Black Rose

have been so cold?”
    “If all this is fact, she could have given the baby up. They might have had an arrangement, and she came to regret it. There are still a lot of possibilities.”
    “I want to know the truth now. Have to know it, whatever it takes.”
    She drew back, managed a smile. “Just how the hell do we go about finding a woman who may have been my great-grandfather’s lover?”
    “We have a first name, an approximate age, and we assume she lived in the Memphis area. We start with that.”
    “Is that natural optimism, or are you trying to smooth my feathers?”
    “Some of both.”
    “All right, then. I’m going to go pour myself a glass of wine. Do you want anything?”
    “I could use about a gallon of water to offset the five gallons of coffee I’d downed today. I’ll come with you.” He draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked to the kitchen.
    “I might have to put this aside until after Stella and Logan’s wedding. It’s snuck right up on me. Seems to me, however demanding the dead may be, the living ought to have priority.” She got out a bottle of water and a fresh lemon. “I can’t believe those boys aren’t going to be part of the household in a few more days.”
    She poured and sliced, then offered him the glass.
    “Thanks. I think they’ll be around enough you’ll feel like they are.”
    “I like to think.” She poured her wine, but the phone rang before she took the first sip. “Where is David anyway?” she asked, and answered herself.

    She listened for a moment, then smiled slowly at Mitch. “Hello, Jane,” she said and lifted her wine in a toast.

    “THIS IS SO exciting. It’s like a spy thriller or something.” Hayley bounced on her toes as she, Roz, and Stella rode the elevator up to Clarise Harper’s apartment. “I mean, we spend the morning getting manicures and pedicures, and the afternoon sneaking around to hunt up secret documents. It’s totally glamorous.”
    “Say that later if we’re arrested and spending the night in jail with Big Bertha,” Stella suggested. “If Logan has to marry me through jailhouse bars tomorrow, I’m going to be royally pissed.”
    “I told you not to come,” Roz reminded her.
    “And miss this?” After a bracing breath, Stella stepped off the elevator. “I may be fussy, but I’m no coward. Besides, Hayley has a point. It is exciting.”
    “Going into a crabby old woman’s overfurnished apartment and taking away what’s rightfully mine—along with a scared little rabbit—doesn’t strike me as exciting. Jane could have gotten them out herself, saved us the trip. There’s enough to do with the wedding tomorrow.”
    “I know, and I appreciate, so much, you giving us the day off so we could primp.” On impulse, Stella kissed Roz’s cheek. “We’ll work twice as hard after the wedding to make up for it.”
    “You might just have to. Now just pray the old ghoul is out getting her hair permed, as advertised, or this will be ugly.”
    “Don’t you sort of hope it is?” Hayley began, but the door creaked open. Jane peeked out through the crack.
    “I... I didn’t expect anyone but you, Cousin Rosalind. I don’t know if we should—”
    “They work for me. They’re friends.” With no patience for dithering or ado, Roz nudged the door open, stepped inside. “Jane, this is Stella and Hayley. Jane, did you pack all your things?”
    “Yes, there isn’t much. But I’ve been thinking, she’s going to be so upset when she gets home and finds me gone. I don’t know if I should—”
    “This place is as horrible as ever,” Roz observed. “Positively reeks of lavender. How do you stand it? That’s one of our Dresden shepherdesses there, and that Meissan cat, and... screw it. Where are the diaries?”
    “I didn’t get them out. I didn’t feel right—”
    “Fine. Give me the key, show me where, and I’ll get them. Let’s not waste time, Jane,” Roz added when the girl simply stood biting her bottom lip. “You have a new apartment waiting, a new job starting bright and early Monday morning. You can take them or leave them, your choice. But I’m not leaving this lavender-stinking apartment without what’s mine by right. So you can give me the key, or I’ll just start tossing things around until I find what I’m after.”
    “Oh, God. I feel sick.” Jane dug into her pocket, pulled out an ornate brass key. “The desk in her room, top drawer.” Pale as glass, she gestured vaguely.