“After this, it’s only the finest Southern dining for the rest of the week,” he promised, pulling me into his side for a snuggle.
“Laxative-free, too, right?” I joked before offering him a peck on the cheek. He needed a shave, but I also liked this laidback vacation version of my new husband. The scruff made him appear even more handsome. Maybe I could convince him to grow out a beard.
He dropped a hand to his stomach in memory.“Ugh. I sure hope so.”
I quirked a brow.“Too soon?”
“No, it’s just…” His words fell away. “Did you hear that?”
Both of us directed our gazes toward the closed door, where the sounds of soft but persistent scratching rose to meet our ears, then suddenly fell away.
“Do you think it could be Charlene?” I asked, filled with joy at the thought. I assumed we’d have to wait at least another couple hours to see Blaire and the cats, but maybe I was wrong.
Charles was grinning like a maniac, too.“Only one way to find out.”
We both moved swiftly toward the door. Charles was the one to pry it open. When we looked down, however, nothing was there.
“What is this?” Madame Blue shouted from a couple paces away, holding our kitten up by the scruff of her neck.
Charlene twisted and writhed but couldn’t break free. I stomped right over to them and grabbed Charlene from the horrid old woman’s clutches. “Why are you so mean?” I demanded.
“You knew the rules. No pets allowed!” she huffed.
“She’s not a pet. She’s just a poor lost kitten who got separated from her mother.”
The sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs diverted everyone’s attention before Madame Blue could offer a rejoinder. We all turned to see Blaire racing toward us rather breathlessly.
“There you are, Snowball!” she cried, stopping to rest against the counter.
“Is this your pet?” Madame Blue insisted.
“Yes,” Blaire claimed, proudly raising her chin in defiance.
“No pets allowed,” the old woman shouted, her face growing red.
“Oops,” was all Blaire said before taking the kitten from my protective arms.
Madame Blue huffed, apparently unsure of how to respond to Blaire’s complete inability to care.
Charlene squirmed in Blaire’s arms and turned to face me and Charles. “I’m sorry if I caused trouble. I was coming to find you. I missed you!” she mewled sadly.
My heart broke for her, but I was also still incredibly livid.
“What happened?” Blaire mused, stroking the kitten in her arms as she faced the woman. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Young lady, I will not be disrespected in my own home!” the proprietress fumed.
“Yet you disrespect all your guests constantly. That’s why we’re leaving,” I shot in, hands on my hips in a power pose. “Ever since we got here, it’s been one problem after another. You don’t even care that my husband fell through the stairs due your negligence in keeping up the property. You forced us to change rooms, locked him into the bedroom, slipped laxatives into the potato salad. And to top it all off, you hate animals, first with the bees and now with this sweet kitten.”
The old woman blinked several times hard.“What a string of accusations! All false, of course.”
“Really? Then maybe you should explain yourself,” Charles urged from my side. His voice was much calmer than mine, which I guess made me the bad cop in this scenario.
Blue placed her hands on the counter to steady herself, her voice shaking with rage that matched my own.“I have the house appraised every five years so that nothing falls into disrepair. The stairs were fine as of our last inspection about two years back, so that accident was not on behalf of my negligence. I’ve practically bankrupted myself keeping this house to code to appease the historical society. As for getting locked in the room, old doors stick sometimes. These are the originals after all, and I came and helped you out just as soon as I got back that day. And my cooking? How dare you insult my cooking to accuse me of putting laxatives in the potatoes, when the rest of us ate them and were just fine. Maybe you have traveler’s diarrhea, I don’t know, but again, not my fault. I already explained why pets aren’t allowed. This is a place of business and it’s my right to make the rules. What if a guest was deathly allergic, huh?”
“What about the bees, then?” I challenged, prompted by her comment on allergies, which made me realize she hadn’t addressed that part yet. “Why would you intentionally drive them from the property?”
Madame Blue appeared quite taken aback by this. She even literally took one step back as if she’d been slapped. “I am not trying to drive the bees away. I love them. I use their honey in my tea every morning and had planned to expand this dying business by selling their honey at the local farmer’s market. It’s why I was at the bank that day, trying to get a loan. I hate dealing with ungrateful, self-important guests, but I love those bees.”
“Then why are you planting skunk cabbage and ox-tail daisies and other things that will choke out the garden?” Charles wanted to know. I admired how calm he was able to remain. It was probably the only reason Madame Blue was willing to explain herself at all.
“I am not doing any of that! The garden is my pride and joy, but ever since I took a spill last winter, I haven’t been able to get around as well as I used to. That all falls to Billy now.”
“We saw Billy last night, close to three a.m.,” Charles revealed. “He was outside digging up the roses and replacing them with skunk cabbage. He said it’s what you wanted because the bees were scaring off the guests.”
We all watched Blue for her reaction, which was one of genuine shock.
“He couldn’t possibly have said that. It’s not true!” she insisted, shaking her head emphatically.
Charles sighed.“Perhaps you better take a look in the garden, then.”
After that, we marched outside, Blaire and Charlene in tow, and together Charles and I pointed out the spots where skunk cabbage had been both planted and systematically trampled. We also showed her the place where daisies had been swapped for a lookalike invasive species.
“I can’t believe any of this,” Madame Blue said in a jarringly quiet voice. It was the first time since our arrival two days back that any of her words hadn’t been yelled.
“Looks like Billy has some explaining to do,” Blaire said with a smirk before setting her phone to record video. That girl lived for the drama.
Me? I just wanted a happy resolution for all involved, especially the bees who depended on this garden for their livelihood.
I couldn’t wait to hear what Billy had to say for himself.
20
We marched in a straight line to the third floor of that old stone mansion.
“Billy! Get out here right this instant!” Madame Blue yelled through a closed door.
He grumbled something I couldn’t quite make out, then pried the door open, seeming to have forgotten to put on a shirt. “What is it? I don’t start work for another hour, and you know that,” he complained. His eyes grew wide as he saw the entourage that joined his employer—me, Charles, Charlene, Blaire, and Blaire’s phone, already recording.
“Let me put on a shirt,” he muttered, shutting the door on us.
We all waited in silence until the door popped back open and Billy ushered us in. His room was small, just like the new one we’d been moved to on the first floor. It felt incredibly crowded with all five of us standing in the space, but nobody wanted to leave before getting answers.
“Well?” Billy demanded with a snide expression on his grizzled face. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait one hour?”
The old lady marched right up to him and poked him in the chest with her finger.“What’s this I hear about skunk cabbage and bees?”