Page 25 of A Charming Touch of Tarot (The Gin & Tarot Club #2)

25

Ten of Pentacles

As we pull up to 123 Magnolia Avenue, Ian’s home, I can feel Nina’s tension thickening, morphing into a cloud of doubt and fear.

Nina, Lanie, and I stare up at the regal Greek Revival home, quiet and contemplative.

The place stands proudly amidst a canopy of sprawling oak trees, ivy gracefully climbing the walls, adding a touch of rustic charm. Its imposing facade, a pristine white hue that appears recently painted, keeps the place timeless. The towering columns and pedimented portico evoke a sense of grandeur and elegance. It’s the type of home that makes New Orleans’s Garden District so special.

“What if it’s not him?” Nina murmurs softly, continuing to look forward.

“Then we keep looking,” Lanie declares, and I nod my head in solidarity with that plan.

“What if it is and he turns me away?”

I shift my gaze to Nina’s profile, observing the delicate lines etched around her right eye, and the subtle downturn of her lips. There’s a sense of vulnerability in the way her features soften, as if revealing a glimpse of the inner turmoil she may be experiencing.

“Then I’ll rap him upside the head,” Lanie vows.

I lean forward, shooting her a disgruntled look. “There will be no rapping. We’re not Richard,” I snap.

“She’s right,” Nina says. “Ian’s been running because of threats.”

I turn toward Nina and offer a tight-lipped smile. “Take this one step at a time, Nins. Knock on the door and give him the chance to say his piece. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

She hesitates for a moment before finally moving toward the front door and lifting her hand to knock. The sound echoes through the quiet neighborhood, but there’s no immediate response. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if Ian will even answer.

“Maybe we should come back?” Lanie suggests, but the door creaks open.

Nina’s breath catches, and I know it must be Ian.

In his late thirties, he exudes a sense of maturity tempered with a youthful charm. His light hair, tousled in a casual yet intentional manner, frames his angular face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw. But it’s his eyes that draw you in—bright aqua orbs that seem to hold a world of depth and emotion within them. They sparkle with intelligence and warmth. Despite the passage of time, he clearly recognizes Nina, his expression locked on her in a mixture of shock and something else I can’t pinpoint in the moment.

Nina’s face pales as she takes in Ian’s appearance, the weight of years of separation and unanswered questions hanging heavy between them. “Ian,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stares at her for a long moment, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for answers. “Nina,” he finally replies, his voice barely audible.

The air is thick with unspoken words as they stand there, grappling with the past and the memories that bind them together. Lanie and I stand awkwardly, fidgeting in place, wondering if we should do something, say something to help our friend along.

Finally, Nina finds her voice, her words coming out in a rush. “Richard is in jail,” she blurts out, her voice trembling slightly. “Murder. He’ll be going away for a very long time.”

Ian’s eyes close, a pained expression crossing over his attractive face.

When he opens them again, there’s nothing but determination shining back at us. “Good. I hope the son of a bitch rots.”

Nina swallows, bobbing her head more times than necessary. She’s back to staring wordlessly, appearing far too self-conscious for the likes of her.

Nina is smart and incredibly beautiful. She has nothing to be worried about, yet I can tell that’s exactly what she’s doing. I have to help her.

“I’m Alyssa,” I say, stepping forward. “Nina’s best friend.”

Lanie shoots a disgruntled glare in my direction. “One of her best friends,” she says haughtily. “I’m Lanie. The third wheel.” She wrinkles her nose in a teasing manner, smiling at me and Nina.

Ian chuckles. “Nice to meet you, ladies.” He steps back from the door, returning his gaze to Nina. “Would you like to come in?”

We all speak at the same time, agreeing to his offer.

As I step through the grand double doors, I’m immediately struck by how well kept the place is. The foyer boasts towering ceilings with intricate crown molding. A stunning staircase spirals gracefully upward, revealing just a bit of the second floor through the rounded landing.

“Wow,” Nina says, moving in a circle to take the place in. “I can’t believe this is your home.”

He shrugs. “The back of the house is my living space. This part is open to the public certain times of the year. It’s part of the Historical Society’s parade of homes.”

Ian motions for us to follow him.

Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished hardwood floors. Ornate chandeliers hang from the ceiling throughout, their crystals catching the light and casting shimmering reflections across each space we pass through. Antique furniture, richly upholstered in velvet and brocade, fills the rooms, each piece a testament to the owner’s care in preserving the past. The walls are adorned with oil paintings and gilded mirrors, adding to the sense of opulence and grandeur.

He walks us through the stately home to the backyard, where a small carriage house sits at the back of the property.

