“You can hire big strong hefty men to lift those heavy flowerpots from the patio into your sunroom,” he said shortly and watched her flush. She did the same thing every year, just before frost warnings went out, getting her precious herbs and flowering plants inside. “You’ve no business trying to do it yourself.”
She made a face. “I can’t let my flowers die. And I love fresh herbs.”
“Buy some at the store.”
“It’s not the same,” she pointed out.
He drew in a breath. “Ida, there are things you just can’t do anymore. Heavy labor tops the list. You have to be sensible.”
“Sensible.” She sighed. “He’s out of prison, you know,” she added, her blue eyes poignant. “He wants money. He says if I don’t give it to him, I can expect even worse than I had before he was convicted.”
“Talk to Cody Banks.”
“I have,” she replied. “I took out a restraining order, as well. But if somebody wants to kill you, he can,” she added.
“If he wants money, killing you isn’t in his best interest, now, is it?” he returned.
“I guess not. I had a new will drawn up when he went to prison, guaranteeing that if I die, he inherits nothing.” She drew in a long breath. “The nightmares came back, when he called me.”
“You should be in the care of a psychologist.”
She shrugged. “I tried. It didn’t work.” She looked over at him. “My first husband was gay, but he was a better, more loving husband to me than Bailey Trent could ever be.”
He just smiled. “We all make mistakes.”
“Yes, but most of us don’t end up in intensive care when we make them,” she replied with a faint smile.
“You survived, at least,” he replied. “That’s something.”
“I guess.”
“I’m going to have Melanie call in a prescription for stronger anti-inflammatories,” he said, typing on his computer. “You’ll take them for five days only, then ten days off. That way you’ll be able to keep your liver and save your kidneys.”
“Powerful stuff,” she commented.
“Very. And don’t take them and try to drive,” he admonished.
“I won’t. Thanks,” she added. “For the meds. And for listening.”
“Who else have you got?” he asked reasonably.
“Sad but true.”
“You should come to supper one night,” he told her as he got to his feet. “Sandy would love to make you that terrific meat loaf she does, along with some homemade bread.”
“Your wife is a wonderful cook. And I appreciate the offer. But...”
He raised an eyebrow. “But?”
“Carl,” she said, “anybody I associate with could be in the crosshairs when Bailey comes after me. I’m not putting you and Sandy there.”
“Now, listen,” he began.
“No,” she interrupted. “But thank you. And tell Sandy one day I want her to try and teach me to do breads.”
“I’ll tell her,” he replied. “Keep in touch with Cody,” he added. “He’ll watch out for you.”
She nodded.