Black Rose (19 page)

R
OZ STROLLED HOME
through her woods in the best of all possible moods. It was nearly time for the major spring opening. Her season would begin with a bang, the work would be long, hard, and physical—and she’d love every minute.

The new potting soil was already beginning to move, and once the season got into swing, the twenty-five–pound bags were going to march out the door.

She just felt it.

The fact was, she admitted, she felt everything. The hum in the air that said spring, the streams of sunlight that spilled through the branches, the loose and limber swing of her own muscles.

Hardly a wonder they were loose and limber after last night, she thought. Four orgasms, for God’s sake. And Mitch was a man of his word. Stick with me, he’d said, and it won’t be the last time.

He’d proven just that in the middle of the night.

She’d had sex twice in one night, and that was certainly worth a red letter on her calendar.

With John . . . they’d been young and hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. Even after the children had come, the sexual aspect of their marriage had been vital.

Then it had been a long, long time before she’d allowed another man to touch her. And to be honest, none ever had. Not really, not beyond the physical.

Bryce hadn’t. But she’d thought, for a while at least, that it was her own fault, or her own nature. She hadn’t loved him, not deep down. But she’d liked him, she’d enjoyed him, and had certainly been attracted to him.

Stupidly, but that wasn’t the point now.

The sex had been adequate at best, and adequate had been enough for her. She’d wanted—needed—companionship, partnership.

Since the divorce, for a considerable time prior to it, if truth be told, she’d been celibate. Her own choice, and the right one for her.

Until Mitch.

Now he’d turned her inside out, and God, she was grateful. And relieved, if it came to that, to know her sex drive was in fine working condition.

He said he was falling in love with her, and that put a little knot in her belly. Love still meant specific things to her.
Marriage and family. And those were too enormous to take lightly.

She’d never take marriage lightly again, so she could hardly take love, what she considered its precursor, lightly.

But she could, and she would, enjoy him, and the way she felt on this spectacular evening.

She crossed her own lawn and saw that her earliest daffodils were blooming buttery yellow. Maybe she’d go in, get her sheers, and cut some for her bedroom.

As she approached the house, she saw Stella and Hayley on the veranda, and raised her hand in a wave.

“I smell spring,” she said. “We’re going to want to start moving . . .” She trailed off as she saw their faces. “Well, don’t you two look solemn. Trouble?”

“Not exactly. Mrs. Haggerty was in today,” Stella said.

“Is something wrong with her?”

“Not with her. She wondered how you were doing, though, if you were all right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“She was concerned the scene at the garden club meeting had upset you.”

“Oh.” Roz shrugged. “She should know better.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Stella demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“She said that bitch, that walking Barbie, insulted you right there in front of everybody,” Hayley cut in. “That she was spreading lies and rumors and accused you of harassing that asshole she’s hooked herself up with.”

“You seem to have most of the facts. She should have added, if she didn’t, that Mandy came off looking foolish and shrill, and was certainly more embarrassed by the whole thing than I was.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Stella repeated.

“Why would I have?” The tone was aloof.

“Because whether or not she was more embarrassed, it
had to upset you. And while you’re the boss, and blah, blah, blah—”

“Blah, blah, blah?”

“And a little bit scary,” Stella added.

“A little?”

“The fear factor has diminished considerably over the past year.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Hayley said, then hunched her shoulders when Roz turned cool eyes to hers. “Very much.”

“Despite us being your employees, we’re friends. Or we thought we were.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Girls are so much more complicated than boys.” On a long sigh, Roz plopped down on the porch swing. “Of course we’re friends.”

“Well, if we’re friends, especially
girl
friends,” Hayley continued, and sat beside Roz on the swing, “you’re supposed to tell us when some skinny-assed bitch rags on you. How else are we going to know we hate her guts? How else are we going to know to think up nasty things to say about her? Like, here’s one. Did you know that seventy-three percent of women whose name ends with the
i
sound are bimbos?”

Roz sat a moment. “Is that one of your factoids or did you just make it up?”