“This is where I spend most of my time,” Ian says, opening the door to a cozy home that looks far more lived in. “Take a seat.”

Nina, Lanie, and I all take a seat on the couch, our legs touching.

“How did you find me?” he asks Nina.

“I had some help from Alyssa’s boyfriend. He’s a detective.”

Ian nods his head. “I’ve gotten pretty sloppy the last five years,” he admits. “I took a job at Tulane in the history department and couldn’t use my alias. They allow me to work under Connor Fulton, but I knew having that information out there would eventually lead someone to my door if they looked hard enough.” He huffs a humorless laugh.

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your life, Ian. I only wanted to ensure you’re all right and to tell you that it’s safe for you to resume your life.”

“This is my life,” he says, arms lifted as he gestures around. “Ian Whalen died a long time ago, Nina.”

Nina makes a strangled noise, and I can see the guilt she harbors.

“You shouldn’t have had to run from him,” she cries, hands coming to her face to shield the tears streaming down her face. “This is all my fault,” she whispers.

Ian’s eyes widen in disbelief at her words, and for a moment, he seems unable to comprehend what she’s saying. “It was never your fault, Nina.” He falls to his knees before her, grabbing her hands away from her face. “I didn’t run for me,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion. “It was never about me.”

Ian stands, walking toward a table near the television. He grabs a picture frame and a box of tissues, holding them out to Nina.

Her eyes narrow in on the offering, first grabbing a tissue and then the frame.

“I couldn’t allow Richard to find our son.”

Nina gasps, her hands gripping the frame tightly as she stares at the photo of Ian and a young man. The closer I look, the more realization sinks in.

Her son has been with Ian this entire time.

“You knew?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Ian nods, his eyes filled with sadness and regret. “Your mother…she went to my mom,” he explains, his voice barely above a whisper. “She told her everything. It was my parents who adopted him. We’ve been raising him all these years.”

As the weight of Ian’s words sinks in, a flood of emotions washes over all of us.

Nina’s mother, the woman we all love to hate, ensured Nina’s son was safe and with his father. It might’ve been the most important thing the woman has ever done, aside from give Nina life.

The truth, long buried beneath years of secrecy and silence, is finally laid bare. Nina weeps next to me as I pat her leg, offering the only comfort I can in the moment. Her tear-filled stare is fixed on the photo of her son. A boy she handed over at birth and hasn’t seen since.

And as we sit here, facing the truth together, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope for Nina’s future. Yes, she’s missed out on a large part of his life, but she gets a chance to know the man he’s become. The man his father raised.

I stand, offering my seat to Ian. Nina needs him in this moment. They need each other.

“His name is Chase,” Ian says. “He’s twenty-four and in his senior year at Tulane. It’s why I took the position.” He chuckles. “Our son is brilliant, but there’s still costs.”

Nina’s face is a mix of emotions—shock, sadness, and a hint of longing as she processes the news. “Tulane?” she repeats, her voice craggy. “What’s he studying?”

Ian nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s clear he can see how hard this is on Nina. “Psychology,” he replies, his voice tinged with pride. “He’s always wanted to work in a school setting. His plan is to help with students’ academic and social-emotional development. A mix of his mom and dad,” he says, smiling sadly as he peers into Nina’s eyes.

The mention of Nina’s influence on their son brings a bittersweet smile to her lips. It’s clear that despite the years of separation, the bond between mother and son runs deep.

I catch Lanie’s attention and motion for her to join me in the corner.

“I think we should give them some time alone.”

She nods her head. “What should we do?”

“I think I’m going to head back to Knox Harbor with Nick. There are some things I need to help him with.”

I can see the disappointment flicker across her face. “I’ll stay here with Nina until she’s ready to head back,” she says.

“Are you angry with me?”

She shakes her head. “No. I get it. I just wish you were staying.” She glances at Nina and Ian, whose heads are together as they look through an album. “I’ll be spending some time with Adeana, if things go the way I’m envisioning.”

I smile wide. “That’ll be a good thing. Nina’s happiness is all that matters right now.”

She makes a face. “Obviously. But please allow me a moment to mope about my abandonment.”

I roll my eyes and pull her into a hug. “If I could stay, I would. But murders are occurring at an alarming rate. If I can help, I have to.”

She nods her head. “Yes, you do, my little spirit talker.”

“I’m older than you,” I say, mouth forming a tight line.

“But I’m taller,” she singsongs.

“What’s going on over there?” Nina asks, voice full of amusement.

I’m happy to see her mood has shifted. She looks good. The sadness from earlier has been replaced by something resembling hope.

“I’m heading back to Knox Harbor. Lanie will stay back with you.”

