“Duh, I’m looking for something. But seeing as it’s not here, it must be somewhere else in this house.”
I can’t help but feel bad. She must be looking for the ruby necklace, a hunk of which is nestled in my pocket. Though not bad enough to tell her what happened. Jack raises one eyebrow and smirks, clueing me into the fact he’s thinking the exact same thing.
She wipes her hands and tiptoes over the carnage, making her way to the double French doors.
“Aren’t you going to clean this up?” Cooper’s brows pinch.
She flicks her gaze at Jack and me. “Isn’t that what your little friends are for?”
Jack shakes his head. “Actually, no.”
Missy’s stilettos freeze in their tracks. Spinning, she paces toward my brother, stopping only when she’s right under his nose. Though he’s at least eight inches taller, thanks to her supersized platform heels, she’s almost able to look him in the eye.
“What did you say?” Her voice is laced with menace.
I bite my tongue, knowing that nothing good can come from getting involved. If anything, it’ll only make matters worse.
Jack tilts his gaze to meet hers. “I don’t work for you so you can’t order me around.”
Her lips part, curling up at the side. “But your daddy does. And your daddy’s daddy worked for the Beaumonts, just like your great-granddaddy. So really, it’s just a matter of time, isn’t it, Johnny-boy? So clean up this mess. Now.” She pokes an acrylic fingernail into my brother’s chest.
Jack’s nostrils flare and his clenched jaw ticks.
Cooper lurches forward, wedging himself between Jack and Missy, forcing Jack back a few steps. Looming over his stepmother, both in height and heft, he says, “Let’s get something straight. Jack’s my best friend, not my employee.” He glances over his shoulder and gestures to Jack, whose face is still flushed crimson, to stand down.
Jack draws a deep breath and obeys, stepping back several strides before tripping and collapsing on a cushion-less sofa fame. I scurry over the piles of debris to join him, eager to offer at least some silent support. There, I grab his hand and squeeze tight. It takes several seconds, but he reluctantly grips me back.
Cooper’s face softens as he turns back to Missy. “Listen, we didn’t come here to give you a hard time.”
“Really? You could have fooled me. Now make yourselves useful while I go find that good-for-nothing caretaker.” She pushes past Cooper and climbs over the rest of the junk she’s strewn over the floor.
Chapter Six
I pull back a cluster of leathery bearberry and snip an extra-fat handful of the bright green stems, dropping them in my sweetgrass gathering basket. After the supreme weirdness with Missy and Beau, Miss Delia’s garden is the perfect refuge, a quiet place to breathe in the fresh, raw scent of nature. It would make an ideal subject for an impressionistic painting, with tiny globs of vibrant color standing in for the myriad flowers and plants that fill this little slice of Eden. If only I had the time. For the last several days, rather than breaking out my travel easel and oils, I’ve been toiling in the dirt, clipping and cataloging the extensive inventory of plants and herbs, then grinding them into powder for Miss Delia to test for our Break Jinx. So far, none have had the explosive power we saw in the Psychic Vision with Sabina. With two-and-a-half weeks left before Cooper’s birthday, I hope we find it soon.
Ordinarily, working the garden would be paradise, but today it’s the exact opposite thanks to Taneea. Mercifully, I haven’t seen much of her lately since she’s either been holed up in her room, or out on one of her “walks” around the island. Though, if the black car we saw the other day has been involved, I doubt she’s done much walking. Whatever has kept her busy, she hasn’t been here. Until today.
“Could it get any hotter?” Taneea whines for the thousandth time as she fans herself in a rocking chair on the porch.
Miss Delia spins her wheelchair around on the stone path that winds through the garden. “I reckon it will.”
Taneea tugs at her clingy low-cut tank. “My clothes are soaked. Haven’t you heard of central air?”
“Sure have. But generations of my kin lived without it. I figure I can do the same. A little perspiration never killed anyone.”
“Gross.” Taneea crosses her arms.
Though I hate to admit it, Taneea’s got a point. It is sizzling. But it’s South Carolina in the summer, for cripes’ sake. If you’re not okay with sweating and occasionally stinking, you probably shouldn’t get thrown out of your house and forced to live with your great-grandmother on St. Helena’s. This island isn’t exactly a hot spot, but there’s got to be something she can do—go to the library or movies, even volunteer at the hospital—anything but hang around here griping and ruining everyone else’s good time.
My patience at its end, I step away from the bearberry, shove my straw hat off my brow, and wipe the trickle of sweat dripping down the side of my face. Hoisting my basket of clippings, I carry it to edge of the porch near Taneea’s chair. Her spicy perfume is strong and thick, almost like a guy’s cologne, and smells vaguely like Asian spices.
Her lips curl into a self-satisfied grin. “Why don’t you get Cooper to come over and drive me to the mall? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hanging out with an older, more experienced girl for awhile.”
Oh no she didn’t. My fingers ball into a fist, yearning to wipe that smirk off her older, more experienced, magenta lips. But instead, I breathe deep, straighten my fingers, and manage to smile back. “Sorry, he’s busy with my brother today.”
Her brow arches, hoisting her silver eyebrow ring upward. “You’ve got a brother? Is he hot?”
I choke a little, unaccustomed to thinking about Jack in those terms. “I guess.”
She scoffs. “So that’s a giant no. But I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s related to you.” Chuckling, she whips out her iPhone. “That’s okay. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to meet guys.”
Leaning toward her, I keep my voice low so Miss Delia can’t hear. “Like the guy in the black car? I bet your great-gran would love to meet him.”
She quirks her brow. “How did you—” She cuts herself off, then plasters a big, fat, fake smile on her lips. Leaning toward me, she narrows her gaze. “Don’t even think about snitching to the old lady. If I want to hitchhike into town, that’s my business, not yours. Or hers. Trust me. You don’t know what I’m capable of. And you don’t want to find out.”
“Hitchhiking? Do you realize how stupid that is?” I snort, completely unimpressed by her tough-girl routine. I’ve fought demon dogs and broken a flesh-eating curse; Taneea Branson’s feeble threats don’t even come close.
Her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare. “Listen, you little suck-up. You think that just because you pluck a few weeds in this garden that makes you something special around here. You’re nothing. Just the hired help.”
I square my shoulders, bolstered by the fact that Miss Delia chose me. “I’m not nothing.” I almost add that I’m not even hired, that I work for free, but somehow I sense that will only undercut my position.
“Maybe so. But she’s my great-grandmother. And no matter what she’s promised you, blood is thicker than water.” She sits back and crosses her arms. Her lips bend as if she’s just realized she’s held the trump card all along.
Maybe she has. Family is, after all, my bottom line, too. But even though she’s struck a chord, I won’t give her the satisfaction of backing down.
I set my hands on my hips. “Then you don’t know her very well because Miss Delia makes her own decisions, for her own reasons.”