Haynes smiled sheepishly. “I guess I am. This company is my baby.”
Loretta came around the side of her desk and walked him to the door. “I know it is, Frank. And I take that very seriously. I won’t let you down.”
He nodded and opened the door.
“Everything was fine here when you were hospitalized last year. It’ll be fine again now. When did you say you’d be back?”
“I’m not sure. I’m visiting a dying friend,” he said, supplying a partial truth.
“Have a safe trip. I’ll be right here the whole time,” she replied confidently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
***
Loretta, however, was not “right there” the whole time. Frank Haynes hadn’t boarded his flight before she got the call she had been dreading.
“She’s sick again, Loretta,” came the familiar voice of Mrs. Walters, her babysitter.
“How bad is she?” Loretta asked, eying the mountain of paperwork on her desk.
“She’s warm and listless just like she was when this all started.”
“But not terrible?” Loretta fought the rising panic inside her.
“No, not yet. That’s why I called. Thought you’d want to nip this in the bud.”
“I do. I’ll call the doctor and see if I can get her in right away.”
“I think that’s best, honey,” the kindly older woman said.
Loretta dialed the number of her daughter’s pediatric nephrologist and cradled the phone on her shoulder while she straightened up the piles on her desk. If she had to come back there later that night to finish the payroll, she’d find a way.
***
Forty-five minutes later, Loretta and Nicole Nash were ushered into an exam room. The nurse took Nicole’s temperature and blood pressure, noted them on her chart, and told them the doctor would be right in. Loretta settled Nicole on the exam table where the four-year-old closed her eyes and fell quickly asleep.
Loretta was sifting through a stack of old magazines when the doctor knocked softly and entered the room. “Mrs. Nash,” he said, extending his hand. “How’s our girl? I was sorry to see her chart on the door. She’s been doing so well.”
Loretta turned to her daughter. “Nicole was fine this morning when I left her at the babysitter’s. Mrs. Walters called me about an hour ago, so this came on suddenly.”
The doctor nodded. “Let’s take a look,” he said. “Can I wake you up for a few minutes, Nicole?” he asked, touching her shoulder gently. The little girl roused herself and sat up.
“Have you been giving her the medication as directed?”
Loretta hesitated, and the doctor looked up at her sharply.
“She’s been at half dose for the last few days,” she confessed. “I’ve been waiting to refill it until payday.
“You need to give her the medicine as directed,” he replied stiffly.
Loretta twisted her hands. “I know. But she was doing so much better, and you told me that if she continued to do well, you’d wean her off the medicine. So I didn’t think it would hurt for a few days …”
“And that may not be it at all,” he reassured. “She may need a change in medication.” He looked directly at Loretta. “For now, I want her to go back on her medicine—as instructed. Can you afford to get the prescription refilled?”
Loretta flushed and nodded. “I can do that.”
“Tonight,” he said. “You need to restart her on it right away. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how she is. If she gets worse tonight, take her to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital. If she gets better, I’ll want to see her back here day after tomorrow.”
Loretta nodded, glancing at the clock on the wall. If the pharmacy wasn’t too busy, she’d be able to pick up Nicole’s medicine and drop her off at the babysitter’s in time to return to Haynes Enterprises and make the daily bank deposit. She coaxed her lethargic child out of the doctor’s office and into the car.
***
Loretta was running much later than she’d anticipated. The pharmacy had been busy, and now, after taking her medicine, Nicole was clinging to her at the sitter’s. Loretta handed her inconsolable daughter to Mrs. Walters. “I’m sorry, but I really have to get back to work. I’ve got to finish payroll.”
“I don’t mind having her, but she wants her mother. Surely Mr. Haynes can get along without you for the rest of the afternoon,” Mrs. Walters said, bouncing the crying child on her hip and following Loretta to the door.
