Page 7 of Dangerous December (Northern Pines Suspense #8)

After fielding a few more questions, Beth and Dev moved to the parlor across the hall to meet with the residents individually. With each passing hour, Beth’s concern grew. Was it even possible to meet the stipulations of Vivian’s will?

Carl was a childless widower with no family to watch over him. Asthma and advancing congestive heart failure had led to his early retirement at fifty-six, with a minimal railroad pension and little stamina for the only kind of blue-collar work he knew.

He was regaining his strength after a subsequent heart attack. But, disabled at fifty-eight, was he even able to be self-supporting? And would anyone actually hire an older man with such a dour outlook on life?

Reva Young came in next. At close range, her perfectly coiffed black hair revealed a band of silver at the roots. Her bearing was regal as she settled into a chair and folded her hands primly in her lap.

The tight compression of her lips and her white knuckles betrayed her anxiety. She eyed the leather folder on the end table next to Beth’s chair as if it were a snake ready to strike. “I suppose you have information about all of us. Is there anything left to say?”

Beneath the acid tone, Beth heard a glimmer of fear.

“Vivian wasn’t a social worker, and neither is the lawyer handling her estate. They kept no social history or deeply personal information on anyone—just the previous address, recent work history, and emergency contact information. You wrote it that on your application before moving in.”

“I see.”

“What are your goals?”

“I...have degrees in French and Comparative Literature.” Her lower lip trembled, though she met Beth’s gaze squarely. “I’m afraid that doesn’t translate to many career choices in the Northwoods of Wisconsin.”

“You haven’t ever worked, then?” Beth asked gently.

“My late husband was a banker, dear. He did quite, quite well.” If her voice grew any colder, it might splinter into crystalline shards on the Persian rug beneath their feet. A note of bitterness crept in. “I spent my life supporting all of his endeavors.”

“So...do you have some ideas about what you’d like to do?”

The woman’s chin lifted defiantly, and Beth guessed that she was hanging on to every last shred of her pride.

“I...don’t know. At fifty, with no résumé...”

But if her husband had done so well, what was she doing here? The obvious question hung between them for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“I don’t mean to pry, Mrs. Young. Dev and I just want to help.”

“My husband should have played our portfolio conservatively as he got older. But he took big risks, thinking he was going to make a killing, then several significant dips in the stock market nearly wiped us out. He ultimately left me widowed with a heavily mortgaged home, a lot of debt, and almost nothing in the bank—and trying to ignore rumors of his infidelity. Ironic, isn’t it? ”

She rose gracefully to her feet. “The banker’s wife turned pauper sounds like such interesting fiction. But in real life, it’s a grand disappointment. Rising from the ashes, as it were, will be no mean feat. I need to find a job, and I’m trying. I’ll keep you informed.”

Beth waited until she heard the woman go up the stairs, then shook her head. “I feel so sorry for her.”

Dev shifted in his chair. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?” he said in a low voice. “Good health and a regular paycheck are quite a gift.”

“True.” And a family support system, though Beth didn’t say those words aloud.

She still had her mom and a sister who both lived on the West Coast, but as an only child with both parents gone, he no close relatives. And yet he’d thrown away their marriage as if it had been worth nothing.

He’d left town right after asking for a divorce, and then went off again into the Middle East for an extended tour of duty. He’d never answered her emails afterward.

His mother had handed her a bitter pill soon after.

Not long after the divorce, Vivian passed her on the street and off-handedly mentioned Dev’s advantageous new relationship.

Had he been having an affair before their divorce was even final? The possibility made her heart twist with grief. Yet...she couldn’t imagine him ever choosing to do something so dishonorable.

Had Vivian tried to slyly drive a greater wedge between them? That seemed far more likely. But she would never ask him. It was all in the past, and there was no going back.

Frank appeared at the arched opening to the parlor with a thick manila folder in the crook of his arm and a faint red flush at his neck in stark contrast to his snowy hair.

“So you want to know when you can boot me out, eh?”

Beth looked up at him, relieved to see a brief flicker of humor on his lean, sad face. “No booting. We’re only trying to see where everyone stands, and what we can do to help.”

“Well, I’m the oldest fogey here.” He took a chair across from them and folded his hands on top of the folder he’d settled in his lap. “I don’t know what any of us would’ve done without Sloane House. When this place closes...” His voice trailed off as he stared at his hands.

“That’s a long way off,” she said gently. “I understand you were a teacher. Did you enjoy it?”

“It was my life. I never married, you know, so teaching meant everything to me. Seeing my students succeed gave me great satisfaction.”

“What happened?”

“Falling enrollment. Consolidation of two school systems. I should have been secure after so many years, but the school closings meant that many of us were simply let go. I lost my home when I couldn’t keep up with my mortgage payments.

” He offered a wry smile. “If one bought property during the real estate boom up here, it was very bad news when the market plummeted.”

