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Authors: Lynette Eason
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Reese left with promises to check on her often and be back to install the motion sensors, Belle played in the playpen while Maggie tried to make a decision about her will. Flashes of the robbery danced across her mind, and she shuddered and tried to force the remembered terror away.
Maggie looked at the balance on the statement from her bank. She still couldn’t believe her grandfather had left that much money for Belle.
All the time she’d been under Kent’s thumb, been his prisoner in his beautiful house, she’d been so isolated, so afraid to make the wrong move, say the wrong thing or cook the wrong meal.
And getting a job wasn’t even an option. A stockbroker, Kent had at first declared he didn’t want his wife working because it would make him look unsuccessful, as if he couldn’t take care of his own family. Later, Maggie realized it was just another way for him to control her. If he could have found a way to climb inside her mind and take over her thoughts, he would have.
But now she didn’t have to worry about that.
There was something about making her own money to pay the bills, to take care of Belle and herself. She felt independent. Free in a way she hadn’t been since childhood.
She put the bank statement into the file box and looked at the picture on her desk. Her grandfather and her mother stood arm in arm, smiling as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
She missed them. Her grandfather had his faults, but he had loved Maggie.
She thought of the man who’d divorced her grandmother for another woman. “He’s a hard, bitter man,” her grandmother had told her. Her grandmother had gone to her grave praying for the man who’d hurt her so.
But Maggie had a different memory of her grandfather. She couldn’t reconcile the man her grandmother described with the man she’d known the first eleven years of her life. The one who’d taken her for ice cream sundaes and walks in the park. The one who’d nursed her through the flu while her grandmother and mother had to work.
Maggie thought about all the people she knew—people she’d only met since coming to Rose Mountain. And made her decision.
Quickly, she pulled up the template on the computer and started working. Within minutes, she was finished, had the document printed and ready to mail to her lawyer, a nice man she’d met at church. He also represented Eli and Holly. Once done, she stared at the envelope and felt peace flood her. It was the right decision. She slid it under the heavy horse-head paperweight to the right of her computer and made a mental note to mail the envelope tomorrow when she didn’t have to walk to the mailbox in the rain.
A knock on the door startled her. She hadn’t heard a car drive up. Her eyes flashed to the knives on the kitchen counter, the heavy frying pan on the stove. Her fingers gripped the cordless phone, and she started to dial 911. Then realized if the person meant her harm, he probably wouldn’t knock on the door.
Probably.
Although, he didn’t seem to have a problem ringing the bell after leaving the dead squirrel and horrible message on the porch.
At the window, she glanced out and breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw Abby McIvers standing on her front porch. Then she frowned. What was she doing here?
Maggie opened the door. “Hello, Dr. McIvers.”
The pretty woman smiled. “Please, call me Abby.”
The rain slowed to a drizzle as Maggie motioned for her to come in. Abby stepped inside and shrugged out of her heavy winter raincoat. Maggie hung it on the hook beside the door and said, “Come into the den and sit down. What brings you by?” She glanced at the clock and figured she had about twenty minutes before Belle would demand her attention.
“I came to see a patient of mine who lives about three doors down from you. Susan Evans.” Abby frowned as she sat on the sofa. “She’s due any day now and is scared to death. I told her I’d come out and see her as often as
Maggie looked at the balance on the statement from her bank. She still couldn’t believe her grandfather had left that much money for Belle.
All the time she’d been under Kent’s thumb, been his prisoner in his beautiful house, she’d been so isolated, so afraid to make the wrong move, say the wrong thing or cook the wrong meal.
And getting a job wasn’t even an option. A stockbroker, Kent had at first declared he didn’t want his wife working because it would make him look unsuccessful, as if he couldn’t take care of his own family. Later, Maggie realized it was just another way for him to control her. If he could have found a way to climb inside her mind and take over her thoughts, he would have.
But now she didn’t have to worry about that.
There was something about making her own money to pay the bills, to take care of Belle and herself. She felt independent. Free in a way she hadn’t been since childhood.
She put the bank statement into the file box and looked at the picture on her desk. Her grandfather and her mother stood arm in arm, smiling as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
She missed them. Her grandfather had his faults, but he had loved Maggie.
She thought of the man who’d divorced her grandmother for another woman. “He’s a hard, bitter man,” her grandmother had told her. Her grandmother had gone to her grave praying for the man who’d hurt her so.
But Maggie had a different memory of her grandfather. She couldn’t reconcile the man her grandmother described with the man she’d known the first eleven years of her life. The one who’d taken her for ice cream sundaes and walks in the park. The one who’d nursed her through the flu while her grandmother and mother had to work.
Maggie thought about all the people she knew—people she’d only met since coming to Rose Mountain. And made her decision.
Quickly, she pulled up the template on the computer and started working. Within minutes, she was finished, had the document printed and ready to mail to her lawyer, a nice man she’d met at church. He also represented Eli and Holly. Once done, she stared at the envelope and felt peace flood her. It was the right decision. She slid it under the heavy horse-head paperweight to the right of her computer and made a mental note to mail the envelope tomorrow when she didn’t have to walk to the mailbox in the rain.
A knock on the door startled her. She hadn’t heard a car drive up. Her eyes flashed to the knives on the kitchen counter, the heavy frying pan on the stove. Her fingers gripped the cordless phone, and she started to dial 911. Then realized if the person meant her harm, he probably wouldn’t knock on the door.
Probably.
Although, he didn’t seem to have a problem ringing the bell after leaving the dead squirrel and horrible message on the porch.
At the window, she glanced out and breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw Abby McIvers standing on her front porch. Then she frowned. What was she doing here?
Maggie opened the door. “Hello, Dr. McIvers.”
The pretty woman smiled. “Please, call me Abby.”
The rain slowed to a drizzle as Maggie motioned for her to come in. Abby stepped inside and shrugged out of her heavy winter raincoat. Maggie hung it on the hook beside the door and said, “Come into the den and sit down. What brings you by?” She glanced at the clock and figured she had about twenty minutes before Belle would demand her attention.
“I came to see a patient of mine who lives about three doors down from you. Susan Evans.” Abby frowned as she sat on the sofa. “She’s due any day now and is scared to death. I told her I’d come out and see her as often as
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