a quaint hospital, the only one in Walnut River, and while it had been nurtured to its present state by James Wilder and now had Peter Wilder overseeing it, what happened when the day came that there were no Wilders to render their services, to be the kindly country doctors that the hospital’s reputation thrived on? Then what?
It took very little imagination on her part to envision conditions degenerating within the hospital to the point where it wouldn’t be able to attract any physicians of high standing to join their staff. In the blink of an eye, Walnut River General could easily turn into a mediocre hospital staffed with mediocre physicians.
If NHC oversaw its management, that sort of thing wouldn’t happen.
Besides, Bethany thought as she finished the last of her latte, these days no one fought city hall and won. That kind of thing just didn’t happen anymore. If, indeed, it ever had.
She placed the empty container on her tray and carried both to the nearest conveyor belt. Stepping away, she dusted off her hands. Ready for round two.
It was damn time for Dr. Peter Wilder to realize that he had to stop standing in the way of progress before he and his precious hospital were left behind in the dust. The sooner she got him to acknowledge that, the sooner they could all move on.
Chapter Five
The reading of the will that evening at his house held no surprises. Fred arrived at seven, with Ella there a few minutes earlier, and it went as Peter had expected. All of his father’s worldly possessions, the house, the small bank account, were to be divided equally among the children. James Wilder had no living siblings, no distant people he felt honor-bound to reach out to beyond the grave. A few mementos went to friends, worth more in sentimental value than they were monetarily, but most items were part of the very small estate that was to be divvied up equally.
His father had left the execution of it entirely in Peter’s hands.
“Short and sweet,” Fred declared. Finished, he placed the will on the mahogany desk and rose to his feet. He snapped the locks back down on his black leather briefcase. “Still, it’s a shame that David and Anna couldn’t have stayed one more day to hear the reading of the will for themselves.”
Peter knew that Ella felt the same way the lawyer did: that David and Anna should have remained out of respect for their father. In her own way, Ella was very protective of her father and his memory. But he knew that no disrespect had been intended by his siblings. Both excuses they’d given were thin, veiling the different demons David and, to an extent, Anna, had to wrestle with. Nothing anyone in the room could say would change that.
So he played down their absence and responded to Fred’s comment with a half shrug.
“They each thought that there wouldn’t be anything unusual about it,” he said. “And pressing circumstances called them away.”
Fred’s expression said he would have expected more from the children of his close friend. He nodded toward Ella as he circumvented Peter’s desk. “Lovely seeing you again, Ella. I hope the next time we meet, it will be under happier circumstances.”
“Yes,” she murmured softly with feeling, “so do I.”
Peter saw fresh tears glistening in her eyes. It was going to take her a while to get over this, he thought. In the meantime, he could give her her privacy.
Placing himself between Fred and his sister, he volunteered, “I’ll walk you out.”
“Speaking of unusual …” Fred picked up the thread of their earlier exchange as they left the room. “Have you, um, you know—”
Peter shook his head. “No, I haven’t ‘um, you know’ yet.”
Fred eyed him as they walked slowly to the front of the house. “Afraid it might be something bad?”
Afraid. Maybe that was the right word after all, he thought. Something about the presence of the envelope made him uneasy. He didn’t want anything changing his image of his father and he was afraid that whatever was in the envelope might do just that.
“Well, it can’t be something good, now, can it? If it was, there wouldn’t be this aura of mystery surrounding it. My father wasn’t the to-be-read-after-my-death kind of person. Or at least,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked, “I wouldn’t have said he was.” Until now.
Fred looked at him, a sympathetic expression on his round face. “Only one way to find out.”
Peter glanced toward the living room as he passed it on his way to the front door. The thick envelope was still resting on the mantelpiece, where he’d placed it after the reception. And where it was going to stay until he was ready to deal with it.
“Yes, I know. I’ll get to it,” he promised. He stopped at the door. The overhead fixture hanging down from the vaulted ceiling was on high, casting more light through the area than it ordinarily did. The added brightness only marginally negated the somber atmosphere and mood.
Fred’s eyes met his and the man said, “Be sure to let me know when you do.”
Peter didn’t feel comfortable with that. “Whatever it is, it’s my father’s secret.”
Fred laughed softly to himself. “And I was your father’s lawyer—and his friend. He had no secrets from me,” Fred told him significantly.
Peter looked at him sharply. “Then you know what’s in the envelope?”
It was obvious that Fred was not about to say yes—or no. “I have my suspicions,” he admitted.
If that was true, what was all this cloak-and-dagger stuff about? And if Fred knew, what, exactly, did he want to be informed about after the envelope was finally opened and its contents read?
“Then why—”
“Lawyer-client confidentiality,” Fred was quick to cite the standard, one-size-fits-all defense. Fred patted Peter’s arm. “Keep an open mind,” he advised. “Remember, you’re the son James trusted.”
Peter thought of the envelope that contained a secret his father had all but taken to his grave. The secret that James Wilder hadn’t shared with him in life. “Apparently not.”
The look in Fred’s brown eyes told him that he could all but read his thoughts.
“Think of it as not burdening you until he absolutely had to.” Fred glanced at his watch and looked surprised at the hour. “Well, I need to go. Selma is holding dinner for me.” He laughed, patting his ample stomach. “Sometimes, I wish she was a worse cook than she is. Then I wouldn’t have this—” he searched for a descriptive word that wasn’t entirely unflattering “—robust physique. ‘Bye, Ella,” he called out, raising his voice. “And let me know once you break the seal,” Fred said again, lowering his voice so that it wouldn’t carry.
Fred let himself out and closed the door behind him. The next moment, Ella was entering the foyer.
“What was all that about?” she asked.
Turning around, Peter saw that she had managed to pull herself together. Ella was good at rallying. He had to stop thinking
