“Well, I definitely know how to use a pair of potholders,” I teased. I pulled the casserole out and set the pan on a trivet on the kitchen table. Glancing down at her, I noticed she was wiping her eyes. I squatted in front of her and grabbed her hands. “Maeve, he’s going to be okay.”
Her chin trembled. “He’s all I have left, Rose.”
“And he’s going to be fine,” I insisted. “Joe will make sure of it.”
I realized that I’d slipped and implied that there might be more going on than a concussion, but she didn’t seem to notice. In fact, for some reason, my statement calmed her. She took a deep breath. “Yes. You’re right.”
“Besides, you’re not alone. You have me and Muffy.”
She smiled through her tears. “And I’m grateful for that. More than you know.”
She was quiet throughout dinner, and when I pressed her to make sure she was okay, she said she had a migraine and was going to go to bed early. I’d been worried about concocting an explanation for my meeting with Jed, but while it was a blessing in disguise, I was still worried about her.
My next obstacle was getting past the deputy, which was actually easier than expected. An alley ran behind Maeve’s house, with the detached garage opening onto it. Deputy Miller seemed more worried about the cars turning into the alley than the ones leaving it. After I dressed, I carried my hat and shoes in one hand and tiptoed into the kitchen to snag Maeve’s car keys off the counter. In case she woke up, I left her a short note saying I couldn’t sleep but would be back soon. With any luck at all, she’d never read it and neither she nor Deputy Miller would be any the wiser about my evening with criminals.
At eight-thirty, I parked Maeve’s car behind the feed store, my stomach a bundle of nerves. This was equivalent to a suicide mission. I tried to assure myself that I was too valuable to Skeeter for him to let something happen to me, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of that.
Jed was waiting in the sedan when I parked. I pinned my hat into place as he got out and opened my car door. He reached for my hand to help me out.
“Jed, you don’t have to do that.”
“When you’re dressed like this, you’re the Lady in Black, and in Skeeter’s eyes that’s the same as royalty.”
Now I was really worried about my personal safety. In revolutions, royalty was often the first to get beheaded.
Jed helped me into the back of the car and took off toward Henryetta. After he pulled onto the county road, he glanced in the rearview mirror. “No one would ever guess who you really are. That dress alone is completely different than anything you usually wear. If anything, the guys will all be staring at your chest.”
I instinctively reached for the base of my throat. He wasn’t wrong. The plunging neckline was lower than anything I’d ever worn before, and what little cleavage I had was in full view. I wasn’t wearing Neely Kate’s dress—the one I’d worn to the auction. I doubted most men would remember, but in case they did, I needed to portray a woman with class and money. And that meant I couldn’t be an outfit repeater. I’d bought this dress a week after Thanksgiving, telling myself I’d wear it for Mason on a date some night, but if I were honest with myself now, I wasn’t sure I could ever wear it in public and show my face.
Thinking of Mason made me anxious. What if this was all for nothing? My chest tightened, and I suddenly needed to hear his voice. I checked my phone one more time to see if I’d missed a text or call from his new number. Nothing.
I looked out the window at the trees lining the county road, surprised Jed hadn’t blindfolded me. “Do you know what I’ll being doing tonight?”
“When we get there, I’m supposed to drop you off at the front door. I’ll text Skeeter to let him know so he can meet you at the entrance. Skeeter wants you to say as little as possible. I’ll walk in and act like your bodyguard.”
“Who’s watching Skeeter?” I couldn’t imagine that he would leave himself unprotected.
“Merv and another guy. Cal.”
“Oh.” I paused. “I thought you were Skeeter’s right-hand man. Why’d he switch things up?”
“Skeeter usually has a list of priorities for each meeting or event he attends—the order in which we protect things in case something goes down. With our line of business, we need a contingency plan. At the auction it was him, his money, then you.”
I pursed my lips in irritation. It was nice to know his money ranked higher than I did, although not entirely surprising. “So what’s his priority list tonight?”
Jed paused and looked into the rearview mirror before answering. “You. Then Skeeter.”
I gasped. “Me?”
He nodded. “The men don’t understand it, and there were some protests earlier when Skeeter gave us our instructions.”
“Why would he put me first?”