“Okay, I made that one up, but I bet it’s true if they dot the
i
with a little heart—after the age of twelve. And I bet, I just bet she does. So. Bimbo.”

“She’s just a foolish girl who believes a very smooth liar.”

“I stand by bimbo.”

“She had no right to say those things, to your face or behind your back.” Stella sat on Roz’s other side.

“No, she didn’t, and she came out the worse for it. And all right, it did upset me at the time. I don’t like my personal business aired in public forums.”

“We’re not a forum,” Hayley stated firmly. “Or the public.”

Saying nothing for a moment, Roz laid a hand on each of their thighs and gave them a little rub.

“As I said, females are more complicated than men, and even being female, I probably understand men better. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by keeping something like this to myself.”

“We just want you to know we’re here for you, for the good stuff, and the bad stuff.”

Hayley’s words touched her. “Then you should know I’ve long since put Mandy out of my mind, as I do with unimportant people. And I’m in much too good a mood to think about her now. When a woman, especially a woman within spitting distance of fifty, has herself a lover who performs excellently twice in one night, so well in fact that she needs the fingers on both hands to count the number of orgasms experienced, the last thing on her mind is some silly girl with no manners.”

She gave each of their thighs another pat, then rose. “There, that’s some good stuff,” she said and strolled into the house.

“Wow,” Hayley said after she managed to close the mouth that had fallen open. “I mean, mega-wow. How many times do you think he got her off? At least six, right?”

“You know what I thought the first time I saw Roz?”

“Uh-uh.”

“That I wanted to be her when I grew up. And boy, do I.”

R
OZ WALKED STRAIGHT
back to the kitchen, and straight to the coffeepot. Once she had a cup, she sidled over and gave David’s cheek a kiss as he stood at the stove making his famed hot chocolate.

“Boys outside?”

“Running off some energy with Parker, and working up anticipation for hot chocolate. My other guest, as you see, has conked on me.”

Stella grinned toward the highchair, where Lily snoozed in the tipped-back seat. “Isn’t she a doll baby, and aren’t you a sweetheart for minding three children so those girls could waylay me.”

“We do what we can. And you should’ve mentioned what that silly bitch pulled.”

“You ever known me not to be able to handle a silly bitch?”

“I’ve never known you not to be able to handle anything, but you should’ve mentioned it. How else am I going to know what shape to make the voodoo doll?”

“Don’t worry, Bryce’ll stick plenty of pins in her before he’s done.”

“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for her.”

“It’s her cross to bear.”

“Dinner in about an hour,” he called as she started out of the room. “And you’ve got some phone messages. They were on your line so I didn’t screen them.”

“I’ll get them upstairs.”

She took her coffee with her, and toed off her shoes after she crossed the threshold to her room. Then she pushed the button on the answering machine.

“Roz, I didn’t want to bother you at work.”

“What a nice voice you have, Dr. Carnegie,” she mused aloud, and sat on the side of the bed to enjoy it.

“It’s my pizza night with Josh. I forgot to mention it. I like to think you’ll miss me, and that I can make up for it by taking you out tomorrow. Whatever, wherever you’d like, just let me know. In addition, I did some work today, and I’d like to talk to you about that tomorrow. I should be over there by noon. If I don’t see you, you can reach me on my cell. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“That’s nice to know. That’s very nice to know.”

She was still daydreaming a little when the next message began.

“Ms. Harper, this is William Rolls from the Riverbend Country Club. I received your letter this morning, and am very sorry to hear that you’re dissatisfied with our services and have resigned as a member. I must admit to being surprised, even stunned, by your list of complaints, and only wish you had been able to speak with me about them personally. We have valued your association with Riverbend for many years, and regret your decision to end it. If you’d care to discuss this matter, please feel free to contact me at any time at any of the following numbers. Again, I sincerely regret the circumstances.”

She sat very still until the entire message played through. Then she shut her eyes.

“Fuck you, Bryce.”

