways, making him jump back.
“I’m not a traitor, Zoey, I swear—” He hopped out of range as she slung more dirt in his direction. “I don’t want Mark to remove your aunt’s flooring any more than you do. That’s why I lied—hey, would you stop throwing dirt at me and just listen for a sec?”
