CHAPTER TWENTY - Interviews and More

C HAPTER T WENTY

Interviews and More

M aggie and Benjamin arrived at the George family residence at the same time. “Good morning. I’m Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie. I hear you’re a crackerjack reporter.” Benjamin held out his hand.

“Well, I do like to eat Cracker Jacks,” Maggie joked. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t have the opportunity the last time I was here.”

“Two weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s when your dad offered the reward. My boss, Annie, is best friends with Myra, and she wanted me to help cover the story. Is there any other news?” Maggie had to play it cool.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Well, we have to keep wishing, and hoping, and praying,” Maggie said. “By the way, I heard someone say that a young girl was brought to the hospital but then disappeared. Do you think that may have been the same teen?”

“I have no idea, but if it was, then at least we know she’s still alive. As of yesterday, anyway.”

* * *

Benjamin rang the doorbell. A woman with a long black braid answered. “Hello.”

“Mrs. George? I’m Benjamin Spangler. This is Maggie Spritzer.”

“Yes. Please come in.” The woman stood to the side to let them in. “My husband, John, is out on the porch. Follow me, please.”

The house was filled with Native American artifacts, including blankets and pottery. “Is this all your craftsmanship?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, most of it. Even though we’ve assimilated, we also want to keep our legacy and ancestry alive. We come from the Kalapuya people. My husband’s father, Jacob, moved here years ago. He wanted his son and the next generations to be educated through the public school system. I met John at a cultural event. When we got married, I moved here, too.”

“It’s beautiful.” Maggie spoke softly. It was as if they were in an art exhibition. They walked through the modest home, and Maggie spotted a line of photos on the dining room credenza. “Is that Lori?” she asked.

“Yes. My beautiful daughter.” The woman was resolute. Not an inkling of emotion. She showed them through the kitchen and then out to a screened-in porch. A man sat staring out into the grass. Gardens of vegetables and herbs lined one side of the yard. “Would you care for some tea?” Mrs. George asked.

“That would be lovely.” Maggie was not a tea drinker, but she didn’t want to insult her hostess.

“Yes, thank you,” Benjamin added.

“It’s herbal,” Mrs. George replied.

“I am sure it will be delicious.” Maggie smiled, her freckled cheeks giving her a childlike glow.

“John, this is Maggie from the newspaper, and Benjamin Spangler.”

Benjamin held his breath. He didn’t know what to expect from a father whose daughter was missing; missing from her place of employment; missing from his company.

The man stood and held out his hand. First to Maggie. “Thank you for coming.” Then he turned to Benjamin. “Please, take a seat.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a bunch of questions.” Maggie pulled a pad and pen from her bag.

“That is why you are here, is it not?” the man replied, but without any facial expression. Then he turned to Benjamin. “And what is it that you have come here for?”

Benjamin cleared his throat. “Mr. George, I am a father of three. I cannot possibly imagine what you are going through. But I am here to tell you that we have hired an outside firm to investigate this situation.” Benjamin knew there was someone investigating—he just wasn’t sure who it was, except that Myra and Annie must have something to do with it.

“The police have been no help. They want us to wait another day before we can file a report.”

“And that is not a law or a rule, which is why we’re both here.” Maggie pointed her pen to Benjamin and then to herself. “I want to bring your daughter’s disappearance to the public’s attention, and Benjamin wants to assist in the search.”

“We considered contacting the Bureau of Indian Affairs,” John George said.

“Yes, we are aware of this,” Benjamin responded. “But before you do, I am asking that you give us a few days to gather whatever information we can. I can give you my personal assurance we will do everything in our power and means to find her.”

Maggie jotted down a few notes. “Mr. George, I am sure you know getting the government involved can create more red tape for you. The authorities never want to make a decision or take a stand.”

He nodded. “I cannot disagree, but we are very frustrated with the way the deputy sheriff has handled this. I should say not handled this.”

“I completely understand, and that is why we are here.” Benjamin looked into the man’s eyes. “Please, Mr. George, give us a few days.”

Mrs. George returned with a tray, a teapot, and several cups. She set them down on the small café table where the others were sitting.

“These people are here to help us,” John said to his wife. She managed a little smile and nodded. She poured tea in the cups and handed one to each of them. They waited for her to take the first sip. She waited for them to.

Maggie lifted her cup. “Here’s to Lorraine and her quick and healthy return home.” Finally, everyone drank their tea.

When they were finished, Maggie asked a litany of questions about Lori. Her habits. Her friends. Her schedule.