W
ITHIN AN HOUR
she’d not only spoken with William Rolls, had assured him she wasn’t dissatisfied, had no complaints and had not written any letter, but she had a faxed copy of the letter in question in her hand.

And a head of steam that threatened to blow like a geyser.

She was dragging her shoes back on when Hayley popped in, the baby on her hips. “David says dinner’s . . . whoa, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong.” She snatched the letter up from where she’d tossed it on the bed. “Here’s what’s wrong. That miserable, snake-spined son of a bitch has tried my patience once too often.”

“ ‘The admittance of individuals of lower-class backgrounds and mixed ethnicity,’ ” Hayley read, holding the
paper out of Lily’s reach. “ ‘Staff members of dubious character. Demeaning intimacy between staff and members, substandard service.’ ” Her eyes were huge as she shifted them back up to Roz’s face. “You didn’t write this.”

“Of course I didn’t. And I’m going to take that letter, find Bryce Clark, and stuff it down his lying throat.”

“No.” Hayley jumped to block the door, her move so fast it had Lily laughing and bouncing in anticipation of another ride.

“No? What do you mean
no
? I’m done taking this. Finished. And he’s going to know it when I’m done with him.”

“You can’t. You’re too mad to go anywhere.” The fact was, she’d never seen Roz this angry, and Stella’s term of a little bit scary was currently bumped up too many levels to count. “And I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but I’d bet a month’s pay this is just what he’s hoping for. You need to sit down.”

“I need to kick his balls blue.”

“Well, yeah, that’d be great. Except he’s probably expecting it, and he’s probably got something worked out so you’ll get arrested or something for assault. He’s playing you, Roz.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She threw her arms out as she spun around, looking for something to kick, to hurl, to punch. “You think I don’t
know
what that bastard’s doing? I’m not going to
stand
here and take it anymore.”

The shout, the fury in it had Lily’s face crumpling, her little mouth trembling an instant before the wail.

“God, now I’m scaring babies. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Here, let me have her.”

Lily continued to sob as Roz took her out of Hayley’s arms and cuddled her in her own. “There, sweetheart, I’m not mad at you, I’m not mad at your mama. I’m so sorry, baby girl.” She crooned, and nuzzled while Lily clung to her. “I’m mad at this no-account, slimy-assed, cocksucking
son of a bitch who’s doing whatever he can to complicate my life.”

“You said
cocksucking
,” Hayley whispered. Awed.

“Sorry. She doesn’t know what I’m saying, so it won’t hurt her.” Lily’s tears were down to sniffles as she began to pull at the ends of Roz’s hair. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that in front of her. It’s the tone that scares her, not the words.”

“But you said
cocksucking
.”

This time Roz laughed. “I’m so mad,” she said, walking the baby, and calming them both. “Just so mad. And you’re right, and that’s just annoying. I can’t go tearing out of here and going after him. It’s just what he’s looking for. It’s all right, it’ll be all right. He can’t do anything that can’t be fixed.”

“I’m sorry Roz. I wish I could go kick his balls blue for you.”

“Thanks, honey, that’s a sweet thing to say. We’ll just go down to dinner.” She held Lily up, blew on her belly to make her laugh. “We’ll just go down to dinner and forget all about the asshole, won’t we, baby girl?”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. You know, I don’t know as snakes have spines.”

Roz blinked at her. “What?”

“You said
snake-spined
—before, when you were raving about Bryce. I’m not sure they have actual spines. Maybe just some sort of skeletal cartilage. Could be wrong, though. I don’t much like snakes, so I haven’t paid a lot of attention.”

“You never fail, Hayley, just never fail to baffle me.”

R
OZ PUT
M
ITCH
off for a day, then for two. She wanted her head clear, her temper calm, and it wasn’t happening quickly. She needed a meeting with her lawyer, and felt obliged to schedule another with William Rolls at the club.

She hated, absolutely hated, being pulled away from her work, particularly at the very start of high season. She could thank God for Stella, as always for Harper, and for Hayley as well. She could be confident that her business was in the best of hands.

