Page 3 of To Steal a Heart

Thunderous applause broke out as Talon waved and exited the stage. He returned to the table and took his seat beside Effie.

“Great job, son,” Banks said with throaty emotion. “Short and sweet.”

“Amen,” Madeline chimed in as she raised her glass for a toast. “To Oliver. May his memory continue to live large and long.”

Everyone lifted their glasses and repeated, “To Oliver.”

Arden was tempted to use this opportunity to press Grandmother about the whereabouts of the treasure, but she’d done enough damage already. No need to push the envelope. She’d do what didn’t come easy. She’d hold her tongue … for now.

2

At the end of the banquet, the tables were cleared from the dance floor in preparation for the ball. Arden and Hector chose seats along the wall. As rotten luck would have it, Grandmother soon joined them, selecting a seat right next to Arden. Good grief, it was like the woman was cruising for a bruising. Maybe she did crave the verbal sparring. Grandmother sat perched on the edge of her seat as she held her cane at a right angle to the floor.

A band was on the stage, playing music, and couples were filling the dance floor. Dancing was one of Arden’s favorite hobbies. Unfortunately, Hector wasn’t much for dancing. Still, she hoped to be able to persuade him to dance a couple of songs. It would be a shame to go the entire evening without getting in at least one dance.

Hector had his arm draped around the back of Arden’s chair. She reached for his hand and linked her fingers through his. “How ya doing?” She sensed that Grandmother’s presence was making him uncomfortable. Grandmother probably knew this, which is why she chose to sit here.

“Good.” He gave her a brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Where’s your sidekick?” Grandmother croaked.

“Who?”

“Olivia.”

“It’s Ryan’s birthday. She and Flynn went to Olivia’s parents’ house for a party.” Olivia was Arden’s closest friend. Ryan was Olivia’s young son.

Grandmother nodded. “I like her.”

For a split-second, Arden wondered if she’d heard Grandmother correctly. “You? Like someone?” She clucked her tongue. “What’s the world coming to?”

“Yes, I do,” she harrumphed. “Olivia’s the genuine article.” Grandmother made a point of scowling as she looked at Hector.

Arden could almost feel Hector’s hand go sweaty against her skin. Enough already! She sat up taller in her seat. “Would you give it a rest? Hector’s a great guy.”

Grandmother just smirked.

“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Arden soothed, but her words did little to ease Hector’s angst. He was going to have to toughen up where Grandmother was concerned.

A tight smile stretched over his lips as he released Arden’s hand and leaned forward so he could have a clear view of Josette. “Mrs. Chasing, your husband must’ve loved you very much.”

Hard amusement glimmered in Josette’s eyes. “How do you figure that?”

Oh, no! Arden knew that look. Grandmother was going in for the kill. This was going to end badly. Arden turned to Hector. “Let it go,” she urged in a low tone.

Irritation flicked in his eyes as he shifted his attention back to Josette. His smile was open and friendly.

Now Arden was ticked. Hector obviously didn’t appreciate that she was trying to save him. Oh, well. She tried. It was his funeral.

Hector motioned, his hand encompassing the area. “Like Talon said, Oliver built you this magnificent hotel. You were very lucky to have the love of a man like Oliver. You’ve lived a long, beautiful life. You’re a woman of influence and substance. Your accomplishments are admirable.”

Josette chuckled dryly. “And you’ve based your assessment on what? My wrinkles? My necklace?” She touched the diamonds as she spoke.

“P-partly,” Hector stammered before rushing on. “I was also going off the things Talon said in his speech.”

She eyed him like he was a rodent about to get exterminated. Her words came hurling out in daggers. “Don’t presume that because my granddaughter brought you here as her plus-one that you know anything about me or my family.” Fire raged in her eyes as she peered over her glasses, homing in on Arden. “How many times do I have to hammer this into your thick skull? That mealy twit is not good enough for you. You need spice. Charisma.” She balled her bony fist as her voice rose to a crescendo. “Someone who’s not afraid to take the bull by the horns.”

Arden lifted her chin. “I’ll be the judge of what’s best for me.”