“Stop saying you’re sorry,” he muttered.
“Okay,” she breathed.
“It’s fine,” he told her.
“I’ll do all the shopping,” she babbled on, even though he said it was fine, “and cooking. And I’ll try to get them to go home early so you can get work done, if you have things to do.”
He blinked slowly, as if she’d somehow surprised him and even though she thought this was strange, she kept right on going.
“Just, you know, find a way to take me aside and give me a warning when you get home, if you have things to see to that is. I’ll take care of it so you can get away. Promise.”
He stared at her for a moment she could swear like she was some strange but wonderful, fantastical being.
Then he bent his neck and touched his mouth to hers.
Something about his kiss was different.
It was strange.
But it was also, definitely, wonderful.
Abby didn’t get a chance to process it. He shifted her so she was back in position, cheek on his ribcage and he went back to scrolling through spreadsheets, opening and closing charts and reading through documents at alarming speed.
Zee had moved away when Cash pulled her up but he came back, walked up Abby’s leg and jumped down into the space made by the crook of her hips. He curled in a tiny, kitty circle and started purring.
Cash didn’t say a word at the addition of Zee he just kept clicking through documents.
Abby watched them fly by as she stroked her cat and Cash twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers.
Then, before she knew it, she was asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Two Important Things Happen to Abby
Abby opened the front door to Cash’s house to see Mrs. Truman standing on his stoop, Jenny, Nicola, Fenella, Honor and Cassandra all behind her.
“Parking is atrocious!” Mrs. Truman snapped by way of greeting then pushed in, grumbling, “We must have walked three miles to get here.”
“We didn’t walk three miles,” Cassandra muttered with a grin in Abby’s direction.
“Felt like it,” Mrs. Truman groused, shrugging off her coat.
Abby ignored Mrs. Truman and welcomed the other ladies with a cheek-to-cheek touch, took their coats, hung them in the cupboard under the stairs and led them all to the garden level.
When they arrived downstairs, they were all looking around in wonder.
“We’ve never been to Cash’s house. It’s gorgeous,” Fenella squealed and Abby looked around.
She’d lit some candles. She’d also gone shopping in Bath that day. She bought a tall, large, cylindrical, glass vase out of which sprouted fragrant, white, hyacinths that sat dead centre on the dining room table. Another identical, but smaller, vase held the same flowers and sat on the edge of the bar that separated the kitchen from the seating area. A third sat on the table between couch and armchairs, also stuffed full with hyacinths.
During her shopping efforts, Abby had purchased a handsome, scarlet-red table runner which ran the length of the dining table. Cash’s sleek, classy, black crockery lay amongst his silver and glassware, the plates hiding the circular, quilted grey pads that Abby also bought. Scarlet napkins Abby picked up with the table runner were folded in rectangles and sat at a slant on each plate.
The aroma of roasting rosemary chicken filled the air and Nina Simone sang softly in the background.
Abby was pleased with Fenella’s comment and further pleased that she was right. Cash’s place was gorgeous but now it didn’t look just show-home gorgeous, it looked home-home gorgeous.
“What’s that smell?” Mrs. Truman, sniffing the air disdainfully, demanded to know.
“Chicken,” Abby answered.
“Chicken?” Mrs. Truman clipped. “I thought we were going to have beef.”
“You talked about beef,” Abby told her. “I never talked about beef.”
Mrs. Truman shot her a glare and then mumbled, “I was expecting beef. All day, I’ve had a taste for beef. Now I get chicken.”
Abby fought a smile and caught Nicola staring at Mrs. Truman in barely-hidden horror.
“Ignore her. She’s crotchety,” Abby told Nicola. “You’ll get used to it.”
Nicola’s eyes came to Abby and she nodded, looking relieved at Abby’s amused acceptance of the older woman but Mrs. Truman spoke.
“I’m not crotchety. I’m particular,” Mrs. Truman informed Nicola. “I like things a certain way. Manners. Behaviour,” her eyes came to Abby, “for instance, people keeping their promises.”
“I didn’t promise you beef,” Abby asserted.
“You did,” Mrs. Truman told her.
“Didn’t,” Abby shot back.
“I’m going to look at the rest of the house,” Jenny cut in. “Abby, you want to show us around?”
Abby’s eyes went to the clock.
Cash had said he’d be home by six thirty but it was five past seven. It wasn’t unusual that he was late, what was unusual was that he hadn’t called.
She shook her head at Jenny but invited, “You all have a look. I’ll get everyone a drink.”
“White wine,” Mrs. Truman ordered sharply as she headed for the stairs, not even attempting to conceal her curiosity at viewing the rest of Cash’s house. Then she finished, “Chilled.”
“That sounds good to me,” Nicola put in, following Mrs. Truman.
“Me too,” Fenella added. She was right on her mother’s heels.
“You know what I drink,” Jenny told Abby and turned to the stairs.
“G&T,” Cassandra requested, moving after the others.
“I’ll just help Abby,” Honor, to Abby’s surprise, stated and the women climbed the stairs.
“That’s nice of you,” Abby muttered, even though she was unsure. She hadn’t yet made her mind up about Honor.
Honor’s eyes were on the stairs and after Cassandra’s booted foot disappeared, she turned to Abby and said in a whisper, “Not really, I needed a chance to talk to you when Mummy wasn’t around.”
Abby went on guard and looked at Honor.
Her face seemed intent, though not unfriendly, but something about it made Abby mentally brace.
Still, Abby replied in a soft voice, “Okay. Can we talk while we make the drinks?”
Honor nodded and Abby asked her to see to Cassandra’s gin and tonic, telling her where to find the liquor and glasses while Abby went to the fridge for the wine.
When she had the wine and was uncorking it, she turned to Honor. “What is it?”
Honor glanced to the side, her eyes catching Abby’s. “Fenella told me what’s going on.”
Abby bit her lip, not sure this was a good thing.
Honor continued, “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re crazy. I know Vivianna exists, I know what she does. So does Suzanne. And, he’s never mentioned it, but I know Alistair does too. The only person who hasn’t seen her is Mummy.”
Abby pulled the cork out of the bottle and asked, “Really? Why not?”
Honor shrugged. “Don’t know. Always thought that was strange, but she never shows or makes a peep when Mummy’s around. Anyway, she, Vivianna I mean, doesn’t do harm to us girls. I think she even likes Suzanne.”
Abby could understand that. Evil, Abby guessed, would know (and like) evil. She didn’t mention this philosophy to Honor for obvious reasons and Honor kept talking.
“I get the feeling she hates Alistair. A lot. She’s always doing things to annoy him when Mummy’s not around. Moving his stuff. Tripping him up as he’s walking through the house. Screaming when he’s on the phone.” Honor stopped and shivered, mumbling, “God, I hate it when she screams.”
Abby’s hand arrested while taking down a wineglass. “She screams?”