“No. The problem is that I just don’t think I can make myself that vulnerable again by trusting you completely. I’m not a cat with nine lives, Mellie. I have three children and I want to live long enough to see them grow up. And I mean as a live person.”
I almost laughed. Any other couple having this conversation wouldn’t have had to qualify. But there was the problem. I knew how to make him forgive me. I just had no idea how to make him trust me because I still wasn’t convinced that a lack of trust had been at fault.
“Do you . . .” He paused.
“Do I what?”
Jack took a deep breath. “Until I know what’s going on with my career, I’m going to take a pause on my current manuscript. Especially considering all the commotion happening in the house for the next few weeks. So I was wondering . . .” He stopped.
“Yes?” I said, trying to sound casual.
“I was wondering if I could help you and Veronica find out what happened to Adrienne. And anything else—like why that hideous doll was in Nola’s room. It will be a good distraction from . . . everything. I’ve been told I’m pretty good at puzzles.”
“By whom?” I asked. “And Desmarae doesn’t count.”
Desmarae was the adolescent editor who’d replaced Jack’s seasoned editor, who’d been suddenly terminated, leaving Jack orphaned at the publishing house and at the mercy of a new editor who knew nothing about Jack’s books. Jack often accused Desmarae of still reading picture books.
“Of course not. She doesn’t read my books, remember?”
“Right.” I pretended to think. “Well, since you do have some free time, you might as well. It couldn’t hurt, right?”
“Unless we have to investigate a cemetery.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.
“Fine. After we get the house situated for the film crew, I’ll fill you in.”
His white teeth flashed in the darkness as he smiled at me. Putting his hand on the small of my back, he led me out into the hallway, where we stood facing each other like awkward teenagers on their first date, unsure of how to say good-bye.
“You’re the only woman I know who looks beautiful in a fluffy robe and slippers and with bed head.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Not that I’ve seen many, but you’re definitely the most beautiful.”
I stared at him in the dim hallway for longer than I should have, until I found myself leaning toward him, my eyes drifting closed.
“Good night, Mellie.”
His words jerked me back, my eyes flying open as I tried to pretend that nothing had happened. “Good night, Jack.”
I abruptly turned before I did something the old Mellie would have done, and began walking toward my room. I’d reached the door when Jack spoke.
“I do, you know.” Jack’s voice sounded low and gravelly.
I stopped. Turned around. “You do what?”
“Believe we can get through anything. As long as we work through it together.”
I told myself he was talking about more than solving the mysteries of Adrienne’s murder and the Frozen Charlotte. The hopeful part of me couldn’t help but believe that he might also be referring to us.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
I could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “And if I believed in do-overs, that would have been almost kiss number two.”
I watched as he turned and began walking toward the guest room. I closed my bedroom door behind me, not bothering to lock it, then crawled under the now-chilly covers. I settled myself against General Lee’s warm body, trying not to convey to him that he was a poor second. I lay awake for nearly an hour, my mind playing my conversation with Jack over and over before, as I finally dozed off, settling on something he’d said, wondering what Jack had been doing standing in the hallway in the middle of the night.
CHAPTER 8
The following morning, I stood with my mother watching my father and Jack stretch out a new tarp over the cistern in the first step toward disguising the deep gash in the back garden. The next step involved rolling out fake grass on top of it, along with an entire plastic garden that Harvey’s set designer, Lori Cole, had promised would look just like the real thing on film.
I checked my watch, not wanting to be too late getting to the office, knowing that Catherine would have made six sales by the time I got there if I was five minutes late. Inside, Sophie, her husband, Chad, and Meghan Black had been conscripted into helping us move boxes into Sophie and Chad’s vintage VW van. They had all insisted they didn’t need my assistance or the helpful diagram showing how each box should be situated inside the van. They’d even refused my offer to help move the boxes into Sophie and Chad’s spare bedroom.
I’d started to insist when Jayne pulled me away to get my suggestion on what the twins should wear and if the baby Birkenstocks (birthday gifts from Sophie and Chad) should be pulled from the back of the closet since their daughter, Blue Skye, had arrived with her parents for a playdate. I was happy to intervene, and when I returned from the nursery, Sophie said they were almost done and that I didn’t need to check the van for accuracy.
Even though a morning chill lingered in the air, my father straightened to wipe sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
My mother sighed next to me. “As much as it hurt your father to see all of his hard work erased when the cistern caved in, he’s looking forward to getting started rebuilding it. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen him this excited since he discovered the original Loutrel Briggs garden design in the archives.”
“I know. He and Jayne have been threatening to get me involved in the reconstruction as soon as the filming is done. Assuming Sophie says we can.”
I felt my mother’s gaze on me. “You do realize that you’re the homeowner, right?”