by Patti Larsen
Mom and I stared at each other as she walked to the door, both of our heads turning at once as Evelyn paused and spoke one last time.
“You might want to ask that mayor of yours,” she said in a thoughtful voice, “what she was going to do about Skip’s decision to renege on his contract with her.”
And left before we could scrape our jaws off the floor.
***
Chapter Twenty Eight
Mom recovered first, spinning on me with her spatula held out like a weapon. “You bring Olivia Walker here,” she snarled, jabbing at the floor with her utensil, “to me. Right now.”
And I thought her sweet tone was scary. I scrambled to my feet and hurried toward the door, but I didn’t have to drag Olivia to see Mom. She came in all on her own, though I doubted she had any idea the crap storm she was about to face.
If anything, she seemed distracted and took our presence for granted as she slipped her phone into her jacket pocket, the fitted dark gray suit and cream shell she wore making her olive skin seem ghostly.
“Coffee, Lu, please,” she said. “I need the energy.”
Mom let her sit, handed her a mug, didn’t say a word while Olivia rattled on like she was the only person in the room who mattered.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “Fielding requests for interviews and setting up the shooting around Willow’s unavailability and dealing with the state troopers. It’s been a mess.” She finally looked up from her mug and into Mom’s tight, quiet face before turning to find me staring at her with my arms crossed over my chest and that same expression plastered in place because I might have been my father’s daughter but when push came to shove, the redhead came out. You bet she did.
“Whatever is the matter with the two of you?” She thudded her mug on the counter, trying for offended. But the faint flicker of anxiety that crossed her face told me she knew we knew and she wasn’t ready to admit anything just yet.
“You,” Mom said in a crisp and undeniable tone, “are going to march your ass,” she didn’t move, didn’t have to, threat hanging between them, “to Crew Turner and tell him everything, Olivia.” She paused for effect while the mayor stuttered. “Before the press finds out Skip Anderson was planning to break his contract and this turns against Reading.” That got the mayor’s attention. “Now his tirade in the parade makes sense,” Mom said, finally starting to pace. “He reneged already, didn’t he? Set this up all on his own to humiliate our town. And you knew about it.”
The mayor didn’t comment, just sagged at last and stared into her coffee. “Willow said she’d take care of it.”
“Do you realize how bad this looks?” Mom didn’t honestly think Olivia killed Skip? Still, it was motive for anyone who knew the mayor and her drive to promote Reading. And keeping it a secret did look bad. The media could twist less into more and ruin everything. “And what an utter mess his disastrous rampage left behind? It’s all over the internet, Olivia. Him ranting about Reading. Your plan backfired and if you’d just had the courage to tell someone, we could have tried to keep him out of it. Instead, you buried your head up your ass and let that piece of garbage who no one will want to remember when it comes out he used to beat his stunning star wife demean our town and die on my daughter!”
Whew. Mom was wound up. And I didn’t blame her. Everything she said made sense.
Olivia didn’t get to respond. Distraction broke our focus, the sudden sound of voices in the back garden, many, many voices, shouting Willow Pink’s name. I spun and ran, Petunia on my heels, Olivia right behind me, and out into the spring morning to find the actress cornered against the house by a large pack of reporters who had clearly invaded my privacy.
The bedlam made it hard to focus, the crush of bodies bruising me as I forced my way through them to Willow and got a good grip on her arm. I looked up to find Carter on her other side, struggling to keep the reporters at bay while Willow’s face paled out to almost nothing.
And then Crew was there, Jill and Robert, clearing away the crowd with the help of three tall troopers in dark uniforms. I took the break in the action they created and jerked Willow behind me into the kitchen, slamming the door in Olivia’s face, Carter leaning against it to protect the star from the surge of reporters still trying to reach her despite the police presence.
“I’m sorry,” Willow whispered, clinging to my hand. “I just wanted some air. I didn’t realize…” She sobbed then, hugged me. “Why won’t they just leave me alone?”
It was so hard not to feel for her so I didn’t try. Though, in all honesty, she should have been used to this kind of attention. Then again, she had just lost her husband, so slack would be cut. And, if she killed Skip, well, you know what? Right now at this moment I was in the good for her department ringing up my let me help next time purchases.
The door thudded as the sound diminished. I gestured for Carter to back off which he did reluctantly, to allow Crew and Olivia inside. The sheriff glared at the body guard but considering Carter had been doing his job, there wasn’t much he could say.
Instead, he confronted the already wobbly Willow. “What were you thinking?”
She didn’t respond, hand trembling in mine.
“Leave her, Crew,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t thank me for interfering.
“Tell them, Willow,” Olivia blurted. “That Skip wasn’t going to renege on his contract with Reading.” How desperate she sounded.
Crew glared at her in clear surprise. “What?”
“It’s all right, I promise I’ll fix it.” Olivia seemed more wrapped up in her own story than was good for any of us.
The sheriff groaned, rubbed his face with one hand. “You should have told me, Olivia.”
Willow whispered something while the two argued. I leaned in to catch what she said, and instead watched with horror as her eyes rolled back into her head and, without another word and with an almost delicate sigh, crumbled to the floor.
