The whole setup had to be convincing. How old were the children when her accident happened? How had it occurred? It was necessary for her to be in a near coma for a long enough time to justify that the cousin could take over managing the trust. And worse, how could she convince the reader that a woman could come out of a coma and remember her whole past?
Jane would have to start in her heroine's mind. Alert and intelligent as ever, but unable to speak or indicate (except from her eyes following someone in the room?) that her mind was still working.
Furthermore, her characters in her first two books, had elaborate and long names. This time she needed a down-home plain name. It couldn't be anything that started with a J, however. People who didn't know Jane well often
called her Janet, or Jean, or Joyce. She didn't want readers to mix up her real name with the character's name.
Martha? No, that was her sister Marty's real name and she couldn't love and sympathize with a Martha.
Ruth? Too biblical. Sarah? Also biblical, but a nice name. How about spelling it Sara? That would work. She'd known two Sarahs along the way through the many schools she'd gone to during her childhood who were called Sally by their friends. Sally was a more "affectionate" name. At least as far as Jane was concerned.
She hadn't brought her legal pad out to jot down notes, so she ran inside for one, refreshed her iced tea, fetched a pencil, and went back to the patio table. The workers weren't making as much noise as they had in the early stages of the room addition. There was the occasional sound of a nail gun, or a request for another roll of the insulation they were putting in between the studs. They'd also learned to leave her alone. The Porta Potty, or whatever it was called, was on the far side of her house so none of them had to come into her house.
She supposed they thought of her as a weird writer who sat outside handwriting books. She wasn't writing a book, though. She was thinking out possibilities. Later she'd line all them up in no particular order on a file in her computer and soon begin to write the book.
She still needed a time setting. When did people begin the legal business of setting up trusts? She'd need to research that. She'd heard of trustbusters in history, long ago. The railroad barons used trusts, she suspected.
But those were big companies, not individuals. And it was probably before women could even vote. She'd let Sally settle it with a will instead.
And where would the story be set?
She found herself wanting to start the book, without worrying about chronology or legal matters. She went inside and sat down at her computer to write the first chapter.
Sally had her eyes closed and was thinking, "I've been in this bed in the hospital for a year and one week. It's good that I had the sense not to let anyone know I could hear and see. Even though that was all I could do. Thank God for Lacy."
Lacy had, after the first week that Sally was hospitalized, taken on responsibility for her. Lacy was young, tall, and strong and was the only one in the world who believed that Sally could recover. Three times every day she propped Sally up on pillows and hand fed her water and pulverized food. She'd also lift her carefully to the commode in the corner of the room when Sally needed it.
Sally would look at that part of the room as a signal to Lacy. Lacy was the only one who knew that Sally could see. And she knew, instinctively, that Sally didn't want anyone else to know. Lacy, after Maud's visit, also put a camp bed in Sally's room, so she could turn her during the night.
Lacy would bathe Sally once a day, and then gently
massage her arms and legs. What Lacy didn't know yet was that Sally was starting to feel through her fingertips and toes. Lacy's belief and care of her were working.
Sally's husband, who was also an orphan and the only child of rich parents, as was Sally, was killed on a skiing trip to Switzerland when he was buried in an avalanche. His body wasn't recovered until the spring thaw. Their children were young. Bobby was only two on his last birthday, and Amanda was four and a half. Knowing that her husband's life had been taken away too soon, she wrote a will, giving her substantial inheritance from her own parents over to her cousin Maud. Sally had no brothers or sisters and only one cousin.
Sally's inheritance from her late husband was also generous, but she held that back in the will for the welfare and education of her children. And her own welfare in the future.
During her widowhood, Sally had left the children with their nanny while Sally went to buy groceries one day, and was attacked by a purse snatcher. He'd hit her in the back with something like a pipe to knock her down. She only knew this because Lacy told her when she was sent from the hospital to the nursing home.
Her memory of Maud's first visit was still clear in her mind. Maud had come to the nursing home a month after Sally had been moved there and tried to convince the doctor that he should write up a document saying that Sally would never recover and Maud herself should have
Sally's late husband's money as well to raise Bobby and Amanda.
The doctor refused. "She's probably not ever going to recover, but she's healthy except for the spinal injury. She can swallow food and water, she can evacuate her bowels. Her heart is healthy. Her blood pressure is normal."
"But she's a vegetable and always will be," Maud claimed. "And she's stuck me with her children."
"What are you suggesting?" the doctor asked. "That we put her down like a seriously injured pet?"
"Why not?" Maud said. "She'll never be able to get out of that bed on her own. And I need more money to take care of her children."
"She'd have to make a new will for that to be done," the doctor said and then he took her arm and added, "Go away and never come back here. I'm going to see if I can find someone more honorable to take care of her children."
As it happened, after she left, he reflected that he was bound to the conditions of Sally's will as well. He couldn't place her children anywhere else any more than Maud could get her hands on Sally's late husband's money.
