Page 6 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

Daughter? He had a daughter? I glanced toward a wall full of photos across the room to see it appeared he had a daughter and a son, and a wife as well. I wasn’t close enough to see details, but his children seemed to be in their teens and both had dark hair like him, while their mother was blonde.

“There’s a supply shed out back where you can find all the tools I’m sure you’ll need,” Mr. Nash continued. “I’ll show you where everything’s kept in a minute, but first…” He stamped his finger down on a button on his keyboard, and sheets began to spit from his printer.

Pulling them free, he handed them to me. “Read this over and sign if you agree.”

I took the contract from him slowly, worried I’d find something I didn’t want to see, some hidden clause that really doomed my mother instead of helped her. Then I drew in a long breath and proceeded to read.

What I found was better than I could’ve possibly believed. It was as if I’d drafted the agreement myself, detailing everything I’d ever hoped for. He would provide well for Mom, and even my terms of employment sounded fair and legitimate. He wanted me here eight hours a day, six days a week, but allowed for vacations and holidays and sick leave. It sounded like any regular, valid job.

It was so…well, it was too good to be true.

There had to be a catch. Somewhere.

I looked up, hoping to glean the trap from his expression. But he merely watched me from inscrutable blue eyes.

“I, uh…” My gaze strayed back to the document in my shaking hands. “This all sounds great, actually.”

I swear, a relieved breath escaped him. His shoulders relaxed. But that was the only tell he gave away. Then he nodded and held up a pen.

My attention returning to the words, I tried to find something that ensnared me, that hurt my mom, but I couldn’t. So I held my breath, reached for the pen, and I signed my life away.

No floor dropped open casting me into a dungeon, and no bars crashed down from above caging me in. Nothing dramatic happened at all.

Which only set my nerves more on edge.

Why was this going so smoothly?

“Well…” Mr. Nash took the contract from me and signed it himself, a bit too eagerly if you asked me. Then he glanced up and flashed a congenial smile. “Now that that’s out of the way, let me show you around.”

He stood and started toward the door, already chattering something about roses. “Some of them are rather rare, I believe. They require a little extra care. Isobel—my daughter—could tell you all their names, I’m sure; she’s become quite the expert. And I think she has some books in the shed to help with any question you may have.”

I nodded. Rose-care books would be awesome since I knew next to nothing about roses. Or flowers. Or any plant in general. I’d killed a cactus once.

We exited the office and took a short hallway until we reached the back of the house, where we entered what seemed to be a salon or sitting room of some sort with one wall made entirely of glass, facing t

he backyard.

“One entrance into the conservatory where the roses are is through those doors right there.”

I blinked at a set of French doors that led into what looked like a glass-domed corridor that connected to a greenhouse shaped like a massive gazebo.

“Wow,” I breathed, stepping closer and needing to see more.

Drawn to all the beauty, I reached for one of the French doors to enter the conservatory, but Mr. Nash waved me in a different direction. “The supply shed’s out back, this way.”

I followed him, but not before taking one more look into the rose garden. There were some climbing rose vines, some bushes, and rows of long-stem, varying from white to pink to blood red, yellow, and lavender, peach, and purple. I swear I even saw a black rose. Just looking at them filled me with a sense of magic.

I’d never been a flower person before, and I didn’t have the first clue how to take care of them, but suddenly, I was excited about entering that garden.

“These doors will be unlocked during your work hours so you’ll be able to come and go as you please.” Pulling open a sliding glass door that led directly outside onto a bricked patio, Mr. Nash started toward a row of pruned hedges that opened up into what looked like a maze.

Once we entered it, however, it was basically a straight shot—with one turn—that led to the shed he’d mentioned. A keypad of numbers kept the door locked. Mr. Nash quickly tapped in the code before swinging it open and stepping inside to turn on the light. I followed hesitantly, only to blink in awe. If I were a gardener, this was exactly the kind of dream shed I would want. All the hoes and rakes and…just, the whole place was neatly organized and top of the line. And yes, thank you, God, there was even a small shelf of books about roses.

“Well, I’ll let you to it. Lunch is at noon.” Already backing out of the shed to leave me to my duties, Mr. Nash waved me goodbye and disappeared.

I gaped at the empty doorway where he’d last stood and shook my head, a little lost. The man wasn’t much for detailed instructions, was he?

Amazed they had all this gardening stuff and no full-time gardener, I ran my fingertips across the hanging handles of shovels of all shapes and sizes, then moved toward the books.

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