The Liar Read online

  Masses of curling hair the color of a sunrise all tumbling around a face that looked like it had been carved out of porcelain—if they carved from porcelain, how would he know? Soft, full lips with a perfect dip at the top, and big, deep, sad blue eyes.

  His heart actually skipped a couple of beats, and his ears buzzed for a minute so he missed most of the argument between Emma Kate and her mother.

  “The kitchen’s the heart of a home, Emma Kate.”

  “The way you keep turning and twisting it, you’re lucky to have a heart left. Let Griff work, Mama, and say hello to Shelby.”

  “Shelby? Shelby! Oh my God!”

  She raced across the room, grabbed the redhead in a wide, swaying hug. Shelby, grabbed Shelby, Griff thought. Nice name, Shelby. Currently his favorite name ever.

  Then it clicked. Shelby—or Shelby Anne Pomeroy, as Bitsy squealed as she gave the redhead another squeeze. His friend Forrest’s sister.

  Miz Vi—on whom he had a mad crush—Miz Viola’s granddaughter.

  You could see if you stopped being dazzled for two seconds, just how Miz Vi had looked as a young woman. How Ada Mae might have looked twenty-some years back.

  Miz Vi’s granddaughter, he thought again. The widow.

  No wonder she had sad eyes.

  He immediately felt guilty for wanting to wrap her up the way Bitsy was—then reminded himself it wasn’t his fault her husband was dead.

  “Oh, I’m just sick about missing your welcome home yesterday, but Henry and I had to go to his cousin’s daughter’s wedding, clear to Memphis. And I don’t even like his cousin. Just a snooty woman, puts on airs because she married a Memphis lawyer. But it was a beautiful wedding, with the reception at the Peabody Hotel.”

  “Mama, give Shelby a chance to breathe.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m just going on and on. I’m so excited to see you. Griff, Emma Kate and Shelby here were joined at the hip, I swear, before they were so much as a year old right up to . . .”

  It seemed to occur to her just why Shelby was home.

  “Oh, honey. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. You’re so young to have such a tragedy in your life. How are you holding up?”

  “It’s good to be home.”

  “Nothing like home. And here mine’s all torn up, so I can’t even fix you something nice. And you so thin, too. Honey, you’re skinnier than a New York model. You always were tall enough to be one. Emma Kate, do we have any Coke? You always were fond of Coke, weren’t you, Shelby?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but don’t trouble about it. I love your new cabinets, Miz Bitsy. They’re so clean and fresh, and just so pretty against that blue-gray on the walls.”

  Widow or not, at that moment Griff wanted to kiss her. Everywhere.

  “Why, that’s just what Griff said. He said they were clean and fresh. Do you really think—”

  “Mama, we haven’t even introduced Shelby. Shelby, this is my boyfriend’s partner, Griffin Lott. Griff, Shelby—it’s Foxworth, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She turned those amazing eyes on him, and yeah, hearts could skip a beat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Hi. I’m a friend of your brother’s.”

  “Which one?”

  “I guess both, but mostly Forrest. And I might as well tell you right off, I’m in love with your grandmother. I’m working on a way to get her away from Jackson so we can run off to Tahiti.”

  That wonderfully shaped mouth curved, those sad eyes lightened, just a little. “It’s hard to blame you.”

  “Griff’s living out at the old Tripplehorn place,” Emma Kate added. “He’s rehabbing it.”

  “So you work miracles?”

  “As long as I can use tools. You should come by and see it sometime. It’s coming along.”

  She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach those big sad eyes this time. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. I need to get on. I’m due at my grandmother’s place.”

  “Now, Shelby, you come back when this is all finished and we’ll have a nice long talk.” Bitsy fluttered around her. “I expect to see you in and out of here just like you used to be. You know you’re same as family here.”

  “Thank you, Miz Bitsy. It was nice meeting you,” she said to Griff again, turned to go.

  “I’ll walk you out.” Emma Kate shoved the market bags at her mother. “There’s cold cuts and made-up salads and plenty of ready-to-eat food. You don’t have to worry about cooking until your new stove’s in. I’ll be right back.”

  Emma Kate said nothing on the way to the door. “Say hey to Granny,” she said as she opened it.

