Page 52 of Rebels and Roses

In other words, Jane didn’t come from money.

Not once in her life had she ever had more than she needed. She was always counting her pennies before payday and squeezing her nickels until those buffaloes hollered. She was the queen of living frugally, and even when she’d been married and her husband made a decent wage, they hadn’t been awash in cash since he didn’t want her to work.

Needless to say, she’d never been to a fancy dinner like this one. The china and crystal gleamed, the flower centerpieces lush, and she’d bet a week’s salary that the flatware was solid silver. If she hit someone with her fork, she might do some serious damage. She was also terrified of spilling her wine on the crisp, white-as-snow linens on the table.

This was some fancy-shmancy dinner party.

Luckily, she wasn’t called on to speak all that much. Fiona was doing most of the talking, occasionally taking a breath long enough for Erica to say a few words. The latter didn’t smile or laugh, simply picking at her food and appearing close to tears most of the evening. Why she’d agreed to come to this dinner party, Jane didn’t have a clue. She clearly didn’t want to be there or to answer questions about her now deceased fiancé.

In the beginning of the evening, Jane could see how Cooper could have been charmed by Fiona, if one ignored her drinking like a fish. When she wasn’t tipsy, she was intelligent, with a razor-sharp wit. Well-read and traveled, she seemed to know a little about everything. She was certainly a beautiful woman as well, her clothes, hair, and jewelry understated but expensive. What was that old saying?

Money talks, but wealth whispers.

Kimberly, Cooper’s aunt and stepmother, attempted to engage Jane and Lucy in conversation, asking about the bookstore. Joel, on the other hand, would quickly change the subject back to whatever he wanted - mostly he wanted his children to talk. But Joel’s idea of a conversation was togrill them like a police detective in a black-and-white gangster film from the thirties. His son Sam had barely answered one question, when Joel was asking another and another. He never seemed to like the answers either. So far, he’d managed to piss off Tate, Sam, Zack, and Cooper with Kim trying to smooth it all over.

“You should come into the office, Cooper,” Joel said. “Get a feel for the place. Attend some meetings. You might find a department you’re interested in.”

“Zack and I are busy these days,” Cooper replied. “The movie theater is going to be ready to open in about a month.”

“That’s fine for a hobby, but you need a real career.”

“I’m fine, Dad. What do you think about the Bears this year? Think they could go all the way?”

“No,” Joel shot back immediately. “You need some direction.”

Fiona was choking slightly, her napkin in front of her mouth.

“Cooper has more going on than you might imagine, Joel.”

A knot in Jane’s stomach made itself known, and she had a terrible, awful suspicion that Fiona was about to say something. Something that few people knew. None of Cooper’s siblings had a clue. Lucy didn’t know either.

It was like watching a slow-motion car crash right in front of you. You couldn’t stop it from happening, and there was no time to cushion the blow. It was going to be an all-out collision, and she could only sit by and watch the horror unfold in front of her.

“He does need to have a career,” Joel roared, pushing back his chair from the dinner table. “He’s too old to be living like an aimless teenager.”

It was far too late to stop it. Fiona had a gleam in her eye, as if she knew she was causing a rash of shit, but she was enjoying the hell out of it. It was all Jane could do not to launch herself across the table and wrestle the other woman to the floor.

“This whole situation is hilarious when you really think about it,” Fiona said, a smug smile on her perfectly made-up face. Her gaze was pinned on Cooper, as if daring him to stop her. “They don’t have a clue that you’re S.S. Cooper, the world-famous mystery writer. They all think you’re a great big loser. When you’re possibly the most successful of all. It’s ironic.”

There was a stunned silence in the dining room before Cooper stood and took Fiona’s arm, steering her out onto the verandah, leaving them all sitting there around the table. No one knew what to say.

Lucy had a look on her face, her gaze on Jane. There was a knowledge there. She suspected that Jane already knew.

I was probably the only one who didn’t look shocked. Shit.

“How about some coffee and dessert in the living room?” Kim asked, pasting a bright smile on her face even as her husband was muttering under his breath. “Shall we?”

“Is it true?” Joel demanded, looking at his oldest son Zack. “Is what she said true?”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it, too,” Zack said with a careless shrug. “But Cooper has never failed to surprise me. It might be true.”

Joel Winslow didn’t look thrilled that Cooper wasn’t the deadbeat that he’d thought. If anything, he was angrier than ever, his face red and his eyes narrowed almost to slits.

He might explode at any moment. Should we clear the blast zone?

Tate, on the other hand, was smiling like he’d won the lottery. What in the fresh hell?

Somehow, Kim managed to herd them into the living room, fussing over dessert plates with cheesecake and fresh berries. Tate was sipping a coffee, still smiling, and Jane couldn’t stop herself from asking why he was so damn happy.

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