“It’s, ah, kind of an important matter. I’d rather not go into all the details.” Her mom’s cheeky, almost haughty air reminded Rose of herself as a girl, but far less abrasive. Yes, Rose had been a testy little shit, whereas her mother had been far more patient with her than she deserved. With Andy, too. Hell, especially with Andy. This was an interesting reversal.

Rose’s first impulse told her it was a financial matter. This Bellamy character could be an accountant of some kind, advising her mom on what to do with her not-inconsiderable assets. Her divorce settlement had made her quite rich. Exactly how rich, Rose and Andy had only ever speculated on, and that had lately become just too painful a topic for discussion, despite Andy’s persistent callous probing.

“What firm are you with?” Rose asked the mystery visitor.

“I am a …an independent consultant.”

“What sort of consultant?”

“The kind that honors a client’s confidentiality.” He looked across to Blythe, who gave him a curt nod, then back to Rose. “It’s at your mother’s discretion, of course. But I think it’s safe to say that my being here is to your benefit as well as Blythe’s.”

Crafty, enigmatic words that made her want to hack the truth out of him with an ice pick. God, how she hated bureaucrats and their legalese. It made her PI work ten times harder than it should be. But her mom wanted the creep here—that was that. She’d just have to wheedle the truth out of them some other way.

“Whatever,” she said, waving his nonsense away. “So, Mom, how about that walk? If you’ve got any crusts saved up, we could feed the ducks.”

Her mom’s haughtiness dropped instantly, and she beamed. “Oh, I’d love that. Just let me get changed.” On her way into the next room, she glanced at Bellamy from the corner of her eye. “Will you be alright waiting here? We won’t be long.”

“Where is it you’re going?”

Blythe re-entered the room with a sweater wrapped around her. “To the park, just a few minutes away. There’s a big pond where we sit and throw bread for the ducks. It’s one of our favorite places.” Rose liked her mother’s emphasis on the word our. Just in case this bozo had the temerity to want to tag along.

“That sounds pleasant,” he said. “I think I would like that.”

“Oh, you would, would you?” Rose stepped between her mom and the shark. “Not to be a bitch or anything, but I didn’t come here to see you, pal. I came for my mom. That’s me and her. Two.” She held up as many fingers to illustrate, then rudely widened them at him. “And you’re what’s in between. Clear enough?”