"I suppose you do. "
"So, well. She'd gotten word I was living here, and was a family connection, so she was pumping me. I don't pump so easy, but I let her keep at it. "
Roz grinned under the brim of her cap as she reached for a plant. "Good for you. "
"I figured what she really wanted was for me to pass on to you the news that Bryce Clerk is back in Memphis. "
A jerk of her fingers broke off part of the stem. "Is he?" Roz said, very quietly.
"He's living at the Peabody for now and has some sort of venture in the works. She was vague about that. She says he plans to move back permanent, and he's taking office space. Said he looked very prosperous. "
"Likely he hosed some other brainless woman. "
"You aren't brainless, Roz. "
"I was, briefly. Well, it's no matter to me where he is or what he's doing. I don't get burned twice by the same crooked match. "
She set the plant, then reached for another. "Common name for these is none-so-pretty. Feel these sticky patches on the stems? They catch flies. Shows that something that looks attractive can be dangerous, or at least a big pain in the ass. "
* * *
She buried it as she cleaned up. She wasn't con-cerned with a scoundrel she'd once been foolish enough to marry. A woman was entitled to a few mistakes along the way, even if she made them out of loneliness or foolishness, or - screw it - vanity.
Entitled, Roz thought, as long as she corrected the mistakes and didn't repeat them.
She put on a fresh shirt, skimmed her fingers through her damp hair as she studied herself in the mirror. She could still look good, damn good, if she worked at it. If she wanted a man, she could have one - and not because he assumed she was dim-witted and had a depthless well of money to draw from. Maybe what had happened with Bryce had shaken her confidence and self-esteem for a little while, but she was all right now. Better than all right.
She hadn't needed a man to fill in the pockets of her life before he'd come along. She didn't need one now. Things were back the way she liked them. Her kids were happy and productive, her business was thriving, her home was secure. She had friends she enjoyed and acquaintances she tolerated.
And right now, she had the added interest of researching her family ghost.
Giving her hair another quick rub, she went downstairs to join the rest of the crew in the library. She heard the knock as she came to the base of the stairs, and detoured to the door.
"Logan, what a nice
surprise. "
"Hayley didn't tell you I was coming?"
"No, but that doesn't matter. Come on in. "
"I ran into her at the nursery today, and she asked if I'd come by tonight, give y'all a hand with your research and brainstorming. I had a hard time resisting the idea of being a ghostbuster. "
"I see. " And she did. "I'd best warn you that our Hayley's got a romantic bent and she currently sees you as Rochester to Stella's Jane Eyre. "
"Oh. Uh-oh. "
She only smiled. "Jane's still with the boys, getting them settled down for the night. Why don't you go on up to the West wing? Just follow the noise. You can let her know we'll entertain ourselves until she comes down. "
She walked away before he could agree or protest.
She didn't pry into other people's business. But that didn't mean she didn't sow the occasional seeds.
Logan stood where he was for a moment, tapping his fingers on the side of his leg. He was still tapping them as he started up the stairs.
Roz was right about the noise. He heard the laughter and squeals, the stomping feet before he'd hit the top. Following it, he strolled down the hall, then paused in the open doorway.
It was obviously a room occupied by boys. And though it was certainly tidier than his had been at those tender ages, it wasn't static or regimented. A few toys were scattered on the floor, books and other debris littered the desk and shelves. It smelled of soap, shampoo, wild youth, and crayons.