Rosewood - Part 19

 

            When she returned to the cabin’s main room, Chris was feeding kindling into the grate, nervous yellow flames licking at the paper towel he’d used to start the fire. She set her bags on the floor at her feet – God knew where she was supposed to put them at this point – and proceeded onto the kitchen with her groceries.

            It was a man’s kitchen: outdated everything, folding card table and chairs, old beer in the fridge, TV set up on the counter. The window above the sink overlooked a pebble-floored patch of yard that was littered with leaves and pine cones, thick hardwood branches crowding against one another. It was the picture of serenity.

            She unwrapped her candy bar while she stood at the counter, broke off a chunk and popped it in her mouth. I’m making the best of this, she told herself. At least Jo…

            Oh, who was she kidding? Jo had probably rendered the inn to ashes by now. She had her phone in hand and was dialing when she heard Chris’s boots coming up behind her.

            “Calling for backup already?” he asked.

            Her thumb froze above the call button. “I was just gonna check on Jo.”

            He joined her at the counter and reached to break off a square of chocolate for himself. He had that look – the grumpy, dejected one that always made her feel guilty.

            Jess slipped her phone back in her coat pocket. “I’ll call her later.”

            He brightened immediately. “You wanna come see the shed? Dad’s got an old chainsaw – I’m gonna see if it’ll crank and get to work on the tree.”

            She blinked. “You mean, you’re going to try to remove it?”

Rosewood - Part 18

Short one today. I'm helping with a party tomorrow, so even this much was pushing it. Hope everyone has a lovely rest of their Saturday.

            “So this is the living room,” Chris said, dropping their bags to the hand-braided rope rug beneath their feet. “Real wood burning fireplace,” he said, tossing her a smile over his shoulder.

            Jess’s returning smile was thin at best. “It’s nice,” she said flatly.

Rosewood - Part 16

This takes place during the baby shower sequence. It's something I've been kicking around in my head. I know I want to do another spin-off mystery at some point, so playing around with the idea.

Trey and Paige

            He’d been to Rosewood a handful of times at this point, but Trey always forgot where the first floor bathroom was. It was tucked in a hard-to-spot corner, in an alcove between the guest dining room and the entrance to the staff quarters where Ben’s sister-in-law lived with her family.

            After he’d dealt with the problem his three beers had created, he paused in the hallway, scratching absently at his hair. Except for a single bowl of salsa, the guys in the game room hadn’t been fed. Well, that wasn’t true, but the main buffet was set up in the great room, where all the present-opening, baby-oohing-and-awing was going on.

            Not anything he wanted to get tangled up with.

Rosewood - Part 15

 

 

Chris parked beside a detached garage that he informed her housed his dad’s deer dressing equipment. Jess decided she’d rather not find out what that entailed, and followed him to the cabin. What was left of it, anyway.

            Picking her way carefully across the pine cone-laden drive in her stilettos, she hugged herself against the nip in the breeze and tried not to panic. The tree looked like it had been struck by lightning, great charred fingers of black snaking in jagged patterns from the place where the trunk had split. White slivers of wood had showered on all sides. The air still smelled of sickly sweet sap and rot. It was a skinny pine, but tall, and it had crashed right through the roof and taken a tree-shaped bite out one exterior wall, and whatever it had gone through inside.

Rosewood - Part 14

 

 

 

“It’s beautiful.”

            And it was, but not in a way she felt like putting into words. It would make her sound young, girlish, and silly, and she wasn’t any of those things anymore. The road curved gently through the foothills, jagged outcroppings of rock shading the pavement. Trees marched up the steep hillsides, their ranks thick and varied. The pines were tall, thin, bowing in the autumn wind. The maples were all in tatters, their tops bare, striated limbs tickling at the pine boughs, their lowers heavy with brilliant yellow and orange leaves. The sycamores were white and bare. The cypress looked like shadows between the hardwood trunks. Morning sun gilded the crests, teasing at what lay beyond, making her hungry for higher elevations and loftier views. And above them, the sky was such an intense blue it looked ready to crack, the finest of glazed china.

            Behind the wheel, Chris leaned forward to peer through the windshield, up toward the hills. “Especially this time of year,” he agreed. “It’s quiet up here. Just the trees.”

            Just the trees and the two of them.