***
Chapter Twenty Nine
Dr. Lloyd Aberstock accepted the glass of water I handed him. I was just as happy not to be on the receiving end of his kind smile this time and played a supporting role. He held up the drink to Willow’s lips, gently prodding her to sip. There was a bluish tinge to her skin, the transparence that made her look so fresh faced on camera just seeming deathly now, her dark hair framing her thin face, normally luminous eyes sunken into dark pits as she accepted a small drink before turning her head away.
“I’ll be all right,” she whispered, hoarse and sounding tired. “I just need a minute. Please, don’t make any more of a fuss than you already have.”
“Passing out after stress isn’t a small thing, young lady,” Dr. Aberstock said. Now that I could appreciate his presence fully, I remembered how much I loved his manner, had always liked visiting him despite knowing when I did it meant a shot or some kind of unpleasant activity. He had that grandfatherly look to him, white hair thinning but still lush, round, rosy cheeks as healthy as anyone half his age and bright blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He offered the glass again and she took another sip before smiling at last. “I seem to recall you used to have trouble with such spells if you weren’t eating enough.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she said, though it didn’t sound defensive, more softly amused. “And I’ve been under worse stress than this since you were my doctor.” She flushed, two bright, unhealthy points standing out in stark glow on her prominent cheekbones. “That sounded horrible.”
Dr. Aberstock patted her hand, leaning back and handing the glass to me again with his own smile. The Green Suite felt quiet and closed, everyone but me and the doctor banned from the room for now. Carter’s swiftness meant Willow hadn’t made it all the way to the floor, acting faster than I was able. Considering she went sideways as she crumbled, knocking into me and shoving me off balance, it could have ended with me down there with her instead of her in his arms before she could carry me to the ground.
Will
ow might have been thin, but she was still dead weight as she collapsed and, thankfully, Carter was close enough to stop both of us from toppling when she went down. He hadn’t paused from there, whisking her out of the kitchen and up the stairs and I raced after him, Crew muttering into the phone for the doctor.
That had only been ten minutes ago but my heart was still beating a little too fast, worry for Willow making me hover, breathless and shocky, likely left over from the events of yesterday.
“I’m so sorry for the dramatics,” Willow said, sounding a bit stronger. “I have no idea what happened just now. I haven’t passed out like that since grade school.”
“I’d say you’ve worn yourself down to the quick.” Dr. Aberstock’s gentle smile worked its normal wonders. Willow made no effort to fight to sit up or argue as he went on. “The pressure of your husband’s tragic passing—my condolences, Willow—and the flare up of your injury along with the weighty schedule you keep as an actor. Well, let’s say I’m not surprised at all it finally took its toll.”
She scrunched her nose at him and I realized then she knew him better than I did, and had to remind myself yet again she grew up in Reading too. “Thank you. It’s been… a truly terrible twenty-four hours.”
“I want you at the hospital in Falls Station,” he said. “Just overnight, for observation. No arguing, young lady.” She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “I’ll call ahead so they can have a private room ready. I’m sure the sheriff will want to make sure there’s security so you’re not troubled while you rest.”
“I could just rest here.” But she didn’t sound like she believed it and I was with her on that.
“Get out of Petunia’s,” I blurted, then blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re always welcome.” Her widened eyes at my statement turned to softening and a nod. “But you need to distance yourself from this, Willow. Even if just for a night and somewhere you can have medical attention. Just in case.”
“Thank you both.” She sighed, closed her eyes. A bead of moisture formed in the corners and trailed slowly down her temples and into her dark hair. “I think that might be a great idea.”
I left the room with Dr. Aberstock, closing the door softly behind me, having to turn and press my back against it to keep Julian from forcing his way past me. But it was the kindly doctor who placed a firm hand on the manager’s chest and shook his head, stern grandpa shutting him down.
“She needs time,” he said. Nodded to Crew who hovered in the hall, waiting with an anxious expression while Olivia’s hands clasped tightly before her, Stella pacing a tight back and forth at the top of the stairs. “I’ll have an ambulance take her to Curtis County General for the night.”
“No.” Julian snapped that denial. “You want to make things worse? Put Willow Pink in an ambulance and make her look weak. Go ahead, do that and I’ll sue this entire town for ruining her career.”
That was going a bit far, but I didn’t see the need for an ambulance either. The hospital in Falls Station was maybe a fifteen minute drive from here. “Why don’t we put her in an inconspicuous car and have Carter take her?” The steaming tension in the hall seemed to ease as I spoke while I met Crew’s eyes to win him over. “There’s no need to turn this into a bigger circus. And if she can get out of here with no one noticing, there’s a better chance she can get some actual rest when she gets to the hospital.”
Crew’s jaw jumped but he nodded. “I’ll tell the state troopers to put guards on her door.” He turned and left, but paused at the top of the steps, Stella chewing her nails while he spoke. “Jill’s going in the car with Carter.” And then he was gone, stomping his way to the first floor while Dr. Aberstock beamed at me and hugged me with genuine caring.
