AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I'll give you a tour later," Rhea promises. "I need a drink."
The sudden ringing of Remy's phone pierces the tranquil vibe and Rhea shoots him a dirty look as he waves us on.
Rhea may not have been here in years, but she certainly remembers where she’s going well enough to lead me through a long hall that lets out into an expansive and expensive-looking kitchen. Every surface gleams from the warm sunlight that pours through the open windows, and the air, full of the sound of water simmering on the stovetop and the clap of a knife against a bamboo cutting board, smells delicious.
The petite woman at the marble island in the heart of the kitchen is chopping onions with a massive knife, but as soon as she senses that she isn't alone, she lays it down and eyes Rhea.
"It smells like heaven in here." Rhea sighed.
"I may be in heaven because Hell must have frozen over!" A smile splits Elaine’s face, and then she’s wrapping Rhea in a motherly hug that shoots a pang of jealousy through me. The guilt chases it away as soon as it appears. I shouldn’t envy my best friend for anything, as willing as she is to share her life with me.
Rhea laughs, but as she pulls away, I see the guilt in her smile, a mirror of what I feel. "I never should have stayed away so long. I'm sorry, Elaine."
"Oh, hush." Elaine waves a hand as if she can wipe away the past. "I'm proud of you, Sunshine."
"I'm glad you're still here putting up with Remy's bullshit after all these years." Rhea laughs. "Especially because my dear friend Claire and I would kill for a pitcher of your famous sangria."
"Good thing it's already in the fridge, there." Elaine beams as Rhea kisses her on one cheek and then the other before skipping across the kitchen to retrieve the pitcher from the fridge.
Elaine returns back to chopping her onions, but as she glances up at where I stand across from her, the smile slips from her face… and the knife slips from her hand.
Chapter thirteen
Claire
"Oh!" She gasps.
She doesn't even seem to notice that she's cut herself at first, she’s so intent on staring at me as though she is looking at a ghost. Despite the blood dripping down her fingers, Elaine is transfixed on me.
It locks me in place for a moment, holding me captive under her strange gaze, and then I see the blood gushing between her fingers. I lunge for the towel on the sink and press it over the woman's hand, uncertain where she cut herself. At the same time, Rhea whips around to survey the damage.
"Are you alright?" I can feel the woman's hands shaking as I press the towel around them.
Elaine meets my eyes, silently at first, and then manages a smile as she withdraws from my touch. "I'm fine, dear. Just a slip and a nick. Happens all the time. Let me clean this up and then I'll be right back."
Elaine rushes off, leaving me to turn to Rhea, bewildered. "That was weird, right?" I don’t know anything about Remy’s housekeeper. Maybe that interaction is normal for her, for all I know. But the way she looked at me was unsettling—like she wanted nothing to do with me. I wonder if she’s a secret psychic and I have some kind of dark cloud for an aura.
"Yeah." Rhea agrees. "Elaine is a master chef. I've never known her to slip."
"She looked... scared of me."
"Scared?" Rhea laughs, turning back to the pitcher. She pours a glass full to the brim with a pungent sangria mix and sets it in front of me. Then Rhea pours another for herself. "I love you, Claire, but you're not very fearsome."
I laugh because it’s true. I’m probably still feeling off from the sleeping pills and the long flight and being shot at, not to mention all the weirdness of the last twenty-four hours. I take a sip of the sangria and my tastebuds explode with pleasure.
"Oh my God."
I stare at the glass a moment, wondering if she infused it with magic, before looking up to find Rhea with a slow grin spreading on her face. "I told you it's to-die-for. Elaine has a special touch where everything she does turns out perfect... except for whatever this was supposed to be." She gestures to the cutting board with a few small drops of blood splattered across it.
"What happened?" Remy frowns as he enters the kitchen, looking from his sister to me. "I saw Elaine rush past."
"She nicked herself." Rhea nods at the cutting board and then gingerly picks it up to scrape the contents into the trash.
"Was she alright?" I ask, nervous that she’ll need stitches. It really seemed like a lot of blood.
"I'm sure she's fine.” Remy says coolly. “She just looked a bit shaken up. She's been handling the details for the funeral and I'm sure it's not been easy."
I nod my understanding as Rhea drops the cutting board into the stainless-steel sink, where it clanks against another dish and then settles. She turns the water on and rinses the blood down the sink.
