Out of Mind

Chapter 18

“Why are you ignoring me?” Ben asked Willow. He sat in the passenger seat of her van.

“Because I’m pretending you’re not here.”

He looked at her and put a hand on her thigh.

She batted him away.

“Why would you want to pretend I’m not here?” he said. “It feels so good to be with you.”

All he heard from her was a long sigh.

“Doesn’t it feel good to you, Willow?”

Another sigh.

“Willow?”

“Too bad you had to spoil the best day I ever had,” she said.

She came to a stop at a light. Ben leaned his head back and watched the side of her face. The red light turned her hair the color of smoldering embers and caught the brilliance of her eyes. “You’re perfect,” he said, and grinned to himself.

“And you’re a rat. You’re deliberately goading me, Benedict Fortune.”

“But we kiss so well. You’ve got to admit that. We do everything so well together. And if I’m twisted to enjoy the way I feel with you in my arms, then you’re twisted, too. You like it just as much as I do.”

Ben didn’t miss her little smile.

The light turned green, and she drove on in the gathering gray of an early evening turned dramatic by mounds of silver-edged cumulus clouds.

Sirens hollered behind them, and for an instant Ben expected them to be pulled over.

Willow did pull the van over, but only to let a fire truck pass.

She didn’t immediately drive on. “You haven’t pulled any stunts, have you?” she said. “I wouldn’t be amused.”

“Stunts?” He tapped her bare shoulder.

“Ministorms aren’t likely to hit twice in the same backyard—”

“C’mon—”

“But if I get there and the fire hoses are out, I’ll know who wants to stop me from seeing my clients.”

He sniffed in deeply. Her hair always smelled like jasmine—his favorite scent. In Kauai he grew jasmine just to remind him of her when he sat on the lanai at night.

Her shoulder felt like silk—all the way to her elbow and back.

“I’m driving, Ben.”

“I’d never accuse you of being a pyromaniac. Can you even imagine me suggesting you set a fire deliberately?”

“Not if I did it several blocks from the crime scene. We both know I couldn’t change anything, anywhere, no matter how hard I tried.”

He tilted his face up. Willow didn’t know how well he understood, not only her self-doubts, but her paranormal potential. “Listen, love. Why not give this one a pass and go back to the Court of Angels?” He needed something strong to sell that idea. “We’ve got to find your angel—the one from the Mentor’s book.”

“You know it’s not there. If it was, we’d have found it—and one of us would remember seeing it, too.”

“Not if it’s deliberately hidden. Things might look different in this light, too.”

“Nice try,” she told him, making a left turn. “The way things are going I may have lost half of my clients by tomorrow. The Brandts’ business would fill in for a lot of smaller jobs.”

“Mario didn’t like it when you left him behind.”

“He loves being with Winnie. You’d think they’d been together all their lives. Now concentrate and stop trying to get your own way.”

“You avoided Pascal when you sneaked out, Willow. He’s been waiting to talk to you all day.”

“I’ll talk to him later. Among other things, he’s been trying to get into my mind. That’s not allowed.”

“Uh-uh,” Ben said, hoping he sounding adamantly opposed to such behavior. “He can ask, but he can’t come in without your permission. Did he ask?”

She puffed with irritation. “Well, yes.”

“So what’s the problem? You didn’t let him in.”

Willow glanced at him quickly. “He never used to try. They’ve started taking me for granted. They think I’ve accepted all the…you know, and they intend to draw me into the whole…you know.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, feeling smug. “I know all about it.”

She rolled her window down a few inches, and warm air rushed into the van. People on their way out for the night hooted and laughed, and a horn played a mournful lament in the distance.

“Do not get out of this van while I’m in the house,” she said. “If I need you, I will let you know.”

“That’s an interesting comment.” He leaned to kiss her and felt the softening. He drew back an inch. “How will you do that?”

“Ben!” She sounded as if she were complaining, but her hand ran lightly down his cheek. “Get down out of sight. We’re almost there.”

“I asked how I’ll know if you need me.”

She pulled to a stop beside the Brandts’ tall front hedges. “If I need you, I will open my mind, Ben, and invite you in.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, and crossed his arms, making himself comfortable. She was giving in, even if slowly.

Willow climbed to the sidewalk and reached back for her briefcase. She popped up and ruffled Ben’s long hair, then quickly escaped when he tried to grab her.

From what she could see on her way to the front door, no sign of Ben’s mischief remained. The beautiful house glowed warmly in what was left of the disappearing daylight.

She barely touched the bell before the door swept open.

“There you are, Willow. I’m Chloe Brandt.” And Chloe Brandt was worth looking at. Not classically beautiful, but a one-of-a-kind woman with sharp features and black hair pulled straight back from a heart-shaped hairline. Large, deep brown eyes didn’t quite match the warmth in her voice, but her red lips curved in a naturally sultry smile and there were dimples in her cheeks.

