14
By noon I’m feeling considerably better.
I’ve spoken with my PI again. Archer appreciated the heads-up on Acacia’s father.
He insisted from the outset that any and all information could be helpful.
Acacia is behaving as if nothing happened.
All cheery and eager to help. We have not spoken again about the necklace or my sending her back to the city.
I decided to make my own breakfast, and then I made lunch as well.
Olivia’s favorite grilled cheese sandwiches.
Along with the sandwich, I’ve consumed about half a gallon of water, and it seems to be helping.
My mind is clearer, and, other than the usual stiffness and aches, I’m feeling pretty good.
Well enough, in fact, for a road trip. I intend to go by the market and talk to the delivery guy if for no other reason than to officially check him off the suspect list.
Just as I’m about to announce the expedition into town, Olivia’s eyes round as if she’s thought of something very important. “Mommy, I drew a picture for you this morning!” She drops the remainder of her sandwich on the plate, scrambles from her chair and rushes out of the dining room.
I stare after her. “This must be very important for her to leave her favorite sandwich half eaten.”
Acacia chuckles. “She was worried about you yesterday. I think she thought some artwork would make you feel better.”
I sigh and offer, “To be a child again.”
Acacia pushes her plate away. “Life is far less complicated when you’re a kid.”
“Very true.” I have almost no actual memories from my early childhood. Possibly it’s better that I don’t. My life was not what those around me believe. “You said your father was a veterinarian. What about your mother?”
“She was his vet tech, at least until I was old enough. They liked keeping me busy.” She shrugs.
“I guess they thought it would keep me out of trouble.” She blinks, her face pales a bit as if she realizes she said more than she intended.
“They were very religious. You know the whole ‘idle hands are the devil’s tools.’”
How odd that she is speaking so casually under the circumstances. Does she believe I will forget all that’s happened?
Acacia stares expectantly at me. I realize I didn’t respond to her comment. “I’m sure they just wanted the best for you.” I produce the expected smile.
Olivia skips back into the room holding her artwork as if it is a Picasso original and very valuable.
I make all the proper sounds of approval.
“It’s just beautiful, sweetie.” I take the paper and inspect it more closely.
“Is that me?” I point to the taller of the two stick figures.
The red swirls of what I suspect are supposed to be hair would suggest as much.
Olivia nods. “And that’s me.” She points to the smaller image with the long brown hair. “We’re going on a scavenger hunt.” She then proceeds to name each of the items she has drawn in various places on the page. “Seashells. A turtle. Sand bucket.”
“We’ll have another scavenger hunt soon,” I promise.
“Yay! I’m going to hang my picture on the ’frigerator,” Olivia announces proudly before running off to the kitchen.
The sound of the front door opening and the security system announcing there are thirty seconds to enter the necessary code echoes through the house.
Acacia’s face pales. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry. I had to call him. I was worried after the way you tore up your room and then slept so long.”
“Julia! Olivia!” Phillip’s voice booms. The alarm’s countdown stops abruptly.
The conversation that follows is unclear beyond the fact that my husband is not alone.
Then I recognize the other voice. Rick. Mr. former FBI himself.
Fury lashes through me, and I give Acacia a sharp look. So this is why she isn’t worried about me firing her. She called Phillip, knowing he would come. She wants it to appear that I’m the one with the problem.
I suppose I am—and she is the problem.
The quiet conversation between the two men continues as they make their way along the hall.
I push back my chair and stand before informing her, “We’ll talk about this later.”
By the time the two new arrivals enter the dining room, Acacia has busied herself clearing the table.
Olivia bursts from the kitchen and rushes to her father.
He pulls her into his arms and hugs her tightly.
Watching this reaction from him as well as from Olivia always touches me deeply—even when I don’t want it to.
“You didn’t need to come,” I say rather than hello. I ignore Rick completely. I do not want this interference. Least of all from either of them. As foolish as that might sound, I know what I must do. It’s everyone else who doesn’t . . . who can’t possibly understand. The less they know, the better.
Phillip sets Olivia back on her feet. “Livvy, why don’t you go into the living room and turn on the cartoon you like so much.”
