Page 8

CHAPTER 8

“ C ome again?” Olive said.

Fire lit in Chelsea’s gaze. “Rebecca lost her hair—even though it grew right back very quickly. However, she never lost her eyebrows. That’s not how chemo works.”

“Good observation.” Olive had to admit she was impressed. Those small details were generally the most important.

“But how could I even confront this issue? If I was wrong, then I’d be the biggest jerk in the whole world.”

“It’s definitely a hard position to be in. Your husband is a cop. What did he say?”

“He said lying isn’t a crime. He said his hands were tied.” She paused. “I’m not 100 percent sure he believes me even.”

“That’s a tough place to be in.” Olive licked her lips before asking, “How much money have you given Rebecca?”

“Ten thousand dollars.” Chelsea’s cheek twitched as if it pained her to say the words.

Olive’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a lot.”

Plus, Olive knew Chelsea and her husband didn’t have a lot of money. That amount was a huge sacrifice for the young family.

“We pulled money out of Monty’s—he’s my husband—retirement. We prayed about it and felt strongly that we wanted to help. The surgery Rebecca needed was experimental and not covered by insurance. But without it, Rebecca wasn’t going to live. Her daughter wasn’t going to have a mother anymore. How could we hold onto that money, thinking it was more important than her life?” Chelsea rubbed her throat as tears filled her eyes. “But it was a big expense for us. We don’t have much extra money.”

Olive tried to put herself in Chelsea’s shoes. She could only imagine how she might feel. Outrage was a good word to describe it. Rebecca was going on vacations and getting new cars while Chelsea and her family lived in a small house and drove an old car, and a vacation for them was going camping so they could save money.

Which led Olive to her next question. “Tell me about Rebecca’s Lexus.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I was shocked when I saw her drive up in it. Someone gave it to her, supposedly.”

“Has she ever mentioned having a cousin?”

Chelsea narrowed her eyes. “A cousin? I have no idea. Is that relevant?”

“I’m just double-checking something.”

Chelsea picked up Henry as he waddled over and lifted his arms toward her. He cuddled against her chest, his big eyes still observing Olive.

“I’ve heard a lot of other people have given a significant amount of money to her.” Olive wanted to hear Chelsea’s reaction to that fact. “And I’ve heard a lot of people might give even more money to her at the fundraiser this weekend.”

Her expression darkened. “It’s going to be huge. From what I can gather, she’s already raised almost a quarter million dollars. People have paid for her to go on a cruise. Someone even paid off her house. And that’s great . . .” Chelsea swallowed hard, her neck straining. “If Rebecca is really sick.”

Chelsea’s phone rang, and she excused herself to answer.

Olive watched carefully as her expression darkened.

Then Chelsea gasped, and her hand flew over her mouth.

Something was wrong, she realized.

A moment later, she ended the call and turned back to Olive. “That was Monty. He called to let me know there’s been an accident . . .”

Olive’s breath caught. “An accident?”

“A hit-and-run—right off the highway you probably drove down to get here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Olive paused. “Was it someone you know?”

“It’s Maria . . . she’s Rebecca’s housekeeper. The police are investigating it now. But she’s in critical condition, and whoever hit her is long gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Olive murmured, even as her mind raced.

“Me too. Everyone knows Maria around here. She’s a good woman. How could someone do this to her?”

“I wish I could answer that for you.”

She pressed her mouth closed. “I hope she’s okay, and I hope they find whoever did this.”

This was a coincidence, right? It wasn’t connected with Rebecca? Or with Olive’s investigation, was it?