  “I will.” Shelby stepped out, turned. Bitsy’s open welcome made Emma Kate’s reserve all the more painful. “I need you to forgive me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the best friend I’ve had in my life.”

  “That was then. People change.” After shaking back her shaggy hair, Emma Kate stuck her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “Look, Shelby, you’ve had a hard knock, and I’m sincerely sorry about it, but—”

  “You have to forgive me.” Pride demanded she walk away; love wouldn’t allow it. “I didn’t do right by our friendship. I didn’t do right by you, and I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry. I need you to forgive me. I’m asking you to remember that friendship before I ruined it, and forgive me. At least enough to talk to me, to tell me what you’ve been doing and how you are. Just enough for that.”

  Emma Kate studied her face, her dark eyes thoughtful. “Tell me one thing. Why didn’t you come back when my granddaddy died? He loved you. I needed you.”

  “I wanted to. I couldn’t.”

  With a slow shake of her head, Emma Kate stepped back. “No, that’s not enough for forgiveness. You tell me why you couldn’t do something you had to know was important, just sent flowers and a card like that was enough. Tell me the straight truth on that one thing.”

  “He said no.” The shame of it washed over Shelby’s face, burned in her heart. “He said no, and I didn’t have the money or the nerve to go against him on it.”

  “You always had nerve.”

  Shelby remembered the girl who’d always had nerve like she remembered her cousin Vonnie. Vaguely.

  “I guess I used it up. It’s taking all I’ve got left to stand here and ask you to forgive me.”

  Emma Kate took a long breath. “You remember Bootlegger’s Bar and Grill?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “You meet me there tomorrow. Seven-thirty should work for me. We’ll talk some of this out.”

  “I need to ask Mama if she can watch Callie.”

  “Oh yeah.” The chill came back, cooler and damper than the drizzling rain. “That would be your daughter, the one I’ve never laid eyes on.”

  That twisted—both shame and guilt. “I can keep saying I’m sorry, as many times as you need to hear it.”

  “I’ll be there at seven-thirty. Come if you can make it.”

  Emma Kate went back inside, then leaned back against the door and let herself cry just a little.

  • • •

  GRIFF SET THE LAST base cabinet in blessed peace since Emma Kate fell on her sword and took her mother shopping. He gave himself a break, swigging Gatorade straight from the bottle and eyeing the progress.

  He didn’t doubt the champion waffler would love every square inch of the remodeled kitchen once it was done. And it would look clean and fresh—just like the redhead.

  Something going on there, he mused, with Bitsy going on about how Emma Kate and Shelby had been friends practically in the womb, and Emma Kate standing there as stiff and cool as he’d ever seen her. And the redhead sad and awkward.

  Girl fight, he supposed. He had a sister, so he knew girl fights could be long and bitter. He’d have to poke at Emma Kate. It was just a matter of finding the right spot, getting her to open up and spill.

  He wanted to know.

  And he wondered how long was a reasonable length of time before a guy asked
a widow out.

  He should probably be ashamed of himself for wondering, but he just couldn’t drum it up. He hadn’t had such a quick and strong reaction to a woman in . . . ever, he decided. And he liked women a lot.

  He set the Gatorade down and decided since Matt was taking all damn day to fix a sink, he’d start on the upper cabinets. Plus it wouldn’t be just the sink, he thought, as he hauled his stepladder over. There’d be conversation. Nothing got done in Rendezvous Ridge without considerable conversation.

  And iced tea. And questions, and long, lazy pauses.

  He was getting used to it, found he enjoyed the slower pace, and definitely appreciated the small-town vibe.

  He’d had a choice to make when Matt decided to move to Tennessee with Emma Kate. Stay or go. Find a new partner, run the business himself. Or take the leap and start over, more or less, in a new place with new people.

  He didn’t regret taking the leap.

  He heard the front door open. That took getting used to, the way people in the Ridge rarely locked a door.

  “Did you have to make her a new sink?” Griff called out, then set the drill on the last screw of the first upper.

  “Miss Vi found a few other things for me to do. Hey, you’re moving along. This looks great.”

  Griff grunted, stepped down to eye the cabinet. “Word of the day is ‘dithering,’ which has a picture of Bitsy Addison beside it in every dictionary across the land.”

  “She has a little trouble sticking to decisions.”

