Of course. Matchmaking, that’s what she was up to. Mama was on a mission from God to get her hitched.
“Mama, Brand and I only met three days ago.”
Three days. Had it really only been three days?
“Oh, well, I believe in being prepared.” Bitsy turned to Ansgar. “And who might you be, young man?”
He stood and made a little bow. “I am Ansgar. I am Dalvahni.”
Bitsy’s eyes widened. “Dalvahni? Oh, you must be Mr. Dalvahni’s brother. My goodness, you don’t look a thing alike, do you? Are you staying at the Hannah Inn, too?”
“I stay with Evangeline.”
“Really, Evie dear, is that wise?” Bitsy lifted her finely arched brows. “You know how people talk. A reputation is a delicate thing.”
Hah, lecture number 239. More of a codicil, really, than a separate lesson, a clarification of lecture number 238.
Poor Evie turned red and began to stutter.
“The Hannah Inn was full, Mama, so Ansgar is renting a room at Evie’s,” Addy said, coming to the rescue.
“Adara, I do not think—”
Addy held up her hand. “I know, I know, Brand. You don’t think Evie’s charging him enough for the room. But, that’s between
the two of them
.” She emphasized each word. “
Their
business, not Mama’s, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand,” he said. But there was disapproval in his eyes.
Addy swallowed a sigh. They were so unalike. He was Mr.-I-Cannot-Tell-A-Lie, and she was the Mistress-Of-Little-Fibs. But, he didn’t know her mama. Let him live a few thousand years with Bitsy, and he’d be lying like a rug. As far as she was concerned, white lies were a matter of survival when it came to dealing with Mama. He could get over it.
“I had no idea you were running a bed-and-breakfast, Evie,” Bitsy said.
Evie looked more flustered. “Well, I’m not exactly—”
“But I’m delighted to hear it.” Bitsy bulldozed right over Evie. “I’m sure Addy has told you that Muddy and Amasa Collier are getting married. We might need to book a room or two, depending on who comes into town for the wedding.”
“Land’s sake, Bitsy, who in the world you think is coming to this wedding?” Muddy asked.
“Scads of people. No one will want to miss this.” Bitsy set her purse down. “Now, let’s talk flowers for the bridal luncheon and the wedding.”
“Ansgar and I will wait outside while you converse,” Brand said.
He scooted out the door with Ansgar hard on his heels. He was such a guy. The merest mention of girly stuff, and he bolted.
“Oh, but the heat—” Bitsy protested.
Addy put her hand on Mama’s arm. “Let them go, Mama. I don’t think they want to listen to a bunch of women talk about flowers.”
Bitsy wrinkled her brow. “Too frou-frou?”
“Definitely,” Addy said.
Thirty minutes later, they were winding things up when Brand tapped on the front window and pointed down the street. A minute later, Meredith Peterson walked through the door looking like Death eating a cracker. She’d exchanged the pink terrycloth housecoat for a loose shift of pale blue linen. A heavy layer of makeup covered the mass of pimples on her face. The Queen of the Hannah social scene looked like the Joker.
Bitsy’s mouth fell open when she saw Meredith, but she quickly schooled her features into an expression of bland welcome. “Meredith, what a pleasant surprise,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“I look like something out of a horror movie. How do you think I’m doing?”
“Now that you mention it, you do seem to have some sort of rash,” Bitsy said. “Have you tried Calamine lotion?”
Muddy inspected Meredith. “That’s no ordinary rash. Looks like impetigo to me. You’d best get yourself down to Old Doc Dunn and get an antibiotic, girl.”
“It’s not a rash.” Meredith glared at Addy. “It’s a curse your witch of a daughter put on me, Bitsy Corwin.”
“Addy, a witch?” Bitsy tittered. “You must be joking.”
“Mad as a hatter,” Muddy declared. “She probably has syphilis. That philandering husband of hers probably gave it to her.”
“I do
not
have syphilis,” Meredith shrieked.
Addy held up her finger in warning. “Inside voice, Mer.”
Meredith gritted her teeth and tried to smile, which did scary things to the pancake makeup on her face. “I’ve come to apologize, Addy, and to ask you to take this curse off me.”
“I don’t believe I heard the magic word.”
Meredith reddened under her thick makeup. “Please.”
“Very nice, Meredith, but you’re talking to the wrong person. It’s Evie you owe an apology.”
Meredith’s face got redder. “I’m sorry I was ugly to Evie.”
Addy considered this. “Nope, doesn’t do it for me.” She turned to Evie, who was staring at Meredith in fascinated horror. “What about you, Eves? That do it for you?”
Evie started. “Oh, well, I guess it—”
“Nope,” Addy said. “Doesn’t do it for Evie, either. You’re going to have to do better than that, Meredith.”
