Framed!. Robin Caroll
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stood and accepted his card. “Bea will see you out.”
As if on cue, the maid appeared in the doorway. The sheriff paused at the door and glanced back at Ava. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She just bet he was. “Thank you.”
Alone again, Ava plopped into a chair. Her thoughts drifted to her last conversations with her brother. Dylan had told Ava that he’d broken off things with Angelina because she’d started to get too serious, talking about love and future. To her brother, such discussions were the kiss of death in a relationship.
A long, red hair? Maybe they were still reaching to link him to Angelina’s death. But she’d been found six days before Dylan was shot. It didn’t make any sense.
Nothing made sense except her grief.
Maybe the sheriff had stumbled onto something about it being work related. Maybe it was something Dylan was involved with that he kept hidden from Charla. Ava could certainly understand—their mother hunted for reasons to interfere in their lives. But Ava had no way of knowing what Dylan had been working on. Ava stiffened her spine—all that would change now.
Her mother had pushed Ava into following a female career. How many times had Charla lectured that a man of stature, one Ava was expected to find and marry, wouldn’t be interested in a domineering businesswoman? Ava laughed at the irony. Charla Renault had always been a shrewd businesswoman, taking over her father’s business when he died. Marriage hadn’t stopped her, didn’t even slow her down when she had children. As a matter of fact, she’d never even taken her husband’s name when she married. Nor did she give her husband’s last name to her children.
“May I take the tray, Ms. Ava?”
She nodded at Bea, determination settling into her chest. Charla was in no condition to oversee anything, much less the multi-million-dollar corporation bearing the family name. All the hard work and time Dylan had invested in the company shouldn’t just go down the tubes. The time had come for Ava to take the bull by the horns, as her father would’ve said. Ava stood and crossed the hall to the study. Hovering over the desk, she made her decision and called her assistant at I Dream of Weddings. Cathy would have to take over the planning for the Halloway wedding in New Orleans next week, because she would make sure the Renault Corporation continued to be successful.
After instructing Cathy to not book anything in the immediate future that she, herself, couldn’t oversee, Ava pressed the speed dial number for the Renault Corporation.
It was time to take control, to become the businesswoman she knew she could be. One who could run a corporation as intelligently as Charla Renault, but with a heart—and a soul.
Now was Ava’s time.
The last vestige of the sun’s rays streaked across the February sky. Max smiled, loving this time of the year, driving home from work when the day had already given way to welcoming the night.
It’d been a long day. Busy, but productive. There were so many calls today from locals wanting to invest in real estate that if Max didn’t know better, he’d think people needed tax write-offs. But it was the wrong time of year and he did know better—the influx of people with money to spend was directly due to Dylan Renault’s death. People were nervous over the leader of Renault Corporation being dead, and from what Max had witnessed at the funeral, it didn’t appear Charla Renault was in any condition to take over the helm of the investment corporation.
Max didn’t like what’d happened, yet he wasn’t stupid. His own business would suffer if he didn’t provide the service his company was founded upon. But he didn’t have to like making a profit off Ava’s loss.
Speaking of Ava, she hadn’t called like she said she would. He tried not to be disappointed, tried to rationalize that she probably had a million things to do, but his heart sank to his toes. Max entered his home, his mouth watering for the stir-fry he planned to make. He’d been so busy he’d only had time to gulp down a sandwich from the vendor who made daily visits to the offices along Main and Church streets. His stomach rumbled at the memory.
“Working late?”
Max glared at his mother. “What are you doing here again? You can’t just keep letting yourself in, Mom. This is my home.”
“I just miss you is all.” She used the tone of hers that bordered on whining. How often she’d lamented the fact he’d moved into his own condo years ago.
Did she really think he’d just live with her forever?
“Look, I’ve had a long day at work, and all I want to do is make a little stir-fry, catch the news and call it an early night.”
His mother smiled. “Can I join you? I’ll help cut the vegetables.”
He opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. His mother didn’t have many friends, mainly because she’d spent her life dedicated to him. While he’d never asked her to, she’d sacrificed everything to see to his happiness. Max let out a sigh. “Sure. Grab the squash and zucchini from the fridge and start chopping.”
He’d just set up the wok when the phone rang. “Hello.”
“Max?” Just the way Ava said his name made his stomach quiver, and it wasn’t from hunger.
“Ava. Is anything wrong?” His mother’s hand froze, knife poised over the squash. She arched a well-drawn eyebrow. Max moved into the living room.
“No. Yes.” Ava hesitated. “I don’t know. Sheriff Reed was here, asking questions. He’s got me all confused.”
“How so?”
“Trying to make a connection between Dylan and Angelina Loring and Leah Farley. All these deaths.”
“I thought the police had wrapped them all up. Well, except for Dylan’s.”
“They liked Dylan for Angelina’s murder, but now…well, they found a long, red hair on Dylan’s clothes, and I don’t think it was Angelina’s. Not by the questions the sheriff asked. And I’m still trying to figure out why Dylan was even at Renault Hall.” She sighed. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe he went by just to check out the property. Maybe he was considering getting the area appraised.” He tightened his hold on the phone.
Ava snorted. “Not hardly. Mother forbade us to even step foot on the property.”
“You never know. Things change. So do people.”
“I suppose.”
He hated hearing the pain in her voice. It did strange things to his gut. “Do you want me to come get you and take you somewhere?”
“No, I just wanted to vent a little.” Her voice hitched as she drew in a shaky breath.
She didn’t have anyone to talk to—certainly not her mother, by the way she’d carried on at the funeral.
“We can go somewhere and talk.” He ached to hold her again. Smooth her silky hair and tell her everything would be okay. “I meant what I said. If there’s anything I can do for you…”
“I appreciate that, but maybe I should just call it a night.”
“You can call me anytime, you know.”
“Thanks, Max.” The smile came through in her voice.
“Good night, Ava.” Turning around to head into the kitchen, he nearly ran smack into his mother hovering in the hallway.
“You’re going to see her? Ava Renault?”
He nudged past her and set the phone on its base. “No, I just made the offer.”
“Why?” His mother cut the knife through the air. “She’s not good enough for you, never was. She’s nothing but trouble.”
After setting the temperature on the wok, he sliced