“That’s just it,” Loretta said. “Frank Haynes is out of town, and he’s depending on me to run things while he’s away.” She looked at the sitter and could see that the older woman disapproved. “He’s been very good to me, you know,” she snapped. “He’s let me take time off work to be with Nicole, and he gave me a bonus that allowed me to send Sean and Marissa to the camp they’re at now. So I owe him.”
“If you say so, dear. I didn’t mean to offend you. I know how hard this is on you,” she said and patted Loretta’s arm. “Just don’t overdo. You need to take care of yourself, too.”
“I’m not worried about myself,” Loretta said. “I may not be able to pick her up until late.”
“Not a problem. Nicole will be asleep by then,” Mrs. Walters said, smoothing her hand over Nicole’s back. “Do you want me to keep her overnight for you?”
Loretta shook her head emphatically. “I’m going to tuck her into bed with me tonight.” She kissed Nicole on the forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Chapter 14
It wasn’t quite noon when Frank Haynes took the first exit off of Interstate 70 and headed into Richmond, Indiana. He’d programmed Gina Gallagher’s address into the rental car’s GPS and was making good time.
He hoped his plan would work. He hadn’t phoned ahead and didn’t know if Gina Gallagher would be home in the middle of the day, let alone if Roger Spenser was living with her and would be willing to speak to him. Surprise was still his best bet. If Roger Spenser had done what Haynes thought he had, he’d be suspicious of anyone from Westbury. If he had a chance to think about it, Spenser would probably refuse to talk to him.
The GPS took Haynes to a quiet residential street of large two-story brick homes set well back from the tree-lined roadway. The best of Middle America, Haynes thought to himself as he slid the car to the curb. He admired the intricate brickwork as he made his way slowly up the steep walkway. Was it his imagination, or did he see someone watching him from a crack in the curtain of a window on the second floor?
Haynes knocked firmly on the front door and composed his expression into what he hoped was a reliable-looking countenance. After a long pause, a woman’s voice could be heard through the closed door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Frank Haynes, ma’am. I believe Roger Spenser is your brother and may be living with you. I’m here to see him on an urgent matter.” Haynes tried to sound comforting and respectful. He waited.
The woman finally opened the door and stood, examining him carefully.
“You’re Gina Gallagher—Roger Spenser’s sister? Might I see him for a moment? I know he’s been ill, and I promise I won’t wear him out.”
“He’s beyond all that now, Mr. Haynes. Roger died last week.”
“I’m sorry,” Haynes replied.
Gina Gallagher nodded. “After months of suffering with this retched disease, he’s now at peace.”
Haynes remained awkwardly in place. Gina Gallagher regarded him with an odd expression. “Where are you from?”
“Westbury.”
She sighed heavily. “What was your grandmother’s maiden name?” she asked curtly.
“Mary Rose Hawkins,” he answered, startled by the question.
The woman nodded. “You’d better come inside.”
She led him into a tidy living room furnished with an overstuffed sofa and love seat. She did not invite him to sit. Gina Gallagher opened a small drawer in an antique rolltop desk in the corner.
“My brothe
r gave me this when he first came to us; when he was so sick.” She handed Haynes a thin business-sized envelope. “He told me not to open it but to keep it in a safe place. Said that someone from Westbury might come looking for him. He told me to ask who their grandmother was and if they answered ‘Mary Rose Hawkins,’ I was to give them the envelope.”
Haynes steadied his hand as he reached for the envelope. “Did he tell you why he left this?” Haynes asked.
Gina Gallagher shook her head. “I was so busy taking care of him that I just stuck it on a shelf and forgot about it.” She looked at him closely. “When he gave it to me, I could see he was troubled about something having to do with it. I was reminded of it, again, in his final days.”
Haynes arched his brows.
“He was heavily medicated and too incoherent to make sense. But he was very remorseful about something he’d done years ago. Wouldn’t be comforted. Kept mumbling about the letter. The only thing that eased his agitation was my assurance that the letter was safely tucked away.”