“Perhaps you should give me some idea what it is you want me to say, Addy.”
Addy thought about this. “Okay, I guess that’s only fair. And fun. Listen carefully, Meredith, and repeat after me. ‘I’m sorry, Evie, that I’ve been such a poisonous bitch to you since we were twelve years old.’ ” She gave Meredith an encouraging nod. “Go on. Give it a try.”
Meredith’s expression was wooden, but she repeated the words.
“ ‘And I’m sorry for all the hideous things I’ve said to you, especially the times I called you Lard Ass or Whaley Douglass or some other version of fat,’ ” Addy said. “ ‘And I promise not to be mean or unkind to you again, and if I am, may the boils on my behind and on my face come back three times as bad.’ ”
Meredith’s lip curled. She opened her mouth and Addy stopped her.
“Look at Evie when you say it, Mer,” she said gently.
Meredith looked like she was trying to swallow her own head, but she did it.
Addy beamed at her. “Very good. Buy half a dozen bars of Evie’s complexion soap and ajar of her special bath salts, and go home and have yourself a nice long soak. That should fix you right up. Make sure you use Evie’s soap, or it won’t work.”
Evie scrambled over to her display table and quickly shoved the soaps and the bath salts into a bag. Meredith flung some money in Evie’s direction and stalked out.
Bitsy looked thoughtful. “You know, Addy dear, I don’t think Meredith likes you.”
“No? You think?”
“I feel sorry for her.”
Addy stared at her mother in surprise. “You do? Why? She always gets what she wants, including Trey.”
“Sometimes you get what you think you want, and you find out too late it wasn’t what you wanted at all,” Bitsy said. “I think Meredith is very unhappy, in spite of being Mrs. Trey Peterson.” She paused. “Or maybe
because
she’s Mrs. Trey Peterson.”
“He’s got little ears and a skinny mouth,” Muddy said. “My mama always said don’t marry a man with little ears or a skinny mouth, ’cause he’ll be mean. I’ll bet that Trey Peterson is mean.”
Bitsy nodded. “Could be.”
“And I’ll bet he’s got a little dick,” Muddy added.
Bitsy gasped. “Muddy! Such language!”
Muddy gave Addy a hopeful look. “Addy dated him in high school. Does he have a little penis?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Muddy, but Trey and I never slept together.”
Which, in fairness to Trey, was probably why he ended up banging Meredith. As a general rule, teenage boys were walking sperm banks looking for a place to deposit.
“You sure?” Muddy persisted. “You might not have noticed.”
Addy rolled her eyes. “I’d have noticed. It never happened.”
“Huh,” Muddy said. “Well, if he’s got a little dick that might have something to do with why Meredith is such a sour puss. Think about it. You’d be ornery, too, if you went to bed with a Vienna Sausage.”
“Mercy.” Bitsy fanned herself. “I’ll never be able to look at Trey Peterson again.”
“Forget that,” Addy said. “I’ll never be able to eat another Vienna Sausage.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
B
efore Bitsy left the flower shop, she confided to Addy that she was worried about Shep. “He didn’t come back to Corwin’s after the funeral,” she said. “And that’s not like him.”
“I’ll go by the house and check on him after I close the shop, Mama,” Addy promised.
Bitsy’s worried expression eased. “Would you, dear? I’d go, but I don’t want him to think I’m hovering. You know I try not to stick my nose into my children’s business.”
Oh, yeah, since when?
Mama was right, though, Addy thought as she went about the business of closing up for the day. It was not like Shep to blow off work. He was the consummate professional, always Mr. Cool. Today at Old Man Farris’s funeral, however, he’d seemed distant, mechanical, like he was going through the motions.
Then there was the spontaneous singing thing. The Shep Corwin she knew didn’t burst into song in public. Yet today he’d belted out a hymn like it was the most natural thing in the world. Something was going on with him, and Addy meant to find out what.
Shep and Marilee lived on the river outside of town about two miles from the gated community that Muddy called home. Addy and Brand bumped down the long, gravel drive in the pink van and pulled up to the house, a sprawling one-story cottage with a tin roof, triangular-shaped dormer windows in the front and back, and a wrap-around porch. She got out of the van and looked around. Shep’s car was there, but the house showed no other signs of life. The wind blew through the trees and scattered a few dry leaves across the driveway. The air was fragrant with the scent of pine. From nearby, she heard the river’s rough music, water over stone. She clunked up the steps to the porch. Brand followed silently behind her, his expression watchful. The shuttered windows were dark, empty eyes in the skull of the house. The porch swing creaked gently in the breeze.
“Shep?”
“ ’Round back,” he hollered.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Addy moved toward the sound of Shep’s voice, but Brand got in front of her.
“Wait. There is something amiss here. I sense a presence . . .” He shook his head. “I do not like it. I will go first in case there is trouble.”