Mrs. George was much more talkative at that point and offered to show Maggie Lori’s bedroom. Benjamin reassured John George that they would get to the bottom of his daughter’s disappearance and gave him one of his business cards, which contained his private cell number and home phone number. “Feel free to contact me at any time.” He got up from his chair as Maggie and Mrs. George reappeared.

“I’m going to write an article about Lori, her heritage, her interests, her goals. We want to make her a person instead of just a missing stranger. Plus, the article may spark someone’s memory about something they may have seen or heard that day.”

“Should we continue to go on television?” Mr. George asked.

“Give it a day. Sometimes when people keep hearing the same story over and over, they become immune to it and tune it out. We want to keep this top of mind, but we also want to be sure people will pay attention when we have something to say.” Maggie was giving the Georges her best advice. She handed them her business card. “Call me if anything else occurs to you.”

“Likewise,” Benjamin said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you, as well.” The Georges stood in the driveway and watched their new champions walk toward their vehicles.

* * *

Maggie told Benjamin she was going to go back and interview all the people she’d talked to after Vanessa’s disappearance. Benjamin was going to the hospital to take his father home. Patricia would be waiting for them. Myra was going to stop at Milton and Patricia’s later that afternoon. Meanwhile, Annie was being wined and dined by Oliver.

* * *

Maggie headed to the gas station to interview the original witness. She was planning on asking him to recall what had happened that day. He had already changed his story once. When she arrived at the gas station, the attendant approached her with a suspicious eye. “You again?” He was gruff.

“Sorry to bother you, but some new information was discovered yesterday. I was hoping you could run things down for me again.”

“What kind of new information?” He had a wary look on his face.

“Apparently, a couple found a girl in the woods, but when they took her to the hospital, she ran away.”

“So’s what’s that got do with me?” The man was not pleased to see her.

“I thought you could just go over what you saw one more time.”

“Look, I told you and the cops I never seen her get into a Spangler truck. It was a busy day, and I was in a hurry.”

“Did you see her at all?”

“Yeah, but like I said the last time you was here, I was in a hurry. She was there one minute and gone the next. She musta gotten into somebody else’s car or somethin’.”

Or somethin’ for sure, she thought to herself. The guy is too tense. Why wouldn’t he want to cooperate? “Again, I apologize.” She decided to switch to the latest news. “You probably heard that another young woman has gone missing?”

“Don’t know nothin’ about it.” He tapped the toe of his boot on the ground. “If you don’t mind, I got work to do.”

Maggie was relentless. That was a big part of why she was so good at her job. “The paper and media company I work for are doing a story about runaways.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that. We get a bunch of ’em around here.”

“That’s exactly why I’m writing the story.”

He began to turn to walk away and gave her a stink-eye stare. “Like I said, I wasn’t sure, ’cause I was busy. And if you don’t let me get back to my job, I ain’t gonna have one.”

Now he isn’t sure. I wonder how much they paid him to keep quiet. But more importantly, who? “Thanks for your time.” Maggie didn’t need to know any more. The guy was guilty of something.

She wanted to interview the people who’d found Vanessa in the woods, but they refused to “get involved.” Maggie had a feeling things were closing in on someone. Again, who? And how many people were involved in the cover-up?

Her next plan was to go to Eugene and interview the other employees at the inn, but that would be the following day.

* * *

Oliver was effusive. Bombastic. He loved to talk about all of his possessions and adventures. He may have thought he was impressing Annie, but she could not care less. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. It was as if he were trying to prove something. She knew that when people had everything handed to them, they had little or no sense of who they really were. When things were constantly superficial, how could anyone understand substance? “Tell me, Oliver. Why hasn’t some wonderful woman snatched you up yet?”

“I’m elusive.” He chuckled. “Seriously, I haven’t met ‘the one.’” Air quotes.

Annie tried not to roll her eyes. “Describe what ‘the one’ would be like for you?”

Oliver twirled his Negroni cocktail. “Intelligent. Witty.” He paused.

“And attractive,” Annie said plainly. “Why not? With all the treatments and injectables available, there is no reason why a woman shouldn’t be attractive.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this, but she wanted to gain Oliver’s confidence, and the only way was to speak the same superficial language as he.

Oliver looked down at the table. “You’re not wrong.” Then he looked up at her. “You’re a very attractive woman. Intelligent. Witty.”

“And old enough to be your mother.” Annie gave him a sly grin. She had no issues with men dating older women, but this would be a stretch, even for her. She had never cheated on Fergus, but she had been a wild woman at one time.

