Page 17 of Dangerous December
“Vivian wasn’t a social worker, and neither is the lawyer handling her estate. They kept no social history or deeply personal information on anyone—just the previous address, recent work history, and emergency contact information. You wrote it that on your application before moving in.”
“I see.”
“What are your goals?”
“I...have degrees in French and Comparative Literature.” Her lower lip trembled, though she met Beth’s gaze squarely. “I’m afraid that doesn’t translate to many career choices in the Northwoods of Wisconsin.”
“You haven’t ever worked, then?” Beth asked gently.
“My late husband was a banker, dear. He did quite, quite well.” If her voice grew any colder, it might splinter into crystalline shards on the Persian rug beneath their feet. A note of bitterness crept in. “I spent my life supporting all of his endeavors.”
“So...do you have some ideas about what you’d like to do?”
The woman’s chin lifted defiantly, and Beth guessed that she was hanging on to every last shred of her pride.
“I...don’t know. At fifty, with no résumé...”
But if her husband had done so well, what was she doing here? The obvious question hung between them for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“I don’t mean to pry, Mrs. Young. Dev and I just want to help.”
“My husband should have played our portfolio conservatively as he got older. But he took big risks, thinking he was going to make a killing, then several significant dips in the stock market nearly wiped us out. He ultimately left me widowed with a heavily mortgaged home, a lot of debt, and almost nothing in the bank—and trying to ignore rumors of his infidelity. Ironic, isn’t it?”
She rose gracefully to her feet. “The banker’s wife turned pauper sounds like such interesting fiction. But in real life, it’s a grand disappointment. Rising from the ashes, as it were, will be no mean feat. I need to find a job, and I’m trying. I’ll keep you informed.”
Beth waited until she heard the woman go up the stairs, then shook her head. “I feel so sorry for her.”
Dev shifted in his chair. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?” he said in a low voice. “Good health and a regular paycheck are quite a gift.”
“True.”And a family support system,though Beth didn’t say those words aloud.
She still had her mom and a sister who both lived on the West Coast, but as an only child with both parents gone, he no close relatives. And yet he’d thrown away their marriage as if it had been worth nothing.
He’d left town right after asking for a divorce, and then went off again into the Middle East for an extended tour of duty. He’d never answered her emails afterward.
His mother had handed her a bitter pill soon after.
Not long after the divorce, Vivian passed her on the street and off-handedly mentioned Dev’s advantageous new relationship.
Had he been having an affair before their divorce was even final? The possibility made her heart twist with grief. Yet...she couldn’t imagine him ever choosing to do something so dishonorable.
Had Vivian tried to slyly drive a greater wedge between them? That seemed far more likely. But she would never ask him. It was all in the past, and there was no going back.
Frank appeared at the arched opening to the parlor with a thick manila folder in the crook of his arm and a faint red flush at his neck in stark contrast to his snowy hair.
“So you want to know when you can boot me out, eh?”
Beth looked up at him, relieved to see a brief flicker of humor on his lean, sad face. “No booting. We’re only trying to see where everyone stands, and what we can do to help.”
“Well, I’m the oldest fogey here.” He took a chair across from them and folded his hands on top of the folder he’d settled in his lap. “I don’t know what any of us would’ve done withoutSloane House. When this place closes...” His voice trailed off as he stared at his hands.
“That’s a long way off,” she said gently. “I understand you were a teacher. Did you enjoy it?”
“It was mylife.I never married, you know, so teaching meant everything to me. Seeing my students succeed gave me great satisfaction.”
“What happened?”
“Falling enrollment. Consolidation of two school systems. I should have been secure after so many years, but the school closings meant that many of us were simply let go. I lost my home when I couldn’t keep up with my mortgage payments.” He offered a wry smile. “If one bought property during the real estate boom up here, it was very bad news when the market plummeted.”