But after that visit, Lacy moved a camp bed into Sally's room, to make sure Maud didn't sneak back in and do harm to Sally. Lacy felt that Maud would do anything to get rid of Sally and claim not only Sally's money, but that of Sally's late husband.
On that day a month after the first year and week had
passed, Sally could feel with her fingertips, and her toes could move. A month later she looked at Lacy, and then at her own hand. Lacy did so and started to weep as she felt the strong grip of Sally's handshake. Sally made her mouth work and said in a husky whisper that was slurred, "Thank you."
Lacy wept.
Jane saved this scene to a backup disk and turned off the computer. She could go back later and make any corrections or additions to the work. She was pleased with the setup. Maud would try again and again to get all the money. Sally would gradually improve. Only Lacy would know when Sally finally took her first step by herself.
Later in the day, she checked what happened in 1903 and found very few interesting national events; she decided that the location of the hospital and nursing home should be in Virginia, near the Maryland border.
She made a brief outline of the story line, including Maud trying to kill Sally and Sally breaking Maud's nose. Lacy pretended that it was she who attacked Maud in defense of Sally when the doctor learned of the incident. Jane made sure not to give away the ending. She'd be paid part of her advance for turning in a brief outline, but she didn't want anyone to know the ending before reading the whole manuscript. Besides, Jane hadn't yet decided exactly what the ending would be. Jane, a dinosaur who still used WordPerfect instead of Word, went through what she'dwritten with the grammar checker, which was nutsy and priggish, and thought that more than one sentence in dialogue made the wrong parentheses. It also wanted to change every who to whom. But it was good at catching is for as, and it's for its. Fortunately Jane could ignore whatever the stupid grammar checker said.
As she was finishing up, she realized she didn't have a title for the bo
ok yet. She'd have to do a cover letter explaining this to her agent.
As she was printing, the phone rang, and Thelma said, "Jane, uu haven't ssent me an invitation to uu wedding."
Jane was taken aback by this slurred message and said, "I'm not inviting you because of what you tried to do to me."
"Uu are a bbbad gur," and there was a crashing sound.
Since the phone was still intact at Thelma's end, Jane used her fax machine in telephone mode and called Ted. "Your mother just called me and was slurring her words, and then there was a crashing noise."
"Oh God. Jane," Ted exclaimed. "Call 911, and I'll be at her house before they get there."
She did as he'd asked.
Chapter
FIFTEEN
J
ane's heart was beating at a bird rate. Had her nasty remark caused the stroke or heart attack? The answer was no. Thelma had been slurring her words even before Jane was rude to her. Still, she felt a little pity for Thelma. Jane always hoped she herself would go over like a tree when the time came. Not lingering for years of misery.
Two hours later, Ted called Jane. "My mother's had a serious stroke. She'll be in the hospital for a week, and then go into a nursing home."
"Should I visit her?"
"No. After what she's done to you and Dixie, 1 don't want you to go there. But I only have one week to find agood nursing home. I hate to ask you, but I know some of them are like prisons and stink of death. We need to find a good one."
"I'd be happy to help you. Tomorrow morning I have to drop something in the mail to my agent, but after that I'm free. May I bring my friend Shelley along? She'd be one more person to judge a good one."
"That's fine."
Todd had been at the kitchen table during this conversation, and asked, "Who was that?"
"Your uncle Ted. Grandmother Jeffry has had a serious stroke and he wants me and Mrs. Nowack to go with him to find a nice nursing home when she's released from the hospital."
"I'm not really surprised, Mom. She was always mad at somebody. She was getting worse and worse about everything."
Jane was glad Todd was so down-to-earth about this. "Want me to call Mike and Katie again?"
"If you want to, please do."
Ted picked up Jane and Shelley at nine-thirty. He had a list of five nursing homes. The first one was horrible. There was a big room filled with people in wheelchairs, grouped so they could watch television in the large room. The floors hadn't been cleaned. The room stank of urine overlaid with the scent of a disgusting air freshener.
Shelley asked to be shown some of the rooms. Each had two beds with a curtain between them. The sheets were rough and didn't smell clean.
This place was universally voted unacceptable.
The next was even worse. It looked like a jail facility. Blank white walls. Side tables bolted to the beds. No common room at all. Each room had a bathroom without handicapped bars in the shower.
The third place was marginally acceptable. Clean, but plain. There was an empty room they were invited to see. White walls, clean white floors. It didn't smell bad. The sheets were soft and clean and neatly made. But there was no sense of home to it. They hadn't seen a single nurse or attendant in the hallway.
The fourth one was stunningly elegant. It looked like a fine hotel. Pictures on the walls. A television in every room. A few even had two rooms, a sitting room, a bedroom, and a sparkling clean bath with all that a handicapped person would need. There was a nice restaurant for those who were ambulatory. There were white tablecloths and napkins and fresh flowers on each table, which seated four in comfort. Room to get close to the table in a wheelchair. There wasn't a carpet, but the tile floor was lovely.