  And there was Matt’s gift for understatement.

  “I don’t know how she decides to get out of bed in the morning. I’d be further along if your woman had gotten here sooner and taken Bitsy away. She’s thinking the white’s too white, and maybe she picked the wrong countertop. Or the wrong paint color. Don’t ask about the backsplash.”

  “Too late now to change her mind on any of it.”

  “You try telling her.”

  “You gotta love her.”

  “Yeah, you do. But Christ, Matt, can’t we put her in a box for the next three days?”

  Grinning, Matt took off his light jacket, tossed it aside.

  Where Griff was long and lanky, Matt was tough and ripped. He wore his black hair neat and trim where Griff’s strayed past his collar with a hint of curl. Matt kept his square-jawed face clean-shaven while Griff’s narrow, hollow-cheeked one tended toward scruff.

  Matt played chess and enjoyed wine tastings.

  Griff liked poker and beer.

  They’d been as close as brothers for nearly a decade.

  “Got you a sub,” Matt told him.

  “Yeah, what kind of sub?”

  “That fire-breather one you like. The one that burns off the stomach lining.”

  “Cool.”

  “How about we get a couple more up, take a break? A quick one? Who knows how long Emma Kate can keep Bitsy out of our hair.”

  “Deal.”

  As they got to work, Griff decided to start poking.

  “Miz Vi’s granddaughter stopped by. The one who just moved back. The widow.”

  “Yeah? Heard some buzz about that while I was in town. What’s she like?”

  “A heart-stopper. Seriously,” he said, when Matt spared him a look. “She’s got hair the color of her mom’s and Miz Vi’s. Like that painter used.”

  “Titian.”

  “Right. It’s long and curly. And she got their eyes, too. That dark blue that’s nearly purple. She looks like something poets write about, right down to the sad eyes.”

  “Well, her husband died, what, like right after Christmas. Happy freaking holidays.”

  About three months, Griff calculated, and that was probably too soon to ask her out on a date.

  “So what’s up with her and Emma Kate? Check the level.”

  “What do you mean, what’s up? Take your end up a couple hairs. Stop there. Perfect.”

  “Bitsy went on about what good friends they were—are—whatever, and the body language said the opposite. I don’t remember Emma Kate ever talking about her.”

  “Don’t know,” Matt said as Griff set the screws. “Something about how she left with the guy she married.”

  “It has to be more than that.” Griff prodded again, wondered if he’d need his drill. Matt never hung onto the more subtle details when it came to people. “A lot of people move somewhere else when they get married.”

  “They lost touch or something.” Matt just shrugged. “Emma Kate mentioned her a couple times, but didn’t have much to say about her.”

  Griff could only shake his head. “Matt, what you know about women could fit in a thimble. When a woman brings something up, then doesn’t have much to say about it, she’s got a lot to say about it.”

  “Then why doesn’t she say it?”

  “Because she needs the right opening, the right angle. Forrest hasn’t said much, either, but he knows how to keep things tucked away. I didn’t think about giving him an opening on it before.”

  “Before you knew she was a heart-stopper.”

  “There’s that.”

  Matt checked the level again, all sides, before they moved on to the next.

  “You don’t want to start sniffing around a widow with a kid who’s a friend’s baby sister.”

  Griff only smiled as they lined up the second cabinet. “You don’t want to start sniffing around some sassy southern girl who keeps telling you she’s too busy to start anything up.”

  “I wore her down, didn’t I?”

  “Best thing you ever did. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Griff let go of the cabinet to attach it to the first. “You should ask Emma Kate what the deal is.”

  “Why?”

  “Because after she walked the redhead out, she had sad eyes. Before she walked her out, she was a little bit pissed, and after, she looked sad.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. So you should ask her.”

  “Why would I ask her about something like that? Why stir it up?”

  “Matt, jeez. Something’s in there. It’ll just stay in there being pissed or sad until it’s stirred up and let out.”

  “Like a wasps’ nest,” was Matt’s opinion. “You want to know so much, you ask her.”

  “Wuss.”

  “About this kind of stuff? Oh yeah, and not ashamed.” He checked the level. “Right on the mark. We do good work.”

  “We fix it.”

  “That we do. Let’s get the rest of this line up, then have a sub.”

  “I’m with you, brother.”

  • • •