Rosewood - Part 13

 Rosewood - Part 13

(The beginning of the next chapter)

            “No, you just go and have fun and don’t worry about anything.” Jo gave her older sister a gentle push between her shoulder blades, trying to propel her forward. “We have this handled.”

            Jess braced her feet on the porch floor and half-turned, frowning. She was in a long, drapey gray sweater and black tights, wicked stilettos. Her nails were red and her hair and makeup were flawless. She was taking this romantic getaway thing seriously. But her face was too white, the line of her lips too tight. Now, when it was time to leave, stress had its hooks in her. “Don’t worry? Jo, I’m leaving you in charge of things – ”

            “And unless you want to start your trip with a fight, you won’t finish that sentence,” Jo said sweetly, and gave her another nudge.  “Go on. Your chariot awaits.”

Rosewood - Part 12

After a question about it, I'm thinking of compiling and expanding these shorts into a collection of Walker stories for paperback and ebook. I'll let everyone know. Thinking of turning it into a holiday volume.

 

Rosewood – Part 12

 

            “Are you happy here…with me?”

            The silence that followed was oppressive. Jess could hear the blood rushing through her ears, the unsteady thump of her heart; her utter stupidity was a riptide, pulling at her, dragging her under a haze of embarrassment and fear. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? Why did she always have to ruin things –

            Chris pulled in a deep breath, his chest lifting, eyes widening in obvious alarm, before he said, “What?”

            She couldn’t look at him; she glanced away, attempting to swallow the lump in her throat.

            “Are you serious?”

            She took a shaky breath. “Well are you?”

Rosewood - Part 11

 

Rosewood Short – Part 11

 

            “Your sister listens to what I tell her.”

            “Jo’s the baby; she’s required to listen,” Jess said as she moved down the gallery. She knew the moment it left her mouth she shouldn’t have said it. “I listen,” she added, “and take what you say into consideration.”

            Behind her, the strike of her flats like gunshots on the refinished hardwood, Jess’s mother made an incensed, maternal sound. “I’m only suggesting – ”

            “You aren’t suggesting,” Jess said, rounding the corner at the end of the staircase and moving toward the kitchen. “You’re beating me over the head.”

            “I’m only saying,” Beth persisted, “that it would be beneficial.”

            There was a tangle of female voices echoing on the other side of the swinging kitchen door and Jess spun around when she reached it, putting her back to it, and squared off from her mom. Beth pulled up short to avoid colliding with her. Her face was set at a Jo-like angle, stubborn.

            Jess fought for patience. “How would it be beneficial for me to go away and leave my business for a week? And what would I need with a hotel? I live in a hotel, Mom.”

            “Yes, you live here, you work here, you spend every waking second here. You’re burnt out, Jessica. You’re pregnant, you’re exhausted, and you’re killing yourself. You need a break.”

Rosewood Short - Part 7

*A short one today. The next few will all be part of the same day.*

 

 

 

 

Rosewood Short – Part 7

 

            “Baby. Honey…” Delta counted to ten in her head, and folded her arms across her chest. Patience, she reminded herself. She’d been born with none, but was acquiring some. Slowly. She had to. “Do you remember what time the guests are supposed to arrive?”

            Her husband was on his back in the middle of the great room rug, their oldest held suspended above him. Evan’s favorite game was “Superman” and he was laughing delightedly, as usual. Sitting beside them, Danny was sucking on a cracker and waiting for his turn. Somehow, she’d obtained this pack of boys she had no idea what to do with.

Rosewood Short - Part 6

*Mild Spoilers for Whatever Remains*

 

 

Rosewood Short – Part 6

 

            “You are enormous.”

            “You know what I miss most about you?” Jade said with a false, saccharine smile. “Sweet little moments like this.”

            Jeremy made a face at her. “I know.” His expression cleared, though, and in the wake of Jess’s departure, his eyes moved over her with unmasked concern. “You’re all right? Really?”

Rosewood Short - Part 5

 

 

Rosewood Short – Part 5

 

            “How’s Florida?”

            Jeremy Carver had managed to secure a slot among Jess’s very slim ranks of favorite people.  She didn’t have to force smiles or put on airs for him. Jade Haley’s very best friend could read people as well as he read horses; he elevated her inn’s great room to something worthy of a Regency gentleman’s library, the leather upholstery, bookshelves, even the fire on the grate, accessorizing his enviable gorgeousness. Tonight, he was in jeans and a deep brown sweater that brought out the ochre tones in his eyes, his hair soft and gleaming, long fingers curled around a brandy glass.

