Page 80 of To the Grave

The alarm sounded on my phone and I shut off the notification, a reminder to call Tomislav Kovac, one of the VIPs who’d bought a private villa at Cantwell. His home base was Croatia, and like all the VIPs, he was impossible to get ahold of. Between their busy schedules and the international time differences, following up with them was like choreographing a dance in the fast lane.

I pulled up Tomislav Kovac’s contact info, tabbed to his design file on my computer, and reached for my office phone. The ringtone sounded different overseas, more like a digital hum, and a few seconds later a crisp female voice sounded in my ear.

“Mr. Kovac's office, how may I help you?”

“Hi,, this is Daisy Hammond with the Cantwell Resort and Spa in Blackwell Falls. I have a call scheduled with Mr. Kovac at 11 a.m.”

“Mr. Kovac is just finishing up a meeting,” the woman said. “Would you be so kind as to hold?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

There was no hold music, just silence punctuated by an occasional hum. I picked up my phone and went to Ruth’s socials. I felt a little guilty checking up on her through her online profiles, but it wasn’t like she was trying to keep me out. She hadn’t blocked me or anything.

Yet.

There were three new pictures since the last time I’d looked: Ruth’s hand (I knew it was hers because I recognized the bracelet my dad had given her for her fourteenth birthday) intertwined with an obviously male hand, a picture of a field of sunflowers with a caption that was either a poem or song lyrics, and a man’s denim-clad thigh in the driver’s seat of a car.

I sighed and opened the notes app on my phone, then started to go over my last-minute grocery list for Thanksgiving. It wouldn’t be a big gathering — just the Beasts, Wolf’s mom, Daya, Cassie, and Sarai — but it was my first time hosting and I wanted it to be nice, wanted everyone to feel loved and welcome, like they had a home.

I was especially nervous about Wolf’s mom. I hadn’t expected her to accept the invitation I’d extended through Wolf, and now I couldn’t help wondering how she felt about the fact that her son was involved with Blake’s little sister.

I’d only met her in passing when I’d been a kid, but that was before the Beasts had confessed to killing Blake to take the heat off me. Wolf said his mom knew that he’d done it, that she’d forgiven him and didn’t blame me, but it was just another complicated piece of an already complicated situation.

And then there was the food. I’d never cooked a whole turkey before, let alone a whole Thanksgiving dinner, but I’d stopped by my dad’s house when he’d been away to commiserate with Joan and she’d given me all her tips and tricks. I felt like a generalarmed for battle except my weapon was my grocery list and my battle plans were Joan’s recipes.

I sat up straighter when the woman came back on the line. “Transferring you to Mr. Kovac.”

“Thank you.”

A brief silence was followed by an accented male voice. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kovac. Olivia Davis asked me to call to go over a few last-minute design details for your villa at the Cantwell Resort and Spa.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, “I can give you fifteen minutes.”

Oh boy, nothing like a little pressure. “Fifteen minutes is fine. I’ve sent you some files ahead of our meeting. Shall we start with the wallpaper for the bedroom?”

Chapter 52

Daisy

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and cold. I lay in bed for a minute, savoring the warmth of Jace’s body on one side and Otis’ on the other. I still had the window cracked, but I knew these days were numbered. The last couple weeks, the long grass at the back of the property had been tipped with frost, the trees almost completely bare.

I was glad to have the Beasts back in my bed, but when I lifted my head, I realized Wolf wasn’t there.

I found him in the kitchen, standing next to the coffee maker, the raw turkey already sitting in the old roasting pan I’d found at the back of one of the kitchen cupboards.

He looked sexy as always in loose black jeans, naturally ripped in the way that made people pay hundreds of dollars for new ones, his dark hair tousled.

He came over to kiss me and I breathed him in: sleep and coffee and cold.

“Morning,” he said. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good.” I rubbed my arms. When the house had been built, people were used to drafty old buildings. The rooms withfireplaces were heated with fire, the other rooms with whatever heat seeped in. I would need to upgrade the heating system eventually, but it wasn’t in the current budget. “It’s getting cold.”

He handed me a mug full of steaming coffee. “Want to go grab a sweater?”

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