Page 6 of Dangerous December (Northern Pines Suspense #8)

Beth stood at the open door of her car and watched Dev park his late father’s Jeep behind her bumper, hoping her mother’s outburst hadn’t irreparably damaged their tenuous truce.

Maura retreated into troubled silence on the topic of Dev after their encounter on Friday night.

And since Dev had never been one for emotional scenes, preferring a stony retreat to fanning the flames of an argument, it wasn’t likely the two of them would ever come to any level of understanding even if they did run into each other again.

Beth had hoped to see him at church this morning for a chance to talk, but that he hadn’t shown up wasn’t a surprise.

As a teenager, he’d attended rarely and probably under duress, though his parents had been pillars of the community and staunch members of the church.

An old memory surfaced of the first Sunday after Beth’s family had moved to town. She’d been a high school sophomore and could still remember seeing the dark, brooding teenager in a pew with his parents.

He’d been tall, dark, and impossibly handsome. But that raw, youthful appeal had nothing on what he’d become...six feet of solid muscle, with an aura of strength, even when he was standing still.

She’d never known exactly what he did in the Marines, but had no doubt that he completed his missions with the kind of intense, lethal power that allowed nothing to stand in his way.

Now, he climbed out of his vehicle, clearly favoring his injured shoulder, and started up the walk leading to the two-story brick home where he’d grown up.

He paused to stare at the discreet, forest-green sign over the porch steps with Sloane House written in fanciful gilt letters.

There was no warmth in the firm set of his jaw or the flinty expression in his eyes when he spared a brief nod in her direction.

“Cool wheels,” she called out as she closed her car door.

“What?”

Belatedly remembering that he might not hear her clearly, she spoke louder. “The Jeep. It sure brings back memories.”

“Dad’s house calls,” he said on a long sigh.

Clutching a leather folder to her chest, she caught up with him at the front steps. “He had to be the last of a dying breed. He was such an institution around here.”

“A real hero, all right.”

Though from the lack of emotion in Dev’s voice, he’d been one to everyone but his son. “Even if he wasn’t a perfect father, he was well-loved in the community, Dev.”

Dev tipped his head in silent acknowledgment.

“Nora told the boarders that we’d be here this afternoon. So how do you want to handle this?” Beth asked.

“I don’t. Hand me an M16—”

Startled, she looked over her shoulder at him. “A what? ”

“Hand me an M16, give me a mission, and I’m good to go. But I no longer fit into this everyday life in the States. How am I going to help these folks? If my mother cared about them, she should’ve allowed us to hire the appropriate staff.”

Beth suppressed a shudder, imagining the kinds of dangers he’d faced all these years. “I’m not sure these people even need a staff.”

“Then aren’t there other options—like low-cost public housing?”

“Not nearly enough in the county, and none here in Agate Creek. The economy hit this town pretty hard over the past few years, so I don’t suppose there are any plans, either.”

Dev looked unconvinced. “I knew she’d turned the house into some sort of boarding house, but her country club and golf buddies were always her primary focus. I still can’t imagine my mother doing this.”

Privately, Beth agreed. Vivian Sloane certainly hadn’t possessed a warm heart when it came to welcoming a young daughter-in-law into the family. What made her soften—just a little—during the last few years?

“Nora has been overseeing things since your mother passed away, and that’s what her report said. Did you read your copy?”

“Just the first few pages so far.”

“She explained the whole operation and listed the current residents. We’ve got just four adults left, and one has a young son with her.”

Dev’s eyebrows rose. “A child? Here? ”

“There are homeless families everywhere. At least this mom has a safe place for her son to live.”

“How long have they all been here?”

Beth shuffled through the papers in the folder. “According to the records, the current boarders moved in during the three months prior to your mother’s heart attack. Elana and her son Cody arrived just the week before.”

She looked up and caught a flicker of uneasiness in Dev’s eyes. “But good news—residents do benefit from being here, and then they do move on. There were actually two more women and a gentleman who left a few weeks ago.”

“Successfully, I hope.”

