NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

 “Exactly, and we’ll keep the price down initially, to get it moving. I’m having the bags overfilled by a couple ounces to give me a safety zone. I thought we’d put Ruby on the job, for a start anyway. Maybe see if Steve wants to take some part-time work. It won’t be that labor intensive, or take that much time.”

 “It’s smart business, Mama.” He laid the bag down. “You’ve got a knack for it.”

 “I like to think so. We still mad at each other?”

 “No, but we might be after I finish telling you I went into Memphis to see Mitch Carnegie.”

 Her face went blank; her voice turned cool. “Why would you do that, Harper?”

 “One, I was pissed off. Two, David and Stella talked me out of hunting up Clerk and beating his face in. Third, I wanted to hear for myself what Mitch had to say about what’s going on between you.”

 “I understand one perfectly. I appreciate two, on several levels. But I fail to comprehend why you would assume to interrogate a man I’m seeing. It’s unpardonably rude and interfering. I don’t run around snooping on the women you choose to see.”

 “It wasn’t snooping, and I’ve never chosen to see a woman who stole from me or set out to interfere with my life or smear my reputation.”

 “You’re young yet.” Ice dripped from the words. “Do you think I’m the only woman foolish enough to get tangled up with an asshole?”

 “No, I don’t. But I don’t much care about other women. You’re my only mother.”

 “That doesn’t give you the right to—”

 “I love you.”

 “Don’t use that weapon on me.”

 “I can’t help it. It’s all I’ve got.”

 She pressed her fingers to the center of her forehead, rubbed hard. “It would help if you added a little trust and respect to that love, Harper.”

 “I’ve got all the trust and respect in the world for you, Mama. It’s the men I’m not so sure about. But if it helps any, I worked up plenty of trust and respect for Mitch last night. He might almost be worthy enough to court my mama.”

 “He’s not courting me, for God’s sake. Where do you get this sort of . . . We went to a college basketball game, we had dinner.”

 “I think he’s stuck on you.”

 She stared, and this time lifted both hands to the sides of her head. “My head is reeling.”

 He walked to her, slid his arms around her, and drew her in. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt again.”

 “Bryce only hurt my pride.”

 “That’s a mortal wound for us Harpers. And he did more than that. I don’t think Mitch will do the same, at least not deliberately.”

 “So, you approve.”

 He grinned when she tipped her head up to look at him. “That’s a trick question, and my mama didn’t raise any fools. I say yes, and you’ll rip my butt reminding me you don’t need my approval. So I’m just going to say I like him. I like him a lot.”

 “You’re a slippery one, Harper Ashby. Tell you what.” She patted his back, eased away. “You can give me a hand in here for a while. I want to do up twenty bags of each weight category.”

 “I thought you wanted Ruby to do that.”

 “Changed my mind. Doing some uncomplicated and monotonous work ought to give you some time to reflect on the error of your ways.”

 “Talk about slippery.”

 “The day you can outwit me, my baby, is the day I see about moving myself into a home. Let’s get started.”

 AFTER WORK SHEwent straight home, and directly upstairs to clean up. Wary now, she checked the mail on her desk, looked through the bills. She couldn’t say she was relieved when she found nothing. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 There had been a similar sort of harassment right after the divorce, then a nice period of peace. When, she assumed, he’d had some other woman on the string and was too involved to waste his time poking sticks at an ex-wife.

 She’d handled it then; she’d handle it now.

 As she was dressing the phone rang. When it hit the third ring, she assumed David was otherwise occupied and answered herself.

 “Good evening. Is Rosalind Harper available?”

 “This is she.”

 “Ms. Harper, this is Derek from the Carrington Gallery in New York. We’re just following up to let you know the Vergano will be shipped to you tomorrow.”

 “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Derek, is it? I didn’t order anything from your gallery.”

 “The Cristina Vergano, Ms. Harper. Your representative spoke with me personally only last week.”

 “I don’t have a representative.”

 “Ms. Harper, I’m very confused. The charge has already been cleared to your account. Your representative indicated that you were very taken with the painting, and wished to have it shipped as soon as the showing was over. We’ve had considerable interest in this work, but as it was already sold—”

 She rubbed hard at the back of her neck where the tension had settled. “It looks like we both have a problem, Derek. Let me give you some of the bad news.” She explained briefly, caught herself pacing as she spoke, and as a fresh headache brewed. She noted down the credit card company and number.

 “This is very upsetting.”