Trouble Me: A Rosewood Novel (10 page)

To go with the fried chicken, Ellie had made a salad of spinach and paper-thin sliced mushrooms, a mini-mountain of which Margot had on her plate. They lingered over the meal, enjoying the summer evening with its deep-lavender sky and the blue-green of the lawn and gardens. The perfume of the roses growing near the porch where the family was dining mixed with the scent of citronella candles burning brightly in the lanterns Margot had placed on the long wooden table.

The sound of the car wending its way up the drive and then stopping in front of the house was easy to detect in the quiet of the evening. A door opened, then another one, and Jade heard Jordan’s voice, answered by Owen’s deeper one, and then a shared laugh.

“Dessert’s arrived,” she remarked to no one in particular. Jordan, Owen, and Neddy were joining them for dessert. Kate, Max, and Olivia had left earlier to visit their father and stepmother, who lived in D.C. Like his older siblings, Neddy was also having a sleepover. He was going to be staying here at the big house so that Jordan and Owen could have a night to themselves—which was probably why Owen and Jordan had been looking pretty darn giddy.

Next week, after Margot made one of her whirlwind trips to New York where she’d be posing for a shoot for
W
, it would be her and Travis’s turn to have a free night. Jade had seen the date on the kitchen calendar marked with stars and hearts, so it was an easy guess that, come the day, Margot and Travis would be seriously jazzed too.

Jordan climbed the porch steps, a large ceramic bowl in her arms. Out of compassion for Margot and her upcoming shoot, she’d made a peach and raspberry fruit salad for dessert. Jade didn’t mind the lack of Jordan’s killer brownies; she’d eaten one for breakfast.

Setting the bowl onto the side table where the dessert plates were stacked, Jordan sat down beside Jade, snagging a mushroom off her plate as she did. “Yum. I love Ellie’s lemon vinaigrette. She knows just how much pepper and cayenne to add. So how did your meeting with Ted go, Jade?”

“Good, he’s a nice guy.”

Jordan nodded, filching another mushroom. “I like how supportive he is of his teachers. It’s made such a difference in the energy level and enthusiasm in the school. Did he give you your class list?”

“Yeah, Jade. What about the class list? You haven’t mentioned anything about it,” Margot said.

Probably because Margot and Jordan were both going to freak when she read off a certain name, Jade thought,
squirming inwardly. Oh, well, they were going to find out sooner or later. “The list is on the kitchen counter. I’ll go—”

“No, I’ll get it,” Jordan said, rising. “Owen and I brought a nice white wine to go with dessert. We think it might be perfect for Miriam and Andy’s wedding, but we wanted your opinion first before we have a wine tasting with them. Shall I bring everyone a glass?”

“Most definitely,” Jade said. Her nerves were getting jumpy thinking about what her sisters were going to say when they saw Hayley Cooper’s name.

“It is so weird, your being legal, Jade.” Margot shook her head.

“Yup. In all fifty states.” Jade grinned.

“Do you need help with the glasses?” Travis asked.

“No, thanks. Owen should be downstairs now—Neddy was out like a light the second the car started. Owen’s probably opening the bottle.”

They’d cleared the dishes to the side table and replaced them with five dessert plates when Jordan and Owen returned, armed with a bottle of Sancerre and glasses—and, in Jordan’s hand, the manila folder Ted Guerra had given Jade.

“Neddy settled?” Jade asked as she eyed the folder and then her sister’s face. Jordan hadn’t peeked inside. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be nearly so calm.

“Sleeping like a lamb. Didn’t even stir when I put him in the crib,” Owen answered. “That long ride he took with Ned on Lena must have done the trick.”

“So let’s drink a toast to Ned. And may the Orioles not lose too badly tonight,” Jade said. Ned was as dedicated an Orioles fan as they came. Instead of joining them tonight, he was parked in his favorite recliner in Thistle Cottage, his dinner on a tray propped on his knees and a beer resting by his feet, watching the Orioles against the Blue Jays.

After they’d all drunk to Ned’s health and commented on the inability of the Orioles to defeat anyone this season, Owen said, “So, Jade, your meeting with Ted Guerra went smoothly?”

“Yeah—”

“And this is Jade’s class list.” Jordan picked up the file she’d set by her glass. “Can I look at it?”

Jade took a fortifying sip of wine. “Go ahead.” Jordan was bound to be mellower than Margot.

It took a while, which was strange as Jordan was very detail-oriented, but finally her half sister gave the expected soft cry of dismay. “Oh, no, Jade, I am so sorry! What rotten luck. Eugene Harrison—I did wonder whether you’d get him.”

