Page 25 of One Last Night

“A book or a diary?”

I flinch. “I… I didn’t…”

“Yeah, I thought so. Guess I should be more careful about keeping that closed. Pretty good stuff, right? All the sex secrets of the Bellamys. Gotta be better than a soap opera, huh?”

“Sir, I’m so sorry—”

"No, you're not. Don't bullshit me. I read you like a book the moment you showed up. You're nothing but an old English busybody."

Embarrassment and anger rise in equal measure at first, but embarrassment wins out. I could argue that I’m not an old English busybody, and I would be right if I reminded him that it’s incredibly rude of him to say so whether or not it’s true, but he is right to say that it’s incredibly rude of me to eavesdrop on his phone call, whatever my intentions are.

“Stay out of our family’s business,” he warns me. “Your job is to tutor the kids. The rest is none of your concern.”

My chagrin must show on my face because he sighs and says in a slightly gentler voice, “Look, forget about it. It’s no big deal. We haven’t exactly been quiet about our issues. Let’s make a deal: we’ll keep our drama outside of the house, and you keep your nose to yourself. Sound good?”

I nod. “Yes, sir. I apologize again.”

“No worries. Excuse me.”

I stand aside to let him pass. He doesn’t look over his shoulder to see what I’m doing, but I suppose he doesn’t have to. I glance into the library just long enough to see that he’s closed and locked the safe. His family’s secrets are safe for the moment.

I return to my room and spend the rest of the evening with Miss Marple. No disrespect to the great Agatha Christie, but I find the story far less engaging than the one I’m in the middle of right now.

But at least I know thatA Caribbean Mysteryhas a happy ending. As for this story? I’m not nearly so confident.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The following week proceeds without major incident. There are no more sabotage attempts. Luann has either stopped sneaking out, or she’s found a way to do so without alerting me. Victoria is quieter and more subdued than she was when I met her, but she is calm, at least. Julian’s late-night phone calls with Robert either cease, or he keeps his promise to me and takes them outside of the house.

There is a slight scandal over the poisoned grapes, but it is quickly hushed. Julian apparentlyisaware of the skeletons in the various closets because, other than a brief report in the local news and a short post in an online wine review magazine, I'm not aware of any press coverage regarding theListeriaoutbreak. The entire Pinot Noir harvest is purged, and a process is put in place to inspect the Chardonnay and Riesling prior to bottling.

Speaking of the white grapes, the harvest begins this week. There are a dozen employees visiting from the commercial vineyard, working from sunrise to sunset. Perhaps that is why there are no sabotage attempts. The harvesters stay at the house, sleeping four to a room in vacant servants' quarters.

With the adults kept busy with the harvest, I am able to find a routine with the children. Over the course of the week, they settle into the routine and just like their mother, they relax.

Best of all, I am able to relax too. I have no more nightmares and no more concerning breaks from reality like the scene in the forest. I enjoy my coffee in the mornings, teach the children, enjoy afternoons at the beach or in town with them—I won’t go back to the forest—and return home to enjoy my evening with a book. I’ve finishedA Caribbean Mysteryand moved on toNemesis.

In this novel, Miss Marple once more encounters a mystery with Jason Rafiel, although the poor Jason is deceased at the time of this novel. It’s a rather darker adventure than the previous book, but once again, I have the comfort of knowing that it ends happily.

I’m beginning to hope that this story will end happily. Sean calls me that Saturday morning and announces that after a week of investigating Julian, he is confident that Julian had nothing to do with the sabotage attempts.

“The fire was started by a disgruntled employee who wasn’t happy with his severance package. I was able to trace his movements for several days prior to the fire. I also read some very informative social media rants. Julian was definitely not in cahoots with him.”

“And Robert Cartwright?”

“No, he’s not involved either. As for theListeria, that’s a bit harder to tell, but I’m still leaning toward it being an accident. There were thirteen reports ofListeriacontamination in the United States last year, and one of them resulted in a far worse outbreak than this one. I think this is just part of the job.”

That’s more or less what Julian said to Victoria. My suspicions ease somewhat.

“I’m delighted to hear that,” I reply. “I’m glad he isn’t a bad sort. It’s always nice to find that I’mnotworking for a terrible person.”

“You do seem to have a type, don’t you?”

“What does that say about you?” I retort.

“I’ve always known that I’m a horrible person.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re lucky that’s not true.”

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