Thirty-Two and a Half Complications
Page 93

“What can I do?” I asked, panicked. “What if this hurts Mason somehow?”
Bruce Wayne put his hand on my arm. “Deep breath, Rose. It’s not gonna get back to him. Maybe Jonah will hear about it, but not Mason.”
“How did I fall into this hole?”
“I dug it for you. I’m sorry.”
“No.” I waved my hand. “What’s done is done. We can’t go changing it now.”
We worked in silence for several minutes and I could tell Bruce Wayne was beating himself up over Skeeter. I needed to get his mind off it.
“Can you believe Violet’s still planning on coming to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?” But then again, maybe she’d changed her mind after our middle-of-the-night argument.
“That should be interesting.”
A new thought struck me. “You’re still coming, right? I know you hate conflict and you might be worried we’ll argue.”
“I’m still comin’. I wouldn’t miss it. Do I need to bring something?”
“Nope. Just yourself.”
We had things wrapped up by three and I hurried home, feeling a rush of gratitude that Mason’s mom had offered to do the shopping. When I got home, I found her in the kitchen, with the turkey in the sink.
“Nothing like giving a turkey a pre-Thanksgiving bath,” she said when I walked in.
“I’m sorry. I should have bought it last week, but with the bank robbery and everything else…”
“Not to worry. We’ll just force him to warm up. Did you have a good day?”
“As good as can be expected when you’re staring into the face of your business’s demise.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
I waved my hand. I was sick of worrying about it. “Just me being dramatic about the break-in at the shop. What I want to know is how your day went. Did you sign the paperwork on the house?”
“I did, and I get possession on the fifteenth. Things are working out perfectly.”
And that’s exactly when nausea started to churn in my stomach. Nothing in my life stayed perfect.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I woke up on Thanksgiving morning feeling more thankful than ever. I had a house I loved, a loyal dog—except when she was kissing up to Joe, of course—and a loving man whose mother was a wonderful asset to our lives. I had so much to be thankful for I decided to ignore my troubles and revel in the positives.
Mason was still dozing and I snuggled against him, almost wishing we could stay in bed half the day. My phone dinged with a text message and I leaned over to grab it, figuring it was Violet telling me that she wasn’t coming after all. I wasn’t expecting the message on the screen.
It’s all going down today. Your presence is required. Time TBD
They had moved the auction. Why? And I’d never agreed to go in the first place. What was I going to do? But even as I asked myself the question, I knew I had to go. The real question was what would I tell Mason?
He rolled over and pulled me against his chest. “Who was that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I set the phone down on my nightstand. “I can think of a much better use of my time.”
His lips found mine and his hand skimmed along my neck before he lifted his head. “Rose, your heart is racing at a million miles per minute.”
“It doesn’t take much for you to get me worked up.”
His eyes pierced mine. “Are you sure that’s it?”
“What else could it be?” Then I thoroughly distracted him, so that he never thought to ask me again.
After we got up and got ready for the day, I texted Neely Kate.
I have to go into town later, but I can’t tell M why. Will you cover for me?
She answered within seconds.
What are you up to?
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to tell her. But before I could answer she sent:
It’s about Skeeter, isn’t it?
Yes
She didn’t answer me for ten minutes and I worried that I’d pushed her too far.
Promise me you’ll be careful
Pinky promise
When?
I’ll text you when I know. I’ll tell M I’m helping you make pies.
But I’m not making pies.
Even better
I was a nervous wreck for the rest of the morning, and I did a really bad job of hiding it. Mason’s mother and I were in the kitchen making multiple dishes for the dinner later that afternoon and I kept dropping things.
“Are you okay, Rose?” she asked after I dropped a bag of potatoes that spilled all over the floor.
“Yeah, fine,” I murmured. It was past eleven and I still hadn’t heard anything more from Skeeter.
“It’s normal to be nervous while hosting your first Thanksgiving,” she said, squatting next to me and helping me pick them up. “It’s going to be lovely. Don’t worry. It’s the company that matters. The food comes second.”
I leaned over and gave her an awkward hug. “Thank you.” This woman was as kind and understanding as I’d always wished my own mother would be.
My cell phone buzzed with a text in my sweater pocket. I finished scooping up the vegetables and set them on the counter. “I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
Mason’s mother put her hand on mine. “Deep breath. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Too bad she didn’t have the sight.