Chapter 28
Madeline
Madeline comes in from the stables, puts water on the stove for tea, and moves into the office to check her emails. She dreads
the thought of what she might find but knows she needs to keep on top of things. When she opens the app, the screen floods
with emails. She quickly deletes the junk mail and anything that looks like they might be media inquiries. There are several
more messages blaming her and Wes for the explosion, calling them shameful and out of touch, and mocking their gender reveal. She forwards the threatening ones to Agent Saldano.
From the kitchen comes the breathy whistle of the kettle, but Madeline sees an email with the subject line that reads Naughty, naughty. It sounds like porn, but she decides to open the message.
An image fills the screen, and it takes Madeline a moment to figure out what she’s seeing.
Her vision blurs, and the room spins. She clutches the desk to keep from falling out of the chair.
It’s a photo. A photo of Madeline and Trent on the sofa.
Trent is wrapping Madeline in his flannel shirt, their faces nearly touching.
They look as if they have just embraced or perhaps kissed.
The circumstances around the image are completely innocent, but if anyone saw it, they would think the worst of her.
The last thing Madeline needs now is word getting out that she’s cheating on Wes. She’s not. She would never do that.
Who would do this? There are only two options—Lucy or Mellie. It had to have been Lucy—payback because Madeline controlled
her finances now? Or was she simply trying to stir the pot? She must have been hiding in the shadows and took the picture
after they thought she’d gone off to bed. If Wes saw this, he would be furious and go ballistic on Trent, who would surely
lose his job, no matter how innocent the actual scenario was. But that’s the point of the photo, Madeline thinks. For Lucy
to show Madeline exactly how much power she has over her, over everyone in this household.
Unless, Madeline thinks, looking over her shoulder, Mellie sent the photo. But why? There is no message, just the damning
picture. She moves the email into a folder labeled Recipes, knowing that Wes will never look there, and then gets to her feet.
Lingering outside Mellie’s bedroom, Madeline taps on the door. “Mellie,” she calls through the door. “It’s Madeline. Are you
hungry?”
“Coming,” comes a muffled voice. The door opens, and Mellie stands before her wearing yet another of Madeline’s outfits. Madeline
tries not to let it bother her. The poor girl came to the ranch with only the clothes on her back; of course she needs something
to wear. Still . . .
“You should eat. Come out to the kitchen, and I can get you something,” Madeline offers, and Mellie follows her to the kitchen.
“Are you in any pain?” Madeline asks, opening the refrigerator. Their Sub-Zero Pro is depressingly empty. With all the chaos,
they haven’t had the chance to go grocery shopping. Madeline opens the freezer and pulls out a container of homemade beef
stew and transfers it to the microwave, then pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water.
“I’m okay,” Mellie says, sitting gingerly at the breakfast bar. “Just a little bit sore from hitting the ground so hard.”
“I’m so glad your baby is okay,” Madeline says. “When do you go back for a recheck?”
“Recheck?” Mellie asks. “Oh gosh, I don’t know. The other night is such a blur. I’ll call the doctor later today.”
Madeline nods. “That’s a good idea. Who’s your obstetrician?” she asks.
Mellie frowns. “Actually, I don’t have one yet. I was going to ask Johanna Monaghan if she would be my midwife but . . .”
“Well, you need an OB,” Madeline says. “Do you have your phone?”
“Yeah. Why?” Mellie asks, pulling her phone from her back pocket.
“I’ll give you my doctor’s contact info,” Madeline says.
“But I thought Johanna was yours,” Mellie says with confusion.
“Johanna was my midwife, but I also have an OB. You need one even if you use a midwife,” Madeline insists, holding out her
hand for the phone.
“No, I can do it,” Mellie says, keeping the phone close to her chest.
Madeline gives her the information and watches as Mellie keys it into her phone. “Oh shit,” Madeline says, “I left the stove
on. Can you grab it?” Mellie hops to her feet and hurries toward the copper kettle atop the bright red burner. “You are going
to love Dr. Williamson, I promise.”
“I’m sure I will. Do you want me to boil more water?” Mellie asks.
“Yes, please. The tea is in the pantry.”
Mellie opens the pantry door and scans the shelves. “Green or chamomile?”
“There’s some rooibos in there that’s very good,” Madeline says, trying to figure out how to ask Mellie about the photo and decides the best way is to jump right in. “Mellie, I got a strange email today.”
“Oh? What kind of email? I can’t find the rooibos,” Mellie says, stepping from the pantry. “Chamomile, okay?”
“Chamomile is great,” Madeline says. “Someone sent a picture of me and Trent.”
“That’s weird.” Mellie hands her a tea bag.
“It had to have been taken last night, while the two of us were sitting on the sofa.”
“Whoa,” Mellie says, “that’s kind of scary.”
“There were only two other people in the house last night, besides me and Trent,” she says, watching Mellie’s reaction closely.
“So it had to have been you or Lucy.”
“Well, it wasn’t me, so it had to be Lucy,” Mellie says, dropping her tea bag into a mug. “Why would she do that?”
“I’m not sure,” Madeline says, not wanting to get into the details with this girl.
“I wasn’t going to mention anything,” Mellie says, dropping her voice to a whisper, “but I saw Lucy coming out of your bedroom.”