She grabbed his arm. “This is my brother we’re talking about. Don’t you even
think
about sticking him with that sword of yours. If he’s infested with something nasty, deal with it some other way. Call the exterminator or hold a séance, but you’re not—I repeat,
not
—shish-kabobbing Shep with that sword.”
“I will do what I must to protect you.”
Ignoring her sputtering protests, he strode off down the porch. She scurried after him. He rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, blocking her path.
“Lenora.” There was surprise and unease in Brand’s deep voice. “What brings you here?”
“Sol’ Van,” a sultry female voice murmured. “You and Ansgar did not report in as is customary.”
Addy stiffened. Something about that low, sensual voice grated on her nerves. And what the heck was a soul van? Who was this woman, anyway? Addy disliked her, sight unseen. The fact that Brand and the sexpot were acquainted had nothing to do with it.
Okay, maybe it had
everything
to do with it, but that was beside the point.
“There were signs of an enemy engagement but no word from either of you,” the woman continued. “Conall was otherwise occupied, and I was bored, so I volunteered my services. I found myself delightfully detained by this human.”
Addy had heard enough. She stepped around Brand. A voluptuous woman with long, flowing black hair reclined on the back porch swing against a bank of chintz pillows. She was clad in one of Shep’s white dress shirts . . . and from the looks of it, nothing else. Her left leg was draped along the back of the swing and her right leg was stretched out in front of her. She didn’t strike Addy as the kind of woman who’d bother with a trifling thing like underwear. If Shep’s shirttail had not hung between her legs, Addy suspected the woman’s business would have been out there for God and everybody else to see. Her gaze shifted to the stranger’s face, and she found herself pinned by a pair of cold, blue eyes. Talk about your glacial bitches. This gal was the Ice Queen.
Addy saw Shep and forgot about the woman. He stood in front of a large easel, shirtless and barefoot and covered in paint. There was an expression of utter joy on his face as he moved his brush across the canvas. The only time she’d seen him that happy was when his children were born.
“Shep?”
“One second, Addy.” Shep’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I’m al . . . most finished.” A few more flourishes of his brush, and he stepped back. “There. What do you think, Nora?”
The woman called Lenora stretched like a cat and got to her feet. She was tall, nearly as tall as Shep, and she screamed sex from her red, pouty lips to the curtain of dark hair that swung about her hips. She stared at the canvas for a moment, and turned and wrapped her arms around Shep’s neck.
“It is beautiful, my love.” Her husky voice made Addy want to smack her. “So earthy and sensuous. Teeming with dark, swirling energy like the river that flows past your home.”
“It’s you,” Shep stammered. “You’re the river, full of mystery and promise, a slinky, curving enigma I can lose myself in.”
Eww. Shep Corwin had him a demon, no bones about it. Maybe two or three. Her big brother would never talk that way unless he was possessed.
“You see me as the river?” Lenora’s voice was a smooth whisper of invitation. “That is so sweet.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him. And Shep kissed her back. Right in front of his little sister. Another minute and they’d be hunching like bunnies on the back porch steps. Shep, Mr. Conservative, a two-term member of the vestry at the Trinity Episcopal church, the perfect son, brother, father and husband . . .
“William Shepton Junior, have you lost your mind?” Addy shrieked. “Who
is
this woman, and where the hell is Marilee?”
Lenora released Shep and stepped back. “I am Lenora,” she said. “Your brother has told me much about you, Adara Corwin. I am thrall. I serve the Dalvahni.”
A red film blurred Addy’s vision. A thrall, a sex slave indentured to the Dalvahni, created to serve them sexually and suck all the feelings out of them so they could return to battle unhampered by emotion.
And Brand knew her by name, which meant she’d serviced him in the past, would do so again once he left Earth.
Addy’s brain felt like it was on fire. She wanted to scratch the other woman’s eyes out. She wanted to tear her apart. So, this was jealousy, this great big snarling beast that consumed her from the inside out.
“Adara?” Brand said.
She took a deep breath. She needed to get a grip, set aside her own feelings and concentrate on the issue at hand. Her married big brother was screwing a sex machine from another dimension. Shep. Mr. Perfect, the good child.
Un-freaking-believable.
Shep seemed to wake from the spell the thrall had woven. “Addy, calm down. It’s not what you think.”
“Shep, where is Marilee?”
“She’s gone, Addy.” He picked up a clean cloth and wiped his hands. “Ran off three weeks ago with that tennis instructor from the club. She’s filed for divorce. I got served with the papers last week.”
“What?”
Brand cleared his throat. “Lenora, why don’t you and I walk down to the river?”
Lenora lifted her shoulders in a gesture of cool indifference. “Very well, Sol’ Van, if you insist.”
