January (Calendar Girl #1) Anthology Anthology (75 page)

I nodded. “Yeah, if the year goes as planned, I could have several more petals with new letters to add.”

“I think this looks good and doesn’t look incomplete but you can easily have an artist add to it though I’d prefer it was me. Kind of like having my tats be mine, you dig?”

I held up my hands in peace. “Absolutely. I’ll be back toward the end of the year if I need to add to it. I promise.” I held out my hand and she shook it.

“Well, all right. Check it out?”

The dandelion was incredible and realistic. It framed the text so beautifully, showing exactly how much I wanted the saying to pop, yet flow with the meaning behind making wishes. Along a gust of wind you can see each dandelion petal. Five of the fifteen interspersed have a letter intertwined in the stem of the blown petal. Wes, Alec, Mason and Tai each have a single letter etched into the movement of the stem. Tony and Hector are a TH combo on the same tiny petal.

The importance of having a piece of each man with me, treading that path each day was not lost on me. It’s something I knew in my heart I needed to get me through the remainder of the year. Having those men, the first letter of their name, hovering around the text that has become my own personal theme was utterly perfect. I looked down at the text, admiring the statement as it became a part of my life and truth, forever printed on my body.

Trust the journey…

***

My foot ached as I made my way back into the house and limped up the stairs toward my room.

“Sweet heavens, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?” Kathleen rushed up the steps and took hold of my shoulder, cradling me into her chest as I limped up the remaining steps. She helped me get to my room, which took an inordinate amount of time. Every step hurt more than the last and more than the entire process of getting the tattoo all together.

I hopped on one foot once we made it to my room and landed in a heap on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” she said inspecting every inch of my body until finally settling her gaze on the shiny area of my foot where Mask had slathered petroleum jelly. “Oh, my. It seems you’ve done this to yourself then.” She leaned down close and inspected the area.

“It’s very beautiful and it looks like the meaning behind the text is very important to you.”

I smiled around a grimace. “It is. Thank you. I don’t know. I woke up today and just knew what I had to do. Since I don’t have to be at an event for another few days, now was the best time,” I told her.

Kathleen nodded prettily. “I’ll get you some tea and cookies. Here, let’s get you set up.” She lifted a pillow and placed it under my foot delicately, being extra careful of the raw ink. Then she patted a pillow, and with two fingers, had me leaning forward to place one behind my back. “That better?”

Laughing, I tilted my head and took in the lovely woman. Any man worth his salt would scoop her up and keep her for his very own, not hire an escort so he could save face with the big wigs. Momentarily, my opinion of Warren plummeted, but really, it wasn’t my place to judge.

“You know, I’m not sick. I just got a tattoo.” We both chuckled as she smoothed the blanket around my legs.

“True, but you’re in pain. Let me care for you. It will be a nice change of pace for me to spend time taking care of a woman rather than two prickly men who think they can take care of themselves.” She winked and treated me to that soft small smile I’d begun to recognize as her own way of communication. Kathleen was a kind woman with a strong will and a gentle manner. I found I liked the quiet way she handled things. For me, she was the epitome of grace. Maybe I could borrow a page or two from her book.

When Kathleen returned, she was not empty handed. Her arms were filled with items including wine, not tea, snacks, magazines, and chocolates. “What’s all this?” I asked as she set the tray down.

“I rarely get a girls’ night, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to you know you better.”

I smiled and shimmied in place. “Heck yeah. Hand me a glass of the good stuff.”

Her eyes lit up and sparkled like a ten-carat diamond. “And it is the good stuff. Taken directly from Mr. Shipley’s private stash.”

My eyes widened. “Are you sure we should be drinking it? He won’t get mad when he sees a couple bottles missing?”

She shook her head emphatically. “I’m sleeping with the boss. I have my ways of buttering him up. ‘Sides, he said I could have whatever I wanted, and I happen to know these have been sitting awhile. He doesn’t like Zinfandel as much as I do.”

