Page 57 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

“Your sister talked to her?” Calvin demanded of his son as he hitched his chin in Nikki’s direction.

Niall said, “Blythe said that Ms. Gillette offered her an exclusive deal. Promised to keep other journalists off her back.”

Nikki cut in, “I couldn’t promise exactly that,” she tried to explain, “but I’ll do what I can. If you give me an exclusive—”

“For free?” Calvin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“We don’t pay for stories at the Sentinel.”

“So what about this book you’re writing?”

“Again, this would just be an interview.”

“Well, hellfire, I could find me a ghostwriter and do it myself. Make myself a million or two, what with all the interest Blondell’s story’s kicked up.” June visibly paled and touched the porch pillar for support, though her husband didn’t seem to notice as he barreled on. “What the hell would we need you for?”

“Dad,” Niall whispered.

“I was Amity’s friend,” Nikki said once again, hoping her connection to his family might help.

“Then you know she was trouble.”

“Troubled,” Nikki clarified.

“That what you wanna call it? That girl was a bitch in heat when boys were sniffin’ around. Just like her damned mother.”

“I don’t think—”

“She encouraged it, y’know.” He glanced up at the sky and shook his head. “I thought we were over this. Damn it all to hell!” He turned his angry glare on his son. “Why the hell couldn’t you leave well enough alone?”

“Dad,” Niall said softly.

“That’s the end of it. Y’hear me? The end of it!” The muscles of his jaw working as raindrops began to fall, Calvin stared hard at his son. “This is all double-talk and trouble.”

“The kind of trouble we don’t need,” June agreed.

The back door opened, and Nikki spied a short woman holding a two-year-old child peering through the screen door.

“Go back inside, Darla,” Calvin ordered, turning on her. “And take them kids with you.”

Niall stood up to his father. “Darla, you come on out if you want to.” He waved at the porch, and the screen door creaked open. The woman timidly stepped onto the porch. “This is my wife, Darla,” he introduced. “Darla, Ms. Gillette from the paper.”

As Calvin seethed, Nikki said to Niall’s wife, “Call me Nikki.”

“How’d’ya do?” Apple-cheeked and round-faced, Darla offered a nervous smile, while the boy in her arms sucked his thumb as if he were afraid it might disappear. With tousled, blond hair and eyes with visible bags beneath them, he stared suspiciously at the group gathered on the lawn. A second child, a boy of about five with a crew cut and freckles, was hiding behind one of Darla’s legs until he spied his father on the lawn below.

“Daddy!” he cried and ran down the steps to fling himself into his father’s arms.

“Hey, Rock,” Niall said.

“This ain’t no conversation for the boys,” Calvin said, glaring at his son and grandson. “They don’t need to be hearin’ about what happened to their aunt.” He blinked at that moment, and for a second his face softened. “Helluva thing.”

“Cal!” June reprimanded. “Your language. The children.”

“I don’t think they’ll be able to avoid the subject of my sister,” Niall said, but he glanced worriedly at his wife, and she, taking a cue from her mother-in-law’s harsh demeanor, responded, “I’ll take them inside.” To Nikki, she said, “Nice meetin’ you.” Motioning to her eldest, Darla opened the screen door again. “Come on, Rocky, you and your little brother need to come inside and read a story.”

“Noooo!” Rocky began to wail, then caught his grandfather’s harsh glare.

“Don’t be arguin’, boy. Y’heard yer mama. Now go on. Git!” Calvin was firm.

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