River’s End

calendar.”
    “Got any time now?” He smiled, a quick and charming flash. “You said I could have an hour, and we’ve only used about half that.”
    “That part must come from your mother,” Jamie mused. “The fast dazzle. Frank’s more subtle.”
    “Whatever works.”
    “All right. Come inside.”
    “I need to get my things out of the car. Taping interviews protects both of us.”
    “Just ring. Rosa will let you in.”
    “Rosa? Would that be Rosa Sanchez?”
    “Rosa Cruz now, and yes, the same Rosa who worked for Julie at one time. She’s been with David and me for the past twenty years. Go get your tape recorder, Noah, you’re still on the clock.”
    He made it fast, though the dogs conned him into throwing the ball for them and made him wonder why he didn’t get himself a dog of his own.
    When he rang the bell, he noted that the long glass panes on either side of the grand white door were etched with calla lilies, and the marble urns that flanked them were spilling over with fuchsia in tones of deep reds and purples that were obviously well loved and well tended.
    The woman who answered the door was very short and very wide, so that he thought of a barrel in a smartly pressed gray uniform. Her hair was the same color as the cloth and wound tidily, almost ruthlessly back into a nape bun. Her face was round and deep gold, her eyes a nut brown that snapped with disapproval. All in all, Noah thought, she made a better guard than Goodness and Mercy, who were at that moment happily peeing on the tires of his rental car.
    “Mr. Brady.” Her voice was richly Mexican and cold as February. “Ms. Melbourne will see you in the solarium.”
    “Thanks.” He stepped into a foyer wide as a ballroom and had to muffle a whistle of interest at the flood of crystal in the chandelier and what seemed like acres of white marble on the floor.
    Rosa’s heels clicked over it busily, giving him little time to study the art and furnishings of the living room. But what he did see told him the dogs weren’t allowed to do any romping in that area.
    The solarium was a towering glass dome snugged onto the south side of the house, crowded with flowers and plants and their exotic mix of scents. Water glistened its way down a stone wall and into a little pool where white water lilies floated. Seats and benches were tucked here and there, and a pretty conversation area was arranged beside the tall glass. Jamie was already waiting on a generously sized rattan chair with cushions striped in cheery green and white.
    On the rippled glass of a round table was a clear pitcher filled with amber iced tea, two tall glasses and a plate of what Noah thought of as girl cookies—tiny, frosted and shaped like hearts.
    “Thank you, Rosa.”
    “You have a cocktail party at seven.” Rosa relayed this with her eyebrows beetled into one straight line.
    “Yes, I know. It’s all right.”
    She only sniffed, then muttered something in Spanish before she left them alone.
    “She doesn’t like me.”
    “Rosa’s very protective.” As he sat, Jamie leaned forward to pour the tea.
    “It’s a great house.” He glanced over her shoulder, through the glass to the flood of flowers beyond. “Your dahlias are terrific, a nice match with the wild indigo and dusty miller.”
    Jamie’s brows rose. “You surprise me, Noah. The horticultural limits of most young hunks stop at roses.” The grimace he didn’t quite hide made her laugh and relax. “
    And you can be embarrassed. Well, that’s a relief. Was it the flower comment or the hunk reference?”
    “Flowers are a hobby of mine.”
    “Ah, the hunk then. Well, you’re tall, built and have a very handsome face. So there you are.” She continued to smile, and indulged herself in a cookie. “Your parents keep hoping you’ll find the right woman and settle down.”
    “What?”
    Thoroughly amused now, she lifted the plate, offered it. “Haven’t they mentioned that to you?”
    “No. Jesus.” He took a cookie, shaking his head as he set up his tape recorder. “
    Women aren’t high on my list right now. I just had a narrow escape.”
    “Really?” Jamie tucked her legs up under her. “Want to talk about it?”
    His gaze shifted, met hers. “Not while I’m on the clock. Tell me about growing up with Julie.”
    “Growing up?” He’d broken her rhythm. “Why? I thought you’d want to discuss that last year.”
    “Eventually.” The cookies weren’t half bad, so he had another.