“I know it’s not much,” Cindy adds in an apologetic tone.
But Jace’s voice rumbles through the doorway seconds before he comes into view. He leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “If the princess, here, doesn’t like it, she can go sleep in the garage.”
“Shoosh!” Cindy scolds. “She is the daughter of my oldest friend, and I will not take any sass from you.”
He snorts. “Oldest friend. Right. When’s the last time you heard from her?”
Cindy lifts her arm and points down the hall. “Out. If you ain’t got nothin’ nice to say, go on.” Jace rolls his eyes and pushes off the wooden frame, but Cindy calls after him. “Dinner’s at seven. You best have dropped that attitude before sittin’ down at my table.” Her light eyes twinkle as she turns back toward me. “That boy is gonna be the death of me, I swear.”
A cold chill slithers down my arms. I warm it with my palms and search the room. “If this is going to be a problem, I’m sure I can find somewhere else to go.”
She steps forward and rests her hands over mine. “Don’t let Jace scare you off. He talks loud, but he’s a big ole pussycat. I’m glad you’re here. Wish it were under better circumstances, but that’s life, I guess,” she says with a shrug.
Her weathered skin crinkles like soft leather. I try to imagine Cindy and my mom raising Cain on dirt Texas roads together, but I can’t. The idea that Sarah Cartwright would even be friends with someone like Cindy Wilder is peculiar in its own right. Had I not received a card from her every year on my birthday, I would have assumed she was a liar. Someone trying to gain access to me for whatever money I may have left or secrets I could give them. Yet while we never met face-to-face, Cindy was always in the background.
She may have been the only real friend my mother had.
“I took the night off so we could all have a nice dinner together and get acquainted. But for now, I’ll let you settle in. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thank you, Cindy. I really appreciate your kindness.”
With another grin, she disappears through the doorway.
Alone, the tears I’ve been holding breach the surface of my lashes. I’ve been strong until now, holding my head high to honor my mother’s legacy. But in the silence of my room, the emotion rolls down my cheeks. I want to be grateful, and for the most part I am, but I can’t shake the unfairness sitting on my heart. I am paying the price of my mother’s greed.
***
The savory scent of roasted chicken pulls me from my room. My stomach growls. It’s been far too long since I’ve had an actualmeal. My mother’s death and the details surrounding it have left me with little to no appetite, but the smells coming from Cindy’s kitchen have me sniffing out food like a bloodhound.
I should probably offer Cindy some help while she prepares dinner anyway. It’s the least I could do after how kind she’s been. But the sound of Jace’s laughter stops me short. It’s deep and rich, yet light in tone. Afraid to disturb the moment, I duck in the doorway and watch.
Cindy stands at the stove while Jace leans against the counter with his palms braced on the edge. Seeing the way he looks at his mother, you’d never guess he was the same asshole who picked me up from the airport just hours before. An easy smile stretches his lips in a way that lights him up from within.
Cindy catches me spying from the hall. “You’re up!” she announces. “I wasn’t gonna wake you till dinner was ready.”
When I open my mouth to reply, a sudden string of curses pull from her mouth. She spins on her heel, holding the edge of her hand. The sight of blood dripping from her fingers makes me woozy, but Jace jumps to attention and takes her in his arms.
I stand like a stone as he runs her wound under water. “You’re gonna need stitches.”
“I’m fine,” she argues, but Jace’s dark brows pull together.
He blots it with a paper towel. “We should have it looked at just in case.”
“I ain’t shellin’ out no doctor bill for a little cut. I’ll live. I promise.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “At least let me finish choppin’ the vegetables, okay?”
She rests her opposite hand on his cheek as if to sayI love youwithout words. My chest tightens. Watching the way he cares for Cindy melts away my earlier fear. Maybe Jace isn’t as bad as I initially thought. Perhaps he really was just in a bad mood. “I can help.”
Darkness drapes over Jace’s good spirits. “Nobody asked for your help, did they? Move out of my way. You're blocking the counter.”
My lips part as I stand there stunned. Correction: Jace isn’t an asshole. He’s only an asshole tome.
But Cindy comes to my rescue. “Don’t be rude, Jace. Why don’t you set the table, hun?”
I nod, twisting this way and that. Jace silently leans over and flips open a cabinet door, where a stack of white dishes sits inside. “Thank you,” I say, but get nothing in return.
Little by little, I learn my way around the kitchen and set out three place settings at the table. I'm busy minding my own business, but I can feel his eyes bore into my back. My skin crawls with unease. What am I doing wrong? I just want to show my appreciation. I may have grown up with housekeepers, but I'm just as capable of helping around the house as anyone else.