Facing the Music by Andrea Laurence

with leather volumes, velvet curtains, and a large desk with his grandmother’s infamous custom stationery. But no granny.
    In the bay window, curled up with a book, was his baby sister, Hazel. She was the youngest of the Chamberlain kids and the only one still living at home. She was currently a senior at Rosewood High and— thank the Lord —had taken health class before he was hired there.
    “Hey, brat. Where’s Grandma Dee?”
    Hazel looked up from her book, pushing up her glasses to focus on the other side of the room. Since Hazel had learned to read, she always had one book or another in her hands. If she wasn’t in Grandma Dee’s library, she was at the Rosewood library on the square. He’d bought her a Kindle for Christmas the year before, but every time he turned around, she had a real paper book in her hands again. She was a purist.
    “I don’t know,” she said with an irritated frown. “Cookie was making a fuss in the kitchen not too long ago, so it might be teatime. Check the backyard.”
    “Thanks.”
    Hazel shrugged and turned back to her book. Turning out of the doorway, Blake cut through the kitchen to look out at the backyard. His grandmother thoroughly enjoyed her gardens, and it was there he spotted her white head sitting at the table beneath the gazebo. The tiny table had a vase of fresh flowers and a tiered platter set up. Yep, it was time for tea.
    Fortunately her guest had not yet arrived. He needed to have a chat with his grandmother about her . . . withholding  . . . of information about Ivy and the fund-raiser.
    He opened the door and stepped out onto the wooden deck. Following it around the house, Blake cut through the lawn to the large white gazebo.
    His grandmother had her back to him, but she did not look at all surprised to see him round the table and flop down into her guest chair. “Grandma Dee,” he said, his tone pointed. Without elaborating, he eyeballed the tiered display of teatime treats on his grandmother’s Raynaud Duchesse china. There was an array of sandwiches and sweets, puff pastries filled with Lord knows what, and a few promising-looking fruit tarts. He plucked a cucumber sandwich from the platter and popped it unceremoniously into his mouth.
    As usual, his grandmother was not at all fazed by his rude display. Adelia Chamberlain was damn near unflappable. She gazed at him down the line of her nose, sizing him up through her fashionably square glasses. Her white hair was always perfectly coiffed in large curls that were pulled back and fell to her shoulders. She had never had the tight perm of the usual grandma set. She also didn’t dress like most grandmothers. Today she had on a houndstooth pantsuit with a burgundy blouse beneath the jacket.
    As a former Auburn player, he’d have to mention to her that this suit needed to be burned. But first things first.
    “Blake Chamberlain, you are damn lucky my guest hasn’t arrived yet. I’d hate to have to whip you in front of her.” Her mouth flattened into tightly drawn disapproval.
    Blake smiled. His grandmother hadn’t whipped him once in his whole life. Of course, he’d been deathly afraid of her until he was twenty-three. “That’s fine. I’ve already had a public whipping this morning. I’ve had my fill for today.”
    Adelia arched a curious eyebrow at him. “I’m quite certain you deserved it.”
    “You would be, since you caused it. I went to the first meeting about the fund-raiser today. Turns out there’s quite a bit to the plans I hadn’t heard about yet. Gloria was extremely concerned.”
    His grandmother sniffed delicately and straightened the flawless linen tablecloth to avoid his gaze. “Gloria is very often concerned,” she said in a noncommittal tone.
    “Turns out that you ,” he said pointedly, “were supposed to fill me in on the details. Like how I’m supposed to spend nearly every moment of the next couple of weeks with Ivy Hudson. Ivy Hudson! How could you not tell me