An A-line burgundy shift accentuated memorable breasts and stopped six inches above the knees on fabulous legs.

“Willow Millet.” Willow shook hands.

Naturally, an impressive professional floral arrangement graced the central table in the foyer. Their shoes clipped on marble tile all the way to the kitchen Willow remembered a bit too well.

“Is it all right if we talk in here?” Chloe said. “It’s my favorite room. Don’t they say everyone always gathers in the kitchen?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you okay?” Chloe spun around. “You’ve had a horrible time and it’s so unfair.”

How could Chloe be certain it was unfair, Willow wondered. “I’m fine,” she said. The woman was only trying to be kind.

“Good. Val will be in shortly. He and Preston are talking about enlarging the cabana. Preston…you met him at the party that night, didn’t you?”

Willow nodded and had a fleeting memory of the man’s smile and his naked body before he jumped into the pool. She felt overheated at once.

“I thought so. Preston makes sure he meets everyone. He doesn’t talk about it, but he’s an architect, even if he doesn’t really practice—he’s so determined to publish his novel. But Val likes to get his opinion on things. He’ll be coming in for a drink with Val. And they’re both such curious creatures, they’re bound to want to hang around and listen in to us. Will you be okay with that?”

As if she could refuse. “Absolutely,” she said.

This woman didn’t look as if she suffered from shyness, as had been suggested. She moved confidently and spoke confidently.

“Chloe?” a female voice called just before the front door slammed shut again. “Where are you, pet? It’s Vanity.”

Chloe expelled a breath through pursed lips. “In the kitchen,” she said, not meeting Willow’s eyes. “Vanity’s a family friend,” she said quietly.

But the emotion Willow felt was too strong for a simple friendship. A complicated pull and push, uncertainty, questions about trust.

“Aha,” Vanity said, sweeping into the kitchen wearing a tiny, tight, black tube top, skinny black capris and expanses of smooth skin.

“Hi, Vanity,” Chloe said, her smile anxious. “Are you okay?”

Vanity shrugged and pulled in the corners of her mouth. “Yes, sweetie. Thanks for asking.” She nodded to Willow. “Nice to see you again after all that furor.”

“Val said you had an unpleasant date,” Chloe said.

Vanity rolled her eyes. “Awful. It was like eating dinner with an octopus—a horny octopus.”

Willow laughed; she couldn’t help it. Then she cleared her throat. “Sorry. You’re so droll—and I think I may have met the same octopus somewhere.”

Both Vanity and Chloe laughed.

“Make us drinks,” Chloe told Vanity. “Since you’re here, you’ll want to sit in on my meeting with Willow and make a nuisance of yourself.”

More laughter.

Vanity didn’t ask what either of them wanted to drink. She busied herself deciding on a bottle from a cooler as large as the refrigerator. Selection made, she opened the wine and set three glasses of white on the glass kitchen table. She sat down and beckoned.

With each moment, Willow felt less comfortable. They seemed determined to turn her into some sort of superconfidante and family manager. And the family consisted of more than just the Brandts.

She sat beside Vanity and pulled a folder from the briefcase.

Chloe joined them. She brought a wheel of Brie and crackers with her. “To my salvation,” she said, raising her glass and nodding to Willow. “The woman who will change my life.”

Crystal clinked and Willow took a sip of an incredible Viognier. She said, “Oh, my,” and both Chloe and Vanity laughed.

“Can you give me an overview of the services you need?” Willow said. She opened a slim binder and jotted “Brandt” across the top of the first page.

“Everything,” Chloe said.

“Oh, can’t we just enjoy our wine first?” Vanity said, drinking deeply. “We’ve got all night for the icky business stuff.” She turned aside a piece of the Brie skin, scraped a knife across the cheese and put a thin layer on a cracker.

Awkward, Willow held her hands between her knees and looked at Chloe, who raised one brow. “We can’t keep Willow too long,” she said. “She’s a working girl. Willow, I’d like to turn over the household accounts to you. That’ll mean you do all the ordering, arrange deliveries and take a good look at existing household staff. Those you approve of, keep—replace the rest.”

Willow made notes and hoped her surprise at the sweeping request didn’t show. It had sounded cold. If she did work here, she wouldn’t get rid of a soul who wasn’t causing major problems.

“There are some suppliers in place,” Chloe said, “but if you have people you prefer, feel free. You’ll be able to keep up with scheduled events from my daybook. I’ll show you later.”

Vanity crossed her legs and jiggled a high-heeled black mule from the toes of one foot. “I’m still waiting for the police to figure out what happened the other night when you were here, Willow. I don’t buy the minitornado tale.”

