Dangerous Alterations (11 page)

“Didn’t it catch yours?”

She shook her head. “I guess I was busy bending Margaret Louise’s ear when we drove in.”

“About what?” Rose bent forward and re-situated a rose branch against its trellis.

“I don’t know, nothing special. Just talking.”

Rose turned her head and pinned Tori with a stare.

Tori swallowed. “Sorry. I don’t know, Jeff … Milo … Dixie, you name it.”

“That’s better.” Rose straightened up only to bend over once again, her hand lovingly cupping a dying rose. “Flowers are so much like people. They have their season to be alive and beautiful.”

She felt her shoulders slump. She hated when Rose talked that way. “Some flowers are meant to last longer than others.”

“I suppose.” Rose gently released the flower and slowly stood upright. “I heard what you said in there. About that young man dying of a heart attack.”

“Rose, I really don’t want to talk about that right—”

“What would you say if I told you it might not have been a heart attack after all?”

She stared at her friend. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

Rose’s shoulders rose and fell beneath the cotton sweater she wore. “Jeff wasn’t well liked.”

“By me, maybe. For one very specific reason. But—”

“By a lot of people, Victoria. For a
million
reasons.”

Cattle had nothing on the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle when it came to eating.

They weren’t as eager.

They weren’t as fast.

And they weren’t nearly as pushy.

Then again, they didn’t have Margaret Louise preparing their meals.

If they had, there would be no need for a bell to call them home. The aroma of their dinner would be enough to start a stampede.

“Ladies, ladies, may I have your attention, please?” Margaret Louise bellowed through the pockets of chatter taking place in and around the kitchen. “Tonight, I’m treating all of you to a true southern cookout in honor of our roots.”

The buzz around the room heightened as seven sets of eyes trained on the group’s culinary master.

“Any sweet potato pie?” Rose asked through the screen door. “After all, that pie is why we’re all here right now.”

Margaret Louise’s ever-present smile grew even wider. “I considered it, I really did. But, in the end, I decided to try out some new recipes … for a cookbook I’m thinkin’ about writin’.”

Debbie clapped her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I am. Don’t know it will ever make it beyond that old portable typewriter I pulled out of the basement but I’m sure gonna give it a whirl.” Margaret Louise looked at each woman before catching Tori’s eye through the screen door. “I also know a home-cooked meal can cure just about any ill known to mankind, even stress.”

Tori shifted from foot to foot under the well-meaning scrutiny.

“I can think of things far better than food to cure stress,” Leona drawled from the other side of the kitchen. “And until Milo gets home from his conference, Victoria will have to wait for that.”

She felt her face warm. “Leona!”

Rose wrapped her hand around the narrow handle and yanked the door open, shoving Tori through the opening and stepping in beside her. “Put a sock in it, will you, Leona? Your sister is trying to talk and your overactive hormones could use a rest.”

Leona stamped her foot, only to be drowned out by laughter as it spread its way across the room.

Margaret Louise held her hands up, reclaiming the attention of seven hungry women. “To start things off, I’ve prepared hush puppies with Green Zebra tomato jam and a chopped salad with quick pickled vegetables.”

Seven mouths dropped open.

Paris’s nose twitched.

“After that, we’ll move onto my crispy buttermilk fried chicken and grilled corn on the cob with roasted garlic and herbs.”

Georgina fanned herself with her hand. “Am I the only one getting a hot flash listening to this?”

“I haven’t had a hot flash in twenty years,” Rose countered. “But I can tell you this, I’m glad I grabbed one of my old lady diapers before I got in the car with Melissa.”

Leona rolled her eyes. “For the millionth time, Rose, no one wants to hear …”

Tori knew Leona was still talking, could sense the way Rose’s posture tensed in response, but all she could think about were the things the elderly woman had said out in the garden—things she’d wanted to question yet hadn’t been able to thanks to Margaret Louise’s harried request for an extra gallon of milk from whatever market Tori could find.

A well-placed elbow to her ribs snapped her back to the present. “Huh? What?”

