Page 19 of Murder Will Out
Rina stepped back, looking away from Willow’s conflicted face, knowing if she did not, she would instead step forward and hug the girl. And if she did that, the levees would break and wash her away; she would have to feel things, feelallthe things, and she was not ready for that.
Besides, with any proper hug came the high likelihood that Willow’s wine would spill; Rina did not believe in wasting decent Montepulciano.
Rina cleared her throat. “When we heard what had happened at the mansion today, we thought you might want a dinner you didn’t have to think about too much. And maybe that you wouldn’t want to be on your own.”
Diana added, slipping a foil-wrapped baguette into the oven, “If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen—but only if you want to.”
Mac’s phone beeped with a received text; she typed a quick response and put it down. She added, “And if you’d rather we go away and leave you in peace—with pasta, of course—we can do that too.”
Willow’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Mac and the innocent-looking phone on the coffee table. “Who did you text when I got here? Oh God, was it Nick? He’s the one who told you about—about all of it?”
Mac shrugged. “He was worried about you. He wanted to make sure you got here okay and had someone to look after you.”
Willow scowled. “I donotneed looking after, and Idefinitelydon’t need Nick Tyler suddenly deciding he’s responsible for me. Besides, he doesn’t even like me. And I don’t like him. The only thing we agree on, I expect, is how much we mutually dislike each other.”
Mac sniffed. “He’s a man, and most men are resentful of women who are more complicated than they are.”
Diana called in from the stove, “Which is most women.”
“Which is most women,” Rina agreed. “But he also knew wewould dislocate his exceptionally pretty nose if he let you carry all this alone. He called us hours ago.”
Mac continued, “And he texted when you left him at the house so we’d know to watch for you.” She looked sideways at Willow. “He’s not such a bad guy, you know. For a law-and-order type, he’s a decent human.”
“Humph.” Willow pulled out her own phone. At some point during the afternoon, Nick had given her his number; “Don’t hesitate to call or text if you remember anything new or if you think of anything you want to tell me,” he’d said. Well, now she had thought of something. She typed,Seriously? Texting Mac and checking up on me? I am not a child, Nick Tyler. I’m an adult and I’m fine.She clicked Send and immediately felt like an idiot.
The response came in seconds.Thank you for the update, I’m glad you’re safe, and it’s so nice to have you back on the island to be a pain in my tail, Willow Stone. Have a lovely evening.
Butthead.
Bravado and outrage aside, Willow had to admit—to herself, if to no one else—that they were right, and Nick was right too. She did not want to be alone right now.
Rina hesitantly patted Willow’s shoulder. “Sit. Drink your wine.” She went back into the kitchen to give the sauce a stir and dropped a package of tagliatelle into a pot of boiling water. “Dinner in about eight minutes.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With the first taste of homemade pasta sauce, of crisp-crusted garlic bread paired with a perfect caprese salad, Willow started to feel human again. The wine probably helped; Diana kept innocently topping off everyone’s glasses, and Willow could not be sure how much she was drinking. Finn stayed at Willow’s side; she couldn’t be sure if it was genuine affection or the hope that a bit of pasta or fresh mozzarella might fall to the floor, but she appreciated him nonetheless.
Conversation at dinner remained light and inconsequential, for which Willow was grateful. When everyone had finished eating, they moved back into the main room of the cabin: Willow curled up on the overstuffed chair in the corner with Finn’s head resting on her thigh, Catherine perched in the window seat beside the big bow window, and Diana and Mac sat together on the longer couch.
Rina settled into Sue’s ancient glider rocker. Seeing a stranger—more or less—in Sue’s favorite seat caused an ugly little twinge in Willow’s gut, but she forced herself to let it go.
Someone passed around a plate of leftover mini pastries andcookies from the reception. The women were quiet for a time, listening to the sea outside and the wind in the pines. Mac was the first to speak. “So, Willow… what happened? Are you okay to talk about it?”
Rina interrupted gently, “Mac, no. She’s had a horrific day; she doesn’t need to go through it all—”
“It’s okay,” Willow said quietly as Finn’s tail thumped on the cushion beside her, and he looked up encouragingly. “I think I need to.”
Willow told them the story. Most of it. She left out the broken cane, she said nothing of the shawl, and she absolutely remained silent about the thick sense ofpresencein the house, of dozens of invisible eyes watching as she fled.
When she finished, Diana frowned. “Crime tape, you said?”
Catherine murmured, “Told you so.”
Mac turned to Willow. “Catherine was convinced, based on what we saw earlier and what Nick told us, that Talbot had been poisoned. We all told her she was nuts.”
“I don’t think she’s nuts,” Willow said soberly. It made a frightening kind of sense. Geralt had seemed fine earlier in the day, but from start to finish of the reception, he had gone from bad to worse.
Rina was staring down at her own fingers, which were twisted in her lap. Diana said, “Rina thinks it was her fault from screaming at him.”
