Page 35 of Decoding Morse

He slowly raised his hands in surrender, his expression still wary. “My bad. I underestimated your relationship.”

This wasn’t about a relationship. She was a human being. A mom, a widow, and the best person I’d ever known. “She deserves our respect.”

Specks nodded. “I get it, brother. Sorry.”

I wished he’d share whatever he thought he ‘got’ because I was so twisted up inside nothing made sense anymore. Hell, I’d just flipped out on my brother for speaking the truth. Amelia did have an incredible peach. The number of times I’d gotten myself off to images of her fully clothed backside was downright pathetic, yet I’d calledhimout for being disrespectful.

Feeling like a goddamn hypocrite, I climbed out of the car, casserole in hand. Specks and Prospect followed, and we approached the mansion as a group.

A nurse wearing floral scrubs answered our knock and led us through an open foyer, past a stuffy, formal living room, and into a surprisingly rustic, cozy study. Built-in shelves overflowing with books monopolized two entire walls, stretching from the floor to the fifteen-foot-high ceiling, accessible by sliding wooden ladders. Fire crackled from a custom brick fireplace that wasn’t even the room's focal point. No, that privilege belonged to the exterior wall’s massive picture window that displayed a postcard-worthy view of the lake.

Carol Landry was nestled under a pile of crocheted blankets atop a pale pink upholstered armchair in front of the fireplace. Rheumy steel-gray eyes focused on me from beneath a silver, slightly crooked chin-length bob that had to be a wig. Tubes circled her ears and pressed into her nose, whirring oxygen from the tank beside her chair.

Lips pursed, she took my measure before saying, “You’re quite the looker, aren’t you?”

Huh?

Straightening my back and pretending her wealth, disease, and age didn’t unsettle me, I approached and made introductions. When I reached Prospect, I hesitated, not wanting to introduce him as his station instead of his name and look like an asshat. The club lifestyle made little sense to outsiders. Besides, we didn’t want anyone connected to Amelia to know we were bikers.

Thankfully, Prospect stepped forward, grasping her hand. “Jedediah, but my friends call me Jed, ma’am.”

I didn’t back up to give them room, instead watching him like a hawk. The diamond tennis bracelet around Carol’s wrist likely cost more than my bike, and Prospect could be a thief for all I knew. Specks cleared his throat to get my attention, and the amusement playing at the corner of his mouth made me scowl. He’d had a normal childhood and, like the others, gave me hell for studying every prospect under a microscope.

“Time for brunch then,” Carol announced.

She struggled forward in her seat. The nurse who’d shown us in was waiting beside her chair and now rushed in to unhook the oxygen and help Carol escape the blanket pile. She stood, wearing a pale pink tracksuit that couldn’t entirely hide the significant weight loss caused by the cancer. Seventy-four years old and five and a half feet tall, she was little more than skin and bones. Despite her frail frame, fire burned behind her eyes as shebatted away the proffered arm of her nurse. It was easy to see that this woman might have one foot in the grave, but the other was packed with lead and perseverance.

Something about my expression must have given away my thoughts because she raised her chin, met my gaze, and said, “You don’t look at me with pity.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “No, ma’am. You have nothing but my respect.”

The nurse offered Carol her arm again, but those steely gray eyes didn’t leave mine. “My new friend, Morse, will assist me.”

The nurse’s lips flattened like it was all she could manage not to argue, but she backed up. I handed the casserole dish to Specks and stepped forward to offer my arm. Thin, crepey fingers slid over my forearm, and her arm hooked my elbow. I held perfectly still, letting her settle herself before slowly following the nurse into a formal dining room. The staff had already set the table with carafes of coffee, assorted juices, and fresh fruit. Carol’s nurse draped a sweater over the high-backed chair at the head of the table. I helped Carol into the chair, settling her onto the cushion before taking the seat on her right. Specks and Prospect sat opposite me.

A fancy silver spatula waited beside the coffee carafe, so I used it to serve the casserole, first dishing up Carol’s plate. I didn’t know shit about rich people’s meal protocol, but her pleased smile assured me I’d done well. Three forks rested beside my plate, so I waited until she made her selection and followed suit. Specks and Prospect took their cue from me, the goddamn blind leading the blind.

Once the first bite landed on my tongue, all thoughts of etiquette and propriety fled. Amelia was a master of comfort meals, and this breakfast had always been my favorite for a reason. Expertly seasoned fried eggs and cheesy potatoes loaded with chunks of crispy bacon, bell peppers, and onions. Flavorexploded over my tongue as I dug in like it was my last meal. Damn, I’d missed her cooking. She’d probably make me something if I asked, but it wasn’t my place to make that type of request.

I was halfway through my meal when something struck my shin. Biting back a curse, I looked up to find Specks watching me expectantly. He nodded toward Carol, who was studying me like I was a starving animal she’d rescued, fed, and didn’t know what else to do with. It was time to pretend I had manners and strike up a conversation, so I chewed, regretting the huge forkful I’d stuffed in.

Thankfully, Specks stepped in and helped me out. “Thank you for allowing us to dine with you today, Mrs. Landry,” he said.

“It’s always nice to have company. Though I would have preferred Amelia.”

Specks and Prospect shared a look that said, can you believe this woman?

I swallowed my bite, not offended in the least. “Understandable. In your place, I would, too. Amelia would have come if it was possible.”

Carol pinned me to my seat with a heated glare that belied her infirmity. “Then why isn’t she here? What have you done with her?”

I floundered for an answer. I’d expected the first question, but the second one threw me for a loop.

A cell phone vibrated, the sound audible in the silence. Carol’s scrutiny continued to pin me in place, so I didn’t move to check the phone in my pocket. The buzzing stopped.

“We don’t have permission to share Amelia’s personal business,” Specks said, once again throwing me a lifeline.

“I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it next time she sees you, though,” I added, softening his excuse.

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