Page 102 of These White Lies
“The food was delicious, Mrs. Howell.” I give her mom my full-wattage smile. “We are going to take a quick ride. Elizabeth said she wanted to show me a special place.”
“Jean, please.” She glances at Elizabeth. “Where are you going?”
“I wanted to show him Nan’s old house. The pond and the tree.”
“The old place? I thought you said you hadn’t been by in years.”
“I haven’t,” Elizabeth says casually. “But it’s a beautiful view. I thought he’d like to see it.”
It isn’t a lie—not exactly. Iwouldlike to see it. Especially if it gives us a clue as to where the necklace could be.
Jean glances out the window. “I think we’ve got a thunderstorm blowing up anyway, so no one will mind if you leave.” She frowns. “It sold a couple years ago, but the owners don’t live there full-time. Just a vacation home. They’ve always been nice. I’m sure they won’t mind if you stop by the property.”
I nod. “We’ll be quick. Won’t even get out of the car if there’s anyone around.”
Jean smiles. “That’s not necessary. I’ll give them a call. Let them know you’re coming by.”
I don’t love the idea. I would prefer no one knows we are there, but there’s no way to refuse without looking suspicious.
“I’m just going to change into tennis shoes,” Elizabeth says.
As I follow her toward the stairs, Jean catches my arm. “I have something I want to show you, too, Brady.”
I glance at Elizabeth, whose brows have furrowed. “Mom.”
Jean waves her hand. “I won’t embarrass you. Hurry up if you want to beat the storm.” The steel in her voice is eerily reminiscent of her daughter’s.
Elizabeth hesitates, her eyes seeking mine, and I give her a subtle nod, allowing Jean to lead me down the porch steps and around the side of the house.
I can hear the noise from the party breaking up in the background and several people making their goodbyes, but Jean leads me farther from the house down a narrow path lined with flower beds that are as beautiful and lush as any I’ve seen.I couldn’t begin to name the different types of flowers, but it seems like every color on the spectrum is represented.
Once we are out of earshot of the house, she pauses by a row of coral-colored roses and faces me, arms crossed. “You’re a good liar.”
I adopt a confused expression. “Excuse me?”
Her mouth quirks. “That whole party story. I know Beth thinks I’m a country bumpkin, but I can still see straight through that girl. While I’ll admit you’re good at making things sound true, my daughter’s face gives her away.”
I decide the safest route is to say nothing. Jean doesn’t look angry, but I’m not sure I want to test her limits.
“I don’t need to know everything,” she says. “Elizabeth’s a grown woman. She makes her own choices. Always has. Once she makes up her mind, that’s it, and heaven forbid someone gets in her way. God knows I learned a long time ago I couldn’t stop her even if I tried.”
“She’s one of a kind,” I agree.
“She is.” Jean stoops to pick a small weed from the edge of her flower bed and crumples it in her hand, lips pursed. “She’s strong, and tough, and driven, but she’s also closed off and controlled. Beth wasn’t always like this. Every now and then, I see traces of the wild girl she used to be still in there.”
I tilt my head, trying to decide if the words are a compliment or a criticism.
“She’s always been a driven person. Determined. But she used to be softer.” Jean’s voice eases. “Somewhere along the way, that changed. I don’t want to blame Keith. Beth’s decisions are her own, but that man broke her.”
A fire sparks in the woman’s blue eyes. “Beth never wanted to talk about it. I don’t know what he did, but after they met, my daughter changed. Then when the marriage fell apart, it was like the beautiful, bright girl locked herself behind her suits andrefused to look up.” She meets my eyes, and my chest tightens at the pain I see there.
“I probably wasn’t the mother she needed. Still aren’t. When she was young we were building our business, and I know too much fell on her as the eldest, but she never complained and always took care of everything. It was easier to believe she was okay.” Her mouth twists. “Truth is, I never really asked, just accepted it when she told me she was fine.”
That fucking word. It’s been her shield her entire life.
Jean captures my gaze with a sharp one of her own. “I’m not telling you this because I’m trying to absolve myself, and I don’t know what the deal is with the two of you. But I haven’t seen Beth smile and relax like she does with you in a very long time. So, whatever you’ve done to break through her iron shell to let her live again… Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I admit. “Elizabeth is who she is. She doesn’t have to change for me. She’s already perfect.”
