Chapter Thirty-Five
The last few minutes had been a blurry mess of silent pleading and too many words. But I heard Gram’s comment. Her really scary comment. “You told Celia I was the problem?”
Celia sighed. “Not exactly, but yes.”
“We’ve known you a long time, young lady.”
Gram loved to pull out the young lady. “You can’t shock us.”
“We guessed you being home had something to do with your job. At first, I assumed you lost it because you were being secretive, but your odd behavior suggested it was something else. Something you were afraid to tell us. Then Harlan showed up.”
Celia made a face that suggested she wanted to be done talking about him.
“He thinks he’s so smart but asking you to walk him out?”
Gram snorted. “That was the tip-off that you were messed up in something big and he found out about it.”
Defeated by age, wisdom, and subterfuge weaponized by two sneaky ladies with CIA-level skills. They should have been undercover operatives. Knowing these two, maybe they were. They sure proved they could keep a secret.
I waited for a smack of emotions. Anger, frustration, relief. All I could muster was a massive case of confusion. A big ball of what the hell. All that worrying and guilt . . . well, that was justified. I deserved both, but still. They’d conned me, the brilliant little devils.
“Was that fake outrage over Harlan’s comments? Were you two trying to teach me a lesson?”
If so, bravo. Their teaming up with Harlan made me want to spit, but the rest of their act was pretty impressive.
“Heaven’s no.”
Gram’s clipped response didn’t bode well.
Oh . . .
“Not at all.”
Celia’s tone and delivery were a bit less abrupt. “The shock over him trying to weasel into our business was very real.”
“The toad.”
Gram continued without further defaming toads. “But there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why not come to us and ask first?”
Her words were a reminder that I had so much left to disclose. “That would have been wise, yes.”
“And why would you enlist Harlan’s help for a sale?”
Celia asked. “Your company must have other investors, ones not tangentially related to us.”
They thought I was working with Harlan? Talk about a communications misfire. “I didn’t. No way. His plans are his plans. I didn’t know about them until he unloaded over tea.”
Celia looked like she kept sorting through the information she’d gathered and couldn’t put it together. “What about the call he says he received? Was that from your company or was it a lie?”
“That beady-eyed guy with the California name. That’s where it came from.”
Gram made a tsk-tsking sound. “Must be. He looked like trouble.”
Brock strikes again. He was the answer in my theory, too. But even I had to admit Brock didn’t touch off this cascading disaster. The honor of lighting the initial fire went to me. “Yes. Well, no. I caused it. Sort of . . . mostly.”
Gram’s mouth flatlined. “Explain.”
“Now, Mags.”
Celia put her hand over Gram’s. “We’re prepared to listen and be fair.”
“We’ll see.”
Gram didn’t even snort this time. She didn’t need to. Her tone said enough.
The green light kick-started my brain. No more stalling or being careful with my words. The truth tumbled out. Every last piece. That ambush at the business meeting. The part about my job being in jeopardy. The pressure from Brock that led to the spontaneous pitch. My panic. My guilt. The regrets that piled on every day I stayed without being honest with them. Coming home and enjoying being here. Ignoring my grown-up responsibilities.
Self-preservation be damned. I verbally vomited all of it. Every last unattractive detail.
Then I waited.
Silence descended. Intense and crushing. Who knew the absence of noise made a pounding sound? It echoed in my ears and vibrated through me. It sucked up all the oxygen in the room and squeezed, touching off a tightening in my chest.
Gram didn’t react to the suffocating stillness. Her facial expression stayed the same. An atmosphere of foreboding wrapped around her. Celia rubbed her forehead as if my long-winded, topsy-turvy explanation gave her a headache. I had one, so it could happen.
The quiet stretched on. Every so often I’d think about stepping in and saying something else, but Gram’s don’t you dare glare stopped me.
After what felt like an hour but was likely a few minutes, Gram let out a long exhale. One of those loud ones that signaled a change in mood and not necessarily a good change. She slowly turned to look at Celia. “I told you she didn’t get two weeks off.”
My unexplained vacation time couldn’t have tipped her off. Grandma radar wasn’t that sensitive . . . was it?
“You were right. I’d hoped . . .”
It was Celia’s turn to deliver a dramatic exhale. “It doesn’t matter.”
The wallop of guilt almost knocked me off my chair. “The love I have for the two of you. Worrying about you. Wanting to be here. All real.”
I needed them to know they weren’t props to me. The business scenario made it sound like I used them to avoid trouble, and maybe I did, but I never meant to hurt them or disappoint them or threaten their control of their business. I really didn’t mean to shine a spotlight on their activities, poison or not.
“How did you think this sham was going to end?”