“Have you looked for other teaching opportunities?”

He leaned forward to hand her the folder. “Take a look.”

She thumbed through the stack of papers, all copies of job applications he’d filled out. “You’ve been busy. ”

“I’ve applied for every teaching position I qualify for, bar none, in a four-county area.

For two years, I’ve come up completely dry.

But that’s not a surprise. I was fifty-eight when I lost my job and a teacher with my years of experience is far more expensive to hire than one just out of school, you know.

So—” he gave a little shrug “—here I am.”

“What about other types of careers?”

“With only small tourist towns around here, there’s mostly just seasonal work in the summer, and even that has taken a hit lately, with the economy and all.

I do have a part-time job at the library, but that’s just a bit over minimum wage.

” A rosy flush colored his gaunt cheeks, revealing just how much the admission cost his pride.

“I want to work, but I’m a useless old man before my time, I guess. ”

Beth considered her words carefully. “Have you considered places farther away? Larger cities?”

“As a last resort. I’ve been here almost since I was a boy, so to leave lifelong friends, family, and a place I love, well...” He splayed his fingers on his thighs. “But if I have to, yes.”

Dev had been silent during the other interviews, but now he cleared his throat and surprised Beth by leaning forward, his elbows propped on the arms of his chair and his fingers laced.

“Have you thought about a different career entirely? With your teaching experience, you might be well-suited for business. Sales, marketing...”

“I’m going to take some accounting classes starting spring term at the community college.

” Frank smiled. “I never thought I had much of a head for business and numbers, but I’m going to give it a try.

Maybe someone, somewhere, will give a hardworking man another chance.

If I could work until I turned eighty, I’d be the happiest man alive. ”

At the end of the afternoon, Beth walked out of Sloane House to the street, feeling the weight of lost dreams and flagging hopes weighing down her shoulders like a heavy, sodden cloak.

She stopped at the sidewalk. “I guess I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “It’s all just so sad.”

Dev jingled the keys in his jacket pocket. “There are people in worse shape, though. No place to live, worse health.”

“True. I just...” She searched for the right word. “I just want to fix everything right now, because everyone looked so worried. All of them have been honestly trying to turn their lives around. So how can we assume that we can make a difference?”

“We can’t be miracle workers. This place is an opportunity for them, and the responsibility is theirs, too.” He lifted a shoulder. “Six months is a long time.”

“And what’s the deal with Elana? Everyone was so guarded when we asked about her. It was like...like they were protecting her.”

Dev frowned. “If she’s in trouble, we need to know. It could put this program and everyone in it at risk if we’re harboring someone running from the law.”

But that someone had a young child with her, and the thought of a homeless child tugged at Beth’s heart. “Your mother vetted these people. I don’t think she would have taken in a fugitive.”

“We can hope.” Dev lifted a hand in farewell as he continued walking toward his Jeep. “See you around.”

She would never pursue a romantic relationship with him again. Or anyone else, for the foreseeable future, because she had so little to offer. Yet Dev’s casual dismissal still felt like a direct hit to her heart. “Where are you staying—in case I need to contact you?”

“The Starlight Motel.”

“Why not the guest cottage behind your parents’ house?”

He sighed and turned back to look at her. “Because I expected to be on my way in a few days. This place doesn’t hold a lot of good memories for me, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“But—”

“But now...I guess I’ll have to consider it.”

She took a step back and craned her neck for a glimpse of the matching redbrick cottage behind his family home.

She’d once thought it charming as a dollhouse, with its crisp white shutters and gingerbread trim, but now one of the shutters hung askew and the little house had an air of sad neglect.

“If it’s going to take a lot of work in there, I—”

“If it needs work, I’ll take care of it. You’re busy enough as it is.” Sparing her a brief smile, he pivoted and headed toward the Jeep, his long stride and military bearing masking the shoulder injury that surely had to be bothering him after so many hours of inactivity this afternoon.

With a sigh, Beth glanced at her watch as she headed for her own car.

As a brush-off, it had been tactfully delivered. Twice, in fact.

And in truth, she’d buried her pride to offer help, but greater proximity between them was not for the best.

Still, she felt a twinge of disappointment. It was only human nature to want to be helpful, even to a stranger.

Especially if that person was injured or hurting in some way. And though he didn’t mention it, that shoulder had to give him considerable pain. But...so be it.

The bookstore was open from one to five on Sundays during tourist season, though it would close in an hour, and Janet could handle that.

Maura was probably pacing Beth’s upstairs apartment, eager to go out together so they could visit some of her old haunts with whatever daylight was left. Keeping busy would be infinitely better than staying at home, where Mom might start back on the topic of Devlin Sloane once again.

As Beth climbed behind the wheel of her car, she closed her eyes for a moment. God, these next months aren’t going to be easy. Please help Dev and me get along, so we can do our best to help those people. And if You would, please soften my mother’s heart.