She felt Rose’s stare as she found a smile for Margaret Louise. “Did you, um, get to dessert yet?”

“I was just about to say that, Victoria.” Reaching below the center island that had served as her podium thus far, Margaret Louise lifted a pie into their field of vision. A collective hush fell over the room. “In keepin’ with my southern theme, I whipped us up a peach shortcake with vanilla whipped cream.”

And just like that, the stampede began—Georgina and Debbie leading the way with Beatrice, Leona, and Rose on their heels.

“I don’t know how she does it, I really don’t.”

Melissa’s hushed voice in her ear brought Tori up short. “Who?”

“My mother-in-law. Her energy level is never ending.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle black?”

A touch of crimson spread across Melissa’s face. “Trust me, I get tired.”

“When? At two in the morning after all seven kids are in bed and you’ve washed, dried, folded, and put away all of their laundry?” She slipped an arm around her friend and pulled her close. “I’m glad you came. I was afraid you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

Melissa shrugged. “I almost did. Jake Junior had a makeup baseball game added to the schedule at the last minute but Jake insisted I go. Said I needed a little fun that’s just for me. Or as me as I can get with Molly Sue in tow.”

Bobbing her head first left, then right, Tori searched the floor for any sign of Melissa’s seventh child. Just a little over a year, Molly Sue was a little bundle of walking, smiling, gabbing energy.

“Where is she?”

“She’s in her portable crib playing with some blocks Margaret Louise brought.”

Tori glanced toward the woman who’d made the weekend possible. “She thinks of everything, doesn’t she?”

“And then some.” Melissa rested the side of her forehead against Tori’s and dropped her voice to a near whisper. “Are you okay? You seemed really distracted when you got back with the milk.”

“I’m sorry. I’m happy to be here, I really am. It’s just—well, Rose said something earlier that caught me off guard and I haven’t had a chance to ask her to elaborate.”

Melissa straightened up. “You mean about your former fiancé?”

Tori grabbed hold of Melissa’s arm. “You mean she told you?”

“We rode up here together, remember?”

“What did she say—”

“Maaaa Maaa!”

Molly Sue.

“I’m sorry, Victoria, I’ve got to go.” Melissa spun around and headed toward the family room only to glance over her shoulder as she reached the doorway. “We’ll catch up later, okay?”

Margaret Louise held a plate in Tori’s direction. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

She looked up, noted the absence of the rest of her friends and the sizeable dent in each of the featured menu items. “Ahhh, yeah … sure.”

Leaning against the refrigerator, Margaret Louise watched her move from platter to platter, filling her plate as she went. When Tori reached the corn on the cob, the woman finally spoke. “I was hopin’ that bein’ here was gonna wipe those lines from your forehead but that doesn’t seem to be happenin’.”

Slowly, she took in a breath of air and then let it escape through her nose. “I’m sorry, Margaret Louise, I really am. This place is”—she lifted her plate-holding hand into the air and gestured around the room—“amazing. It really is. And I love being here with everyone. It’s just that … well, Rose said something outside about Jeff’s death that took me by surprise and I haven’t had a chance to ask her about it.”

“Then let’s ask her.” Margaret Louise grabbed a plate from the pile at the end of the island and breezed through the buffet style setup. “As I see it, there’s no sense frettin’’bout somethin’ that might not be worth frettin’ ’bout.”

She trailed behind as Margaret Louise led the way into the family room. “I’m not sure I need to ask in front of everyone else.”

“Fiddlesticks. We’re all friends here.” Crossing the circular hook rug housed between the sofa and one of the recliners, Margaret Louise pointed toward an open chair for Tori before staking claim on one of her own. “So what does everyone think?”

Rose chewed and nodded.

Georgina gushed.

Beatrice smiled shyly before going back for another mouthful of salad.

“It’s delicious,” Debbie said between bites. “Absolutely delicious.”

Margaret Louise beamed.

Leona leaned across the arm of the couch. “The hush puppies are to die for, Victoria.”

Popping one into her mouth, Tori had to agree. Margaret Louise had outdone herself once again. “Mmmm, this is amazing.”

