Tyla opened and closed the cabinets until she found the cups, then located the tea, making the brew for both of them. Tyla understood that the other woman was going into shock after all of the revelations over the past hour.
“Here,” she said, handing the cup to Violet. “Let’s sit down and you can start from the beginning.”
Violet perched on the edge of the sofa, not exactly sure where to begin. “I met him a few weeks ago. He was tending bar at The Rotten Apple when my friends and I came in for a bachelorette party. He was sweet and handsome and…” she sighed. “I really liked him.” Her hands shook as she lifted the cup to take a sip. “I thought he really liked me too. He showed up here,” she looked around, “well, downstairs, a couple of days later and asked me out to dinner. We went out to dinner three nights in a row, and he made me laugh, he was so kind and charming.”
Tyla blinked. “We’re still talking about Creek, right?” she asked. Violet couldn’t be describing the hard-driving, brilliant, mostly-reclusive man that hung out with Tucker, Knox and Saeger at The Rotten Apple.
“Of course,” Violet confirmed. “He was incredibly charming and amazingly sweet. He even brought me flowers that first night.”
Tyla almost choked on the sip of tea she’d just taken. Looking askance, her mouth fell open. “Your first date?” Tyla was stunned. “Flowers?”
Violet nodded her head, not explaining that he’d brought her flowers the night they’d first had sex, and not exactly their first date. “Yes. I think he was a bit self-conscious of it because…well…” She couldn’t really describe how awkward Creek had looked as he’d offered her the flowers. The man just didn’t seem like he could ‘do’ awkward. He was normally so filled with confidence, and had that sexy aura of authority that made her smile.
Tyla still shook her head in amazement. “Creek was self-conscious?”
Violet nodded, smiling nostalgically for that night, wishing she’d…did she really wish that she’d never met him?
“And he brought you flowers?”
Another nod.
“And a check for five thousand dollars?”
Violet jerked upright at that question, closing her eyes against the pain in her chest. “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I didn’t see any check. I had no idea he was paying George.” She couldn’t call that man her stepfather any longer. “My mother died about five years ago. She’d been married to George for about six or seven years. He wasn’t around the whole time though. He’d go off, saying he had a construction job, then show up months later, wanting to be with my mom again. She’d started to divorce him a few times when he’d just disappeared, but he’d come back and was all sweet and wonderful. She’d give him another chance. Then she died. Pneumonia,” Violet sniffed, remembering the sweet, kind, gentle woman who had raised her after her father’s death when she was younger. “My mom was really great.”
“She sounds like it,” Tyla smiled gently.
Violet nodded. “She loved George. Or maybe she just thought George needed help. Which was definitely true. The man had a lot of trouble holding down a job. He never had enough money.” Violet sniffed as the memories assaulted her. Even after all this time, she still missed her mother. And right now, Violet really needed her mother’s hugs. “Even before she’d died, before all the sickness and the…” she waved her hand, trying to dismiss that period in her life, “George even sold his wedding ring. He tried to sell my mother’s too, but she laid down the law that time. Told him if he sold her ring, she’d divorce him and never speak to him again. She wouldn’t give him any money either. She said if he wanted money, he needed to go out and earn it like a real man, but that she’d be home for him at the end of the day with a warm meal.”
Tyla was starting to get the picture. George was an ass! And possibly a con man, if Tyla’s suspicions were true. Not a good con man, but an opportunist who had hurt two very kind, very sweet people. Well, Creek wasn’t very kind, not to many people. But Tyla suspected that all of those gruff, stubborn men were real sweethearts underneath all their grouchiness.
“What happened after your mother died? With George?”
Violet leaned back on the sofa and curled her legs up underneath her. “George sort of drifted off. He’d come back every once in a while asking for money, but I remember how my mother would deal with him. I told him that if he wanted to help out in the store, I would pay him an hourly rate. But I wouldn’t give him money.”