Page 15 of The Psychic

Looking around, she could believe in the rumor that Howell Langdorf, the grandson of a timber magnate, had ascribed to the concept that “more is more.” His inherited fortune had been whittled down over the years amongst aunts, uncles and siblings, but there had been ample for him and Marian, who’d never had children.

Carlton’s arm of the family had reputedly squandered their money on ostentatious, expensive and ultimately worthless things, which was why he’d hitched himself onto the widowed Marian as a means of survival.

“Where’s Marian?” She looked at Carlton, who was still wearing his suit from earlier in the day.

“She’ll be down in a minute. Why don’t you follow me?”

He led her through the double doors that led to a short hallway. Through a watery glass inset in a large exterior door at the end of the hall she could see into the backyard. No gardens. Just rolling lawn currently sprinkled with russet and gold and cranberry-colored maple leaves.

He stopped at an open archway that led into a sitting room with a rather old-looking television mounted above a stacked flagstone fireplace. On the opposite side of the hall was an elevator, its door designed in the same paneling as the rest of the house.

“We had that installed for Marian,” Carlton said. He then gestured toward the sitting room. “I thought we might have a talk while Marian is getting ready.”

Ronnie walked in ahead of him. “I don’t mean to be impatient, but I have somewhere I need to be after this, so—”

“This won’t take long.” He cut her off. “I just need to clarify some things.” He turned a palm toward a leather chair, which Ronnie perched upon as Carlton took his place by the fireplace, posing with a hand on the dark wood mantel.

“We’re all grateful for your help in diagnosing Marian’s health issues. ”

“I just saw her in pain, that’s all.”

“She believes it’s a lot more than that.

” They both knew that Ronnie had told her to have her liver checked, but Carlton clearly didn’t want to belabor the point.

“Which is … unfortunate, in that she thinks you’re some kind of prognosticator, and you know that she wants to hire you.

Let me be frank. There’s not enough money.

My aunt has assets, but they’re not liquid.

There isn’t a lot of cash,” he clarified, maybe thinking she didn’t understand what he was saying.

Ronnie wanted to assure him she had no interest in whatever Marian Langdorf had cooked up for her, but Carlton’s attitude sucked and she clamped her lips together and let him go on.

“So, her offer of a job just isn’t going to work.”

“She said she’d double whatever I was being paid,” Ronnie said, purposely pushing him.

“I know what she said, but it’s not true,” he snapped back at her.

“Well, I think I should hear that from her.”

“I’m leveling with you here. Don’t take the job offer, no matter what she says. You won’t be doing yourself, or her, any favors. She might be able to get some funds together in the beginning, but she doesn’t really know her finances that well.”

“You take care of them?”

“We work as a team to keep her solvent. When that fails …” He spread his hands.

Ronnie wondered who the “we” were, but decided she didn’t care. She’d grown tired of playing Carlton’s game already.

“In any case, she’s grateful to you,” he said in a brittle tone. “Maybe a little more than is reasonable. I’m sure you don’t want to impose on that gratitude.”

The whir of the elevator prevented Ronnie from answering. They both looked toward the archway. Carlton left his pose to meet the elevator. He helped open the door and offered his arm to Marian, who reluctantly took it, her other hand gripped around the wolf’s-head cane.

As soon as she saw Ronnie, she dropped Carlton’s arm and leaned on the cane. “Good. You’re here. Let’s go upstairs.” And she turned around and thumped back to the still open elevator car.

“… and this is your room. Mine’s down the hall.

I’ll show it to you next, but you can see you have your own en suite bath.

” Marian worked her way across the room.

She’d switched on the lights against the fading light.

The windows were covered by heavy navy and gold damask curtains.

Ronnie peeked through the slit provided and viewed the eastern side of the house’s patio and pool, which was covered in debris from the firs, hemlocks and a now leafless weeping willow.

More wet, green lawn ran toward a fifteen-foot-high laurel hedge.

Ronnie followed after Marian while Carlton rocked on his feet, hands in his pockets, waiting, staring ahead glassy-eyed.

He was having serious trouble allowing his aunt to pursue her goal.

Ronnie almost wanted to assure him that she wasn’t going along with Marian’s plans, that she’d just been playing devil’s advocate, but the man did not evoke empathy.

He wouldn’t believe you anyway.

Marian stood back triumphantly so Ronnie could peek into the bathroom. It was yards of white tile, set off by navy-blue wallpaper matching the design of the drapes, glittering gold fixtures, a nice-sized shower with a pebbled glass door.

Even as Ronnie eyed the room, her mind traveled to the woman in the clearing.

Was she alive? Was she even real? She felt a growing urgency to unburden herself to the police.

She wanted to leave now, but if she missed this walk-through, Marian would pester her to return, besides which the woman was a Tormelle & Quick client.

Ronnie didn’t need more fodder in her continuing fight with her father. Better to just get through it.

“If you prefer a bath, there’s another bathroom down the hall, between my room and yours with a spa tub.” Marian was going on.

Was the woman in the clearing someone she knew? There was such a tantalizing familiarity, something tickling in her memory that she couldn’t quite grasp. She must be real, otherwise why would the vision be so vivid? So compelling and—

“Veronica?” Marian bit out.

She jolted to attention as if goosed. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re woolgathering. Come along.”

Ronnie stepped back and then followed her from the bathroom to the bedroom again.

“Carlton, what are you doing?” Marian snapped at him.

Carlton stiffened, a fleeting expression crossing his face of …

what? Something dark, she thought. Immediately he became overly solicitous to his aunt, fussing about, annoying Marian Langdorf to no end even as she took it as her due.

But the baleful stare he leveled at Ronnie when Marian wasn’t looking spoke of his true feelings.

It curdled any desire she’d had earlier to alleviate his tension.

This is a you problem, Carlton. Let him stew about it a little longer.

She was half inclined to display an enthusiasm she didn’t feel, just to piss him off, but that would only give Marian a false impression.

So … she and Carlton both just trailed after the older woman and Ronnie mentally checked the time, wondering when she could reasonably beg off.