“So, tell us, Rose,” Margaret Louise prompted over a piece of fried chicken. “What’s this about Jeff’s heart attack that has Victoria all distracted?”

Rose looked up from her plate. “Doc said his heart was doing fine at his last checkup.”

Georgina’s head rose in time with Tori’s. “But Daryl said it was a heart attack.”

“Who’s Daryl?” Beatrice asked softly.

“The paramedic.” Georgina plucked a carrot from her salad and offered it to Paris. “And Daryl said it was confirmed by the hospital.”

“He came from a long line of heart attacks,” Tori offered even as Rose’s words looped their way through her thoughts. “Most recent, of course, was his great-aunt.”

Rose shrugged. “Perhaps. But when you take into account his sudden and unexpected windfall, you can’t help but wonder about the timing.”

Tori’s mouth dropped open.

“Windfall?” Margaret Louise asked. “What kind of windfall?”

“Seems his great-aunt Vera was rather wealthy.”

“She was,” Tori confirmed.

“And, apparently, Jeff was her pride and joy.”

“He was.”

Rose shrugged. “So he was left all that wealth. To the tune of one million dollars.”

“Jeff got some of her money?” She moved her plate to the end table beside her chair, the food virtually untouched save for the one hush puppy that was now a distant memory. “When?”

“He found out Monday, I believe.”

Suddenly his ploys to win her back with lavish gifts made perfect sense.

Tori felt her stomach churn.

“So what does that have to do with his heart attack?” she finally asked. “Or, rather, the notion that it
wasn’t
a heart attack?”

“Money doesn’t buy friends,” Rose mused. “It buys enemies. And that young man had a lot.”

“Beyond me, I can’t say that for certain. And I wouldn’t even call myself his enemy.”

“You should have been.” Leona, too, set her food down. “He certainly deserved to be hated by you.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t hate him, either. He hurt me and that’s it.”

Leona lowered her chin and stared at Tori above her glasses. “That’s enough to make
me
hate him.”

Rose nodded. “Me, too.”

“Me, three,” Margaret Louise added.

“That didn’t make you his
enemies
.”

Rose stilled her chicken-holding hand mere inches from her lips. “Maybe, maybe not. But I suspect Kelly was one after Monday night.”

“Kelly?” Tori leaned forward in her chair. “Why?”

“Because after he left you, he contacted another ex-girlfriend. Julia something or other.”

A wry smile tugged at her lips. “I know Julia …”

Margaret Louise’s ears perked up. “You do?”

She nodded. “Julia was the one in the closet with Jeff.”

“Seems he tried to rope her back in, too,” Rose said.

“And?” she asked, hating herself for even wanting to know.

“She told him to take a hike, too.”

“And this Kelly woman knew this?” Leona inquired.

“From what Lynn said, yes.” Rose set her chicken bone on her plate and started in on her corn.

“So what’s that got to do with Jeff’s—”

“And she wasn’t the only one gunning for him.” Rose stopped talking long enough to take a bite of corn, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head as she did. “Garrett was pretty angry, too.”

“Garrett?” she echoed.

“Jeff didn’t just get
some
of Vera’s money, Victoria.” Rose spun her corn between her buttery hands. “He got all of it. Every last dime.”

Ouch.

“This is certainly interesting news but it’s all moot. The man died of a heart attack,” Georgina reminded everyone. “To imply anything else would be nothing short of foolish.”

“Foolish?” Rose dropped her corn onto her plate and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You mean like writing off the man’s clean bill of health as nothing more than a mistake?”

Touché.

She tried to concentrate on the pillow taking shape in her hands, tried to lose herself in the reason behind the project, but it was hard. Especially when Rose’s comments were still so fresh in her mind.

Could she be right?

Could Jeff’s death have been something other than a heart attack?

No. He fell over while running. People saw it happen.

“London’s getting fat,” Rose mumbled from her spot on the rocking chair, her trembling hands curiously quieted by the presence of a needle and thread. “I’m surprised you haven’t looked into that stomach stapling procedure.”