Oliver laughed out loud. “Would you be offended if I was actually hitting on you?”

“Not at all. But I do have a point.” She raised her glass of champagne. “Thank you, anyway.”

Now that Oliver was squirming in his seat, he decided to change the subject. “So what kind of car do you want to test-drive today?”

“Lamborghini?” She raised her eyebrows.

“That’s uncanny. I have my eye on one, myself.”

“Well, if you’d rather change it up, I can do a Ferrari, Maserati, or Aston Martin.”

“You really are my kind of woman.” Oliver grinned. “Why don’t we try a couple of them?”

“Sounds grand!” Annie chuckled. The conversation moved on from favorite places to movies, and the usual small talk banter.

As they were leaving the restaurant, Oliver excused himself and went to the men’s room. When he returned, he lightly squeezed his nostrils together and sniffed. Then he explained they would have to drive to Portland. That was where the biggest sports car dealership was. “Well, that will give me a chance to drive your Porsche.” The valet brought Oliver’s car around, and Annie dashed to the driver’s door.

“As you wish.” Oliver made an ostentatious bow.

This was the second time that day Annie would be whizzing along I5 from Salem to Portland. But this time, it was going to be much more fun.

When they arrived at the dealership, Oliver was greeted by two men who were as impeccably dressed as he was. They could be on the cover of GQ magazine or Esquire . Annie noticed all of them were well-manicured, too. The men obviously knew Oliver and were happy to see him. Again. “Can’t stay away from that beauty?” One of the men nodded toward a shiny red Lamborghini Huracán.

“Ooohhh . . . it is a beauty,” Annie exclaimed. She sashayed her way across the showroom.

Oliver leaned in toward the two men as they watched. “She’s Countess Anna De Silva.”

“Ooohhh . . . she’s a beauty, too,” one of the men commented. “Is she in the market for a shiny new car?”

“She made some noise about driving something cross-country,” Oliver said with authority. “She wants to test-drive a few different makes and models.”

“Absolutely! I am sure we can accommodate her.”

One of the men crossed the room and addressed her. “I’m Eric. What did you have in mind?”

“Sorry. I get very excited around fast cars. I’m Annie.”

He opened the driver’s door. “Please get a feel for this beautiful piece of art.”

Annie slid in and melted into the soft leather. “It’s scrumptious,” she said. “May I take it for a test-drive?”

“But of course.” He opened the door so she could unfold herself from the coupe. “Come with me.” He took her to a computer terminal, where he typed a few strokes and waited to see what was available. “We have a silver one that’s accessible.”

“Fab! Let’s do it. Oliver? Ready?”

“Give me one sec.” He took off for the men’s room again, and once again, he pinched his nose and sniffed as he exited.

It was obvious to Annie that Oliver was doing cocaine. She had never done it herself but had been around many people who had. Did. It was at almost every party she’d attended in the late 1980s. He needs a lesson in discretion.

It wasn’t company policy to allow two non-employees to drive a $300,000 car out on the street, but the salesmen would make an exception in this instance. If anything happened, Annie could cover the cost. They weren’t too sure about Oliver. He had been hemming and hawing for over a month about the car he wanted. He kept promising a deposit, but it hadn’t arrived yet.

A man in a service uniform pulled the car around to the side entrance. Annie jumped into the driver’s seat, and Oliver slid into the passenger side. “Be back in a bit!” Annie waved and pulled away slowly enough not to give the two salesmen palpitations.

Oliver directed her to a country road where she could tear it up. And tear it up she did. He glanced over at the speedometer. 120 mph. Fast enough. He was both awed and terrified. He’d never met anyone like this woman before. He could actually go for someone like Annie. She was rich enough for his standards. Age? Just a number.

Annie knew Oliver was looking at her as if she were his latest prey. She played along. The man had no idea whom he was dealing with.

After twenty minutes of zooming around the outskirts of Portland, they returned to the dealership. Oliver was quick to return to the men’s room.

One of the well-groomed sales associates asked her how she liked the ride.

“Spectacular! What’s next?” She smiled from ear to ear. “I’ve had my eye on a McLaren 720S. Do you happen to have one of those lying about?”

“No, I apologize, but we can order one for you.”

“Oh, darn. I’ll be leaving town in a few days, and I was hoping I could drive something home.”

“How about the Ferrari Roma? That is an exquisite automobile. Handles corners like no other.”

