Black Rose

it’s just so beautiful. Not even much of a bite to the air yet.”
    “Did you practice the small talk, decide you’d open with the weather?”
    There had been a time when that aloof tone would have had Stella easing back. But those days were over. “I always figure the weather’s a good starter, especially for a couple of gardeners. I was going to segue into how spectacular the poinsettias are this year, but I guess we’ll skip that part.”
    She selected a truffle, bit in. “But the chocolate was just a natural, all around. God, whoever invented these should be canonized.”

    “Ask Hayley. If she doesn’t know who made the first chocolate truffle, she’ll find out.” Since the chocolate was there, Roz couldn’t come up with a good reason not to have one.
    “I’ve been here nearly a year now,” Stella began.
    “Is this your way of leading up to asking for a raise?”
    “No, but good idea. I’ve worked for you for nearly a year, lived in the same house with you. The second part is certainly longer than I intended.”
    “No point in moving somewhere else, then moving again when you and Logan get married.”
    “No, and I appreciate you understanding that, and making it easy for me not to shuffle my kids around. The fact is, even though I’m looking forward to getting married, and moving into Logan’s place—especially now that I’ve been getting my hands on it—I’ll miss being here. So will the boys.”
    “It’s nice to hear.”
    “Even with everything that went on last spring, maybe in some ways because of it, I’m attached to this house. And to you.”
    “That’s nice to hear, too. You have a sweet heart to go with that orderly mind of yours, Stella.”
    “Thanks.” She sat back in her chair, cupping her tea in both hands. Her flower-blue eyes were directly on Roz’s. “Living with and working for you for nearly a year, I know your mind and heart. At least as much as I can. One of the things I know is that despite your generosity, your hospitality, you’re a very private woman. And I know I’m stepping into that private area when I say I’m sorry about what happened tonight. I’m sorry and I’m angry and just a little bit stunned that some asshole would walk into your home, uninvited and unwelcomed, for the purpose of embarrassing you.”
    When Roz said nothing, Stella took a long breath. “So, if you’re in the mood to eat truffles and trash the son of a bitch, I’d be happy to listen. If you’d rather sit out here alone, and let it fester, then I’ll take my tea and half these chocolates upstairs.”
    For a moment, Roz just sat, sipping her coffee. Then she thought, what the hell, and had another chocolate. “You know, having lived here all my life, I have a number of friends, and a bevy, we could say, of acquaintances. But I haven’t had what you might call close, important female friends. There’s a reason for that—”
    She lifted a finger, wagged it before Stella could speak. “The reason being my own preference to an extent, and that having its roots in being widowed young. So many of my social circle, in the female area, became just a little wary. Here I was, young, attractive, fairly well off—and available. Or so they assumed. In the other camp were those eager, just innately, to pair me up with a man. A friend, a brother, a cousin, whatever. I found both of those attitudes annoying. As a result, I got out of the habit of having close women friends. So I’m a little rusty. I consider you a friend, the best I have of the female persuasion.”
    “Since I feel the same about you, I wish you’d let me help you. Even if it’s only to say really nasty things about that fucking Bryce Clerk and bring you chocolate.”
    “Why, Stella.” Roz’s voice was as creamy as the truffles. “I believe that’s the first time in this entire year I’ve heard you say fuck.”
    Stella flushed a little, the curse of redheads. “I reserve it for special occasions.”
    “This is certainly that.” Roz tipped her head back and studied the stars. “He didn’t do it to embarrass me. That was just a side benefit.”
    “Then why? Did he think, could he actually be stupid enough to think you’d have let him come in and party?”

    “He may have thought my need to maintain image would give him a pass, and if I had, just a little more grease to oil the gears of whatever moneymaking plots and plans he has going.”
    “If so, he couldn’t know you very well to have