“What?” Jade said. God,
she
was the one with the poor attention skills. Obsessed with having Hayley Cooper in her class, she’d missed Eugene Harrison’s name completely.

“Eugene Harrison? Is that who I think it is?” Owen asked.

“Can I see that?” Margot stretched her arm across the table so Jordan could pass her the list. “And in answer to your question, Owen, if you’re thinking,
Holy crap, that must be Eugene and Nonie Harrison’s grandson
, you’d be on the money.”

“Their son, who’s also Eugene, and his wife, Christy, moved back to Warburg last spring,” Jordan explained to Owen, who’d been in Warburg for only five years and thus was still a relative newbie when it came to knowing the genealogy of its families. “Eugene and Christy told everyone they decided to relocate for the schools, but Marla heard a different story, about something happening down in Charlotte that suddenly made Eugene a less-than-perfect bank VP. According to Marla, he was let go
without
a severance package.”

“Ouch. That had to hurt,” Travis said.

“Ouch, indeed. Too bad I can’t feel a whole lot of sympathy for them. Christy and Eugene have only been back for a few months, but they’ve already made it clear that all of Warburg should be kowtowing to them,” Jordan said.

“A Harrison trait.” Owen picked up the wine and refilled their glasses. “So I gather this means there are now three Eugene Harrisons in Warburg? Isn’t that terribly redundant?”

“Yeah, but it’s better than having three Nonies. That wouldn’t just be redundant, it’d be downright ugly,” Travis said. “By the way, this is a nice wine, Owen. I think Andy and Miriam are going to like it.”

“Thanks. Let’s have another toast: to the one and only Nonie.” He grinned. “If there were ever a definitive argument against cloning, Nonie would be it.”

Travis laughed. “Very true.”

“Poor Nonie,” Jordan said with a decided lack of sympathy. There was no love lost between the Radcliffes and the Harrisons.

Margot had remained silent during the exchange, as she studied Jade’s class list. Jade counted the seconds and got to
three
, then Margot’s cry of “Oh my God!” and her sharp blue gaze zeroed in on Jade. “I cannot believe you didn’t mention this.” Passing the folder to Travis, she said, “Take a look under the C’s.”

“What, are you talking about Hayley Cooper? She’s a sweet little girl, Margot,” Jordan said. “Remember how cute she was in the winter pageant dressed up as a snow-flake? She and Olivia stole the show.”

“Uh-oh, I have a sinking feeling that Hayley Cooper’s dad is going to be none other than Rob Cooper—your favorite police officer. And mine,” Owen added with a quick scowl. “I’m still annoyed at his sticking me with a two-hundred-dollar fine after I put my face on the line for you, Jade.”

“Rob Cooper’s probably forgotten all about Jade,” Jordan said.

Margot cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “No way. After the stunts she pulled?”

“Rob Cooper doesn’t strike me as the type to hold grudges.”

Margot shook her head. “Sweetie, you’re too forgiving—”

“Hon, I’m gonna have to side with Jordan on this,” Travis said. “Rob’s not likely to give Jade grief. It’s been years since she crossed paths with Rob in his official capacity. And he’ll be seeing her as a teacher—not a delinquent. And parents appreciate good teachers.”

Jade decided it was time to put in her two cents’ worth. “I hope you’re right, Travis. But I’ve got to admit that if I’d had my crystal ball and seen I was going to be teaching his daughter one day, I probably wouldn’t have signed RoboCop up for the donut-of-the-month club.”

“You know, I seem to recall mentioning that that particular idea might come back to bite you,” Margot said drily.

“You did indeed, O Prissy One.”

While Margot shot Jade a narrowed-eyed glare, Jordan swiveled in the chair to face her youngest sister. “Did you just call Margot prissy? I thought that was my title.”

“Nope, Owen saved you. Since getting hitched you’ve grown increasingly un-prissy.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Jordan said, beaming.

Owen graced Jade with a wink.

Across the table, Margot raised her hand and wagged her fingers. “For the record, I would like it noted that I am
not
prissy. And as for Rob Cooper, he showed a great deal of restraint in his dealings with you. I will always like him for that.”

“Personally, I’ve never thought of the word
prissy
in
association with any Radcliffe female—certainly not you three,” Travis said gallantly. “As for the matter of having both a Cooper
and
a Harrison in the first class you ever teach, well, it could be a whole heck of a lot worse.”

“Yes.” Owen nodded in agreement. “Jade could have half the parents in her class wanting her tarred and feathered.”