She offers a smile. “I need to stick around for a few days.” She glances at Ian. “I’d like to meet my son, if that’s all right?”

“Of course. I don’t understand how Chase has waited this long.”

A beaming smile takes over her face, her eyes alight with happiness, and that’s exactly how she is when I’ve made my way out of the carriage house, heading to the B and B to get my things and Nick. On the short walk back, I look up the flight Nick said he was on later tonight and see there are still seats available. I make the purchase and pick up my pace, as we’ll need to leave for the airport in the next couple hours.

It’s time to get back home and get to work on catching the Falls Haven killer.

As we finally pull into Nick’s driveway, exhaustion threatens to pull me under. It was a long day, between witnessing the reunion between Nina and Ian and traveling back home.

Nick shuts off the car and turns to me. “Wanna stay at my place tonight?”

His suggestion is tempting, especially since Isla is likely roaming the halls next door at mine. After the last couple days we’ve had, I could use a ghost-free night of sleep.

“I’d love that,” I say.

“Do you need to head over there to grab anything?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I have everything I need in my suitcase.”

Once inside Nick’s house, we drop our bags beside the door and make a beeline for the couch, sinking into its inviting embrace. Nestled in Nick’s protective arms, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, like a warm blanket on a chilly night. His touch is gentle yet deliberate as he lazily draws random patterns on my bare arm with his fingertips. This is a form of happiness I could get addicted to. The events of the day melt away as our bodies meld together in the dim light.

“How did today go?” he asks, continuing to trace absently along my skin.

It’s driving me crazy in the best way. My stomach tingles, flipping and flopping with anticipation for more. I want his hands all over me.

“Fine.” The word comes out breathy, and my cheeks warm with embarrassment when Nick chuckles, signaling he noticed.

“Things are going to be good for Nina. I know it.”

“That’s good,” he says, voice tinged with a sensual, throaty quality that causes me to shiver in response. “Are you cold?”

“No.” I snuggle up closer to him. “Just content.”

He places a kiss to the shell of my ear, and I can’t contain the exhale that makes it very clear that I love what he’s doing.

He turns me to face him, mouth lowering to mine. The world outside fades away as we become lost in each other, our senses consumed by the heady rush of desire and the way our tongues move in sync effortlessly. Time seems to stand still as we surrender to this moment.

His hand moves under my shirt, slowly rising to just below my chest, resting on my ribcage. He pauses as if to ask permission but doesn’t stop kissing me. I place my hand over his, guiding him until he’s palming one full breast, a single finger circling my nipple and pulling a groan from deep within me.

I haven’t been touched like this for so long. I’d thought that sensation would be long gone at this stage of life, but it’s alive and well, the sensation sending shock waves down my body, landing firmly in my core. I forgot how something so simple could feel so damn good.

Heat pools in a place it hasn’t for years, and I want his attention there.

Just as I’m about to move his hand south, his phone chimes with a notification that’s reserved to alert him that someone is at his door.

He breaks contact, swearing under his breath.

“Who the hell would be here at this hour?” he says, rising from his spot on the couch and grabbing his phone from the coffee table. He pulls up the security camera, and his expression changes from one of annoyance to concern.

I peer over his shoulder to see Mrs. Fields slinking away from his front door, her movements erratic and confused.

“Fuck,” he says, jumping up and darting for the door.

I’m right behind him, grabbing our coats from the chair where we discarded them.

Neither one of us takes the time to put on shoes, our feet destined to be soaked and cold when this is all over. But that’s not what’s important right now.

We find her standing on the sidewalk, disoriented and claiming to be lost.

“I…don’t know where I am,” she says, looking around as if she hasn’t yet noticed Nick or me right behind her.

Nick approaches her cautiously, likely not wanting to startle her.

It’s clear something isn’t right.

“Mrs. Fields,” he says, touching her shoulder gently.

She turns to look up into his face. Her head tilts to the side, confusion evident in the way her eyes squint and nose wrinkles up.

“Who are you?” she says, taking a step back. Fear replaces the confusion from mere seconds ago.

I take a step around Nick, wondering if seeing a woman would make the situation less stressful for her. Her expression morphs into a semblance of calm when she gets a look at me. I don’t think she recognizes who I am, but clearly, seeing another person has her less stressed.

“Can I offer you a cup of tea?” I ask, trying to direct her toward Nick’s home.

She bobs her head. “Yes…tea. That would be nice,” she says, allowing me to steer her into Nick’s house. I have her take a seat, placing a blanket over her legs. She’s shaking, the cold finally registering.

