Chapter 27. Jade
Jade
Maeve might be super annoying, but this job definitely has its perks. No way would I get tea and scones, served on a sterling silver tray by a real-life butler, if I was scooping ice cream downtown. That gig probably wouldn’t even offer me a meal break.
I’m in the sitting area of Maeve’s chambers, perched on a velvet window seat.
Across from me, Maeve lounges on a chaise, enjoying the warm morning sunlight streaming through the dormered windows.
She’s wearing a moss-colored blouse decorated with pearl buttons, silky trousers, and satin slippers—exceptionally well-dressed for a day at the house, and I doubt she’s expecting visitors.
Aside from me and Dr. Hill, it seems no one else comes to this place, not even the mail carrier.
Which makes me wonder who delivered the package to Holly’s house—or is it our house now? The thought makes me smile, which is ridiculous. I know this is a temporary situation. Holly feels bad for me and is letting me stay, but it won’t last. Good things never do.
And God knows what kind of mess Holly has gotten herself into.
She brushed off the threatening delivery, but what if the danger is real?
Nobody bought my theory that it came from the superslick real estate agent, Gail Provost. What better way to score a prime property than to spook the owner into hightailing it out of town?
But, if it wasn’t Gail, maybe it was someone with a more dangerous agenda.
While I still have a job and a place to live, I need to make the most of my circumstances, but Maeve is meeting my smiles with scowls. Rather than be discouraged, I’m resolved to win her over by the end of the afternoon. The key to success is to be a good conversationalist.
Big Sallie, the guard from juvie who saved me from being throttled on more than one occasion, gave me that tip.
“You don’t mean shit in here. Not even the ‘shit on the bottom of your shoe’ kinda shit,” Sallie preached. “You wanna make friends? Ask about other people. Everyone loves to talk about themselves. Ask more questions than you answer and you might not get your ass beaten daily.”
It was solid advice and easily applied to this situation. I’ll feign interest in all things Maeve, stroke her ego, and eventually break open that hard exoskeleton.
After lunch, Maeve snaps at me to bring her some boxes.
I jump like a nervous dog. Following orders, I head to the closet, pondering how to initiate Operation: Win Over Maeve.
Perhaps I should ask about Conrad. The mystery reader in me must follow the trail of bread crumbs without being overly intrusive.
A marriage no one talks about? A locked tower?
An old ruin? I’m compelled to investigate.
I haul the boxes over to Maeve, my muscles straining. Now I get why Conrad worried about his mom. This job might be too much for me.
“Let’s get this over with.” Maeve sighs, already bored. “This fundraiser is very important, and events of this caliber don’t organize themselves.” She studies her nails as if they’re far more deserving of her attention than I am.
“I’ll try to be efficient,” I promise, opening the first box. I already know what’s in here, but Maeve does not. I hand her some manila folders. She quickly rifles through the paperwork.
“Most of this can be shredded,” she says with annoyance. “They’re just old business documents—long out-of-date.”
“What was Baxter’s business?” I plaster on a cheery smile.
“Pharmaceuticals, mainly,” Maeve replies, flicking the air to push me onto another topic.
“And what about your first husband? I heard he passed away. He must have been fairly young. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not,” Maeve bites back. “He was useless. I try to forget about Geoffrey. He was a gambler—almost lost everything we had. An impressive feat, given our wealth. The Ward family rescued us from financial ruin. I don’t consider Baxter to be my second husband. He was my only real husband.”
Her eyes are sharp, but … are they misty? Is there actual emotion leaking out?
“As it happens with most businesses, Baxter’s company hit some hard times,” Maeve continues, almost talking to herself.
“The drug business is not for the faint of heart. It’s expensive and competitive, and there are too many government regulations.
It’s hard to bring any drug to market. But even when he faced obstacles, he was a master at pivoting and switching tactics. That’s what a real man does.”
Oh, Maeve, your boomer is showing. I let her comment slide, hoping she’ll keep sharing.
“Is his company still in business?” I ask.
“No, he sold it some years ago to a larger drugmaker. They eventually shut down—laid off all the employees. It was like Baxter’s work had never been.” Maeve shakes her head. “Enough with the twenty questions. Just put all this in a pile to shred. Sidney can take care of it.”
“What about the photos?” I blurt, even though Maeve hadn’t acknowledged those.
“Photos?”
I guess she hadn’t noticed. I hand her a few random pictures mixed in with the files. As she examines them, I note the paper quivering slightly in her grasp.
“So long ago,” she mutters. “This was our last big party at the house.” Maeve points to one of the images.
“Was it a fundraiser?” I ask.
“No, it was Conrad’s engagement party.”
“Oh, he’s married? I didn’t know.”
“You’ll have to ask him about that,” she answers cryptically. “Too bad they never had any children. Now I’m left without an heir after my son. What will happen to this place?” She scans the room, as if the walls are vanishing before her eyes.
Then I swear, I hear the click of a lock snapping around her heart. Her gaze hardens. “Shred them.”
In my quest to please the queen, I go to toss the pictures into the “shred” pile, but something catches my eye—something, or more accurately, someone I hadn’t noticed before.
I examine the photo more closely, confirming my suspicions.
Age doesn’t change a person that much. I fold the picture without Maeve noticing, tucking it securely into my pants pocket, right next to the brass keys that I had stolen as well.
Holly lied right to my face when she said she hadn’t worked for the Carmichaels. And I’m going to find out why.