spend it.”
“So long as I see a copy of the bills. Otherwise, you needn’t concern yourself with my finances.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, his brows meshing in a frown at her scathing tone.
She looked at him, her gaze steady. “Did I say something that struck a nerve?”
She knew. He didn’t know how she knew, but he would bet on it. Jesus. He thought he’d left all that behind him; but no, he was dragging it along like a piece of toilet paper stuck to his shoe. Not that it made any difference. He had beaten the odds before. He could do it again.
“For the record,” he said deliberately as he pushed off the door frame and started walking away, “it isn’t your money that interests me.”
It was the next morning that the opportunity came for Alec to talk to Maisie. Laurel had just gone back into the house after instructing him to prune the paint-spotted leaves on the shrubs around the base of the house. As if he couldn’t see for himself that it needed doing. She hadn’t said a word about the paint job, either. He didn’t expect compliments, exactly, and it annoyed him that he still wanted her approval, but she could have made some comment. For two cents, he would tell her to find herself another man to cut down her pine tree.
“What is it with her?” he asked the white-haired housekeeper in frustration when she brought him a glass of water. “Why is it I can’t get the time of day from her?”
A shrewd look came into Maisie’s fine old eyes. “She gets like this sometimes, usually when her mama-in-law has been around, or Zelda—that’s the sister-in-law, you know.”
“They get on her nerves?”
“You could say so. Mostly, they pick at her. Pickiest, most negative people I ever saw. Never a good thing to say about anything or anybody.”
Alec turned his water glass in a circle. “You think they’ve been talking? About me?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. Not that they got a lot of room for it. Zelda Bancroft is no better than she has to be. Never was. But she likes making trouble. The mama-in-law, now, she just has it in for Laurel.”
“Because of how Howard died?”
Maisie nodded. “Did her best to have Laurel arrested, called everybody she knew, pulled every string she could get hold of. Didn’t do her any good, mainly because of the sheriff. Tanning’s always been sweet on Laurel. Said any fool could see she couldn’t bring herself to hurt a flea if it was having her for supper.”
“She thinks she may have. You know that?”
Maisie nodded. “Have to say I’m amazed she told you, though. She didn’t say anything about her kids, did she?”
“Not much.”
“Something else she don’t talk about—guess it hurts too much. They think she did it, too. Got the idea from that mama-in-law of hers.” The housekeeper paused with distant consideration in her eyes. “Well, and maybe from the way Laurel acted at the time. She never said she didn’t mean it, you know. Never could say exactly how it came about.”
“Rough.” The comment didn’t seem adequate but was all he could manage.
“You got that right,” the older woman said and heaved a gusting sigh. “Strange, but she couldn’t make herself leave him while he was alive, still can’t leave him now since he’s dead.”
“You think she wanted to? Leave him, I mean?” He was much too eager for the answer, but he couldn’t help it.
“Lot of women would have left. Howard was a moody sort, not what you might call a barrel of laughs. Sort of tormented like, you know? What matters, though, is that he thought she might. That’s why he ran out after her that day.”
“She tell you that?”
“Lord, boy, she didn’t have to. I was there.”
He gave her a hard look. “You saw what happened?”
“Saw him take off after her, saw the look on his face. The rest I just heard.” She shook her white head. “They’d been arguing, something about their boy Evan and what Howard wanted to do for him, though it ran into all sorts of other things as fights will between husbands and wives, like what Laurel could and couldn’t do in the yard. Howard was hollering like a crazy man when he stepped behind that car, telling her he’d do anything if she’d stay. Pitiful, really.”
Alec was quiet as he tried to imagine how he would feel if he thought he was losing Laurel. Of course, he had to imagine having her first. Neither one was easy.
He drew a deep breath and let it out. Deliberately, he said, “Laurel wants that big pine over next to the fence, there, taken down. She says you might have a saw.”
5
It was Grannie Callie’s idea for Alec to take Gregory to Ivywild. Gregory should get out of the house, she said. He needed something else to think about besides himself and the symptoms and progress of his illness. Alec thought his grandmother probably needed to get out for a while, as well, but didn’t want to leave Gregory alone.
She had been more than generous about letting his brother and him stay, but she had her own life and routine, which they had interrupted, her own friends she was neglecting while she looked after them. Alec had done everything he could think of to make it easier for her. They couldn’t expect her to devote all her waking hours to the invalid.
Not that Gregory was bedridden. He got around well enough, though his energy level was low. He could handle dressing and undressing himself and was able to take his pain medication when it was set out for him. The main problem was seeing that he didn’t take too much of it, and that he ate regular meals and got some fresh air and sunshine to keep his spirits up. Another good reason for taking him out on the job.
Gregory seemed to appreciate being out and about. He walked slowly around Laurel’s garden, stopping now and then to smell a flower or finger a leaf. He even tried to help a little, picking up a hoe to tackle a patch of nut grass.
Alec watched his brother for a moment to be sure he was all right, then turned back to the ditch he was working on with a shovel. It was for the water line to feed the fountain. The garden space inside the fence was too confined, too filled with plants, for him to bring in the ditchdigger he had rented. Once he had the piping finished to the other side of the fence, he would climb on the digger, but for now he was it, since he had to be sure nothing was torn up that Laurel wanted saved.
In the midst of his concentration, he heard the screen door slam and Laurel scream his name. He whipped around, saw Gregory starting to fall, crumpling like a scarecrow with the stuffing spilling out. Dropping his shovel, he lunged for him in a full, desperate stretch. He barely caught him.
“Up here,” Laurel called from the steps. “In the shade on the veranda.”
Alec was grateful beyond words for the offer. He should have known better than to let Gregory do anything strenuous, should have watched him more closely. The trouble was, Gregory didn’t like being watched over like a kid; definitely didn’t like being told what he should and shouldn’t do. He was proud and touchy, which