“Why?” She peers up at him, suspicious. She’s old enough to recognize what this means. The grown-ups need some private time.
“Because the one with the puppies has a new episode,” he tempts. “I saw the trailer pop up as soon as I turned on the television this morning.”
“Okay,” she agrees with feigned reluctance. She shoots me a look as she marches out of the room. “Grown-up stuff.”
Acacia follows right behind her.
I wait until I hear the television before I turn back to Phillip. “Acacia overreacted. Everything is fine. I came here to get away from the city and the noise. I don’t need all these voices.” I send a pointed look at Rick as well.
“Jules.”
God, I hate when Phillip calls me that. His need to use nicknames drives me crazy.
He rounds the table and pulls me against his chest no matter that I resist. “I’m worried about you.” He draws back. “After all you’ve been through, I think this business with the article is just too much.”
I hang on to my patience, hard as that proves. “I am perfectly fine.”
“I spoke to the manager at the market,” Rick chimes in.
Of course he did. I cannot believe Acacia spilled her guts so thoroughly.
I really would fire her except I need her close until I can confirm and draw out the person who planted her in our lives.
She didn’t just appear in ours or Eleanor’s for no reason—there is no doubt about that part.
I want to know the entire story, and then I want to . . . do whatever I must.
Phillip settles into a chair at the table, but Rick remains standing.
I know him well enough to understand he won’t take a seat until I resume mine.
He’s far too much of a gentleman—at least that’s what he wants the world to believe.
Phillip, on the other hand, believes that I will follow his lead as I generally do, particularly when there is an audience. Not this time. This time I’m too angry.
“What did you learn?” I might as well know. I just hope the former agent didn’t torment poor Helen with some sort of interrogation. I already did a bang-up job of that. The last thing I need is her turning in her resignation.
“His name is Gilbert, Gil, Neilson. He’s new at Balducci’s. No record. No issues I could find. The manager says he’s a good worker. I spoke to him, and he insists he never went beyond the kitchen when he made the delivery.”
“Are you suggesting Helen lied?” The idea isn’t completely impossible, but it’s very unlikely. Helen came highly recommended. Not to mention why she would wait all these years to suddenly do such a thing. But Rick’s actions and statements are exactly what I expected from him.
Which only confirms how jaded I am when it comes to men like him—the ones who couldn’t get the job done twenty years ago but who know it all now.
When you don’t have money, even the wrong thing can feel right. This will likely be his next conclusion.
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Rick assures me. “I’m saying Helen has access to the house whenever she chooses, and money can be a motive.”
There it is.
Somehow it pisses me off that these two want to blame the female in the equation.
The wrong one, at that. Helen is a good and kind person.
A widow who works hard to support herself.
I hesitate before I launch the—no doubt expected—rebuttal.
“The only time we’ve been out of the house since we arrived is when we took Olivia on a scavenger hunt right here on the property.
We were out for an hour or more, I guess.
But that was after I found the necklace.
” I shake my head. “Unless you’re suggesting she did these things before we arrived, but that doesn’t really work either since she had basically no advance warning. And we could always ask the guard.”
I haven’t bothered because I am convinced Acacia is the culprit.
Phillip glances toward the living room where the volume of the television is much too high. I should ask Acacia to turn it down.
Then he looks directly at me. “Acacia suggested perhaps Liv found the necklace—”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t even go there,” I warn.
“What about Acacia?” Rick asks, looking from me to Phillip and back. “How well do you really know her?”
Of course it was Acacia. The question is who put her up to it?
“You should ask Phillip that question.” After all, he’s the one who brought her into our lives.
Phillip shakes his head. “Why would she do such a thing? What would she have to gain?”
Oh my God. I cannot take this. What the hell was she thinking when she called Phillip?
“Phillip, we’re fine. As I said, Acacia overreacted. I will figure this out, and everything will be fine. You need to go back to the city and focus on your campaign.”
The astonishment on his face almost makes me laugh. “What?” he demands. “Acacia led me to believe—”
“We’re fine.” I cut him off.