“All have their own apartments now, and have jobs in town. Nora has checked in on them several times.” She bit back a smile at the grim set of his mouth. “This isn’t some dangerous mission, Dev. It might actually be fun.”

“Right. If ‘the blind leading the blind’ isn’t a recipe for failure.”

“We’ll do fine. I suppose we should talk to them as a group and allay any fears they may have, then meet with them individually. What do you think?”

He sighed.

“Ready?” She crossed the wide plank floor of the porch, noting the half-dozen Adirondack chairs and rockers with bright red cushions and a checker set sitting on a table. She hesitated, then rapped on the front door.

A few moments later, a somber, gray-haired man peered out a beveled windowpane in the door before he opened it.

“You must be Vivian’s boy.” He gave Dev a narrowed look. “And...you must be Beth Carrigan. We’ve heard about things changing around here.”

“We’re coming on board to help out. Right, Dev?” She looked over her shoulder and winced at his dark expression.

“Folks here are worried. Most of us have been waiting in the parlor to hear what you have to say.”

“And you are?” Beth asked, extending her hand.

“Carl White. Thirty-two years on the railroad line till my heart gave out.” He thumped his barrel chest with his fist. “Got a pacemaker and new valves—a real overhaul. Almost ready to go down the tracks again.”

But his face was ashen, and he sucked in a rattling breath after each sentence. If he was planning to go down the road, she hoped it wouldn’t be very far.

“Good to meet you, Carl.”

Overhead, a massive chandelier hung in the center of the two-story entryway. Beyond lay a wide hallway flanked by a curving, open staircase with a dark, burnished oak railing.

Beth had always been as intimidated by the grandeur of the house as she’d been by her in-laws’ subtle disapproval.

From the stiff set of Dev’s shoulders, he didn’t have happy memories about the place, either.

No wonder.

With his mother’s charitable works and social life, and his father’s total dedication to medicine, they’d earned sterling reputations in town. But they sure hadn’t put a priority on understanding and supporting their only child’s wishes.

Carl led them to the dining room, where the gleaming cherrywood dining room table and chairs for twelve still took center stage.

A patrician silver-haired man, probably in his early sixties, studied them as they walked in.

Beth recognized the austere, elegant woman across from him as an infrequent customer at the bookstore. Her upswept, coal-black hair and perfect manicure were badges of prosperity, so what was she doing here?

Carl cleared his throat. “This is Frank Ferguson and Reva Young. Our newest residents, Elana Mendez and her boy, couldn’t be here.”

Beth cast a quick glance at Dev, but he shook his head slightly, turning the discussion over to her.

“As you know, Dev and I are taking over the management of Sloane House, to satisfy the promises his mother made to each of you. We’d like to meet with each of you privately to discuss your concerns and needs. But first, are there any questions we should address with the group?”

Carl scowled. “About the costs...are they going to be the same?”

Wishing Dev had been more willing to discuss details out on the porch, she shot another glance at him. At his almost imperceptible shrug, she continued.

“According to the Sloane House financial records, you all pay a flat hundred-dollar monthly rent for your room, plus a hundred dollars for your share of the food, supplies, and lawn care. We have no plans to change that at this time.”

Pugnacious as a boxer spoiling for a fight, Carl sat forward with his jaw jutting, drumming his fingers on the table. “When do you plan to kick us all out and close this place?”

“The agreement you had with Vivian was for a six-month stay—renewable based on need, on a case-by-case basis. Her will stated that should she pass away, the full six-month period would start fresh for everyone living here.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll do our best to help you all get a good start at renewed independence,” Beth assured him. “Just like Vivian did. No one will be thrown out in the street. If there are problems, we’ll talk. However, this was never intended to be a long-term boarding house.”

Beth felt a tug at her heart when Carl nodded bleakly. For all his crotchety bluster, he was afraid.

What would happen to these people if successful independence wasn’t attainable within six months or even a year? She shuddered.

If Nora and Harold were ruthless in assessing progress per the terms of Vivian’s will, Stan would inherit everything, kick these poor people out of Sloane House, and lead the town to ruin.

So much hinged on how well she and Dev could work together. She’d forgiven him for the past...but could she trust him to follow through?