“Sounds intriguing.” Annie was wondering why Oliver was taking so much time in the men’s room.

* * *

Oliver loosened his collar as he tried to comprehend what he was hearing. “The reporter was back at the gas station?” He tried not to shout. “What did she want?” He was listening. “I thought you bought him a new toy to keep his mouth shut.”

“I did, boss. But he called and said he didn’t like the way she was asking questions.”

“I don’t care what he likes. He got his token of our appreciation. Tell him to cool his jets.”

“But what if he threatens to go to the cops?”

“How many times can one person change their story, Dickie?”

“I dunno. A couple?”

“Right. And he’s done just that. Besides, Deputy Nelson isn’t going to do anything.”

“Okay. If you say so, but he sounded really nervous.”

“Tell him to take a pill.”

“Speaking of pills. Ernesto called.”

Dickie thought his heart was going to stop. “Ernesto? What did he want?”

“He said you owe his people a kilo.”

“So, get busy!” Oliver was pacing.

“But boss, we had to shut down both operations. We don’t have any place to get it done.”

Oliver knew he was in way over his head. His operation had practically shut down, and he had to deliver. “Okay, listen to me. Get that girl to your cabin, and get Blaine set up ASAP.”

“Do you want me to call Ernesto?” Dickie asked.

“I’ll handle it. How long do you think it will take to put a kilo together?”

“It’s gonna take a few days to set up, and then a couple more after that. Probably a week.”

“Get it done in three days.” Oliver ended the call. He looked at his reflection. He was beet red. He pulled his brown bottle from his jacket pocket, but his hands were too sweaty to hold it, and it slipped into a toilet. He stared down at the floating bottle. Did he dare put his hand into the bowl to rescue three hundred dollars’ worth of cocaine? He yanked several paper towels from the dispenser, wrapped them around his fingers, and dipped them into the unflushed water. He tossed the bottle into the sink, discarded the wet towels, and began to scrub his hands. His breathing became erratic. He grabbed the sides of the sink to steady himself when one of the salesmen walked in.

“Oliver. Everything alright?”

Oliver tossed a remaining towel over the brown bottle. “Yes, just had to take an annoying phone call.”

The salesman folded his arms and leaned against the opposite wall. “This Annie friend of yours. She’s a piece of work. In a good way.”

Great. Casual conversation. Just what I need. “Yes, she is quite engaging.” Can you please get out of here? “Did she ask for another test-drive?”

“Yes, the Ferrari Roma.”

“Good. Do you have one on the lot?”

“We do.”

“Excellent.” This guy is never going to leave. “Did you set it up for her?”

“They’re getting it ready.”

“Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Oliver nodded toward a stall as if to say he wanted some privacy.

The salesman blinked. “Oh. Of course. Sorry. Meet you outside.”

As soon as the salesman was out the door, Oliver scooped up the bottle and dashed into the stall. He wiped it dry with another towel, opened the bottle, and sprinkled some powder on the back of his hand. This situation required more than the usual bump. Then came the second nostril. His world may have been spinning out of control, but at least he was spinning with it.

This was the worst situation Oliver had ever been in. When he was younger, it was his big brother Benjamin who always came to his rescue. Then his grandfather, Senator Wakeman, and over the past two years, he’d been able to buy his way in and out of situations. Now, if he couldn’t deliver, he wouldn’t get paid. If he didn’t get paid, he couldn’t keep up with the hush money he was spreading around. If he couldn’t keep up the hush money, then tongues could wag against him. He looked down at his Tom Ford blazer. And he surely wouldn’t be able to keep up his lifestyle. He might never be able to show his face again in this glorious, luxury sports car showroom.

He thought his head was going to explode. For real. The coke hit his sinuses like an ice pick. He steadied himself against the stall door. Get it together. Get it together. He straightened up and went back to the sink. Grabbed a few more towels, rinsed them in cold water, and placed them on his forehead. This time, if anyone asked, he could say he must have food poisoning. Or something. My cocaine high is freaking me out! was not an option. After a few slow, deep breaths, he took another look at himself in the mirror. He took another towel and dried the hair along his temples. He slapped on a smile and returned to the awaiting speed devil. Bad choice of words . He chuckled.

“Ah, there you are!” Annie linked her arm through his. “We have a new ride to experiment with.”

“Experiment?” The salesman looked alarmed.

“Kidding.” She gave a cutesy shrug. She noticed Oliver’s body temperature seemed a bit high. And so does he , she added.