Ted, Jane, and Shelley met with the manager. A woman wearing a good light gray suit, a white silk shirt, and restrained jewelry. Ted introduced Jane and her friend Shelley.
The manager said that they did have one room available now. The cost was rather high, but Ted didn't care and it was the closest nursing home to his own house.
She asked about the patient's condition and was told it was a serious stroke. Ted added, with perfect honesty, that she was a difficult person. Not friendly at all.
"We are equipped to deal with women like that," the manager said with a smile. "She'll have her meals delivered to her room and a young woman to help feed her soft, nourishing food, and clean her up if she spills things on herself. Will she have visitors?"
"Only me. She's been cruel to my sister-in-law, Jane, and very nasty to my wife. My mother will probably be visited by some of the ladies from her church."
"Have you been to other nursing homes?" the manager asked.
"Three of them. All unacceptable. We had a fifth to look at, but this is the right one."
Jane and Shelley left the room while Ted was signing a contract and putting a down payment on the room.
"You made the right choice,"Jane said as he was driving her and Shelley home. "And you were brutally honest about how difficult she'll be."
"Thanks, Jane. At least she's pretty much out of everybody's way, except for me and the church ladies. I'll make sure that they are not around there when I'm visiting."
When Jane and Shelley came home, and were having coffee, Shelley said, "I don't think I've ever met Ted before.
I've seen him and his wife and girls when he comes to visit you. He's a very nice man."
"And a sensible one, too. It was a good idea to take two women along. If one of them had been Dixie, she'd have opted for the worst place we saw, and I wouldn't blame her. I think that without Thelma hanging out at the main office and interfering in the business, Ted will be much happier and more productive. I probably should send her flowers when she's moved in there."
"It would just make her mad to have a gift from you, Jane."
"It would please the staff who have to wait on her though. Speaking of flowers, I've insisted to Mel and his mother that I choose my own bouquet. I wouldn't trust Addie to pick one out. It would probably be a big pot of cactus plants. Is the plural of that cacti?"
"So where do you want to shop for something you'd like?"
"This is probably silly," Jane said, "but I noticed a florist shop across the street from the community center where we took those classes. The window was full of lovely arrangements."
"I noticed that, too. By the way, have you asked Mel if Miss Welbourne left any notes for the last session?"
Jane made a head-slapping motion. "I'm sorry. I simply forgot about that what with so many other things going on. Willard, the room addition, Addie's visit, and working on my next book. I'll ask him the next time I hear from him. I promise."
Mel called Jane that evening, apologizing for not being in touch for the last few days. "This Welbourne case is driving me nuts."
"What's happening?"
"Nothing. I've wired the authorities in Perth, Australia. There is a house there owned by the people we're looking for. But nobody is there. Only a neighbor lady who comes in daily to feed the cat, clean the litter box, and give the cat a fresh bowl of water. The neighbor is mad. She's never heard from them since they left. She hasn't had a postcard, letter, or phone call saying when they'd be home. She's doing this for free and doesn't even like the people or the cat."
"You left a message with someone, I assume?"
After a moment of irritated silence, Mel said, "Of course I did."
"Sorry. I've had a few bad days as well. But before I tell you about them, I'd promised Shelley I'd ask you a favor," Jane said.
"What kind of favor?" he snapped.
"Mel, remember that we're engaged," she said as sweetly as she could.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be so rude, Janey. I'll be happy to do Shelley a favor if I can. What is it?"
"She's curious about the missing lesson we were to take about safety. If you found the notes she'd prepared for that meeting, we'd like to see what we missed. Unless, of course, they are some kind of evidence."
"I do
have some notes. They're sort of haphazard, and
seemingly not related to the murder. I have to keep them, anyway, but I could fax you a copy. Now, what's happened in the last few days to you?"
"Thelma Jeffry apparently had a small stroke and called me to berate me for not sending her invitations to both weddings. She was already slurring her words. Then when I started to reply, I heard a crashing noise and had to call Ted and 911 on my fax machine. She must have had a second stroke, worse than the first. She's still unconscious in a hospital and Ted wanted help choosing a nursing home. Shelley and I went along with him. I guess for a woman's take on where she'd want to be if she ever wakes up."
Mel said, "I should say I'm sorry about this, but I'm not. I've met her a few times and found her intolerable."
"That's the general consensus,"Jane replied.
"Did she leave a will?" Mel asked.
"I haven't had the nerve yet to ask Ted. I assume her third of the profits will be used for the expensive nursing home. But she did have wills in mind recently. She might have left her third portion of the profits of the pharmacy chain to her church. Which wouldn't be fair to Ted. He should inherit her third when she eventually dies."
"That's going to be tricky, isn't it?"
"There's time enough to ask Ted later. Ted is the head of the accounting department and also does Thelma's books and balances her checkbook. If she'd recently written a big check to an attorney to make a new will, he'd know about it. It's really none of my business."
The Accidental Florist jj-16 Page 9