But those hands weren’t hers, at least not while she was running around tidying up the mess Bryce had made for her.

With the hateful errands done, she trudged through a soaking rain toward the propagation house. For an hour or two, at least, she could dive into the final prep work for the spring season. And she could take her headache, and her sour mood, into a private spot and let the work do its magic.

When she was done for the day, she told herself, she was going to find Mitch. If he wasn’t working in her library,
she’d call him. She wanted his company—or hoped she would by that evening.

She wanted conversation, about something other than her problems. And wouldn’t it be nice to relax with him, maybe up in her sitting room, by the fire—especially if the rain continued—and bask a little in the way he looked at her?

A woman could get very used to having a man look at her as if she were beautiful and desirable and the only one who mattered.

Get used enough to it, she might start to believe it. She’d like to believe it, Roz realized. What a difference it made, being drawn to a man you felt you could trust.

She opened the door to the propagation house.

And stepped into her own bedroom.

The fire was simmering low, the only light in the room. And it tossed flickers of gold, hints of red into the shadows. She heard them first, the quick breath, the low laughter, the rustle of clothing.

Then she saw them in the firelight, Bryce, her husband, and the woman who was a guest in her home. Embracing. No, more . . . grappling, hurrying to touch, to taste each other. She could feel the excitement from them, the snap of the illicit thrill. And knew, even in those few shocked seconds, this wasn’t the first time. Hardly the first time.

She stood, with the sounds of the party dim behind her, and absorbed the betrayal, and the greasy slide of humiliation that was under it.

As she had before, she started to step back, to leave them there, but he turned his head, turned it toward her even as his hands cupped another woman’s breasts.

And he smiled, bright and charming and sly. Laughed, low and pleased.

“Stupid bitch, I was never faithful. None of us are.”

Even as he spoke, his face changed, light and shadow playing over it as it became Mitch’s face.

“Why should we be? Women are meant to be used. Do you really think one of you matters more than another?” That lovely voice dripped derision as he fondled the woman in his arms. “We all lie, because we can.”

Those shadows floated and the face became John’s. Her husband, her love. The father of her sons. “Do you think I was true to you, you pathetic fool?”

“John.” The pain nearly took her to her knees. So young, she thought. So alive. “Oh, God, John.”

“Oh, God, John,” he mimicked, as his hands made the woman he embraced moan. “Needed sons, didn’t I? You were nothing more than a broodmare. If I’d been luckier, I’d have lived and left you. Taken what mattered, taken my sons, and left you.”

“That’s a lie.”

“We all lie.”

When he laughed, she had to press her hands over her ears. When he laughed, it was like fists pounding on her body, on her heart, until she did simply sink to her knees.

She heard herself weeping, raw, bitter sobs.

She didn’t hear the door open behind her, or the startled exclamation. Arms came around her, hard and tight. And she smelled her son.

“Mama, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Mama.”

“No. No.” She clung to him, pressing her face into his shoulder and fighting to stop the tears. “I’m all right. Don’t worry. I’m just—”

“You’re not all right, and don’t tell me not to worry. Tell me what it is. Tell me what happened.”

“In a minute. Just a minute.” She leaned against him, let him rock her there on the ground until his warmth seeped
into her own icy bones. “Oh, Harper, when did you get to be so big and strong? My baby.”

“You’re shaking. You’re not sick, you’re scared.”

“Not scared.” She drew a deep breath. “A little traumatized, I guess.”

“I’m taking you home. You can tell me about it there.”

“I . . . yes, that’s best.” She drew back a little, wiped at her face. “I don’t want to see anybody else just now. I sure as hell don’t want anyone to see me. I’m a little bit of a wreck, Harper, and imagine I look like a major one.”

“Don’t worry. Want me to carry you?”

“Oh.” Tears stung her eyes again, but warm ones. “My sweet boy. No, I can walk just fine. Tell me something first. Everything’s the same in here, isn’t it? Everything’s as it should be in here?”

