Page 18 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

I thought of Henry Nash’s hidden agenda: Isobel and her angry, sad eyes and wounded soul. “Not this time,” I lied. “I think he’s on the up and up, and ulterior-motive free.”

“Humph. We’ll see about that.”

I stroked the back of her hand and changed the subject. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix you something?”

“Aww, sweet baby, don’t worry about me. I told you, Gloria took good care of me.” With a wistful sigh, she added, “Such a lovely girl. I still don’t understand why you won’t even give her a chance.”

I groaned. “Mom, we’ve been over this. Gloria and I have nothing in common.”

“I know, I know,” she lamented. “She doesn’t like books the way you do. Or have such fanciful ideas.”

And right on track, the guilt clouded me, for not being able to like Gloria like I should, for being a nonsensical dreamer who wanted…hell, I’m not even sure. Maybe smart and accomplished were the right words for what I wanted to be. I wished to be something that made me feel meaningful, anyway. I’d always thought it would be cool to be an archeologist or even work in a museum. I loved history, discovering new cultures and learning about hidden societies. Becoming a real-life Indiana Jones would probably be the biggest high of my life.

Both Gloria and my mom thought that dream was silly…their words. They didn’t care so much about the past, or its cultures. They preferred to live in the present.

“It’s more than that,” I told my mother.

The few times I’d tried to open up to Gloria and talk about my passions and life goals, she’d either tried to convince me that wasn’t really what I wanted to do, got too bored to listen, or changed the subject. The true problem was she didn’t want me to be me. And what’s more, she didn’t seem to have her own dreams either, except to land me. I seriously didn’t know what she wanted from life, what goals she had, what she feared or loved. I wasn’t even sure if she knew. And that’s what ultimately made me shy away from her. There was no connection there at all.

“I just want to see you happy and settled down.” This time, Mom was the one who reached out to touch my face. “I want my baby boy to have the best.”

“I do,” I told her, clasping her hand more firmly to my cheek. “I have you.” And I would take care of her until my last breath.

“Oh, you…” She smiled and patted my cheek before dropping her limp, exhausted hand. “You’re the sweetest boy ever. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I kissed her forehead one more time, glad she’d dropped the subject of Gloria, and rose to my feet. “Well, you don’t have to find out, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

And I would. To keep my mother safe and settled, I’d brave Isobel while resisting that powerful, undeniable draw I felt toward her. And I’d do it so well Henry Nash would praise the day he met me.

Everything was going to end up just fine.

chapter

SIX

r /> The next day was Sunday. I didn’t work at Porter Hall on Sundays, so I spent a good portion of the afternoon at the library, studying up on roses. No idea why since I wasn’t allowed to go near Isobel’s garden again. But I learned as much as I could anyway, because she intrigued me, and roses seemed to intrigue her. Plus, I felt bad about the way things had left off between us the day before, which was why I arrived to work on Monday with a small packet of seeds in my pocket.

I had stopped by a garden store on the way over, planning to get something amazing for Isobel in the hopes she’d forgive me for hurting her feelings on Saturday. Since she’d made it impossible for me to apologize to her in person, I thought maybe a gift—an olive branch, as it were—would do the trick.

But I hadn’t had much luck at the store. Most of the rosebushes they stocked were common, hearty brands. I’d wanted to get something rare, something special that stood out, like she stood out. When I asked the owner, she’d shaken her head before telling me all she had were a couple seeds for some midnight supreme rosebushes.

The catch was that no one who’d bought them before had ever been able to actually get them to grow. I thought that if anyone could coax a rose from its stubborn seed, it’d be Isobel, so I asked to purchase a few anyway. The owner’d had pity on me, certain I wouldn’t have any more success than anyone before me, so she’d thoughtfully given me a discount.

When I reached Porter Hall, I rang the bell at the end of the drive, and the gate automatically opened before I could even tell anyone who I was. I walked around to the back where the bay of glassed entrances was unlocked, and I let myself inside.

No one was around, so I trudged to the library, which was empty. I waited a few minutes, except Isobel never showed, so I set the packet of rose seeds on the seat of her sofa with a note.

Dear Miss Nash,

I just wanted to apologize for my behavior on Saturday. I hope you will accept these seeds in peace offering. I was told they are for a rare midnight supreme rosebush that’s supposed to bud into black roses with blue tips. No one else who’s planted them has gotten them to grow, but I had a feeling you would be the exception to the rule. Good luck with your growing endeavors.

Regards, Shaw Hollander

I felt stupid for leaving such a cheesy note, but I stopped myself three times from going back to fetch it or even revise it, no matter how corny “growing endeavors” and “regards” suddenly sounded to me.

Lewis kept me busy most of the morning, doing some lifting, and carrying, and climbing for him before Constance came out to ask if I could help her move a statue she feared was leaving too big of an indent in the carpet.

The bronze sculpture of an eagle was heavy, but together we got it shifted to the other side of the hall. Rich people, was the only thing I could think as I stood back and stared at the ugly, gaudy thing after it was in its new place. They definitely had strange tastes.

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