“Oh?” Madeline says. She doesn’t like the idea of Lucy snooping around the house, but she isn’t surprised.
“Wes was with her,” Mellie says as if uttering the words is painful. “It was before you came home from the hotel.” Madeline
doesn’t respond, her brain is still trying to catch up with what Mellie is implying.
“But I didn’t actually see them doing anything,” Mellie says in a rush. “I’m sure it was nothing, but Lucy looked mad. Like
I interrupted them.”
Madeline thinks about the way Wes and Lucy stood close to another, the overfamiliar touches, the stolen glances.
Would Lucy really try to sleep with her husband just to get back at her?
Was this the reason Wes didn’t want her to come home with him from the hotel?
Was this all just some sick game? Madeline tries not to let the hurt show on her face.
“Hey there,” comes a voice, and both Madeline and Mellie whirl around.
“Wes,” Madeline says with surprise. “You’re back.”
“Yeah,” Wes says, eyeing Mellie, who is sitting at their kitchen counter. The skin above his swollen eye is shiny and tight
and the color of a rotten banana. He hasn’t shaved in days, giving him a wild, grizzled look.
He pulls Madeline into a hug, and she tries not to go rigid beneath his embrace. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” she
says. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I did. Lots of times,” he says shortly. “At the hotel. I thought you were staying there until I got back.”
“I decided to come home,” Madeline says. “You said we could come back in, and I didn’t like being cooped up in the hotel room.
You’ve met Mellie, right?”
“I have,” Wes says, nodding at Mellie. “We met when I got back from the hospital. How long do you plan on staying with us?”
Though Wes’s question is ungracious, Madeline would like an answer too.
Mellie looks as if she wants to disappear into the floor. “Just a few more days, if that’s okay. I can move into my new place
on Thursday. I can’t thank you enough,” Mellie says. “Really. You’re lifesavers.”
Lucy slinks into the room. “Wow,” she says. “This place is turning into a real bed-and-breakfast. How’s Dix doing?”
“Oh my God, yes,” Madeline says, not believing she has forgotten about Dix. “How is he?” And how did Lucy know before she
did?
“Dix is lucky,” Wes says. “He’s minus a spleen and has lots of bumps and bruises, but he’s going to be okay.”
“That’s great news! Where is he?” Madeline asks.
“If you had answered the house phone, you’d know,” Wes says shortly again. “But he’s at a hospital in Salt Lake City. He’s
getting out in a few days and will need to come and stay with us until he’s better.”
“Of course,” Madeline says. Wes is angry. She can see it in the tight line of his mouth, the way he holds his shoulders. “Look
at all of us,” she says, “the walking wounded.”
Lucy laughs and holds out the flannel shirt. “I found this on the floor in the living room.” Madeline’s heart begins to thump
in her chest. It’s Trent’s shirt. The one he wrapped around her last night to help her get warm. She’s taunting her. Lucy
had to have been the one to have sent the photo of Madeline and Trent. Lucy is trying to stir up trouble.
Wes’s eyes narrow. “It’s not mine.”
“Oh, it must be Trent’s,” Madeline says lightly. “He’s been working on cleaning up the mess in the living room. He must have
gotten hot and taken it off. I’ll give it to him.”
She reaches for the shirt, but Lucy holds onto it for a second longer, a silent tug-of-war between them. When Lucy releases
the shirt, Madeline hears a soft jangle. Something is in the pocket of his shirt. Madeline reaches inside and pulls out an
orange-tinted pill bottle. She glances at the label and sees Wes’s name. No, Madeline thinks. Not Trent. He wouldn’t do this.
He wouldn’t steal from them. Covertly, she slides the bottle back into her back pocket trying to keep the worry from her face.
Wes excuses himself by saying that Agent Saldano is coming to the ranch, and Mellie returns to the guest room. When Madeline
is alone with Lucy, she produces the pill bottle. “What the hell, Lucy?” she says. “Why would you do this?”
Lucy laughs. “I didn’t. I mean, I did, but it was joke. I put them in Trent’s shirt, but that was after Mellie hid them in
my room first, along with some cash. By the way, I’m keeping that. Something’s not right with her.”
“Oh my God,” Madeline says, rubbing her forehead. “What about the photo?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So now you’re going to tell me you didn’t send me this picture?” Madeline pulls out her phone, brings up the photo with Trent,
and shows it Lucy.
“Wow, Mads,” Lucy says. “Getting frisky with the hired help. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Dammit, Lucy, I’m serious. Did you take this picture and send it to me?”
“I kind of wish I had, but it wasn’t me,” Lucy says. “Trust me, it was her.”
“Let me see your phone,” Madeline says.
“What? Really?” Lucy asks.
“Yes, hand it over.” Lucy unlocks her home screen, navigates to the photo app, and hands it to Madeline. First, Madeline flicks
through the photos and then brings up the recently deleted pictures. It’s not there.
“Do you believe me now?” Lucy asks. “I mean, what do you really know about her? You gotta get her out of your house. Seriously,
there’s something really off about that girl.”
“Funny,” Madeline says, slapping the phone back into Lucy’s hand, “she says the same thing about you.”