Lean on Me (ARC)

by Pat Simmons

  This file represents the final manuscript being distributed for pre-publication review. Typographical and layout errors are not intended to be present in the final book file at release. It is not intended for sale and should not be purchased from any site or vendor. If this file did reach you through a vendor or through a purchase, please notify the publisher.

  Copyright © 2020 by Pat Simmons

  Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design by Elsie Lyons

  Cover image © Bohm Monika/plainpicture

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Printed and bound in [Country of Origin—confirm when printer is selected].

  XX 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Reading Group Guide

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Chapter 1

  Marcus Whittington wasn’t expecting to see a woman on his surveillance camera, trespassing on his domain. From time to time, he had seen maybe a stray dog. Never had he seen a lady who wore an oversize, red hat that concealed her features as she strolled up to his house. According to his security video, this wasn’t her first visit.

  This mystery person had commandeered his porch between 6:30 a.m. and 7:15 a.m., as if she owned the deed to his property. A couple of times, the chick sat still as a statue for about ten minutes—it was seven minutes this morning—before hurrying off as if a dog were chasing her. He frowned as he rewound and reviewed the evidence again.

  What was going on? Marcus had lived on Overdrive Court in Pasadena Hills, Missouri, for four years. The quiet suburban neighborhood was a hidden-in-plain-sight treasure, with an unmanned, majestic, sixty-five-foot Gothic tower at the Natural Bridge Road entrance. It served as a visual barrier that guarded its residents from the questionable, blighted North Saint Louis city neighborhoods in transition. Clearly, security had been breached.

  He didn’t have time for this. It was Monday morning, and he had to get to the office. Scratching his jaw, which demanded a razor, he decided to multitask and called the police as he shaved.

  “911. What’s your emergency?” a male dispatcher answered.

  “I’d like to report a strange woman making uninvited visits to my property.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” The man paused. “Has your home been vandalized?”

  “No.” His morning paper deliveries were untouched. “This woman just sits on my porch.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, a response came: “I’ll connect you to the nonemergency number, sir. Please hold.”

  A deep voice came on the line. “Officer Roman.”

  Flustered, Marcus recapped and added, “Please add my cul-de-sac to your round of patrols. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Will do, sir,” the officer said and disconnected. Marcus was really pressed for time now. Whittington Janitorial Services, the company he had started with his older brother, Demetrius, was twelve minutes from his house, tops. Unlike his sibling, Marcus wasn’t a fan of city living, so before purchasing his Cape Cod–inspired, story-and-a-half home, he had done his research about the neighborhood.

  With University of Missouri at Saint Louis’s sprawling campus nearby, Pasadena Hills was considered one of the untouched neighborhoods of the county and touted as North County’s best-kept secret. But now this woman had showed up.

  Not easily intimidated, being six foot three and 240 pounds of muscle, Marcus could back up whatever came out of his mouth. Yet having some petite woman violate his boundaries unsettled him. “Hmph,” he grunted.

  “One thing for sure, lady, I’ll be watching you,” he muttered, making a mental note to check his video surveillance more often. He hoped there wouldn’t be a next time, because the woman definitely didn’t want a confrontation with him.

  * * *

  Tabitha Knicely sniffed the air as she strolled into her kitchen. Aunt Tweet had settled into a routine since coming to live with her two weeks ago. Aunt Tweet rose every morning at six thirty, showered, dressed, and prepared breakfast. Today’s menu was scrambled eggs, sausage patties, and bread that remained in the toaster. Yet her aunt was munching on a spoonful of Cheerios.

  “You cooked a hot breakfast but settled for cereal?” Tabitha chuckled as she got a plate to serve herself.

  “I changed my mind.”

  Spying her aunt’s bowl, Tabitha frowned. “You don’t have any milk in there.”

  Alzheimer’s was slowly attacking Aunt Tweet’s brain cells. One moment, her aunt was absentminded, repeating tasks and craving snacks, especially sweets, as if they hadn’t finished a meal not long ago. Then, in a blink of an eye, Aunt Tweet would turn into a game show junkie. She would beat the buzzer before the contestants could answer the host’s questions as if she were Google.

  Tabitha had been at a medical conference in Birmingham, Alabama, when she got a call from her older sister.

  “Aunt Tweet is in the custody of the Philly police department.”

  “What?” Dread came over Tabitha and she felt faint. “What happened? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine,” Kym assured her, “but someone called the police when she was stopped at a green light, lost, and couldn’t figure out how to get home.”

  Her aunt could have caused a pileup or, worse, been killed. Tabitha exhaled. Thank God Aunt Tweet was alive, but what had happened didn’t make sense. “What do you mean lost? She knows every nook and cranny of Philly, so how was she lost in her own city?”