“Someone made a nice job of tidying up,” Willow said, avoiding Vanity’s suggestion and looking through the wall of windows at the gardens. “These odd phenomena happen.”

She made the mistake of thinking about Ben and felt him entering her mind. “Nothing to worry about,” she indicated to him and turned her attention back to the other women.

Val Brandt emerged from behind the cabana with sleek Preston Moriarty in tow. They paused, gesturing first at the pool, then at the cabana, before continuing toward the house.

“They’re enjoying themselves,” Chloe said with a faint smile. “Boys and their projects. They’re easily pleased. I really do want you to take over, Willow. My plan is for you to think of this house as your own. When there’s a party, it’ll be your party—you’ll be the boss, the wife, if you like.”

She said it all with a straight and serious face.

“You don’t really know me,” Willow pointed out.

“Of course she does,” Vanity interrupted. “By now she knows almost as much about you as you do. Chloe is excellent at ferreting out all the things you thought nobody knew.”

“And I know all this talk about you being involved in the murders is rubbish,” Chloe said. “The police don’t have any leads. The fact that you’ve even been mentioned shows they don’t have any evidence at all.”

Wooden blinds rattled beside an open window.

Willow glanced at them, but they had stopped moving.

She made a few more notes.

“Do you have to work, Willow?” Vanity asked.

Willow felt Chloe’s disapproval at her friend’s question, but she said, “I do. Independence is very important to me. I’ve always wanted to be able to take care of myself. That’s not so easy when you’re a member of a very close family.”

Vanity’s eyelashes fluttered. “Believe me, I know what you mean,” she said. “I don’t have a close family, but I know all about having to work to maintain one’s independence. I always make my plans well in advance. Modeling is for the young, and I don’t want to try to hang on doing commercials for wrinkle treatments. I’ve got a very promising modeling agency.”

“Congratulations,” Willow said, softening toward Vanity.

“Bring your wine,” Chloe said. She got up and left the kitchen with Willow and Vanity behind her. “I don’t suppose Val gave you the complete tour.”

Without saying much other than which room they were in, Chloe took them through the house. Each space was flawless. A library and adjoining sitting room brought a grin of delight from Willow. “I could live in these two rooms,” she said. “They are so elegant, but cozy at the same time.”

“You like them a lot, then?” Chloe said.

“I do.”

They wandered through the ground floor, finishing in a long, narrow conservatory on one side of the house. Since it couldn’t be seen from the front of the house, Willow had not known it was there.

Vanity insisted they put on smocks before venturing deeper. “Some of the plants have sticky residue,” she said.

“Heavenly,” Willow said, genuinely charmed by a plethora of shrubs clearly used primarily as a backdrop for dozens and dozens of orchids. A path made from tiny mosaic tiles set in a pattern of interlinking circles ran through the center of raised beds of blooming gardenias. The soil smelled rich.

“It’s amazing,” Willow said, strolling slowly and stopping frequently to look more closely at a bloom. She glanced anxiously at Chloe. “This is very specialized. Obviously, you already have a very able gardener.”

“The conservatory is Vanity’s,” Chloe said. “She takes care of everything here. There’s no room for this sort of thing where she lives, so we gave it to her as a gift.”

Surprised, Willow made more admiring sounds. She reached the far end of the glass-and-copper space and stopped again to peer inside an elaborate birdcage that stretched from floor to ceiling across one corner.

All she saw among the beautifully natural enclosure beyond polished brass bars was one small, bright green parakeet and an open-fronted cabinet filled with supplies. “Sweet,” she said. “Lucky bird.”

“He should have a mate,” Chloe remarked.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Vanity said.

Val and Preston met them in the foyer. Val hugged Willow as if they were old friends. “I gather I didn’t make a very good tour guide the first time. Did Chloe show you your rooms yet?”

“What about me?” Vanity said, throwing her arms around him.

Willow was deeply unsettled by Val’s question. “I should get back,” she said. “My sister has my dog, and I don’t like to take advantage.”

“What kind of dog?” Preston’s dark gray eyes made Willow uncomfortable. “It’s so good to see you again, by the way. I was worried when I couldn’t find you after our little storm. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m great,” she said. He didn’t need to know anything about Mario.

Chloe took her by the hand and rushed her to the wide staircase. She didn’t stop hurrying until the two of them were upstairs and she had quickly shown a number of bedrooms and bathrooms. In what she said was her office, a room done in yellows with a floral theme, and a tiny mosaic desk with fragile legs, she snatched up a black leather-bound book with brass corners and tucked it under an arm.

They hurried on to the next door in the corridor.

“This is where we’re hoping you’ll be comfortable,” Chloe said, throwing open a sumptuous sitting room in shades of dark blue, light blue and silver-gray. “The bedroom and bathroom are through here.”

