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How? How could anyone harm this beautiful and innocent woman? This woman I loved so damned much?
Daphne’s body had healed, but her mind… Her mind didn’t know anything had happened.
Best to keep it that way, as Jonathan said.
I had a feeling that toll was going to be steep.
Daphne’s mother’s suicide attempt was only the beginning.
Chapter Sixteen
Daphne
Brad’s mother was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She was striking, with dark hair and eyes much like her son’s. Her hair was cut short in a new-fashioned pixie style, and it worked on her because her facial features were so soft and feminine. From her straight nose and high cheekbones to her full lips and only slightly prominent chin, Mazie Steel was nearly perfect to look at.
She wore bell-bottom jeans and a peasant blouse, and silver hoops dangled from her ears. When she shook my hand, I noticed dirt beneath her unpolished fingernails. The only part of her that wasn’t perfect.
Of course. She’d been working in the greenhouse.
She gave me a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Daphne. I’m sorry I missed your last visit.” She let go of me. “Let me look at you. My, but you’re a beautiful thing. So tall, too.”
I warmed with embarrassment. “Thank you.”
Then she grabbed Brad in a hug as well. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, Mom. Where’s Dad?”
“I have no idea,” Mazie said. “He’ll be here in a few. He’s never late for dinner, as you know.”
Brad and I had decided to wait until after dinner to share our news, as we had with my parents.
I suppressed a shiver as I regarded Mazie Steel. She’d been hospitalized before. What if the news drove her over the edge as it had my mother?
No.
No, no, no.
I would not go there.
Brad had told me she’d found solace in her greenhouse and other activities. She looked and acted fine.
No reason to worry.
I hoped, anyway.
Clomp. Clomp.
Footsteps that could only mean George Steel.
He marched into the kitchen, trailing bits of dirt from his boots. I felt sorry for Belinda. She’d have to clean up his mess. But I guessed that was what they paid her for.
He didn’t speak to his wife or son. He nodded at me. “Daphne.”
“Hi, Mr. Steel. Nice to see you again.”
“You too. What’s for dinner, Belinda?”
“Filet mignon wrapped in humanely raised bacon.” Belinda winked at me.
“Say what?” Mr. Steel said.
“Mr. Brad’s request. We’re also having twice-baked potatoes, broccoli with almonds, and fresh peaches from the orchard.”
He nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. “Table’s not set.”
“We’re eating in the dining room.”
“Just for four of us?”
“Mr. Brad’s requ—”
“Yeah, yeah. I guess I should change.” He stood and left the kitchen, clomping down the hallway.
Mrs. Steel smiled at me. “Don’t mind him, Daphne. He’s just being himself.”
Was I supposed to laugh at that? I wasn’t sure.
“Daphne knows how he is, Mom,” Brad said. “I’ve warned her.”
“At least he remembered me,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help, Mrs. Steel?”
“Honey, call me Mazie. Belinda has everything under control, don’t you?”
“Yes, Miss Mazie. Potatoes and veggies are already on the table. How do you like your steak, Miss Daphne?”
“Medium rare. And please just call me Daphne.”
“Try it rare,” Brad said. “A Steel filet is best served rare. It’ll melt in your mouth.”
“He’s right,” Mazie agreed. “Make them all rare, Belinda.”
“You got it,” Belinda said. “Go ahead in. These filets won’t take long on the grill, and I’ll bring them in. Salad’s already tossed and plated.”
“Thanks, Belinda,” Mazie said, “but I suppose we should wait for George.”
“We can at least sit down, Mom,” Brad said. “Come on.”
Brad took my hand and led me back toward the front door. Across from the formal living room sat the formal dining room. I hadn’t noticed it when I came into the house because it hid behind two ornate swinging doors.
My eyes went round.
First, it was huge. The dark wood table could easily seat a party of twenty or more. Did the Steels ever have that many people over for a formal dinner? Second, it was wallpapered in a white and gold paisley pattern. No wonder Mr. Steel didn’t want to eat in here. It really wasn’t him. It was Mazie, though.
“This is beautiful,” I said to her. “Did you decorate it?”
“I did,” she said and then chuckled. “George hates it.”
“If your dad hates it in here,” I said to Brad, “why did you insist we eat in here?”
“Because my mom likes it, and I knew you would too.” He grinned.
“Yeah, but if your dad—”
“Forget about him,” Mazie said. “We deserve to eat in a nice room every once in a while.” She walked to the head of the table. “This is George’s spot. Brad, hand me the place setting at my spot.”
Brad grabbed the plate and utensils and handed them to his mother. She set them down next to one of the settings on either side of George’s place.