Gram asked. Her voice hadn’t returned to normal. Fire still burned beneath the surface.
The question. She sounded like Jackson. Man, I wished he’d show up. Pop in and provide silent support even though it served me right to navigate this alone.
“I didn’t think it through. While I’ve been here I’ve been doing a combination of ignoring calls from the office and trying to keep Micah and Brock away from you and the business. I don’t want you wrapped up with them or their investors.”
Gram’s blank expression faded. “Micah? Is that the weird one who changed his name?”
Might as well spill it all. “Yes. He was at Graylyn. Part of their surprise visit to the area. Micah and Brock. They insisted I meet them there.”
Gram nodded. “That explains some of Charlotte’s photos. She should have done a more thorough job.”
“Yes, that’s clearly the lesson here.”
I needed to meet this Charlotte person and tell her to stay out of my business. And stop taking photos. “How mad are you?”
The million-dollar question. How much damage had I done?
Celia winced. “‘Mad’ is the wrong word.”
“Oh, no. Please don’t say ‘disappointed.’”
Not that. Please not that.
“Well . . .”
She hesitated but not for long. “We’ll get over it. Probably by dinner.”
Gram glared at Celia. “Don’t tell her that.”
Celia hadn’t let go of Gram’s hand and didn’t do it now. “We know all about panic and bad decision-making. We can cut her a break.”
Nice. Good. Lovely, even. Also, way too easy. “But?”
“If you didn’t want us to even consider the deal, why poke around in the business and show the sudden interest in helping out?”
Celia might think her disappointment in me would soon fade but her tone said otherwise. “I’m guessing designing a new tickler system resulted from whatever you collected while snooping. That invasion of privacy is hard to ignore.”
Gram responded before I could. “You didn’t share the information with Mr. California, did you?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Not with Brock or anyone.
Gram’s snort said she wasn’t convinced.
“Okay, I deserved that, but it’s true.”
I didn’t have the moral high ground here. I had to suck up all the sighs and snorts and whatever else Gram threw my way. While I did that I could clarify a few points. “Brock is a jackass. I don’t like him or trust him. The fact he and Harlan found each other and joined forces is not a surprise. They share a lot of the same personality traits.”
Celia went in for more reinforcements—more tea. “How would they have met?”
Gram hummed. “Harlan is a toad but a smart toad. He knew Kasey was in town and probably checked up on her.”
Okay. That part. Harlan’s weird obsession with me. That was new and very annoying.
Gram started to say something but Celia cut her off. “Let’s stay on topic. We need more information from you.”
I didn’t have much more to admit, but fine. “Take a shot.”
“Why specifically go through our computer files? Not the new tickler system you’re designing. I mean before. Right after you got here.”
I was wrong. I had a few admissions left . . . so did they. “You were both acting weird. I thought the business might be in trouble and tried to check. I figured you hadn’t said anything because you didn’t want me to worry.”
Gram didn’t look impressed with my attempt to shift the spotlight to them. “And you checked our financial solvency by sneaking around?”
“The point is you could have asked us,”
Celia suggested.
“We all know you wouldn’t have answered.”
The paralyzing anxiety that had settled in and pressed down the minute we started this conversation loosened. The easing of the grip bolstered my confidence. I wasn’t the only one in the room with secrets. Big secrets. “While we’re disclosing things, how about you two take a turn.”
“I’m not sure why you think we’re done talking about you and your choices, young lady.”
That tone usually worked. Gram knew when to use it and when to ratchet up tension. Not going to happen this time. If we were opening up and sharing, they needed to open up the vault and take a turn.
“The locked-up cupcake supplies, which are now not locked. The disappearing stars on your spreadsheet. The funeral pie recipes.”
I didn’t go into greater detail because I shouldn’t have to.
“I don’t know—”
Celia sighed. “Mags, don’t even try. She clearly put some of the pieces together.”
An ally. A reluctant one, sure, but Celia wasn’t hiding or putting me off. I wished that made this conversation easier. “I poked around on your work computer then did a bit of research . . .”
Gram frowned. “What research?”
Nope. Nice attempt at derailing, but nope. “On your clients, the delivery of pies, and dead husbands. I know those things are related. You’re involved. Somehow.”
I waited for a don’t be ridiculous or that’s a wild story or a similar line like we could never, but they didn’t say anything at all. That was their answer. The truth waited in the quiet, lurking and ready to spring.
Thinking something was true and knowing it were two different things. Did I celebrate my ingenuity or find them a lawyer? Maybe rush them into hiding?
No matter the fallout, one truth couldn’t be ignored. “Oh my God. You really did poison Cash Burns, Abigail’s husband.”
More silence.
This time Celia broke it. “Not exactly.”