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“Was she responsible for the roses?”
Harry nodded, taking another deep sip of his drink. “She put some kind of bug powder on them. And before you ask, yes, she did the chair too. I got her to admit to both of those things, as well as putting some kind of syrup-Ipecac-in the chocolates.”
This time Izzie was the one to call the other woman a bitch under her breath. She simply couldn’t help it. Again, Harry didn’t make any effort to defend his wife.
“Why’d she come clean?” Izzie asked.
“I suspected as soon as I saw the box of candy. Dee loves that kind. And she came home with some of that syrup a couple of days ago, saying she wanted it on hand in case one of her nieces or nephews came over and swallowed something poisonous.”
Nick shifted a little, his arms still cross, his body still rigid. “So you confronted her?”
Harry nodded. “And she confessed. When she saw how sick Leah was, she felt awful.”
“Wonder if she’d have felt that way if it had been Izzie lying on the floor,” Nick snapped.
He sounded very protective. Which made Izzie feel all warm and gooshy inside, even though she told herself that was stupid.
“I dunno,” Harry admitted. “Maybe not.”
Gee, it was nice to be liked.
Nick finally sat up and leaned toward the desk. Fixing a firm eye on Harry he said, “Have you called the police?”
The man slowly shook his head. But before Nick could confront him on it, he added, “I went to Leah first and told her everything. She and Jackie decided to press charges, and they made the call to the police themselves.”
Nick relaxed. A little.
“I understand why that needed to happen.” Tears rose in Harry’s gray eyes and oozed a little onto his round cheeks. “But I couldn’t be the one to turn my wife in.”
Izzie reached over and put her hand on Nick’s leg, sensing he was about to make another comment about Delilah. She squeezed his thigh, warning him not to. Harry was suffering enough. He didn’t need to be told he was a fool for loving someone so hateful. “I understand,” she murmured.
“I hope you do. And I hope you’ll understand that I’m going to see her through this. She’ll be facing assault charges.”
“At the very least,” Nick mumbled.
“I know this might make you want to leave, Ro…Izzie. But I wish you wouldn’t.” The man smiled weakly. “You’re family.”
Huh. If poison was the way Delilah treated members of her family, Izzie would hate to see what she did to her enemies.
“I know that, too,” Izzie said, slowly pulling her hand away from Nick’s warm thigh, already missing the contact. Already missing him. “You love her. That’s what people who love each other do…they support one another, even when they make what other people might see as bad or foolish decisions.” Hearing a quiver in her voice as the subject touched much too close to home, Izzie offered Harry a tremulous smile.
Nick she didn’t even look at.
“Thank you for telling me, Harry. I’m going to go get ready for my next number.” Without another word to either of them, Izzie walked out and went back to work.
And Nick didn’t come anywhere near her for the rest of the night.
WHEN BRIDGET WENT back to the dealership on Monday morning, she looked for Ted, wondering if he’d have the nerve to show up.
He didn’t. That was good.
Neither did Dean. That wasn’t good.
Hopefully Ted had been scared off, either by Dean, or by the ramifications of his own stupid actions.
Hopefully Dean had not been scared off and was just stuck in traffic.
Bridget had spent all Sunday night wondering what on earth she was going to say to him-how she was going to climb that wall he’d erected between them after he’d kissed her so passionately in the office. But for nothing. He wasn’t there.
She trudged through her day, going through the same song and dance with Marty about the books. She found problems. He waved them off as unimportant. A typical day in the life.
“I am so gonna quit this job,” she muttered that afternoon.
Soon. Maybe she’d even give her notice today. After all, she’d only stayed to see if something was going to happen between her and Dean Willis. Judging by yesterday, it seemed pretty clear nothing was.
She went so far as to open up a document on her computer to type her resignation letter. She’d give two weeks notice, even though she had no other job lined up. She had enough of a cushion to be unemployed for a while. And if she didn’t come up with another bookkeeping job quickly, she’d lay money that Izzie would hire her on at the bakery, just to pay the rent.
