“They could’ve poisoned any one of us,” Sheila says, staring at her high-heeled shoes. Her entire outfit screams middle-aged beauty queen, yet here she stands, spray bottle and paper towel in her hands, wiping down a kitchen after a rash firing decision. “Me. You. My son… God, they could’ve put strychnine on my son’s plate!”
“Or Katrina’s,” I add. “But they didn’t, Sheila, this was targeted. They went after Willow specifically.”
“Yet another reason I’m glad Terrence was done with her.”
I give her a hard look. “Really, Sheila?”
“You should be careful, too,” she insists. “You and your brothers. I mean, who knows what kind of skeletons she’s got in her closet. Someone went to the trouble of tarnishing my son’s wedding to kill her, okay? That’s just… That’s sick!” She quivers and breaks down crying.
I don’t remember ever seeing her like this before. For Sheila, composure is everything. She’d have given the late Queen of England a run for her money, any time, any day. But the Sheila I’m watching now is scared, shaking, sobbing like a little girl. I actually feel sorry for her.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say, rising from my seat. I’m about to go over and pat her shoulder for some form of comfort, but she moves closer first.
She wraps her arms around my waist, and I hear the clatter of the spray bottle as it hits the floor. “Just hold me, Cole.”
“Sheila—”
“Don’t you miss this?”
The question slides in like a poisonous snake, the kind of snake that slithers into your garden, and you don’t even know it’s there, until its jaws snap open and venom drips from its fangs as it’s about to bite you.
I push her away, recoiling from her touch. “Don’t,” I tell her.
“You do miss it,” she scoffs, a bitter smile stretching over her glossy lips. “You can lie about it all you want, Cole. No one knows you better than me.”
“If you really knew me, Sheila, you would’ve never tried this,” I say, my tone cold and heavy. “Just tell Dad I stopped by. Another detective will be by later today to take some follow-up statements. Ian’s already beenmade aware.”
“Ian…” Sheila shakes her head.
“Fuss all you want, but be thankful Dad wouldn’t let you fire him. Ian’s in charge of hiring a new team for this place. The least you can do is help him vet the resumes. Thornwood Manor can’t stay unattended just because you freaked out after yesterday.”
“I had every reason to freak out!” she snaps, fury burning green in her eyes.
“And now it’s time to get your shit together. As much as I hate to admit it, my father needs you.”
Before she can say anything else, I storm out of the kitchen. Rage burns red-hot in my throat as I head to the front door, my footsteps echoing through the foyer. I walk past the Christmas tree with its twinkling lights, my stomach turned inside out. Even now, Sheila won’t miss an opportunity to get close again.
Too close.
If I could put a continent between her and me, I would. But Willow needs me, she needs us, and that’s about the only thing I can think about, the only thing that keeps me sane and civil.
12
WILLOW
Jamie takes slow sips from the boba tea I brought for him. The circles around his eyes are fading, and there’s a bit more color in his cheeks.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him.
“Much better, thank you,” Jamie replies with a weak smile, then holds up his tea glass. “This is just what I needed. Do I smell donuts?”
I point to the pink paper bag on the table next to his bed. “Cronuts, to be specific. Your favorites, too, with the pistachio and white chocolate glaze, from Bear’s.”
“Oh, Willow, you are an angel in disguise.”
“More like an angel of death,” I grumble and lower my gaze in shame. “I almost got you killed, Jamie.”
“No, oh, no, we’re not doing that useless guilt trip, honey,” he shoots back. “Some psycho almost got me killed when he tried to kill you, and that’s just because I got greedy over stupid shrimp!”