Willow felt breathless and trapped, not that she intended to be pressured into doing anything she didn’t want to do.

“What do you think?” Chloe asked when they stood in the sitting room again. “I tried to imagine what you might like, but everything can be changed again. You loved the library. We can make this a sitting room and library combined. And if you’d prefer warmer colors, I’ll get swatches for you to choose from.”

“This is a lovely suite,” Willow said neutrally.

Small and blinding, a tiny patch of glaring blue light pricked high up behind Chloe. Willow glanced up, saw it shift inches to the left, then more inches, before it slipped behind the dark blue draperies. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see someone with a high-powered flashlight. No one was there.

“You have your own entrance,” Chloe said, walking to glass doors Willow had mistaken for windows behind the blue draperies. “There are steps that go down to a path that runs past the conservatory. You’ll come and go as you please. Of course, whether or not you’re here in your off time is up to you. We might as well keep the daybook in here now, since you’ll be the one using it. I’ll pass invitations to you with a yes or no.” She smiled and put the black book on a rosewood table in front of the doors.

“We have a lot to think and talk about,” Willow said, still thinking about the bright light. “I’ll get back to you soon.”

Chloe couldn’t hide her disappointment, but she nodded. “That’ll be fine. But Val and I are a bit adrift until you can start. He’ll be devastated if you don’t join us. So will I.”

Turning away, Willow headed for the stairs. When she checked behind her, Chloe hadn’t followed yet.

Willow hesitated, waiting and wondering if she should go back, but she couldn’t discard the possibility that Chloe was trying to manipulate her into a job she wasn’t sure she wanted, and not because of the rooms they’d offered her to live in. She wouldn’t have to use them at all, or she could set up an office there if she wanted to. The potential job conflicted her. It could be wonderful, and the saving of Mean ’n Green. She would be able to keep all of her staff—something that seemed doubtful with business falling off as it was. But Willow wasn’t sure she could feel comfortable around the kind of people the Brandts ran with.

That bright blue light still bothered her. It could have been no more than a reflection off some piece of glass. When she moved, it could have appeared to move, too. Only that hadn’t been what it was.

She had the thought that Ben might be up to something and continued on slowly to the head of the stairs. Chloe still didn’t follow.

“Do you like it?” Preston asked as she walked down to the main floor where he waited. “Chloe’s worked like a demon to get it done quickly.”

She didn’t trust herself to say anything, but she smiled at them and started back to the kitchen to get her briefcase. Packing her folders away, she noticed how her hands shook. She had no cause to be nervous.

With that thought she picked up the briefcase. It fell open because she had forgotten to close it, and she watched in annoyance as pieces of paper slid all over the floor.

Dammit, she was a basket case. As fast as she could, she gathered everything up, and this time she remembered to close her briefcase properly.

The sliding door to the garden banged open, and Vanity came in with another bottle of the wine they had shared earlier. She wiggled it. “Can’t start off with good stuff and expect to enjoy anything less,” she said. “It’s a good thing Val has a private stash of this in the cabana. What do you think of the rooms Chloe got ready for you?”

“They’re beautiful,” Willow said, noncommittal.

She left Vanity opening the wine and returned to the foyer.

A cracking sound make her jump. “What was that?” There was another thud.

Val dashed to join Preston and Willow, and they all looked to the staircase.

Chloe had slammed into the railing along the upper corridor. She stared, rocking her head, blinking, as if she couldn’t see, not making a sound. She backed off and returned for another collision, harder this time.

Willow screamed and ran for the stairs. Rotating over the railing, Chloe swung, her limbs flailing, to fall onto the stairs themselves.

“Chloe,” Val yelled. “Oh, my God.”

Vanity came running.

Slowly at first, then gathering speed, Chloe bumped downward, hitting the stair treads and jerking into grotesque angles. Tiny specks of blood sprayed on walls and the stairs.

A yell broke from Val, and he dashed to her, ineffectually trying to stop her from flopping onto the marble tiles.

“Oh, my God,” Preston said, striding forward.

Willow gasped. The woman’s eyes were stretched wide-open, but they were dying. Willow saw the glazing without going any nearer. Even at a distance, long red welts on Chloe’s face and neck were shocking against her white skin. Her head sagged to one side, the face in Willow’s direction. More speckles of blood immediately splotched the pale marble.

“Did you hear anything?” Preston said faintly. “Did she scream?”

“No,” Willow whispered.

Vanity sobbed, and she shook all over. “Chloe,” she said through stretched lips. “What’s happened? Chloe?” She heaved as if she would throw up, but gathered herself and looked at Willow. “Get out, now. You shouldn’t be here.”

“No, stay,” Preston shouted. “The police will want to talk to you.”

“Leave,” Vanity said, moving toward the rest of the group. “For your own sake. Hurry.”