Page 90 of Call Back

Janine chuckled. “I’m already there.” She grabbed the glass out of my hand and took a long drink. “You’re like a breath of fresh air. What’s Ava up to hiring you?”

I remained silent, unsure of how to answer, especially since she’d spoken my own question out loud.

She glanced back at the refreshment table and grabbed a half-empty plate of spinach and bacon quiches. “Doesn’t this need to be refilled?”

I started to get ticked off, then realized what she was up to. I took the plate, headed through the swinging door to the kitchen, and grabbed the pan from the warming oven. Janine came through the door several seconds later.

“Ava’s up to something,” she said without preamble, her voice practically an octave lower than the sweet simper she’d used in the other room. I was pretty sure this was the real Janine. “She prefers her help to keep quiet unless spoken to, and she never has them answer the door. Why is she treating you so differently?”

“I’m guessing you know who I am,” I said, dropping the pretense of refilling the plate.

“Magnolia Steele, which is even more curious. She can’t stand your mother.”

“Then maybe this is her way of trying to get under my mother’s skin,” I said. “It’s quite a trump card for her to get the daughter of the best caterer in town to work at her event.” I suspected it had more to do with my father, but I wasn’t sharing that information.

“That’s likely part of it, but there’s more,” she said, staring out the back window at the garage. “You’re living in the apartment out back, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So she’s keeping you close.”

I hadn’t looked at it that way. Could there be some truth to what she suggested? “I was led to believe she’s had her previous help stay there,” I said.

“Who told you that?”

I slowly turned to face her. “I don’t remember.” Which was true. Had Colt insinuated it? “Why?”

“In the four years I’ve attended these meetings, she’s never once had someone living in that apartment. You’re the first.”

The blood rushed to my feet. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No.” Reflecting on my conversations with Colt and Ava, I realized neither had mentioned previous tenants, but neither had told me it was a new venture either. I’d just presumed.

Why would Ava want me in her backyard? It hardly seemed like chance that a woman with boxes of articles about the Jackson Project in her attic had decided to rent her garage apartment for the first time in years to me, the daughter of the founder.

I would worry about that later. I needed to focus on Rowena. “You said you joined the Bible study group four years ago? Did you know Rowena Rogers well?”

“No one knew Rowena well. She kept to herself.”

“You said she left because of a scandal.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. And it was quite the scandal indeed. Rumor had it she was having an affair with Karen Merritt’s husband.”

“Christopher Merritt?”

“Yes.” Her mouth puckered with disapproval.

“How long ago?”

“Three years. Word got out after he took off.”

“After? How did it come out?”

“Karen realized that all his late-night meetings were with Rowena.”

“But isn’t she older than him?”

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