“If she stays, it’ll only get worse.”
“Still, I don’t want her to leave.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Neither do I.”
Gigi sucked in her breath as the women reappeared from the other side of the house, this time with her own mother in the lead. “This is so embarrassing.”
“The sad thing is, I doubt they’ve had a drop of liquor.”
“I used to think Mom was perfect.”
“She can’t help it, honey. Southern women are born with the insanity gene.”
“Not me.”
He sighed. “Sooner or later, you’ll go the way of the rest.”
With a hissing noise, the automatic lawn sprinklers came on, and all of them began to shriek.
“I can’t look anymore.”
Ryan buried his daughter’s face in his chest and smiled. “In the morning, we’ll pretend it was all a bad dream.”
Sugar Beth shut off her alarm. It was Tuesday, the day she’d planned to leave Parrish. She turned her head into Colin’s pillow, and as she drew in his familiar scent, she prayed he’d come home before she had to change the sheets. Misery washed over her. She fought it off by remembering last night and the Seawillows. She smiled. Winnie had given her a priceless gift.
She managed to pull herself out of bed—not an easy task these days—and get dressed before she headed for the bookstore.
“I thought you’d be packing now,” Jewel said as Sugar Beth handed over the blueberry danish she’d intended to eat but couldn’t quite stomach.
“A temporary change of plans. I’m hanging around a little longer.”
Jewel’s tiny face brightened. “For real?”
She nodded and filled her in on what had happened with Colin.
“He left? Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Sugar Beth replied, warmed by Jewel’s expression of outrage.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Keep trying to get hold of him.”
Jewel regarded her sympathetically. “From what you’ve said, that could take a while. He doesn’t seem to want to be found.”
“I’m calling his editor. Somebody has to know where he is.”
“You’d better come up with a more believable story than that Oprah thing you told me about.”
“I will.”
Colin’s editor answered on the second ring. “Neil Kirkpatrick.”
“Lady Francis Posh-Wicket here calling from London.”
“Who?”
“I’m the director of Her Majesty’s Royal Office of the Garter. Her Majesty has some rather exciting news for one of your authors. Sir Colin Byrne. Ah, but what a stupid cow I am. He’s not Sir Colin yet. Which is why I need to ring him up. But he doesn’t seem to be answering his bloody phone.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know where he is.”
“Bollocks, sir. Am I to believe you’ve lost one of your most important authors?”
“Excuse me?”
“Perhaps you would like to be the one to tell Her Majesty that Sir Colin has disappeared because I’m sure I don’t want to.”
“Who is this?”
“I must insist you locate Sir Colin im-me-jetly.”
“I don’t know who you are, but I have work to do here.”
“Not until you tell me where the hell he is, you wanker!”
There was a long pause. “Sugar Beth, is that you?”
This time she was the one who hung up.
“They’re all mad, every one of ’em,” said Rupert with conviction.
G
EORGETTE
H
EYER
,
Devil’s Cub
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Blazes of azalea and dogwood announced the arrival of April. Northern Mississippi had never been more beautiful, but Sugar Beth was miserable. She lived her days in limbo, taking comfort only in the fact that no moving company had appeared to pack up Colin’s things. Sometimes she managed to convince herself that Colin was simply trying to manipulate her and that he’d be back soon. But as one week gave way to another, she began to believe he’d meant exactly what he’d said.
Two weeks after Colin had driven away, Ryan appeared at her door with the news that he’d finally called. “He’s rented a house—he didn’t mention where. He says he’s working round-the-clock to finish his book.”
“What about me? What did he say about me?”
Ryan made a business of examining his car keys. “I’m sorry, Sugar Beth. He said he didn’t want to talk to you yet—maybe when his book is done. And he said to stop harassing his publisher. Oh . . . he asked about Gordon.”
Bloody wanker.
He was manipulating her! A flood of righteous indignation drove away the tears that were so close to the surface these days. She pushed past Ryan, headed for the Lakehouse, and spent the evening dancing with Cubby Bowmar.
Her anger carried her through the next two weeks. And then Reflections hit the stores . . .
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jewel crowed. “The book hasn’t been out a full week, and I’ve already sold three hundred copies.”
“Hoo-ray,” Sugar Beth said glumly.
Sue Covner regarded Sugar Beth smugly from behind Jewel’s shoulder. “Look on the bright side, Valentine, honey. Not everybody gets to be immortalized in great literature.”
Marge Dailey poked her head out from the inspirationals. “I think you’re holdin’ up pretty well. If it was me, I swear I’d move to Mexico. Although I suppose that’s not really far enough away, still bein’ in North America and all.”
The whole town was laughing its collective ass off.
The book immediately shot to the top of the New York Times best-seller list, and a reporter from USA Today showed up. Although stories about Colin’s mysterious disappearance had begun to appear in the press, the reporter was more interested in searching out the real-life characters from Reflections. The diabolical Valentine was at the top of his Most Wanted list.
“Why, that’s Sugar Beth Carey you’re looking for,” Amanda Higgins said about five seconds after the reporter arrived in town. “Sugar Beth Carey Tharp Zagurski Hooper.”
“You might remember reading about her a few years back,” her husband volunteered. “She was that waitress who married the oil tycoon. Emmett Hooper was his name.”
The story hit the papers twenty-four hours later, and even Tibet wasn’t far enough away to hide.
Early in May, a month after Colin had left, the painting went up for auction, and the J. Paul Getty Museum bought it for a little over three million dollars. Even though Jewel and the Seawillows did their best to celebrate with Sugar Beth, she wanted Colin. More than any one of them, he’d understood what this meant to her. But the fact that he didn’t bother to call with his congratulations added another log to the smoldering pyre of her resentment.
She completed the paperwork for the trust that would ensure Delilah’s care, then flew to Houston to spend a few days with her and take care of other business. Reflections stared back at her from the window of every bookstore she passed. She treated herself to an appointment at the city’s best salon, followed by a shopping spree, but not even fresh blond highlights and a pair of Jimmy Choo stilettos could lift her spirits.
She returned to Parrish late on a Tuesday night, six weeks after Colin’s desertion, tired, lonely, and teary-eyed. Just as she began to turn off her bedside light, the phone rang, and when she answered, she heard a familiar imperious voice. “Where the bloody hell have you been for the last three days?”
Her legs collapsed. “Colin?”
“What other man would be calling you at midnight, pray tell?”
Everything she’d planned to say flew out of her head. “You bastard!”
“Reached you at a bad time, did I?”