The sleek Ferrari Roma was built for the open road. Not for leisurely driving. It was compact. Tight. And so was the interior, although it boasted a “roomier” feel than comparable models. Once again, Annie gently moved the vehicle to the street and then onto the open road.

“He was right. This really hugs the corners.” Annie whipped the car around a hairpin turn. Oliver clutched the handle piece above the door with his right hand, and the console with his other. It was like the worst ride at an amusement park. At least they had some safety measures in place.

Annie looked over at her companion. He did not look well. “Oliver, are you alright?” She slowed down to eighty miles per hour.

“I got myself into a bit of a pickle.” He didn’t know how far to take this, but it was worth a try.

“What kind? Dill? Gherkin?” Annie knew it was no time for jokes, but she had a funny feeling this pickling was of his own doing.

“More like a pickle barrel.” Oliver was choosing his words carefully, making up the story as he went along. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Oliver, I can guarantee you that everyone on this planet has done something embarrassing in their lifetime. Although some may never notice that what they did should have caused embarrassment, but never mind. Continue, please.”

“That beautiful Lamborghini?”

“Ah, yes, the beauty.”

“I gave them a deposit in order to have it customized. And now I have to come up with the rest of the money. I invested in some fake-coin stock and now I can’t cover the cost of the car.” He thought that story might appeal to a woman who had similar vehicle interests. “I haven’t told anyone about this. It’s too embarrassing.” He dropped his chin to his chest.

Was he pouring it on thick, Annie wondered, or was he genuinely disgraced?

“What kind of money are you talking about?” Annie asked.

“Two hundred. Grand.” Oliver spit the figure out.

Annie nodded. “How soon do you need it?”

“By the end of the week; otherwise, I forfeit my deposit. A hundred grand.”

It was true he wanted money for the car, but if he hoped to live long enough to drive it, he had to either come up with the kilo or the money. Ernesto had fronted part of the cost of building the pill-mills. Oliver had been able to skim money from one company to the next, but the cost of the pill compression machine was something he couldn’t easily hide. Ernesto had given him the cash for it. Now Ernesto wanted Oliver to repay the debt. The problem was he couldn’t do one without the other. He hoped Dickie was on the stick and could get the machine running in Blaine as soon as the woman was moved. Moved. Then what?

“Let me think about this.” Annie stared straight ahead as she pushed the car’s top speed. Is this a way to trap him? she considered . Or could any action I take make me culpable? It was a topic for the group. She couldn’t make that decision on her own. She and Oliver cruised around for another quarter of an hour, then returned the precious gem to the dealership. They thanked the sales associates, took their cards, and promised to be in touch.

They walked to Oliver’s car. “Want me to drive?” Annie offered. “Because even if you don’t, I’m going to.”

The hour drive back to Salem seemed like an eternity. Very few words were spoken. The happy mood had flattened. Oliver was also out of cocaine.

They arrived at The Grand Hotel just before five o’clock. “I’m heading over to your folks to meet up with Myra. You planning on stopping by?”

His father. Home from the hospital. With all the chaos, it had slipped his mind. “Yes. I told Mother I’d call her when we got back.”

“Good. I’ll see you later.” It was a half-question.

“Probably.” He waited for Annie to say something more about the money.

“Wonderful. Thanks for a very fun day!” She tossed her silk scarf over her shoulder and blew him a kiss. Let him think he’s getting what he wants. Then she disappeared through the large doors of the hotel.

He knew he could pay her back. Not right away, but eventually. This could be the stroke of luck he needed.

* * *

When Maggie got back in her car, she sent a message to Charles, asking him to check out the financials of the gas station attendant and the deputy sheriff. She noticed a brand-new ATV at the side of the building. It could have belonged to anyone, but somehow, she suspected it was the attendant’s.

Before she headed back to Salem, she reached into her tote and dug for a bag of chips, but after groping and not hearing the crackling of a snack bag, she felt a round object and pulled it out. An apple! Annie!

Once she got back to the hotel, Maggie wrote a nice piece about Lorraine George. She presented a three-dimensional human being. A person. She could be your neighbor. Your friend.

Next, she phoned the local television station. When she gave them her credentials, they put her through to the producer immediately. “Maggie Spritzer! To what do I owe the honor?”

“Hey, Steve! Thanks for taking my call.”

“For you? Anytime,” he responded cheerfully.

“I’m in town doing a follow-up story about Vanessa Rowan and the growing number of runaways and missing persons. I interviewed the George family this morning.”

“Nice people. Seemed frustrated.”

