The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Tied to an Apron String

"I can't pay for everything with your card!" Imogen said, pushed her hands into her hair, and ruffled her curls to stimulate some mental activity.

"Why?"

The Mayor crossed his arms on his chest. Imogen had been studying the man's body language for years. This gesture wasn't confrontational, he was just listening attentively.

"Well, it's just not... fair!" Imogen exclaimed. "If we put our money together and spend it as one budget, I'll be contributing much less."

"Right," he confirmed and gave her another of his expecting looks, clearly encouraging her to elaborate.

"And that's just not right, you see," she tried again. "So maybe we should divide the rent and the bills in half, and—"

"Imogen," he interrupted her softly, "You can't be expected to contribute into a family budget as much as I do. You're a woman."

Imogen's eyebrows jumped up to her hairline. It was the first time in the three plus years she'd known him that she found herself doubting that the man might be not as... perfect as she'd always thought! What?! A 'woman?!'

Imogen opened her mouth, and then closed it - and not because she was madly in love with the man and was going to let this statement of his pass. It was her working with him for so long and his overall decency, confirmed so many times, that made her give him one more chance to explain himself.

"Pardon?"

"You come from a less privileged background. You had less opportunities from the start, and you had to support your own education and two children. Plus, there's the gender pay gap." He shrugged. "And I doubt you'll spend all of my personal wealth on brushes and paints." The corners of his lips twitched. "So, I say we just consider both our accounts as one budget."

"It still feels... odd," Imogen grumbled, but took a step forward. He opened his arms, and she leaned into him. "I'm used to counting every penny, and saving, and..." She trailed away and sighed.

"You wouldn't have to worry about rent, hadn't you moved in with me," he pointed out. "And I clearly eat the most in the household," he added with a chuckle.

"No, I'd say it's Brian," Imogen said, and they both laughed. Imogen looked up at him. He was smiling tenderly at her, and she quickly rose on tip toes and kissed him. "Can we go buy me brushes and paints now, please?"

He barked a throaty laugh. "Of course. But we might need to make a short stop by the cottage."

"Why?" Imogen asked.

He leaned to her and whispered in her ear, "I still haven't had lunch."

Something told Imogen he didn't mean food.

***

The next few days were surprisingly peaceful. Since Imogen still hadn't made a decision regarding Carolina Viviani's case, she kept the whole conversation with Mr. Oakby Snr to herself. She knew she was taking the ostrich-head-in-the-sand approach, but she simply had no answer. Petra rang her up once, but they didn't discuss the case. The archeologist seemed to be enjoying her second honeymoon stage with the Titan, so the women chatted about the reliquary of Eleonor of Aquitaine that Petra was still hoping to find. Imogen, who had information on the treasure but considered it confidential, hummed and agreed and then let Petra go back to her day.

And then one day she came home for lunch - the Mayor was away in Abernathy - and found Mr. Webb, the builder, painting the wall in the small room in the back of the cottage.

"Good afternoon," Imogen said in an uncertain voice.

"Ah, Ms. Fox, what do you think of the colour?" he asked and pointed at the pleasantly pale blue wall. "Should give you enough light. And Mr. Oakby said those lights would be delivered tomorrow, so I'll look into how they mount on the wall. And your other parcels are in the lounge. The postman has been already."