Moonlight Masquerade Read online

  “What does that mean?” Reede asked. “And who is ‘we’? And what has she said about me?”

  Roan had expected to enjoy his cousin’s misery as much as he’d loved seeing beer poured over his head. But there was such sadness, such despair in Reede’s voice that Roan couldn’t derive any pleasure from it. At the Halloween party Reede had been the happiest anyone had seen him in years—which is why the town had played along with his prank.

  “It’s all been Al’s idea,” Roan said, and told Reede about the sandwich shop.

  “She can cook,” Reede said in a voice that seemed to have no life in it. “But then Sophie can do most anything. You’ll have to see the sculpture she made for me. It’s as good as anything I’ve ever seen in an art gallery.”

  “So when are you coming back to town?”

  “I don’t know. Today. Tonight maybe. I have office hours tomorrow. If I could I’d get on a plane and—”

  “Run away!” Roan snapped and his voice rose as he spoke. “Like you did when the Chawnley girl dumped you? Only this time you deserve what you got. Listen, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’m going to help you. I’ll call some people and see if I can get someone to take over your office here in Edilean. That way you’ll get to run away and lick your wounds for another ten years. And Reede, I want to say that I’m really glad you’re going to leave town because I’m going to do everything I can to get Sophie for my own. She and I spent today together and I like her. And unlike you, I am not a coward. I’ll fight for what I want.”

  With that, Roan clicked off the phone and shoved it into his pocket. “Idiot!” he said aloud.

  The truth was that Roan knew that Sophie was never going to be his. She wasn’t interested in him, didn’t even seem to see him as a man. Even though they’d spent a day together and he’d worked hard to make her laugh, there was an emptiness in her eyes that was haunting.

  They’d spent the day buying necessary equipment for the little restaurant, and try as he might, Roan could never get Sophie to purchase so much as a spoon that she didn’t think was essential. Since Roan also liked to cook, they’d talked a lot about food, but Sophie wouldn’t speak of anything personal. It was as though she was shutting down, putting a wall around herself—and he hated to see that. Maybe Reede was the main culprit of what had been done to her, but so was the town.

  When they stopped for lunch and Sophie excused herself, Roan called Sara and told her what was going on.

  “We all did this,” Sara said. “Not just Reede, but all of us. That poor, poor woman. How can we make it up to her?”

  “Show her Edilean isn’t full of lying, conniving low-life scum?” Roan suggested.

  “That would be a start. Listen, keep her out as long as possible and I’ll get everyone together to do what we can to make her feel welcome. Kim and Jecca are going to murder us. I have to go. I need to—I don’t even know where to begin.” Sara didn’t say any more but clicked off, and Roan went back to the table to Sophie.

  “What else do we need?” he asked her as he slid into the booth across from her.

  “This is all too much. I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back,” Sophie said.

  He wanted to say “Forgive us” but he didn’t. Instead, “Let me work with you” came out of his mouth. “I took a year off from teaching so I could write a novel, a murder mystery that was going to take the world by storm, but . . . ” He waved his hand. “Let’s just say that the world is safe. I’ve been known to cook a bit so maybe I could . . . ” He shrugged.

  “Help make nanny sandwiches?”

  Roan didn’t understand, so she told what Al had said.

  Roan laughed. “Under a pound of beef and Al would think the sandwich was for girls.”

  “Maybe I should make a roast beef sandwich that weighs as much as Al—or maybe just his foot. I’d call it The Al.”

  “With horseradish sauce?”

  “Of course.”

  Roan grinned. “What about his wife? Mrs. Eats-Only-Lean?”

  “The Two Sticks of Celery lady? Salad with grilled chicken pieces not—”

  “Not a whole breast.”

  “Of course not. That would be too much. And very, very thin bread. No mayo. Just a little olive oil with a touch of lemon juice. The Mrs. Al.”

  Roan leaned back in the booth. “You might have something here. Sandwiches for the people of Edilean.”

  “In that case, should I include arsenic or hemlock?”

  “Yeow!” Roan said.

  “Sorry. I’m sure they’re very nice people and I’m sure they just wanted to help Reede. But when I think of everyone laughing at me because I was working for a man I’d poured beer over, it gets to me. I don’t know how I’m going to face them in that shop. How can I serve sandwiches and soup to people who . . . who . . . ?”

  “I guess that in Edilean we tend to take care of our own so much that we forget about outsiders. A few years ago a young woman, Jocelyn, inherited the big Edilean Manor, and we kept it from her that her gardener was actually Luke Adams.”

  “The writer?”

  “That’s him.”

  “And she thought he was the guy who planted the petunias? How angry was she when she found out?”

  “Not bad, but all her anger was at Luke, not the town.”

  “You’re saying that I should understand and be forgiving, aren’t you?”

  “I guess so. At least give us a chance to make it up to you. Will you do that?”

  “I’ll . . . ” Sophie looked across the table. “Ask me again on the fifteenth of January.”

  Roan smiled at her. “Fair enough. You ready to go? What kind of sandwich do you think a famous writer would like best?”

  “One with New York Times Best Seller branded into the bread.”

  Roan stared at her for a moment then let out a roar of laughter. “Oh Sophie! I’m going to enjoy working with you. And we have to figure out how to make that sandwich for my cousin! Come on, let’s go buy a panini press. No, let’s get three of them.” Smiling, they left the restaurant.

  For several minutes, Reede stood where he was in the hospital corridor, unable to move. He hadn’t been asleep for a day and a half and he should go home to bed. But the thought of that dark apartment without Sophie was more than he could bear.

  How to get her back? was the only thought in his head. Was there any apology that she’d listen to? He doubted it.

  As he started to put his phone back into his pocket, he thought of his college roommate. Reede checked his contacts list and pushed the button.

  “Hey old man,” his former roommate, Kirk, said. “Still trying to get someone to move to glorious Edi-lean and take over for you?”

  “No,” Reede said. “I need something else. Didn’t your brother get a degree in engineering?”

  “Yeah. He works for NASA now. You planning to go to the moon to get away from your hometown?”

  Reede winced that he’d made someone think he hated Edilean so much. “Didn’t you tell me that when he was a kid he liked to make up codes?”

  “Yeah, he did. You planning to become a spy and need some help in your code class?”

  “Actually, I am. Sort of.”

  “Count me in!” Kirk said. “Who do you need spied on?”

  “Can’t tell you that,” Reede said. It was one thing to blab too much to his cousin, but he wasn’t about to give the Treeborne name to anyone outside the family. Instead, he lied. “My aunt found her grandmother’s old cookbook and she wants to use it, but it’s written in some sort of code. Think your brother could break it?”

  “If he can’t he has the entire space industry to help him. But I can tell you that if it’s one of those codes based on the order of words in a book and you don’t have the book, there will be a problem.”

  “It could be,” Reede said. “I have no idea, but maybe I could scan it and e-mail it to your brother. Think that would be okay?”

  “I just prescribed for his athlete’s feet