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come work for me. One month and then Bette dying will be the least of your worries. In the meantime, I’ll be watching you, and once I see you’re off your high horse and spreading your legs again, I’ll be back for a cut. If you don’t pay me, you’ll soon wish you were lying on a slab next to your precious friend.”
    He tossed her arm away and Laura stumbled backward against the doorframe. With a parting sneer, he straightened the cuffs on his jacket and stalked away like he was king of the world.
    Shaking with rage and a hefty dose of fear, Laura crossed her arms and glared after him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her anxiety should he turn around. When he’d gone, she released her held breath and reentered the house. Shutting the door, she leaned against it and waited for the galloping in her heart to subside.
    Tears gathered in her throat. What was she going to do with Malcolm watching her every move? Would she be putting Tess at risk of Malcolm’s attention if she continued working at the theater? She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t put it past him to follow her there night after night. Damn him. Damn this life she and Bette were in, despite her efforts to release them from it.
    The soft murmuring of Dr. Penders shook Laura from her contemplation and, forcing the frustration from her face, she hurried into the living room. The doctor had somehow managed to get Bette sitting up against the pillows and drinking tea. It was more than Laura had managed all day.
    She moved to the bedside. “Doctor, you should’ve waited for me to make the tea.”
    He waved his hand. “The kettle was boiled. Don’t worry yourself. You had more than enough to cope with getting rid of that Baxter character.”
    “Well, he’s gone now. How’s Bette faring, Doctor? Are there any signs of improvement?” She clasped Bette’s free hand in hers.
    His eyes softened and his brows drew together. “I’m afraid not. The pneumonia has spread to her lungs and taken up residence. I can give you a prescription for some decongestant. It might ease the discomfort.”
    Laura nodded. “I’ll go into town as soon as you leave. I’ll get whatever she needs.”
    “We don’t have the money for no fancy medicine.” Bette’s words rasped against her throat.
    She tightened her grip on Bette’s hand. “We have the money for whatever you need to make you better.”
    Bette shook her head and closed her eyes. “Tell her, Doc. Tell her the truth.”
    Dread fell heavy into Laura’s stomach. “What truth?”
    Dr. Penders cleared his throat. “The truth that nothing is guaranteed. I hope and pray the drugs make a difference, but you, as well as Bette, need to know there is little I can do once the trouble settles in the lungs.”
    “I see.” Laura straightened her spine. “That doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try, so don’t worry, she’ll be back to bossing me around in no time.”
    Bette shifted on the bed. “Laura—”
    “Is there anything else I need to know?” Laura stared at the doctor, ignoring her friend. The notion of Bette giving up struck terror into her heart with overbearing ferocity. Bette never gave up on anything.
    The doctor frowned. “Let Laura look after you. You need to fight this. Do you hear me?”
    “I’m being realistic.” Bette plucked at the covers across her lap. “We need to know so we can be prepared and make plans. That bastard, excuse my French, Malcolm Baxter will be back here tomorrow and the next day, until Laura succumbs to his demands. I’m as much use to her as a wet blanket. If I’m going to die, I don’t want her wasting what little money we’ve got on nonsense.”
    Dr. Penders squeezed her hand. “Medicine is not nonsense and well you know it. Moreover, getting plenty of rest is paramount. As much sleep as possible with minimal disturbance or upset.”
    Bette lifted her hand from his and cursed.
    With frustration set at a low hum in her blood, Laura cupped the