Brand and the sexy thrall left the porch and walked down the sloping lawn to the shallow bluff that overlooked the river. Addy watched them leave with mixed feelings. Desperate as she was to talk to her brother in private, she didn’t want Vampira anywhere near Brand.
Shep chuckled. “Relax, Addy, she’s not going to eat him.”
Addy scowled. “Damn straight she’s not.” With an effort, she dragged her attention back to Shep. “Now, what’s this about Marilee leaving? I thought she was at the beach with her mother and the kids.”
“Marilee’s gone. She dropped the kids off at the beach house with Janice and took off. No one’s heard from her since.” He grimaced. “Unless you count the divorce papers.”
Her brain scrambled to process the stunning news. “Lily and William?”
Shep shook his head. “They think their mama’s here. They keep calling to talk to her and I keep making excuses. It’s been a bad couple of weeks.”
Addy sank into one of the rocking chairs that were scattered around the porch. “I had no idea you and Marilee were having problems.”
“That makes two of us. I never saw it coming. Apparently, she’s been carrying on with this guy for months.” He laughed harshly. “When I think about all the money I spent on her stupid tennis lessons . . . I was paying the guy to screw my wife.” He wadded up the cloth and threw it aside. “I tell you what, I get my hands on him, I’m gonna pound some sand up his ass.”
“Are we talking about the new guy, the one the club brought over from Namath Springs? Curly hair and a tattoo on his arm?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
“But Shep, he’s younger than I am,” Addy said. “He’s—”
“Twenty-four. Ten years younger that Marilee.” His expression was bitter. “But who’s counting.”
Addy couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. Shep and Marilee had been happily married for more than ten years. Marilee adored Shep. She was like a sister to Addy. It was hard to believe she had left Shep and the children to run off with another man. Was nothing what it seemed to be? The past few days, she’d been hammered by one shock after another, but this last one . . . She couldn’t take this one in. Shep and Marilee divorced.
She jumped to her feet and paced up and down the porch, thinking. “Does Janice know? Did Marilee tell her mother where she was going, or did she dump Lily and William with her mom and leave?”
“She told Janice we needed some alone time and took off. Janice thought Marilee was here with me. I had to work late the night they left. I came in and went straight to bed. Didn’t find the note until the next morning. I called Janice and told her what was up. She didn’t believe me, not until Marilee called and told her mama she wasn’t coming home. Janice and I talked about it and decided to keep quiet about it, not let the children know, in case . . .”
“In case she changed her mind?”
Shep blew out a breath. “Yeah, just in case. She didn’t. Things were really bad for a while there, but then Nora showed up.” His gaze drifted to Lenora and Brand down by the water. “Things are much better now. Clearer. I know what I want to do with my life.”
“What do you mean ‘do with your life’? You’ve got Corwin’s.”
“Corwin’s has
me,
Addy. I didn’t want it, but Daddy died and I didn’t seem to have a choice. Then I got married and Lily and William were born, and it was easier to go with the flow. What I wanted didn’t seem to matter, seemed . . . irresponsible, a pipe dream.”
Addy stared at him in bewilderment. “What on earth are you talking about, Shep?”
His eyes lit up. “I want to paint, Addy.”
“Paint?” She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said he wanted to join the circus.
He rushed on. “Oh, I know I can’t walk away from Corwin’s right now, but maybe someday, when I’ve established myself as an artist, I can sell the funeral home and open up a little studio.”
“Sell Corwin’s? Are you crazy?”
His jaw hardened. “You got to do what you wanted, Addy. It’s my turn. You’re not the only one who hates dead people, only I couldn’t run down the street to Aunt Muddy. I had to stay. Somebody had to stay. I’ve given fifteen years of my life and my marriage to the business. Do I have to give it the rest of my life, too?”
“No, of course not.” Addy felt sick with guilt and remorse. Shep was not quite twenty-one when Daddy died, she not quite twelve. She’d been so hell-bent on getting away from Corwin’s she didn’t stop to consider what Shep wanted. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you were so miserable.”
She flung herself in Shep’s arms and burst into tears.
“There, there, sis, don’t cry.” He patted her awkwardly on the back. “You’re getting my shirt all wet.”
She gave a watery chuckle. “You’re not wearing a shirt, smartass.” Wiping her eyes, she straightened with a sniff. “So about this painting of yours. Are you any good?”
“Hell, sis, I don’t know. You tell me.”
He turned her around.
The canvas was a swirl of color, browns and greens and blue, the river in high summer set against a cloudless sky. Addy stared at the painting in shock. She was no expert, knew nothing about color, composition, technique, or brush strokes, but Shep’s painting called to her, stirred her. The river on the canvas was a living thing, a gleaming, sinuous snake that coiled through the trees, a siren that lured men from their homes with the promise of wonders around the next bend.
“Wow,” Addy said. “I am so embarrassed.”