  Their youngest sist
er, Rachel, who was also on the line, finally chimed in. “Yeah, explain that to me too.”

  “Well, apparently, she left home to get groceries and wound up in Cherry Hill,” Kym said.

  The two sisters had gasped. “New Jersey?” Rachel asked.

  “That’s ten miles away,” Tabitha added, knowing the area well.

  “Yeah, I’m glad it wasn’t farther. Anyway, they took her to the hospital for a physical and mental evaluation. Her blood pressure and sugar levels were normal, but…” Kym became quiet before she dropped the bombshell. “They suspect her confusion could be connected

  with Alzheimer’s.”

  That serious? Tabitha had left the conference early and booked a nonstop flight to Philly. Rachel coordinated her own flight from her condo in Nashville. Kym was already on the road from her home in Baltimore. The sisters pulled together, just as they always had in a crisis. They had gone not only out of a sense of duty, but because Aunt Tweet had been too important in their lives not to; she’d meant everything to them, especially after the deaths of their parents. Once the three were gathered in Philly, they’d made a pact to share in the responsibility of their great-aunt’s well-being, each taking care of her for six months at a time. As the oldest, Kym had looked after Aunt Tweet first.

  Tabitha needed to refocus as she smiled lovingly at her aunt. Beginning today, Aunt Tweet would stay at an upscale adult day care while Tabitha began her first day at a new job.

  After getting the milk carton out of the refrigerator, Tabitha walked back to the table and poured some into Aunt Tweet’s bowl. Chalking it up to another sad oddity of dementia, she was determined to keep happy memories in the forefront of her mind as she kissed her aunt’s cheek.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Aunt Tweet giggled, adjusting Tabitha’s red, floppy hat on her head. Since her arrival, her aunt had fallen in love with that hat and wore it practically every day, regardless of her ensemble. “I took a little walk around God’s green earth.”

  “What?” Tabitha didn’t like the idea of her aunt out of her sight. “Without me?” It was easy for anyone to succomb to the tranquility and abundance of green space in Pasadena Hills, which rivaled the nearby Norwood Hills Country Club. But in the midst of that apparent peace, they were still on the outskirts of a neighborhood not nearly so safe. It definitely wasn’t safe for Aunt Tweet to wander. Tabitha shivered at the thought of worse-case scenarios.

  “You were asleep.”

  “That’s okay.” She hugged her aunt. “Next time, wake me and I’ll go with you.” She yawned, recalling her previous night’s lack of sleep. Her aunt had wanted to reminisce about her years as an airline stewardess, and Tabitha had indulged her before all of Aunt Tweet’s memories would slip away. Researchers had yet to find a cure, so Tabitha hoped God would reveal a cure to eradicate or reverse this terrible disease before it was too late for her aunt.

  All of a sudden, Aunt Tweet dropped her spoon, spilling milk onto the table. “I left my scarf…I left my scarf!” Panic-stricken, she trembled and scooted her chair back.

  Startled, Tabitha’s heart pounded, so she patted her chest to aid her breathing to return to normal. “It’s all right. I’ll get it from upstairs,” she said, reassuring her aunt that it was okay to forget things sometimes.

  While staying with Kym, Aunt Tweet had worked herself into hysterics over the vintage scarf she had gotten as an engagement gift. Her aunt boasted she’d gotten rid of the husband but held onto the expensive shawl. There hadn’t been any peace in Kym’s house until she’d found it behind a pillow on the sofa.

  “No!” Aunt Tweet shrieked, shaking her head. “On that porch. We’d better hurry.”

  Confused, Tabitha tried to calm her down to figure out what was going on. “On my porch?” When her aunt shook her head, Tabitha asked, “What porch?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Dread seemed to pour over Tabitha like a downpour. “Okay, okay.” Of all the days for a distraction, this was not a good one. This was her first day on a new job. As a pharmaceutical sales rep, Tabitha could recite medical terms, facts, definitions, and clinical studies’ results in her sleep. She’d entered college as a biology major and graduated with a bachelor’s in business. The pharmaceutical industry gave her the benefit of both worlds. Plus, she thrived on studying the physiological, anatomical, pharmacological, and scientific properties of medicine, so she could communicate the benefits of the company’s products.

  But family was family, so taking her duty as a caregiver seriously, Tabitha had resigned from her job of six years as a senior pharmaceutical sales rep to ease the stress of the demanding position. Not wanting to leave the field completely, she took a pay cut to work in a smaller territory with a competitor who demanded little to no overnight travel. The sacrifice was worth it. Plus, her aunt’s trust fund designated the money for her own care.