Haynes moved to open the letter, and Gina Gallagher put her hand on his arm. “No. Not here; not in front of me. I can accept that there’s something dark in my brother’s past, but I don’t want to know what it is. Roger was my older brother and very dear to me. He never had children of his own and helped us put braces on our kids’ teeth and sent them all through college.” She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Leave me with my memories of my brother.”
Haynes put his hand over hers and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Gallagher. I’m sure you’ve been a wonderful sister. Now that you’ve delivered this letter, I hope you can forget about it,” he said.
“Me, too,” she answered as she ushered him to the door.
***
Frank Haynes drove to the end of the street, out of view of the Gallagher home, and opened the envelope. It contained one sheet of paper, the final legal document ever drafted by Roger Spenser—an affidavit, signed by him in front of a notary public. In straightforward fashion, Spenser confessed to accepting a bribe of one million dollars from Paul Martin in exchange for removing from the Vital Records Office the original birth certificate of one Mary Rose Hawkins and giving it to Paul Martin. He revealed that the office fire had been his own idea—extra insurance that his perfidy would never be uncovered—and went on to state that he was making this confession before his death not to stir up any trouble after so many years but to assist anyone that might be persistent enough to pursue the truth. He concluded by apologizing for the wrongs he had done and for the disgrace he had brought to his family.
Haynes re-read the affidavit. He’d done it. Unearthed the evidence necessary to secure his claim to Rosemont. He slapped the steering wheel with his hand. Wait until he put this into the hands of the very talented Simon Wilkens, Esq. He punched his attorney’s number into his phone and waited while his call was connected.
Chapter 15
Maggie walked down the sloping back lawn of Rosemont toward the low stone wall that separated the lawn from the swath of woods that circled the property. The dew on the grass soaked through the old canvas espadrilles that she kept stationed by the kitchen door as her “garden shoes.” Roman raced ahead of her while Eve picked her way judiciously through the wet grass. She smiled at the sight of the unlikely couple before her—Sam, the experienced journeyman and David, the young apprentice—working seamlessly together to restore the corner of the stone wall that had begun to crumble.
“You two look like you could be in a painting of rural England a hundred years ago,” Maggie called as she approached.
Sam raised his head but didn’t turn. “Joan is always telling me I need to get new work clothes. If I look like someone from a hundred years ago, I guess she’s right.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Maggie laughed. “You’re repairing a wall in the ancient method.” She turned to David. “You don’t look like you’re from a hundred years ago. You look like a modern young man of today,” she hastened to add, realizing she might have offended him.
“I think it’s kinda cool. I like this work,” he replied, kneeling to accept a profusion of doggy kisses from Roman.
Maggie nodded. “I came down here to see if you’d have time to carry the silver down from the attic and place it on the folding tables I’ve set up outside the butler’s pantry. I’m anxious to start putting it away.”
David looked to Sam.
“I think that’ll be fine. We’ll be finished here by noon, and then I’ll send him to you.”
“Perfect. You come, too, Sam, and I’ll make you both a sandwich.”
Sam nodded. “Best job in town, son,” he said to David. “See you in a bit, Maggie.”
***
David knocked lightly on the library door in midafternoon. “I’ve got all the silver downstairs for you, ma’am.”
Maggie pushed her chair back and tossed her reading glasses on the thick stack of documents on her desk. “Good. I’m going cross-eyed looking at these spreadsheets, and I need a break. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.” She gently dislodged Buttercup from the cat’s customary perch on her lap and stood. Maggie motioned for David to follow her down the long paneled hallway to the butler’s pantry.
“Well, look at this,” she declared. “You’ve lined everything up by category, and in rows of descending height. Very organized,” she said, turning to smile at him. “I didn’t ask you to do this, but I appreciate that you took the initiative.”
Maggie turned back to the sea of silver spread out on the folding tables. “I need to polish all of this before I put it away. That will be a huge job.” She looked at David over her shoulder. “Care to help?”
