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Chapter Seven
Robin was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling the sleeves of his shirt back through the right way when I opened my eyes. I reached over and trailed my fingers down his long, bare back, making him shiver.
"Morning," I said, my voice still hazy with sleep.
He turned and bent to kiss me.
"Morning, Roe."
His hair looked like a haystack. He hadn't put on his glasses yet, and his eyes were blue and soft. He looked good enough to eat.
"Are you in a particular hurry?" I asked.
"Just wanted to get out of the way before your company wakes up," he said.
Oh hell. I'd forgotten all about Phillip's presence in my house, to say nothing of the Wy
"I'll come get him about eleven-thirty, after I've worked a few hours, and take Phillip to lunch." Robin stroked my hair back from my face. "You know, tomorrow's Thanksgiving."
"You're going to eat here, right?"
"We pla
I pulled a pillow over my head. I didn't want to think about meeting Robin's mother for the first time on a national holiday, when food was the main focus of the day. I wasn't that confident of my cooking.
I'd just have to suck it up and act like a woman.
"She wasn't pla
"No, I told her I had made plans for us." Robin looked hopeful. "What can I bring?"
I laughed and pulled the pillow away. "Oh, okay, I guess I'm up to it. Let me think. I picked up a turkey breast at the store the other day, thank God. I thought a whole turkey would be too much for just us. So that leaves sweet potatoes, peas, rolls, and cranberry sauce. And dessert."
"I can get rolls and the peas," Robin offered helpfully. "And I can bring some wine."
"That's good. Okay, I'll get the sweet potatoes and fix them, and the cranberries, and I'll make a pie or two. That'll work out."
"What about your mother and her family?"
"I don't know what on earth they're going to do. I think Melissa and Avery are going to Melissa's parents, and I guess they'll take their kids and the baby with them. John David will probably go to my mother's, whatever she's up to doing. They have enough food there to last them through the winter, I think." When I'd been at the house this afternoon, the refrigerator had been full to overflowing.
"You'd better check. Maybe your folks could come over here for a glass of wine after di
"You want my mother to meet your mother," I said, suddenly getting his drift.
"Yes."
I couldn't think of a thing to say. "Oh. Okay." I looked anywhere but at Robin. "Um, how long is your mom staying?"
"Until Monday," he said. "I'll bet by then she'll be ready to leave. In fact, she'll be anxious."
"I'm glad she's got other children besides you," I said, laughing.
"She loves all of us, but she's most comfortable in her own home with her dogs, and her buddies," he said.
A plaintive meow outside the door told me that Madeleine was waiting for her breakfast. She wasn't used to the bedroom door being closed.
"I have to go feed the Mongol horde," I said, making myself get up from the warm bed and pull on a bathrobe. It was an effort, because I wasn't feeling so great. An overload of emotion? I was a little achy, a little tired.
"I'll call you later today," he said. "After I feed Phillip and plumb his darkest depths, I'll go get my mother at the airport. Then we'll talk about tomorrow."
"Sounds good," I said, thinking of all the things I had to do today. I had to run the strange errand with Bryan Pascoe. I was supposed to work for a few hours. I had to go to the grocery store again. I wanted to spend some brain time thinking of what could have been hidden in Poppy's closet, something so valuable that it was worth breaking into the murdered woman's house before it had even been cleaned of her blood.
And, most of all, I needed to talk to Liza
Melinda and I had kept silent about Liza
I called Melinda to ask her to go with me. She was very busy, as you can imagine, but she agreed to go. She wanted to hear what Liza
The yard had not been put to bed for winter at the sprawling ranch Cartland had bought when his practice had begun flourishing. The flower beds needed weeding and more mulch, and the grass hadn't gotten its final mowing. Someone had given up just a little too soon. A fenced-in area was strewn with little kids' toys, bright plastics that would crack in the coming cold. But the smell of corn bread rolled out of the back door when Liza
"Come in," Liza
Melinda and I came in cautiously; I thought we were both taken aback by Liza
Brandon was deposited in his playpen with absolutely no fuss, and he sat up and watched with interest as his mother, still one of the most beautiful women I'd ever known, despite having popped out two babies in almost instant succession, slid a pan of corn bread out of the oven and set it on top to cool.
"For the dressing," Liza
"Do you fix yours in a separate pan or in the bird?" Melinda was serious when she asked this burning question. Melinda had been on the quest for the perfect dressing for the past two years.
"Both. There isn't enough, if you just stuff the turkey. And I put some sausage in."
Melinda's eyes lighted up with interest, and she began to talk apples, oysters, and chestnuts. They might have been sitting there for an hour, talking food, if I hadn't interrupted.
"Listen, Liza
"Oh." She looked quite unsurprised. "Why didn't you give them to the police? You should have."
"What were you doing there?"
"Well, I was getting tired of Bubba going out at night and making these silly excuses," Liza
"So, you confronted Poppy?"
"I was ready to." I watched Liza
"What were you going to say to her if she'd come to the door?" I asked out of sheer curiosity.
"I was going to remind her that since, at Bubba's request, I quit my job after we got married, he is the boys' and my sole support. I was going to point out to her that there are better fish in the sea than Bubba."
Melinda and I exchanged glances. "What do you mean?" Melinda asked. Liza
"Poppy was more serious about Bubba than she was about the other men," Liza