Because there was such tension in her voice, he looked around the greenhouse. “Everything’s fine.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s go home.”

She let him lead her through the rain, around the buildings, and let out her first sigh of relief when she climbed into his car.

“Just relax,” he ordered, and leaned over to fasten her seat belt himself. “We’ll be home in a minute. You need to get warm.”

“You’ll make a good daddy.”

“What?”

“You’ve got a nurturing bent—comes from being a gardener, maybe, but you don’t just know how to take care, you take it. Christ, these have been a lousy couple of days.”

“Did you have a fight with Mitch or something?”

“No.” She kept her eyes closed as he drove, but her lips curved a little. “I don’t get hysterical over a spat. I hope to God it takes more than that to bring me so low.”

“I’ve never seen you cry like that, not since Daddy died.”

“I don’t guess I have.” She felt the car turn, and opened her eyes so she could watch Harper House come into view. “Did you ever want me to give it up, this place?”

“No.” His expression was utter shock as he looked over at her. “Of course not.”

“Good. That’s good to know for sure. I don’t know if I could have, even for you.”

“It’s ours, and it’s always going to be.” He parked, and was out of the car and hurrying to her side before she could get out.

“I’m just a little shaky, Harper, not mortally wounded.”

“You’re going straight up, getting into some dry clothes. I’ll bring you up some brandy.”

“Harper, this is going to sound stupid, but I’m not quite ready to go upstairs.”

“I’ll get you some dry clothes. You can change in David’s room.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t even ask why, she thought. Didn’t hesitate. What a man she’d raised.

“Go on back to David,” he ordered. “Tell him I said you’re to have some brandy, and some hot tea.”

“Yes, sir.”

Before she could move toward the stairs, Mitch came out of the library and started down the hall.

“I thought I heard the door—I’ve been keeping an ear . . .” He trailed off as he got closer, then lengthened his stride to reach her. “What is it? Are you sick, hurt?”

“No. Do I look sick?”

“You look pale as a sheet, and you’ve been crying. What is it?” He looked over her head into Harper’s eyes. “What happened?”

“She doesn’t really want to see anyone right now,” Harper began.

“It’s all right.” She squeezed Harper’s hand. “I did say that,” she told Mitch, “but after I pull myself together a little
more, I’d just as soon tell you both—all three of you, since I imagine David’s in the kitchen—at once.”

“She needs dry clothes,” Harper stated. “If you’d take her back to David, get some brandy into her, I’ll go fetch her some.”

“For heaven’s sake, this is what comes from being the little woman in a house full of big, strapping males. I don’t have to be taken anywhere, and I can get brandy into myself.”

“She’s coming back.” Harper nodded at Mitch. “You’ll take care of her. I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’ve worried him now,” Roz stated as Harper bounded up the steps. “I hate worrying him.”

“Well, you’re worrying me, too.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped. I wouldn’t mind that brandy, though.”

The minute they stepped into the kitchen, David rushed forward, concern tightening his face. Roz simply threw up a hand.

“I’m not hurt, I’m not sick, and there’s no need to fuss. What I want is a shot of brandy, and the dry clothes Harper’s bringing down. Mind if I change in your room?”

“No. Sit down.” As he strode to a cabinet, he whipped the dishrag tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and used it to brush flour from his hands. “Who made her cry?”

Because the question was more of an accusation, tossed straight at Mitch, Mitch held up his hands for peace. “I’ve been here, remember? Harper just brought her in like this.”

“I must point out, I’m sitting right here. And as I am, I can speak for myself. Thanks, baby.” She lifted the snifter of brandy and took a quick, deep swallow. “Always hated this stuff, but it shoots straight to the spot.”

She managed a smile as Harper came in with a sweatshirt, jeans, and thick socks. “My hero. Just give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll try to explain what happened.”

Harper waited until she’d gone into David’s quarters, and the doors were closed.

“I found her sitting on the floor of the propagation house, crying. Just . . . sobbing. She hardly ever cries. Gets a little wet when something makes her really happy, or sentimental, but when she’s sad or hurt—she doesn’t let you see it.”