            “Hot,” he said with a little frown. “Muggy. Too many mosquitoes.” His nostrils crinkled. “I always hated the beach.”

Rosewood Short - Part 4

 

 

 

Rosewood Short – Part 4

 

            “Don’t think so hard about it,” Chris advised. “Just look at my glove – right here, where the ball needs to go – and your hand’ll send it there. Yeah, just – there.” The baseball hit the leather covering his palm with a satisfying smack and he closed the gloved around it. He hadn’t even had to reach that time, zero weight resting on his bum leg. His doctor wouldn’t have recommended this sort of extracurricular PT, but to hell with the guy. It was a cool, bright afternoon and Tyler was fast giving up soccer in favorof his new favorite sport – Chris’s personal favorite – baseball. The kid was eleven now, and shedding that little boy awkwardness in favor of real athleticism. He was growing faster than they could comprehend, lanky and awkward and hurtling toward his teen years.

            Tyler grinned. “Better?” he asked.

            “Much.” Chris tossed the ball back, surprised and pleased when Tyler caught it without effort.

Rosewood Short - Part 3

* And don't forget about Keep You and Dream of You on sale for 99 cents tomorrow, kicking off the month of weekend sales!*

 



 

 

Rosewood Short – Part 3

 

The weather had turned cool, and damp, heavy clouds smothering the atmosphere. All the late summer lake traffic had died away, and the fall/winter season was starting for the inn. Jess had only two couples staying with them, both composed of retirees, neither of which seemed inclined to take of advantage of any of the downstairs amenities. Her husband and brothers had taken over the game room, ringed around the poker table in a portrait apropos given the heavy wood paneling and antique light fixtures. The room was swimming with cigar smoke, undercut with a sweet note of whiskey. They each had their own laugh: low, dark, sinister snatches of male voice. Jordan had little lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there before the twins had come along. Tam was doing so well at work that he’d relaxed, and he was wearing his hair too long in the front again, jagged black spikes across his forehead. Mike was starting to look more and more like Dad – a well-dressed version of Dad in Ralph Lauren everything. And Walt, after all this time, looked like he actually enjoyed everyone else’s company.

Rosewood Short - Part 2

Rosewood Short – Part 2

 

            “…all hopped up on pain meds – ”

            “Good. This’ll be less painful.”

            “Ben.” Jess’s voice had taken on that crisp, no-nonsense quality that meant she was uncomfortable. “I’m serious. If you’re just here to give him a bunch of bullshit…”

            Chris didn’t know if “hopped up” was appropriate, but his head was full of cotton. He could feel his knee – all the mangled, taped-together pieces of it – throbbing, its pulse stronger than that of his heart, as insistent and steady as a drumbeat. But the meds had taken the sharp edges off, blurred the line between bearable and excruciating. And they made it almost impossible to dwell on the embarrassment of injury, the inconvenience of this latest surgery, and the agony of his big brother’s company. 

Rosewood Short - Part 1

*Spoilers for Fix You. Jess and Chris-centric short in several parts.*

 

 

 

Rosewood Short – Part 1

 

Rain murmured over the house, sighing in the eaves, whispering against the window panes, chuckling through the gutters and spilling over where autumn leaves had gathered. The roses – all her pretty, thorny roses – bowed low, rich blossoms heavy with crystal drops, thorns scratching at the side of the house. Over the top of Chris’s head, through the window, she watched Lake Allatoona, its surface slick as brown glass, its edges lapping high in the grass, overflowing its banks. It wouldn’t end, the rain. And no one wanted to do much of anything except drink, and talk, and play billiards. Her inn was full. She heard the muted clack of pool balls from far down the gallery. Caught a snatch of laughter from the sun room, the music of it heavy with wine. Old floorboards creaked overhead. Footsteps thumped on the grand stair. She imagined she heard the pages of books rustling, the shift of ice cubes melting in glasses, the crackle of fire logs, the contented sighs of guests warming their toes in front of the hearth. Her inn, her beautiful Rosewood Inn was at full capacity. The place Chris had resurrected for her was thriving. But he, her man, looked more broken than she could have thought possible.