Page 22 of Saving Her Heart
There's a pause, then the sound of multiple locks disengaging. The door opens a few inches, held by the chain, and one suspicious brown eye peers out at me.
"How do you know how I take my coffee?"
"Two sugars, splash of cream. You haven't changed that much."
She studies me for a moment, then closes the door. I hear the chain slide free before she opens it fully. She's wearing yoga pants and an oversized FSU sweatshirt, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. She looks younger, softer, like the girl I fell in love with before everything got complicated.
"This means nothing," she says, taking the coffee.
"Didn't say it did." I hold up my own cup. "Mind if I check your apartment? Make sure nobody's been inside?"
"How would anyone—" She stops, probably remembering the paint on both our vehicles. "Fine. But make it quick. I have three properties to visit today."
Her apartment is exactly what I expected—organized but lived-in. A laptop sits open on the coffee table next to a stack of incident reports. The red dress from last night is draped over a chair, and there's a half-eaten sandwich on the kitchen counter.
"When's the last time you had an actual meal?" I ask, checking the windows.
"I eat."
"Coffee and property management stress don't count as food groups."
"Says the guy who lived on energy drinks and spite through high school."
The casual reference to our past catches us both off guard. She turns away, busying herself with the laptop.
"Everything looks secure," I say, filling the awkward silence. "But you should keep your blinds closed. And maybe?—"
A knock at my door interrupts my fashion crisis. I open it to find a woman in her forties looking exhausted but grateful.
"Ms. Greene? I'm Sarah Williams, Mrs. Parsons' niece. I got your message."
"That was fast."
"I was already on my way down. I try to visit Aunt Helen monthly, but work's been crazy. When you called about the goat situation, I drove straight here from my hotel." She steps inside when I gesture. "I wanted to thank you. The staff at Sunset Services told me you've been checking on her daily."
"I noticed she was struggling," Kendall says simply.
"You did more than that. You kept her safe, made sure she ate, even dealt with that goat situation with compassion." Sarah's eyes fill with tears. "I did not know things had gottenso bad. I trusted Sunset Services because Valerie Thornfield recommended them."
I pull out my notepad. "Would you be willing to put that in writing? About Valerie's recommendation?"
Sarah nods. "Absolutely. That woman's husband owns the company, doesn't he? They've been billing me for services they weren't providing."
"We're investigating that," I tell her.
"Good. Aunt Helen's at my hotel now, and we're looking at memory care facilities. Real ones, with actual staff who do their job." Sarah turns back to Kendall. "I owe you so much."
"You don't owe me anything. I just did what anyone would do."
"No," Sarah says firmly. "You did what a good person does. There's a difference."
After Sarah leaves, Kendall stands at her door for a moment, looking lost.
"You okay?" I ask.
"I'm fine." She shakes her head. "I should get ready for work."
"Kendall—"