“What’s been going on the past few days?” Mitch demanded, and saw David and Harper exchange a look. “I knew there was something. She’s been avoiding me.”

“It’s best if she tells you herself. David, she ought to have some tea, don’t you think?”

“I’ll put it on. Get that box of Nirvana caramels out of the fridge. Some chocolate will make her feel better. Mitch, why don’t you light the fire there? I didn’t bother with it today.”

When Roz stepped back in, David was brewing tea, Harper was setting out fancy chocolates, and Mitch was babying a fire in the kitchen hearth.

“Makes me wonder why I haven’t had some sort of jag long before this, if I get three good-looking men bustling around ready to wait on me. Before we sit down, Mitch, I should’ve told you before. I think you’ll want your tape recorder.”

“I’ll get it.”

It gave her a little more time, calming herself toward cool by the time they all sat together. She told them, was able to relay it matter-of-factly now. Though her hands went cold again, she simply warmed them on her teacup and finished describing her experience in the greenhouse.

“I always had a soft spot for the Bride,” David began, “but now, I think she’s just a stone bitch.”

“Hard to argue.” Roz picked up a piece of chocolate. “But it seems to me that she believes all this sincerely. Men are liars and cheats and no-good bastards. She wants me to believe it so I’m not used and hurt again.”

“Mama.” Harper stared hard into his own tea. “Do you believe Daddy wasn’t faithful to you?”

“I don’t believe anything of the kind. More than that, honey, I know he was faithful. Without a single doubt.”

“She made you see him that way.”

“She made me see him,” Roz repeated. “And it broke my heart. To see him, just as he’d been. So young and vibrant and real. Just out of my reach. Out of my reach, when everything I felt for him came alive inside me again, just as vibrant and real. I knew it was a lie, even as it happened. And the cruel things she put into his mouth were never his. He was never cruel.”

“She used your experience with Bryce, a painful incident,” Mitch began. “And transferred that experience to the man who came before him. John. The man who came after him. Me. She’d rather hurt you, is compelled to hurt you, to save you from becoming involved with me.”

“A bit late for that.”

“Is it?”

“Do you think I’m so weak-minded, so spineless that I’d let her tricks influence me?”

“I think you’re strong-minded, perilously close to a fault. I’m just not sure how much you disagree with her.”

“I see. Well, well, well. I think I’ve told y’all what I can. I’m going to go on up, do some paperwork. Harper, it’d set my mind at ease if you’d go back to the nursery, just make sure everything’s under control. David, the tea was just right, thanks.”

She rose, strode out of the room without a second glance.

“Well, pissing her off brought the color back in her cheeks,” David commented.

“Then she’ll probably have a permanent healthy blush by the time I’m done. Excuse me.”

“Brave, brave man,” David stated as Mitch marched out.

“Or brick stupid,” Harper said. “Either way, I think he’s
in love with her. If he’s stupid, she’ll chew him up and spit him out, regardless. If he’s brave, he might just make the cut. I hope he does.”

R
OZ HAD JUST
reached her bedroom when Mitch caught up and walked right in behind her. She turned around, slow and deliberate.

“I don’t believe I invited you in.”

“I don’t believe I asked for an invitation.” Just as slow, just as deliberate, he closed the door. And to her shock, locked it.

“You’re going to want to unlock that and step out again, or believe me, the wrath of this arguably psychotic ghost will be nothing compared to mine.”

“You want a shot at me, take it. But I’ll damn well know why first.”

“I’ve just told you. I don’t appreciate your invading my privacy this way, and presuming—”

“And that’s bullshit. What led up to this? You’ve been brushing me off and evading me for days. The last time we were together, we were in that bed, and you were with me, Rosalind. I want to know what changed.”

“Nothing. I’ve got my own life, just as you do.” In a deliberate and, she could admit, petty move, she walked to the terrace doors, flung them open. “I had a lot to do.”

He simply crossed over, slammed the doors shut. Locked them.