“Aww, I see. How does that work anyway?” Her eyebrows rose in question. “The part about banging your boss?” I chuckled and she followed suit. Though I knew damn well how it went to hit the sheets with the man paying your salary. Then again, I hadn’t stayed with any of them longer than a month, whereas she’s been around for decades.

Slowly she inhaled and sat down on the bed next to me, propping herself up with the plush pillows. She sipped a bit of wine, and seemed to mull the question over. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Warren and I have been friends for thirty years. I was enamored with him when he was still with his wife. And then when she died, well, he needed me. It wasn’t until years later that we started a covert relationship. Now, I share his bed most nights.” Even though what she said sounded like they were in a full blown relationship, there was something she was hiding.

“Then why do I get the feeling that things aren’t what they’re cracked up to be.”

She shrugged and sighed. “I guess I just figured by now, we’d be out in the open. That he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be with me.” Her eyes got glassy and she sniffed softly.

I shook my head. “I do not get the impression that he is embarrassed to be with you. But, I will say, I’ve been to these events, and you’d be the odd duck out for sure.” I looked over her beautifully pressed blouse, her frilly apron, and figure-flattering pencil skirt. Definitely. She was leagues above the young tarts the men in Warren’s group paraded around. Women just like me. With effort, I choked back a gag.

“I see,” were the words she said, but they could have just as easily been a cursed challenge, except that she was far too classy.

Placing my hand on her forearm, I held her tight until her gaze reached mine. “You don’t see, but I’ll show you.” Looking like a woman with ants in her pants, I reached back under me and yanked my phone out of my back pocket. Then I pulled up the image I’d sent Ginelle last week. “This is what you’re up against.” I handed her the phone. For long moments, she inspected the image.

“These women are young enough to be their daughters.” A slightly shaky hand lifted in front of her mouth. “Some possibly even their granddaughters.”

I nodded. “Yep. That’s why I’m here.”

A horrified look crossed her face. “No, nuh uh, not because of what you think. His reasons are actually really altruistic.”

That’s when her do-I-look-stupid face graced her features along with an eye roll. 

“Okay, it’s weird, but I get it. He needs his own bimbo,“ I ran my hands in the air closely over my form. “To make him look like he’s one of them. It’s all for a good reason though. He has this project that he needs these rich guys and a bunch of stodgy politicians to support so he can get medicine and vaccines to third world countries.”

Recognition must have dawned on her because she started to nod and lean closer. “You know, he mentioned this project. It’s been in the making for years. I honestly thought he’d given up on it.” Then she huffed. “Yet another thing he’s doing in
her
memory.” The tone when she said ‘her memory’ seemed put-out and on the ugly edge of scathing.

My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘in her memory’?”

Right then, Kathleen responded in a way I would have never pictured. She tipped her wine glass up to her lips and glugged back the crimson liquid until it was gone.

“Ketty Shipley.”

“Who’s Ketty Shipley?” I asked, completely lost.

“Warren’s dead wife.”

“Oh,
that
Ketty Shipley.” With that, I sucked back the last of my wine and waited a moment. “So why the nastiness?”

Kathleen rubbed her forehead and pulled out the hidden clip. To my extreme surprise a wild mane of long hair fell well past her shoulders in beautiful, big, bouncy waves.

With a shake of her head she ran her hands through it a couple times and groaned. “It’s not that I didn’t like her. For a while, she was my best friend. It’s that I don’t like that she’s been dead for twenty- five years, and Warren is still in love with her. You can’t win the man’s heart when it still belongs to his dead wife.”

Her shoulders slumped, and I looped an arm over hers and locked her to my side. “Honestly, it can’t really be that bad.”

“Oh no,” she said mockingly. “You think I’m full of piss and vinegar then?” With a burst of energy she was up and out the door. I sat there completely dumfounded. What the hell did piss and vinegar have anything to do with it anyway? I swear, older folks said the weirdest shit.

A few minutes went by, and I worried that I’d offended her. I played out the conversation and although it was uncomfortable at best, I hadn’t said anything inappropriate that would cause her to rush out of the room. Before I could go over it again, the door was flung open and she pushed in a food cart. The same kind that you get when you are staying in a really fancy hotel and the bellman brings your dinner.

