Black Rose - NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

“I might have to put this aside until after Stella and Logan’s wedding. It’s snuck right up on me. Seems to me, however demanding the dead may be, the living ought to have priority.” She got out a bottle of water and a fresh lemon. “I can’t believe those boys aren’t going to be part of the household in a few more days.”

She poured and sliced, then offered him the glass.

“Thanks. I think they’ll be around enough you’ll feel like they are.”

“I like to think.” She poured her wine, but the phone rang before she took the first sip. “Where is David anyway?” she asked, and answered herself.

She listened for a moment, then smiled slowly at Mitch. “Hello, Jane,” she said and lifted her wine in a toast.

“THIS IS SOexciting. It’s like a spy thriller or something.” Hayley bounced on her toes as she, Roz, and Stella rode the elevator up to Clarise Harper’s apartment. “I mean, we spend the morning getting manicures and pedicures, and the afternoon sneaking around to hunt up secret documents. It’s totally glamorous.”

“Say that later if we’re arrested and spending the night in jail with Big Bertha,” Stella suggested. “If Logan has to marry me through jailhouse bars tomorrow, I’m going to be royally pissed.”

“I told you not to come,” Roz reminded her.

“And miss this?” After a bracing breath, Stella stepped off the elevator. “I may be fussy, but I’m no coward. Besides, Hayley has a point. It is exciting.”

“Going into a crabby old woman’s overfurnished apartment and taking away what’s rightfully mine—along with a scared little rabbit—doesn’t strike me as exciting. Jane could have gotten them out herself, saved us the trip. There’s enough to do with the wedding tomorrow.”

“I know, and I appreciate, so much, you giving us the day off so we could primp.” On impulse, Stella kissed Roz’s cheek. “We’ll work twice as hard after the wedding to make up for it.”

“You might just have to. Now just pray the old ghoul is out getting her hair permed, as advertised, or this will be ugly.”

“Don’t you sort of hope it is?” Hayley began, but the door creaked open. Jane peeked out through the crack.

“I . . . I didn’t expect anyone but you, Cousin Rosalind. I don’t know if we should—”

“They work for me. They’re friends.” With no patience for dithering or ado, Roz nudged the door open, stepped inside. “Jane, this is Stella and Hayley. Jane, did you pack all your things?”

“Yes, there isn’t much. But I’ve been thinking, she’s going to be so upset when she gets home and finds me gone. I don’t know if I should—”

“This place is as horrible as ever,” Roz observed. “Positively reeks of lavender. How do you stand it? That’s one of our Dresden shepherdesses there, and that Meissan cat, and . . . screw it. Where are the diaries?”

“I didn’t get them out. I didn’t feel right—”

“Fine. Give me the key, show me where, and I’ll get them. Let’s not waste time, Jane,” Roz added when the girl simply stood biting her bottom lip. “You have a new apartment waiting, a new job starting bright and early Monday morning. You can take them or leave them, your choice. But I’m not leaving this lavender-stinking apartment without what’s mine by right. So you can give me the key, or I’ll just start tossing things around until I find what I’m after.”

“Oh, God. I feel sick.” Jane dug into her pocket, pulled out an ornate brass key. “The desk in her room, top drawer.” Pale as glass, she gestured vaguely. “I’m dizzy.”

“Snap out of it,” Roz suggested. “Stella, why don’t you help Jane get her things?”

“Sure. Come on, Jane.”

Trusting Stella to deal with the situation, Roz turned to Hayley. “Watch the door,” she ordered.

“Oh, boy, hot damn. Lookout man.”

Despite herself, Roz chuckled all the way into Clarise’s bedroom. There was more lavender here, with an undertone of violets. The bed had a padded headboard of gold tufted silk, with an antique quilt Roz knew damn well had come out of Harper House. As had the occasional table by the window, and the art nouveau lamp.

“Pilfering old bitch,” Roz grumbled and went directly to the desk. She turned the key, and couldn’t quite hold back the gasp when she saw the stacks of old leather-bound journals.

“This is going to be a kick right in your bony ass,” she decided and, opening the satchel she carried over her shoulder, carefully slid the books inside.

To make certain she had them all, she opened the rest of the drawers, riffled without qualm through the nightstands, the bureau, the chest of drawers.

Though she felt silly, she wiped off everything she’d touched. She wouldn’t put it past Clarise to call the cops and claim burglary. Then she left the key, plainly in sight, on top of the desk.

“Stella took her down,” Hayley announced when Roz stepped out. “She was shaking so hard we thought she might have like a seizure unless she got out of here. Roz, the poor thing only had one suitcase. She got everything she owned into one suitcase.”

“She’s young. She’ll have plenty of time to get more. Did you touch anything in here?”

“No. I thought, you know, fingerprints.”

“Smart girl. Let’s go.”

“You got them?”

Roz patted the satchel. “Easy as taking candy from a baby, which Clarise has been known to do.”

It wasn’t until they’d settled Jane into her apartment and were well on the way home that Roz noticed Hayley was uncharacteristically silent.

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts, guilty qualms, whatever.”

“What? Oh, no. No. Those journals are yours. If it’d been me, I’d have taken the other things that belonged to Harper House, too. I was thinking about Jane. I know she’s younger than me, but not all that much. And she seems so, I don’t know, fragile and scared about everything. Still, she did a brave thing, I guess.”

“She didn’t have what you had,” Roz said. “Your gumption, for one, and a lot of that’s just the luck of the draw. But she didn’t have a father like yours. One who loved her and taught her, and gave her a secure and happy home. She doesn’t feel strong and attractive, and you know you are.”

“She needs a good haircut, and better clothes. Hey, Stella, wouldn’t it be fun to make her over?”

“Down, girl.”

“No, really. Later when we’ve got the time. But I was thinking, too, how she looked when she walked into that little apartment. How grateful and surprised she was that you’d sent some things over, Roz. Just basic things like a couch and bed, and food for the kitchen. I don’t guess anyone’s ever done anything for her, just to be decent. I felt so sorry for her, and happy for her at the same time, the way she looked around, all dazzled and weepy.”

“Let’s see what she does with it.”

“You gave her the chance to do something. Just like you did with me, and Stella, too.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

“I will. We all came to this corner, and you’re the one who gave us a hand to get around it and start down the road. Now Jane’s got a place of her own, and a new job. I’ve got a beautiful baby and a wonderful home for her. And Stella’s getting married tomorrow.”

She began to sniffle, and Roz rolled her eyes toward the rearview mirror. “I really mean don’t start.”

“I can’t help it. I’m so happy. Stella’s getting married tomorrow. And y’all are my best friends in the whole, wide world.”

Stella passed tissues over the seat, and kept one out for herself.

THERE WERE SIXTEENjournals in all, five of her grandmother Elizabeth Harper’s, and nine written by her great-grandmother Beatrice. And each was filled, first page to last.