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With her head spinning, Norma Rose was only able to ask, “What do I think?”
Twyla nodded.
Blinking or shaking her head didn’t clear Norma Rose’s mind. The entire world had gone crazy, that’s what she thought. She didn’t say that, nor did she agree with Twyla’s suggestion. It was her job to get musicians, and she would, regardless of who that meant she had to talk to, and—she clenched her teeth to combat the little voice screaming in the back of her mind—she didn’t have Ty. That single point of her sister’s breathless announcement had struck hard.
Needing a few moments to put things into perspective, Norma Rose slipped on the robe lying across the foot of her bed and crossed the room to her closet, where she blindly chose a dress hanging among many. From the dresser she chose underclothes, fully aware of Twyla watching her every move, waiting for an answer.
“I’m going down the hall,” Norma Rose finally said, once her hands were full. “I’ll meet you in my office when I’m done.”
Twyla agreed with a delayed and baffled nod, and Norma Rose left the room, completely confused. Once shut in the bathroom, a single glance in the mirror told her a bath was in order. She’d gone to bed with hair damp from sweating on the dance floor last night and she now looked as if she’d been electrocuted.
After soaking in the tub, she sprinkled powder on her legs to ease the work of putting on the tight silk stockings, which she clipped to her thighs with garters, and then used a good amount of styling cream to secure the waves she created in her side-parted hair. She added cosmetics, liner and mascara, powder and lipstick, as well as two round dots of blush on her cheeks. Satisfied the makeup made her look more confident than she felt, she stepped into her silk tap pants and eased her cami top over her head, cautious of her face and hair. Turning to the dress she’d hung on the back of the door, she paused. Why had she chosen that one? It was purple, lavender really, with several layers of fringes on the skirt and thin straps over the shoulders. Much more suitable for evening wear and nothing like the conservative black dresses she was known for wearing.
The purple dress had leaped off the page of a catalog last winter, when snow had covered the ground. The only reason she’d ordered it was because it reminded her of the warm days of summer. Once it had arrived, knowing she’d never wear it, she’d almost given it to Ginger.
The hallway that contained the family’s bedrooms was closed off from the guest rooms by a solid door, but she still didn’t roam the area half-dressed and insisted her sisters never did, either. She glanced at the robe lying in a heap on the floor, but in the end, chose the dress.
Entering her bedroom, the full-length mirror caught her image as she closed the door. Norma Rose took a moment to examine the reflection. The same single question that had arisen while she’d been putting on her makeup entered her mind. Would Ty think she was pretty? Did he think so already?
Disgusted, she turned away. With everything else going on, that was the one thing she thought about. The earth must have tilted on its axis, tossing the entire world cattywampus. There was no other explanation. Not for her thoughts and not for last night.
Norma Rose didn’t change her dress. Instead she slipped on a pair of white shoes and gloves, and added a headband with a silver butterfly to flutter over one ear. The world had most certainly shifted. She wasn’t even worried about facing Forrest. The time had come.
The resort was quiet, as it usually was on Sundays. Mondays were like that, too, and she normally enjoyed the time to catch up and prepare for the week ahead, but today she was primed to take on the world and set everything back in its rightful order. She couldn’t say if the bath had revived her or if it had been the purple dress. Either way, the first place she stopped was her father’s office.
He waved her in as he hung up the phone receiver. “Aw, Rosie girl,” he said, plastering a smile as false as those she so regularly used on his face. “I’m glad to see you’ve recruited your sisters to help out more around here. That’s how it should be, this is a family business.”
He looked disheveled, a rare occurrence. Though faint, the air held a scent that sent her heart racing. Ty had been in this room. Just a short time ago.
“Dale Emmerson will be out here this evening,” her father was saying by the time her ears started functioning again, “with some papers for you and your sisters to sign. I’ll have a proxy for you to sign on Ginger’s behalf.”
An alarm, louder than any fire bell, went off inside her head. “What sort of papers?”
“I’m putting the resort and the other land I own in you girls’ names,” he said, pushing away from his desk.
He wasn’t wearing a suit coat and sweat circles darkened his white shirt under his arms and between the suspenders on his back as he walked toward the window.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because it’s time,” he said. “Past time.”
“What’s happened?” Her mouth had gone dry. “Did some runners get caught last night?”
“No.”
The bottom fell completely out of her stomach. “You’ve uncovered the snitch, haven’t you?”
“Not the one Withers is worried about.” Her father’s sigh filled the room and hung heavy in the air. “I hate to do this, Rosie—involve you—but I need your help.”
“I’ve been involved since the beginning, Father. The resort—”
“I’m not talking about the resort,” he said, eyeing her directly. “I want you to leave that to Twyla and Josie for the next few days.”
She braced against the shiver rippling her spine.
“I need you to help Ty, whatever he needs, no questions.” His steady gaze was serious and grave. “The less you know, the better.”
“Wha—”
He held up a hand. “No questions, Rosie.” Crossing the room, he said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking and it’s the only way. We could lose everything, Rosie. Everything. I’m setting things up so you girls will be fine, but a lot has to happen in order for it to work.” He’d arrived at his chair and landed in it as if the world was crashing down around him.
“You can’t say that and expect me not to have questions,” she said.
“I don’t expect you not to have questions, I expect you not to ask them. When it’s all over, you’ll understand why.” He waved toward the window that overlooked the front parking lot. “Ty’s waiting for you out front.”
* * *
Ty was leaning against his truck like the world was his, cattywampus or not. His black suit didn’t host a wrinkle, and his black suede shoes didn’t hold a speck of dust.
Norma Rose closed the front door behind her, but stopped on the porch, eyes locked with his. “Questions, my ass,” she whispered to herself, clutching the keys in her hand. This man was the root of all her problems, and would not be the one to bring down her father. Or her.
Chin up, she started forward, letting him know just who he was up against. Who would win.
* * *
Ty was more aware of Norma Rose than he was of himself as she stomped down the steps as haughty and overconfident as ever. He smiled—inside, where she couldn’t see it—but he felt it nonetheless with each step she took. He’d never wanted a woman the way he did her. Now that he’d accepted it for what it was, it consumed him.
She didn’t slow as she approached the truck, merely walked right past him, nose in the air. “I’ll drive.”
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” he said.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me,” she answered, rounding the back of his Model T to march across the parking lot, toward the large garage.
“Do you have your keys?” He couldn’t believe it was only yesterday he’d witnessed her sequester them all.
She flashed a set in one hand, though he was much more aware of how the fringes on her purple skirt flapped across her backside. It didn’t matter who drove. Actually, not using his vehicle, as common as it was, wasn’t a bad idea. He doubted Roger would let out their secret—the man would surely lose everything then—but involving the resort owner and his daughter heightened the importance of no one learning his real line of work.
Ty had weighed up the options, and in the end decided that if there was any hope of not bringing the resort down with Bodine, it lay in having enough information to arrest the gangster when he stepped off the train, which didn’t leave a lot of time.
He waited until she’d backed the car out of the garage before climbing in the passenger seat. It felt odd, not being behind the wheel. He didn’t like giving control to anyone and expected Norma Rose felt the same, which is why she insisted on driving. Accepting that for what it was, he closed the door, but kept one hand on the doorknob, ready to dive out if needed. He’d been told Dave broke his arm teaching her how to drive.
“Where to?”
“St. Paul,” he answered. “We’re going to find out who poisoned your uncle.”
“How?”
“By retracing every step he took if necessary.”
“Why don’t you just ask Dave?”
