“What you did to Mr. Alex was unconscionable,” Matilda Hastings scolded. Knowing the old man was up to something, she’d remained in a far corner of the room during his grandson’s visit. William, she knew, had allowed her presence because her hovering over him had made him seem even more ill. Now, returning from seeing Alex off, she approached William Bennett’s bed. Coming to a halt beside it, the fifty-seven-year-old, short, plump woman, her auburn hair dulled by strands of gray, stood, her arms akimbo, frowning reprovingly. “I helped you raise that boy, first as his nanny and then staying on as your housekeeper. I know how much he loves and admires you. He must have made me swear a dozen times that I’d let him know if there was any change in your condition, and I’m to see that the doctor comes both morning and night to check on you. He’s heartsick thinking you’re dying.”
William shrugged. “We’re all dying from the day we’re born. It’s the cycle of nature.”
The frown on Matilda’s face darkened even more. “But you are not currently in any danger of meeting your Maker. We both know you’re going to live to be a hundred. You’re just exhausted from staying day and night at that last drill site until oil was struck.”
William drew in a robust breath and smiled broadly. “You don’t understand the invigorating smell of fresh crude.”
Matilda crinkled her nose. “You’re right, I don’t.”
“As for my grandson, it’s time he married and sired an heir or two.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that he simply hasn’t met the right woman?”
William suddenly frowned. “I’m not so sure that there is a ‘right woman’ for us Bennett men. Our luck in that area doesn’t run too good. But he needs a wife at least long enough to give him a child.” His frown turned to a speculative smile. “This should light a fire under his feet. And, if there is a female like the one he described, I’m going to enjoy meeting her.”
“Or maybe he’ll rush into something you’ll both regret,” Matilda warned. “There are mistakes and then there are mistakes. Remember the one his daddy made.”
William’s smile faded. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll have to keep a close eye on the boy.”
Matilda issued a loud snort. “I’d find me another job and leave you to your own devices except that you’d never find anyone else who’d put up with you. Besides, someone has to stay and look out for Mr. Alex.”
* * *
It was late into the night by the time Alex arrived at his home outside of Grand Springs. The two-story, sprawling log structure sat on a mountainside in the midst of several acres of wilderness. The back faced a vast lake. He’d had it built large enough to house guests comfortably, figuring it would be a good place to bring business associates he wanted to soften up or impress. But once it was finished, he’d kept it as a private retreat.
Glancing at the pile of newspapers Roberta Nyes, his cleaning lady, had left on the hall table, he frowned. According to the latest headline, the murderer of Olivia Stuart had not yet been found, nor did the police seem to have any definite suspects.
He recalled the funeral. Olivia had been mayor of Grand Springs. He’d met her at various fund-raisers Noah had dragged him to. After learning of all she’d done and was trying to do for the town, he’d grown to admire her. Out of respect, he’d made a special effort to attend the service. It had been a strained affair. Her daughter, Eve, and son, Hal, had delivered eulogies. As she spoke, Eve’s voice had broken and tears had trickled down her cheeks. Hal had seemed more in shock than in sorrow, but then everyone handled death in different ways. Besides, having one’s mother murdered would shake anyone up. And to have been left standing at the altar on the same night as his mother’s death had to have been a double whammy.
“Women. From the very beginning of time, they’ve been nothing but trouble,” Alex muttered. A grudging grimace played across his face. Even as he’d tried to concentrate on the funeral rites, he’d found himself surveying the assembly, looking for the dark-haired, hazel-eyed woman from the night of the storm.
His jaw firmed. It was definitely time he sought out this Nina person and got her out of his system once and for all.
* * *
Nina Lindstrom sat on the side of her son Tommy’s bed and smiled encouragingly down at his pale face. “We’re going to meet Dr. Genkins at the hospital tomorrow. He’s going to find out why you’re feeling tired and dizzy lately and make it all better.” Silently she said a prayer that this would be the case.
The towheaded, hazel-eyed six-year-old had always been an active child, constantly getting into things and squirming when made to sit too long. When he’d begun to slow down a couple of months ago, both she and her in-laws had attributed his behavior to the maturing process. But lately they’d begun to worry. When he’d started complaining about being dizzy, she’d called Dr. Genkins.
A preliminary examination had shown nothing serious, and the pediatrician had hypothesized that Tommy could be having some fluid build-up in the inner ear. He’d prescribed a mild antihistamine. But the dizzy spells had continued to grow worse. Now Tommy swayed when he walked, and she’d noticed he was dropping things more than usual. She kissed him lightly on the forehead. “Now, you go to sleep and get your rest.”
His mouth tightened and his jaw tensed. She recognized his brave face, the one he used when he was scared but didn’t want to admit it. “I’ll be with you all of the time,” she promised.
His jaw relaxed and she kissed his cheek. “Sleep tight,” she said, rising.
Moving to the second bed in the room, she looked down at the sturdy little dark-haired, blue-eyed four-year-old boy there. “You get some sleep, too, Peter.” Ruffling his hair, she kissed him good night.
“Tommy be well soon?” he asked worriedly.
“Yes, soon,” she promised. She needed to hear herself say the words to bolster her own courage. She’d heard the concern in Dr. Genkins’s voice when she’d called about Tommy’s increasing symptoms.
Leaving the boys’ room, she found her eight-year-old daughter huddled, clutching her favorite doll, in the recliner that had been Tom Lindstrom’s favorite chair. Elizabeth, blond and blue-eyed like her father, looked anxiously up at her mother. “Is Tommy going to join Daddy?”
Nina’s jaw firmed. She couldn’t bear another loss. “No,” she said with conviction. “Come on, it’s time for you to be in bed, as well.”
Elizabeth slipped out of the chair and, taking her mother’s hand, accompanied her into the second bedroom of the small two-bedroom apartment. There Nina tucked her daughter into one of the two twin beds. But she was too tense to climb into the other and go to sleep.
She went into the tiny kitchen and made herself some warm milk, then went into the living room and sank down onto the couch. It seemed like lately if anything could go wrong it had. The storm had caused extensive damage to the Grand Springs Diner where she worked as a waitress. Because of that, the diner was closed, and there was no telling when it would reopen. Or even if it would. Ma and Pa Olsen, the owners, had put the place up for sale.
In the meantime, she hadn’t been able to find a steady job. She’d been called a couple of times by the various catering services she normally moonlighted for, but those had
