Page 38 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

Palms sweating, I tore open the second letter. Another loan paid notice.

Holy shit. He’d done it. He’d really done it. He’d paid off all my mother’s debts.

With the third letter ripped open, I blinked, my eyes prickling with emotion. Every single thing had been paid off.

I covered my mouth with my hand and stared around the quiet stairwell, overcome.

She was free. My mother was finally free and safe.

If Henry Nash were standing there in that moment, I would’ve hugged him. He’d just saved Mom. To me, he was a hero.

By the time I made it up to my apartment, my relief and joy had left me somewhat drained and dazed. So I was even more flabbergasted when I opened my door, only to smell baking bread along with apples and cinnamon.

Oh God, it couldn’t be. Not my mom’s famous apple cinnamon rolls. They’d grown so popular around the neighborhood, they were actually the reason my sister Victoria had urged Mom into opening the bakery. Inhaling them now was bittersweet. It reminded me of how our life had been led into ruin, but it also told me Mom was up and about, actually baking.

I hurried toward the kitchen, worried I’d find her hovering over the oven and hacking out the last of her flu. But when I came to the opening, I jerked to a surprised halt. Mom looked completely recovered from her sickness. She hummed to herself as she spread butter over the top of a still steaming bun. A limp remained as she moved toward a plate at the other end of the counter, but even her uneven gait seemed better than any movements she’d made since breaking her hip three months before. Her walker sat unused on the other side of the kitchen.

“Shaw!” she said, pleasure blooming across her face. “Are you hungry? I made enough to feed us for a week, I think.” Then she laughed her tinkling laugh that always reminded me of fairy bells ringing or angel wings flapping. I loved my mother’s laugh. It’d been too long since I’d last heard it.

Affection warmed my entire chest. Mom was back, better than ever. She was free from loans and she looked healthy and happy.

“I could eat,” I said, approaching. “But first…” I wrapped my arms around her and gave her the biggest hug, even picked her up and caused her to laugh.

Patting my shoulder and then touching my cheek, she grinned. “What’s all this about?”

I shook my head, not sure if I could voice how pleased I was by all our good fortune if I tried. “It’s just been a good day.”

She, of course, totally misunderstood me, not at all thinking I was happy because of her. “Something must’ve happened at work,” she mused, her brown eyes, the same shade as my own, twinkling with joy.

I started to shake my head before I remembered, oh shit, yes. “Yeah, I guess.” I gave a rueful shrug, almost too embarrassed to tell her my news. “Mr. Nash loaned me a truck to drive to and from work.”

“Wow, that’s nice.” Mom turned to pick up the cinnamon roll she’d just buttered to hand it to me. “You won’t have to spend so much time walking to that place anymore.”

She said that place as if it were a nasty omen. I’d told her over and over again there was nothing shady about the Nashes, but she continued to doubt.

I took the roll and bit into it, moaning over the apple and cinnamon flavors that exploded on my tongue. Then I closed my eyes, enjoying the taste, before I swallowed. When I looked at Mom again, she was buttering another roll. I leaned against the counter and watched, taking another bite.

“Mom, nice doesn’t even cover half of what this truck is. You don’t understand.” I went on to explain the model and year along with all the bells and whistles it contained. “I was so afraid to drive it home and park it in our neighborhood, I had to leave it outside the Denny’s on Fifth and Grand.”

“Oh, Shaw.” She rolled her eyes. “You can be so dramatic, my sweet, precious boy. You make it sound like the Holy Grail when it’s just a work truck.”

I snorted and shook my head. “You sound like Isobel.”

“Who’s Isobel?”

I jumped at the question, because it hadn’t come from my mother. Not realizing anyone else had been in the apartment, I jerked away from my casual lean against the counter and spun toward the new voice.

Gloria stood there, pointedly staring at me with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Jesus, where did you come from?”

She began to tap her foot. “I was in the bathroom, freshening up, when you came in. Who’s Isobel?”

Righteous indignation stretched across her face, and she continued to glare at me as if I’d cheated on her. I narrowed my eyes and pinched my mouth together, refusing to answer, because it was none of her business who any of my acquaintances were.

But then Mom had to go and say, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention an Isobel before. Does she work for Mr. Nash as well?” Then she passed the newly buttered roll to Gloria, murmuring, “Here you go, dear.”

When Gloria took it, answering, “Thank you, Mama,” I almost lost my cool.

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