“I’ve never polished silver, but I’m willing to learn.”
“Next Saturday? Or will you be helping Sam?”
“Neither one, actually.” He turned aside. “My mother and I are getting ready to move.”
“Oh,” Maggie said. “Are you leaving town?” She, of all people, could understand if Jackie Wheeler wanted a fresh start where no one had ever heard of her disgraced husband.
David shook his head. “No. My mom got laid off, and we can’t pay the mortgage, so we have to move.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Maggie said. “Where will you go?”
“We’re putting our stuff into my uncle’s garage, and we’ll stay at his house until we find someplace we can afford.”
“That’s nice of your uncle. Lucky he has a big enough place.”
“He doesn’t, really. I’m sleeping on the sofa. And he won’t let Dodger in the house. I’m going to have to leave him in the garage or chain him up outside.” David brushed the back of his hand across his eyes.
Maggie turned to him. “Something will turn up for you, David. You’ll see. This seems very bad to you right now, but it may turn out to be a blessing.”
***
Maggie rolled toward John as soon as he turned out the light and rested her head against his shoulder.
“I can tell by your breathing, sweetheart, that you’re thinking about something. Your mind is going a mile a minute, and you’re not the least bit sleepy,” he said.
Maggie pulled her head back and looked at him in the soft moonlight seeping through the shutters. During warm weather, Maggie left the heavy drapes open to hang as sentries to the shuttered windows, only closing them when required to shut out the cold drafts of winter. “You know me so well, don’t you?”
“So what’s on your mind? Still worrying about that creep Delgado? Or is it the town’s financials?”
“Neither, actually. This time it’s David Wheeler.”
“Why? What’s happened to David? I thought he was working with Sam and doing a great job.”
“He is. But I talked to him today—asked him if he’d like to polish that blasted silver next Saturday—and he told me he can’t. He’s getting ready to move.”
“I’m sure he can do it another Saturday. Surely there’s no real hurry. Or you can get some
one else.”
“It’s not the silver I’m worried about; it’s David. He said that his mom lost her job and they have to move because they can’t pay their mortgage.”
“That’s a shame,” John agreed.
“The worst part is that they’re moving in with his uncle, who doesn’t have much space. David seems terribly unhappy about it. He said he’ll have to sleep on the sofa and Dodger won’t be allowed in the house.” Maggie rose on her elbow. “It broke my heart, John. What’s wrong with that uncle of his? Can’t he see how much David loves that dog? The poor kid’s been through enough. He needs to make an exception for Dodger. I’ve got half a mind to pay his uncle a visit.”
John reached to his nightstand and turned on the light. “Don’t do that, honey. People don’t like strangers poking their noses into their business.”
“Then what do you suggest we do to help?”
John rested on his elbows. “We decided to keep my house as an investment rental property, remember? Tim Knudsen said it’s ideal for that.”
“I remember.”
“I just hired Sam to paint it and put in new carpet—touch up a few things—before we put the ‘For Rent’ sign out. In fact, I’ll bet David will help Sam with it. What if we rent to David and his mom?”
“Do you think they can afford it?”
“I own it free and clear. If we don’t get market rate out of them, is that the worst thing that could happen?” John asked.
Maggie sprang to her knees and grabbed his face with both of her hands, planting a big kiss on his mouth and knocking him back into his pillow. “Of course not. It’s a brilliant idea. You are the sweetest, kindest man in all the world. And I’m the luckiest gal for miles around.”
John grasped her waist and reached for the light. “I’ll call Sam and Tim in the morning. We’ll put our heads together and find a way to make this happen so that they don’t feel like they’re getting charity from anyone.”
“You are both kind and thoughtful in the way you do things.”
“Glad you approve.”
“I find it terribly sexy, actually.”
Drawing Close: The Fourth Novel in the Rosemont Series Page 7