“Yes. Anyway, if I give you some copy and a photo collage, do you think you could slip it into tonight’s broadcast at eleven?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Do you want me to email it to you?”

“That’s fine.” He paused. “How long are you going to be in town?”

“I’m not sure.”

“If you’re free one night and would like to have dinner, give me a call.”

Maggie pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a second. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That would be nice. Thanks. Okay, gotta go. Sending info now. I’ll be watching!” Then she ended the call. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked her on a date. Sure, she and Ted had a “thing” for a while, but it was easier just being friends. Now, she thought, Was it a date? Depending on how things went, and what the Sisters needed, maybe she could extend her stay a day or so longer. But that plan was still open-ended for the time being.

She sent a group text to everyone, updating them on the evening news and the gas station attendant. Everyone planned to check in around eight o’clock.

* * *

Annie arrived at Milton and Patricia’s around five-thirty. Patricia answered the door. “Hello, Annie.” She still had a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face. “Everyone is on the patio.” She turned and walked through the foyer, down a wide hallway that led to a great room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The main floor featured accordion window coverings that folded back to make an opening that stretched across the entire rear of the room. The adjacent dining room was fitted the same way.

Beyond the windows was a tiered slate patio that also stretched from one end of the house to the other. It offered a breathtaking unobstructed view of the hillsides and valley. A stone path meandered through the landscaping to lead the eye outward. The pool and outdoor barbecue area were on the side of the house, surrounded by Ligustrum sinense , otherwise known as Chinese privet. Patricia explained that it had been a great setup when the kids were younger and came over to visit. They could knock themselves out behind the bushes while the adults lounged on the patio and watched the sky change from hues of blue to pink and lavender. It was Milton’s sanctuary.

* * *

Myra was already on the patio with Danielle. Benjamin was on his way, and Oliver was expected shortly. Helen and Gary had gone back to Bandon once they heard Milton was in better condition. Milton was sitting in a double-wide Mamagreen Boulevard heritage denim chaise, with a dark slate base.

“You are looking just peachy to me!” Annie smiled as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He took her hand. “You as well, my dear. I trust you didn’t scare the pants off my son this afternoon?”

“I don’t think so.” But something did. She grinned and gave Myra one of their mutual covert glances.

“And did you purchase any new trinkets?” Myra teased. Annie might have beaucoup bucks, but she wasn’t the type who would squander her money on a car she could rarely drive. After she drove the thing home, no one would ever get in the car with her. Not unless they were unconscious. Besides, it would be a shame to waste such beauty. It belonged on the open road.

“No, darling. But it was fun.”

“I am sure Fergus will be relieved. We’re all relieved, if you must know the truth.”

“Speaking of being relieved, I bet you are feeling that way to be home?” Annie addressed Milton.

“State of mind has a lot to do with how one copes with recuperation. This view puts me in the perfect state of mind.”

“We are so glad to hear it, Milton.” Annie turned to Myra. “I think we should let you chill out and maintain that state of mind. What do you say, pal?”

“I agree. Milton, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you up and in your own environment.”

“Well, they really couldn’t convince me there was any reason to keep me. My heart is fine. Blood work is fine. And all the other bodily fluids they’ve taken are fine. The heart attack was an anomaly. Nonetheless, they suggested I continue to rest for at least two weeks. I go back to the doc in a week, and he will start giving me exercises to work into my daily routine.”

The doorbell rang, and Patricia excused herself to answer it. It was Dickie.

“Mrs. Spangler. I brought what you asked. But I have to tell you this has put me in a very uncomfortable position.”

“I understand, Dickie, and I surely appreciate it.” Patricia looked over her shoulder. Everyone was still on the patio, and she practically shut the door in Dickie’s face just as Benjamin and Oliver’s cars pulled into the driveway.

“Dickie, what brings you here?” Oliver asked quizzically.

“Your mother forgot something at the office and asked me to drop it by.” He couldn’t look at either of them.

“Did you see Dad?” Benjamin asked.

“No. Your folks have company, and I didn’t want to intrude.” He left out the part that he wasn’t invited in. “Gotta run. Have a good evening.” He could feel Oliver’s eyes burning a hole through the back of his head. He had to get that woman out of Blaine.

* * *

As Myra and Annie were leaving, they exchanged pleasantries with Oliver and Benjamin. Oliver placed his hand on Annie’s elbow. “That was fun today.”

Annie knew he was fishing for some kind of answer. “Yes. Thank you. Very much so. See you tomorrow.”