Jade barely managed to avoid spitting out her wine. “Gee, thanks for pointing that out, guys. Listen, I’ll be fine, truly. I’m taking the Doris Day approach.” At the four blank looks she received, she huffed impatiently, “Come on, as in, ‘Que Sera Sera’? You all seriously have to get up to speed with your pop references.”

Across the table, Travis’s shoulders were shaking with laughter as he brought his wine to his lips. Good, she thought. One family member distracted, three to go. “So, Owen, do you think Jimmy Stewart was in agony every time Doris started singing?”

Owen cocked a dark brow at her obvious ploy to change the subject but obliged her nonetheless, saying, “I wouldn’t dare speak for Jimmy Stewart, but
The Man Who Knew Too Much
was definitely not my favorite Hitchcock. Give me
Rear Window
any day.”

“Grace Kelly was divine in
Rear Window
,” Jordan said, rising from the table and beginning to clear the dessert plates.

“A goddess,” Margot said solemnly as she stood to help, placing the empty glasses on a wooden tray. “Do you remember the actress who gave Jimmy his massages and who helped Grace sneak into Raymond Burr’s apartment? What was her name again?” she asked.

While they searched their collective memory banks for Thelma Ritter’s name, Jade breathed a sigh of relief at no longer having to worry about Rob Cooper. She wouldn’t have to think about him again for another
twenty minutes, until she began composing her letter to her new students. A reprieve that could last even longer if she volunteered to do the dishes. Dishwashing had never looked so good.

It was 8:30
P.M.
on Tuesday night, exactly two and a half hours since Hayley’s birthday cake—decorated by Rob’s mom with a prancing chocolate-and-vanilla-frosted pony and
Happy 7th Birthday, Hayley
—had been consumed, along with tubs of ice cream and bagfuls of Gummi worms, and a shell-shocked Rob was wondering if this horde of girls was ever going to calm down or if the house was ever going to look the same.

Every piece of furniture in the living room had been pushed against the wall—eight girls were as strong as an army of ants—in order to clear a space for a dance floor so the girls could practice dance moves to Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, and Justin Bieber.

How in hell had they memorized all these inane lyrics? More puzzling still, when had Hayley learned them? And which one of these future
American Idol
contestants had had the bright idea to raid the kitchen for spoons to serve as mikes, the better to belt out the tunes? Was all this stuff programmed into their DNA?

Upstairs, his bedroom had undergone a similar transformation. Before they’d decided to turn into musical divas, the girls had been going at it like WWE stars. His bed had been turned into a trampoline and then a wrestling arena, his pillows used as assault weapons.

Not even the second-floor bathroom was left inviolate. He’d already had to take the plunger to the bathroom toilet—to shrieks of high-drama disgust and exaggerated gagging noises.

“They looked so cute and harmless when they arrived,” he said, trying not to check his watch again. He realized he might start whimpering if the watch hands didn’t start
inching closer to nine o’clock, the hour when he could send the little demons—oops, darlings—to the family room with their sleeping bags and backpacks. He no longer held out much hope that they’d sleep, but at least they’d be contained.

“Little girls, cute and harmless? Ha, that’s a good one.” Emma had come by to lend a hand after teaching her aerobics class. “They’re much more terrifying than boys. And this is just the beginning, Rob. Wait until high school. You’ll be missing the days of watching them gyrate to Miley and Company. Oh, and speaking of high school, guess who I spotted this morning?”

“Who?” he asked, jumping back from his post by the door to avoid being run over as two girls streaked by. He caught the words
costume change
before they thundered up the stairs.

“Jade Radcliffe. She was at Braverman’s picking up an order. I don’t think she saw me—not sure she would have recognized me anyway, as I was a year behind her in school—but she looked great.”

The two or three memories Rob had of Jade Radcliffe didn’t mesh with “looking great.” In one of his mental snapshots, she was passed out in the back of his patrol car and reeking of vomit and Jägermeister after he’d broken up an underage party. In another, she was shrouded in an overlarge hoodie and had just dumped a bucket of filthy water—a putrid mix of day-old vomit and soap—over his boots and police uniform. He’d spent minutes yelling at the pointy tip of her hood as her bony shoulders shook—whether from terror or mirth he’d never ascertained. The last time he’d seen her was at the Den, when he’d busted her with her fake college ID. Her hair had been chopped to an inch from her skull and bleached yellow-white. He remembered her face, how fear had leeched it of color until it was almost as pale as her hair. Her lips had been pressed into a thin,
quivery line and heavy mascara had lined her vivid green eyes. No, looking great was not how he ever remembered Jade Radcliffe.