“What’s this?” I asked even more confused.

In a second, she was at the side of the bed. “Come now. Let’s hop along.” She patted the top of the cart. “I have to show you something that will prove my point.”

“What point?” I hopped up and then she helped me sit down on the cart. Then she pushed me out of the room and down the hall.

“The point that he’s not over Ketty!”

Gripping the cart, I cringed. “If I say I believe you, will you not scare the hell out of me by dragging my gimpy ass around this McMansion on a deathtrap? If you accidentally push too hard, I could end up flying down the stairs.”

She stopped and then patted me on the back. “I used to run Aaron around the house in this all the time. He loved it. It’s perfectly safe. No worries. Besides, we’re heavily insured. You’d end up set for life if you were truly injured while in the Shipleys’ employ.”

That did not make me feel any better. “Not if I’m dead!” I countered.

“Relax, we’re here.” She stopped at a set of double doors at the end of a very long hallway and pulled out a set of keys from her apron. When I say a set of keys, I mean a ring filled with so many keys it could keep a locksmith with fattened pockets for another couple decades.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she unlocked and opened both the doors. I slid off the cart onto my good foot and then tip-toed into the space. The taut skin still smarted, but the wine had helped.

Once I got into the center of the room, I stopped and looked around. The room was gargantuan. It seemed to take up the entire end of this side of the mansion. It had to be two thousand square feet alone. Along two full walls was picture after picture of a dark-haired, blue-eyed young woman, spanning what looked like her teenaged years all the way to approximately her thirties. I slowly made my way to one of the walls and fingered a couple of the framed images. The woman shared an amazing resemblance with Aaron. In some of the photos, the young lady was holding Aaron, who looked no more than three or four.

As I scanned the rest of the space there was a vanity set up. A brush, comb, makeup, and other lotions and perfumes sat, as if waiting for the woman who owned them to sit and prepare herself for a night out. Moving along the side, another area hosted a wide glass case. The case was at least six feet in length by two feet wide. Within were incredible sets of earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, the likes of which would be found in a high-end jewelry store. They were all top notch, obviously very expensive pieces that would sell for tens of thousands of dollars and possibly more.

Farther down the room was rack after rack of women’s clothing. None of them had even a speck of dust on them even though they had to be decades old, yet they were hung as if ready to be worn by their owner.

More things hugged the walls, books, knick-knacks, picture after picture of Aaron as a small boy, all the things that would have made a home were in this one room.

“What is this place?” I asked Kathleen, practically losing my ability to speak as shock closed my throat, the words coming out whispered and breathy.

Kathleen leaned against the vanity and traced the golden handled brush. “Exactly what it looks like.”

With a sarcasm-laced tone, I responded. “Jesus Christ! It looks like a shrine to a dead woman.”

“Ketty Shipley lives on, even though she’s been dead for twenty-five years.”

Chapter 5

“What the hell are you two doing in here?” The irate voice of none other than Warren Shipley growled behind me, and I spun around.

“Um, I’m sorry, Mr. Shipley,” Kathleen started to explain, but I cut in.

I shrugged and hopped over to him. “Sorry Warren. I got curious. It was the only door in the whole house that was locked. Now I know why. Kathleen was just telling me how inappropriate it was for me to enter your private space.” Plastering on an apologetic smile, I glanced at Kathleen then patted Warren’s chest as if what I saw was no big deal. It was. Huge in fact. “Your secret is safe with me.” I added and moved to the hallway. “Uh, my foot hurts, so I’m going to turn in.”

Warren must have gotten over his shock at being caught with a shrine to his dead wife and stopped me with a hand to my arm. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. I lifted up my foot. The hall light shined on the black ink. “Got a tattoo today.”

Apparently shock was an easy thing with this guy, for he gasped and held my foot aloft, taking a gander at the ink. I was getting tired of holding it up when he lifted me up in a princess hold and set me back on my cart. “Convenient this food cart with wheels is sitting right here, isn’t it?” His bushy eyebrows lowered in a frown.