“Well done, Fee,” he said. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have to call admitting.”
I was left alone with Julian, Olivia and Stella, and as soon as the doctor was gone the three of them started their chatter all over again.
“If the press gets wind of this, Willow’s next contract could be threatened.” Julian’s face darkened as he spun on Olivia. “This is all your fault, Mayor Walker. We should never have agreed to this ridiculous propaganda plan you’ve been pushing on Willow the last two years.”
“My fault?” Olivia’s indignation snapped like a whip. “Willow signed a contract in full understanding of what she was agreeing to, Julian.”
“She’s been pushing herself too hard,” Stella muttered. “It might be good for her to break her contract on her next picture. Take some time off and recover from her injury and now this.”
Every single word that left their mouths triggered my anger. Bubbling, boiling and ready to blow, I stood rigid as Stella finished her thought before drawing an audible breath that caught their attention and turned their three faces toward me.
“Maybe,” I said softly, because if I went above that volume I’d be shouting in seconds, “if someone in her life had actually given a crap that her husband was beating her, she wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”
“That’s not fair,” Julian spluttered. “She wouldn’t let us help.”
“I had no idea,” Olivia said. Like she had the right to be offended at a time like this.
Stella, at least, had the good grace to appear guilty.
“You all make me sick.” I spun and walked away, knowing I should stay and guard the door so they wouldn’t bother Willow, but unable to stop myself from leaving. Thankfully, Carter appeared as if by magic, hurrying past me with a grim expression and anger in his eyes as he met mine on the way by. I half turned to see him plant himself in front of Willow’s door with his broad shoulders pressed to the wood, hands clasped before him, face a dark mask of stone.
He’d overheard our conversation then, had he? And thought as little as I did of the trio who should have known better.
Then again, as I set foot in the foyer and tried to pull myself together, I had to accept the sobering thought that it wasn’t up to others. That Willow had made the choice to stay. But if I knew anything about men and manipulation—hello, Ryan Richards might not have hit me but he controlled our relationship in ways I was only now uncovering—it was this. We stayed even long after we knew in our dying hearts we shouldn’t because we believed they were who we deserved.
Twenty minutes later I slipped around the fence into the Munroe property and checked for straggling press who might have escaped the obvious and loud press conference Olivia started up just a moment ago. The distraction tactic seemed to be working, the noisy crowd at the front of Petunia’s drawn in to her update report while I turned and waved to Willow and Carter. She wavered as she walked, but Carter was beside her the whole time and it was a short jaunt, really, so I had little doubt she’d be all right.
So weird to be back here. I hadn’t set foot on Peggy Munroe’s property since the night she tried to kill me. Her already overgrown garden had turned into a brown mass of dead vegetation, a slightly creepy web of interlaced weeds with the path to the house only vaguely apparent.
Jill waved from the far side of the house, dressed in plain clothes, though to me even her regular jeans and jacket did nothing to hide the no-nonsense about her that screamed deputy. Not that it mattered, as long as Olivia did her job and kept the press occupied.
The mayor’s luxury sedan had tinted windows, a perfect choice, though a bit obvious to me. Still, as Willow sank into the back seat and sighed while the soft leather enveloped her, I didn’t argue.
Carter took shotgun, Jill nodding to me as she drove away, backing slowly out of the Munroe’s driveway and turning right, up the hill and away from Petunia’s, though I worried the packed line of news vans would make it impossible for her to escape. But Jill’s driving skills were more than up to the task and a moment later they were quietly cruising away, unnoticed.
Perfect. Only then did I realize I was alone with the kind of memories I didn’t really want to relive that still woke me up sometimes in the mi
ddle of the night, with the horrible old lady grinning at me from the other end of a gun barrel.
Time to go home.
I blame my weariness and my focus on Willow’s escape for the fact I didn’t see Randy Russell sneak up behind me. The scream that escaped me? Yeah, part and package with the aforementioned. Randy actually laughed as I panted, clutching my chest with both hands, my anger roused once again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I stomped past him, furious not only had he caught me flatfooted but likely knew Willow had left and would be reporting it despite our best efforts to the contrary. Well, whatever. We’d done our best.
“You didn’t call me,” he said, tossing that out with a light and teasing tone.
I stopped, spun, feet grinding over dead foliage and stirring the scent of decay and mildew, enough to make me want to sneeze. “You have something to tell me, Mr. Russell? I’m right here. Tell me.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked away, hesitant before he shrugged. “Not here,” he said. “Too many ears around, more than you know. How about I call you, Red?”
I didn’t recall giving him permission to choose a nickname for me, especially one so generic. “Whatever,” I said. And despite the fact I maybe should have pursued it further instead of walking away, I turned my back on him and left him there.
***
Chapter Thirty
I walked into a heated conversation between Crew and Olivia as the pair faced off in the foyer. Obviously her press conference had ended and for some reason she and her sheriff were at odds again. I was almost at the point I didn’t care why anymore, except the amused expression on my dad’s face made me pause and want to know what the joke might be.
I could use a laugh right about then.