Her teeth clatter and her hands shake. “Let me help you,” I say, grabbing another blanket from a nearby sofa and wrapping it around her body.

“Thank you, Alyssa.”

At the sound of my name, my head snaps toward her. She blinks, obviously recognizing that she, in fact, does know who I am. I watch as a series of emotions flicks across her face.

“Where am I?” she finally asks.

“Nick West’s, Mrs. Fields. We found you outside in the cold.”

She bursts into tears, and I’m not sure what to do. The only thing that I can think is to pull her into an embrace and allow her the moment she needs. It’s clear that the confusion has her rattled.

“Mom?” a foreign male voice says, drawing our attention.

A man just barely taller than my five-foot-seven height stands just inside the door, looking toward his mother with tears in his eyes.

He rushes forward, and I step back, allowing him to take my place.

“I knew Tom was in town. His car was in the driveway when we got home,” Nick says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back against his chest.

There’s a knock on the door, and Tom calls out, “That’s likely Abby. She was getting dressed to come help.” Nick lets a petite brunette in, and she offers a sad smile before joining Tom and Mrs. Fields.

“Thank you so much for calling. We should’ve put alarms on the doors months ago,” Tom says. “We were asleep. Had no clue she left.”

“I’ll take her back and get her settled. I’ll sleep with her tonight,” Abby says. “Thank you both.”

“Please, take the blankets. I’ll get them another time,” Nick says, as Abby attempts to fold and put the blankets back on the couch. “It’s too cold out there.”

Abby nods, smiling, helping Mrs. Fields out of the house.

“We just found out that she has sundowner’s,” Tom explains. “We were looking for an in-home caregiver, but we’re struggling to find anyone that will work out.” His head lowers. “She’s too far progressed.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Tom. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You’ve done enough, Nick. I appreciate you and”—he looks up at me—“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tom Fields.”

“Alyssa Mann. I live next door.”

His eyes widen. “Ah, another neighbor. Great to meet you. I wish it was under different circumstances, but still, it’s a pleasure.”

“It’s great to meet you too,” I say, offering a small smile.

He sighs. “We plan to put the house on the market next week and move her into an assisted living facility close to us,” he says. “We just have to move all the junk. Mom has become a bit of a hoarder lately. I’m not sure where she’s getting all the shit.” He runs a hand back through his hair. “The garage is full of trinkets.”

The dream I had of Mrs. Fields comes to mind. “There wouldn’t happen to be garden gnomes and a red Christmas sleigh among the trinkets? Maybe a wreath or two?”

Tom’s eyes narrow in thought, and he bobs his head. “Now that you mention it, yes. Abby loved the sleigh. Thought about asking Mom if she could keep it.”

I grimace, glancing at Nick.

“There’s been a string of thefts on the street in the past couple months. Lots of reports of missing lawn ornaments and decorations,” Nick says. “My wreath was among those things taken.”

Tom’s eyes widen. “You don’t think…” He groans, head falling back. “Mom was taking those things at night.”

“I’m afraid that might be the case,” Nick admits.

“Will she be arrested?” Tom’s voice is full of concern, and Nick is quick to reassure him.

“Absolutely not. I’m sure any doctor could provide evidence of her sundowner’s, which would be grounds for any case to be dismissed. Besides, we live in a great neighborhood. Anyone who had items taken would just be grateful to get their things back.”

“Nobody would choose to press charges,” I add. “Not knowing the situation.”

Tom’s concern melts away, leaving him to look exhausted. He nods. “I’ll put something on the neighbor group explaining the situation. We’ll make sure everything is returned.”

Nick nods. “That will take care of it.”

“I’m going to head back and help Abby,” Tom says, making his way to the door. “If you happen to know anyone in the market and wanting to move into the neighborhood, please send them my way.”

“Will do,” Nick says, saying good night to Tom and closing the door on this night.

Nick leads me back toward his bedroom, pulling back the covers and helping me to get comfortable. I watch as he tears his black T-shirt over his head, discarding it in the corner. My mouth waters as his gray pants lower to the ground, leaving him in a pair of black boxers that hug him tight, his impressive bulge on full display. I look away, feeling like a voyeur.

Nick crawls in behind me, pulling me against him. “One mystery solved,” he says, placing a kiss on my shoulder. “It’s too bad about Mrs. Fields. I wouldn’t wish that end of life on anyone.”

“Me neither,” I agree. “It’s heartbreaking.”

“No more talk about sad stuff for tonight. I just want to enjoy this time with you before I have to go back to Falls Haven.”

I turn toward him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I agree.”

“I like you in my bed,” he whispers against my lips.

I sigh contentedly. “Me too.”

So very much.