Page 70 of The Love Bandits

She shakes her head and lifts her tea for a sip before setting it down with a clatter. “No. She said something came up.” A tired sigh rips from her. “Something always comes up when she’s asked to spend time with Anthony. I regret that my children aren’t closer. If I’ve done one thing wrong in my life, it’s that I’ve failed at keeping them together.”

I think of what Rosie told me, about seeing the dark-haired woman who looks like Mrs. Rosings outside of the mansion.

Maybe it was a coincidence.

Maybe Emma took one look at the party and decided she’d prefer to turn right back around. Who could blame her?

Or maybe she’s the one who stole the necklace. I make a mental note to ask Nicole what her plan is about Emma. At this point, Nicole and Damien have just done a cursory search—where she lives: Charlotte. What she does: divorce attorney.

Mrs. Rosings studies me for a moment, her gaze sharp, and then says, “You have Band-Aids on your hand, and your car is even more of a wreck than usual. I hope the therapist had nothing to do with that?”

I straighten in my chair. “Why, Mrs. Rosings, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were concerned for me.”

She regards me shrewdly. “I am. There’s never any reason to stay with a man who treats you poorly. I learned that the hard way, Elaine, and I don’t mind passing along the lesson to any young woman who needs it.”

She’s talking about Jake, but it’s Todd I think of.

Todd, sneering at me.

Todd asking me to get on my knees and beg for his forgiveness. He’d done that multiple times, sometimes for the slightest of grievances. He’d done it because he knew he could. And I still hate myself for having listened. For having wrestled the hellcat inside of me into submission so I could give him whathe wanted, because I didn’t know who I’d be if I wasn’t going to become his wife after all.

Mrs. Rosings’s concern wraps around me like an unexpected blanket. My own parents would have built a statue in my ex-fiancé’s honor if he’d asked for it. They didn’t give a shit about what he did to me, but Mrs. Rosings, who always tries to act so above everything, actually cares about me being treated well. I care about her too, dammit.

Which of her three husbands treated her poorly? Could it be Anthony and Emma’s father? I want to ask. I want to kick the offender’s gravestone. Mrs. Rosings might be a pill, but she’smypill.

“No,” I finally manage in response to her intrusive stare. “No,Jakenever touched me like that. I did that to the car myself, and I hurt my hand.” Even as I’m saying it, I realize it’s exactly what someone might say if they were lying to defend an abuser, so I add, “The bat was my ex-fiancé’s prized possession. The car belonged to my parents.”

Mrs. Rosings gives me a strained smile, shaking her head slightly, the breeze whipping a couple of strands of her hair from their usual perfection, making her—temporarily—more human. “Oh, Elaine. You haven’t learned yet. When you take something from someone who’s mistreated you, you’d do better to keep what you’ve earned and take the benefit of it for yourself.”

She is a woman who knows how to make an entrance and an exit, and she’s already lifting from her chair, leaving me baffled. Does she know the necklace is gone? Does she thinkItook it?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

LAINEY

Conversation with Nicole

Mrs. Rosings says Emma never showed at the party, but Rosie definitely thinks she saw her there.

Working on a plan.

The Love Fixers mailbox is full. Like, we have at least twenty requests. I’d help you, but looking into Emma is a super important job, so obviously I have better stuff to do.

I sigh, feeling the press of all those lonely hearts needing someone to help them feel full again. Admittedly, Cleo wasn’t so much a lonely heart as a scammer, but that doesn’t mean the others are. They don’t deserve to be ignored by yet another person.

Tonight, I promise myself. I’ll look tonight.

I want to ask about Jake—if Damien has been making use of him today or if he’s doing his own thing.

Websites, he said.

Imagine, being a thief who works on websites in his downtime.

Then it hits me…

Jake told me more about the old man and the watch last night. One detail in particular might be helpful to them. I hesitate for a long moment, tapping my finger against the side of my phone and leaning against the green wainscoting of the second sitting room. He wouldn’t want me to tell them, and it feels like a betrayal to do it anyway. At the same time…he’s in over his head, he needs help, and I can’t just let him hand Mrs. Rosings’s necklace over to his former boss. Something deep inside of me revolts against it, as if I’d be benefitting not just that awful man, but every narcissist who was ever brave enough to look at the world and ask, “But what if everything really is about me?”

No. He can’t be allowed to have Mrs. Rosings’s necklace. At the same time, I can’t let anything happen to Jake’s brother. To his person.

---