  Tabitha rubbed her forehead. “Let me put something on, then we’ll go find it.” Tabitha raced upstairs, hurried into her clothes, then grabbed her briefcase. Minutes later, she almost slipped while rushing down the stairs in her heels.

  She reentered the kitchen, and Aunt Tweet wasn’t in sight. Tabitha checked the adjacent family room, then peeped outside toward the patio. Her aunt was behind the wheel of Tabitha’s rental car. Not good. She hadn’t purchased a car in years. A perk for being a sales rep, after she completed her two-week training, which started today, would be a company-issued vehicle.

  After locking up the house, she had to convince Aunt Tweet, who had worked herself into a frenzy, that she couldn’t drive. Tabitha had to coax her own self to have patience while following her aunt’s conflicting directions, thinking, I can’t be late for my first day on the job.

  “That’s the place!” Aunt Tweet yelled as Tabitha jammed on her brakes in front of a stately, story-and-a-half, older brick house she had never noticed before. The massive front door was centered under an archway. Twin french doors with mock balconies were on both sides of the entrance.

  “I don’t see anything.” She craned her neck, admiring the impressive work of building art.

  Aunt Tweet snapped, “I told you that’s the porch.”

  “Okay.” There is no reason for your sharp tone, Tabitha thought but dared not voice. This house wasn’t that close to hers at all. Despite some mental deterioration, there was nothing wrong with her aunt’s physical stamina. She had obviously cut through the park to this house.

  After parking her car, Tabitha got out and surveyed her surroundings to make sure she wasn’t being watched. “This is crazy, sneaking up to somebody’s house,” she muttered to herself. Since the coast was clear, she hurried toward the red scarf that was snagged on a flower in a pot and flapping in the wind. She was within her reach when the door opened. Tabitha jumped back, then steadied herself in

  her heels.

  An imposing man filled the doorway. Under different circumstances, he would be breathtakingly handsome. That was not the case now. Judging from his snarl and piercing eyes, Tabitha felt as if she had walked into the lion’s den.

  Buy Aunt Tweet another scarf. Run!

  Chapter 2

  Marcus slipped on his marble floor when he glimpsed out of his window in passing and spied a blue sedan creeping to the curb in front of his house. His interest piqued when a dark-skinned beauty stepped out and almost danced her way in heels to his porch. The suit fitted her well and would capture any man’s attention—his included. Even though a No Solicitation sign was posted at the entrance to Pasadena Hills, he would place an order for whatever she was selling.

  Wait a minute… Why was she glancing around suspiciously? Was she the trespasser? Marcus had been ready and waiting for the mystery woman’s return. The time was now.

  He flung open his door for answers.

  She froze as if she were part of that old social media craze, the mannequin challenge. His limbs couldn’t move ei
ther, but his eyes did, cataloging her features. She was a showstopper, with her best assets being her gorgeous face and shapely legs. But this was not the time for distractions. He folded his arms. “May I help you?”

  Her lips trembled into a smile, revealing even, white teeth. He was a sucker for good dental hygiene.

  “Ah, I’m so sorry,” she murmured in the sweetest voice.

  Keeping his eyes steady on his target, Marcus studied her expression as she seemed to contemplate her next move. In the blink of an eye, she swiped the red scarf off the potted plant and gave him a smug expression, then smiled.

  He returned it with a smirk of his own. “You do know that I knew you were going to do that. Why is it on my porch in the first place?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and pointed to the car. “This belongs to my aunt.”

  “And this porch belongs to me.” He squinted at the woman in the passenger seat. He didn’t recognize her. “Why has your aunt been sitting on my porch in the mornings?”

  Shock flashed on her face before she frowned. “Mornings? You mean she’s been here before?”

  What was really going on here? Was this a stalling tactic while someone broke into his house from the back? “Miss—?”

  “Tabitha Knicely. I’m a neighbor,” she supplied before motioning toward the car again. “That’s my aunt Tweet.”

  “You mean to tell me you had no knowledge that your aunt has been staking out my porch?”

  She seemed flustered, then stuttered, “We take walks together—”

  “Except for this morning and the others she was here without you knowing it,” he said.

  “She must have gotten tired and rested on your porch,” Miss Knicely explained.

  “Umm-hmm. And that’s the story you’re sticking with?” Her excuse was too simple though forgivable—if it had only happened once, which it hadn’t. “Where do you live?”

  This time, the information didn’t come so freely. She was hesitant. “On Roland Drive.”

  Really? Roland Drive was the main entrance to the cluster of homes and touched every street in Pasadena Hills. Her deep-brown eyes and tentative smile silently pleaded with him to believe her. Not so fast. At thirty-four years old, Marcus had experience with good-looking ladies’ charms that had twisted his common sense in the past, so he regrouped. “Where exactly?”