Page 24 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
I tap on the appointment reminder, and the full text pops up.
Your prior appointment has been handled. Your creditor, however, requires your presence in the private study at noon because you’ve got debts to pay and they’re past due.
Open the nightstand drawer. Wear what’s inside. Bring the leather box to me through the door you attempted to open last night.
Do not speak until you’re spoken to.
The last line makes my palm itch to slap him, but I’m quickly distracted by the rest of the cryptic message.
What the hell does your prior appointment has been handled mean? Does that mean he paid off Brett? Or . . .
I don’t want to consider the alternative, because the only thing that matters right now is my family’s safety. I tap the phone icon and pull up my mom’s cell phone number. It rings three times, and I pace the room as I wait for her to answer.
She doesn’t. And her cheery voice-mail message is no comfort.
“Sorry I misse
d you! I’m probably on the golf course right now. Text me, and I’ll call you back when I finish on the eighteenth green.”
My dad’s cell phone is next. It rings twice before he picks up, and I heave a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank God.”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the distillery?”
In that moment, my dad’s gruff voice is the best sound I’ve ever heard. I don’t even care that retirement hasn’t changed him and the distillery always comes first.
“No, no problem. I just wanted to make sure you and Mom were okay. Is everything fine?”
“You having one of those walking-over-your-grave moments? Is that what this is?” my dad asks, always the superstitious one.
I swallow back the fear that gathered in my belly when I got my mom’s voice-mail recording. “You could say that. When Mom didn’t pick up, I worried.”
“We’re fine. She’s out with Jury getting their nails done. For some reason or another, she decided to show up at our door last night with nothing but a backpack. I swear to God, that girl will never grow up. She’s too old to be acting like this still.”
“Jury’s there? Did she say why?” I’m actually happy to hear it. That’s one less member of my family I have to make sure is breathing this morning after I didn’t follow through on my end of the bargain with Brett.
Little by little, the rigidity of my spine eases.
“She said she’s between jobs. Needs a place to crash, and figured she might as well see us and kill two birds with one stone. I swear, if she starts dancing on bars around here, I’ll never live it down at the club.”
I close my eyes, thankful to hear my father bitching about my sister like he usually does, instead of the horrible alternative.
“I’m sure she won’t, Dad. Have you talked to Imogen lately?”
He grunts. “She’s too busy for any of us. Got a text from her this morning that she applied for some fancy postdoctoral program, and she needs letters of reference from people who aren’t family. But she doesn’t want my help to get them. Just suggestions on who to ask.”
That also sounds exactly like my middle sister. She’s determined to do everything herself, even if it means making things ten times harder. It’s like she’s afraid asking for help will make her accomplishments somehow mean less.
Sound a little familiar? an inner voice taunts. I tell it to shut up.
“So, everything’s good? Your golf game is improving?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m bored as hell. I’m running the condo association, but I’m thinking of taking on a couple consulting jobs to keep me busy. I can only play so much damn golf. Your mom drags me out every friggin’ day.”
“Dad—”
“Don’t you dare tell your mother about that. We’ve already had it out. I’m not meant to be retired, though. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
