Chapter 17
17
Coralee was awake, sitting up in bed, and she was lucid.
Her eyes were calm, her wrinkled hands didn’t tremble, and she greeted Madison with a smile of recognition, weak though it was.
Bone-weary, Madison hovered in the doorway of her grandmother’s private room at the assisted living place. She’d literally thrown on her clothes in her hurry to get to Coralee, and there was a real possibility that her T-shirt was on inside out and that her shoes didn’t match. Her jeans were the same ones she’d ridden in earlier, with Liam and the kids.
“You asked for me?” she said, almost in a murmur, approaching Coralee’s cranked-up hospital bed.
That had been the subject of the call from Jenny Baker. Coralee was cognizant and wanted to speak to her granddaughter immediately.
Coralee put a hand to her ear. “Speak up, Madison,” she ordered. “I’m an old woman, and my hearing isn’t what it once was.”
Madison moved closer.
She’d glanced at her watch on the way into the building: 1:27 a.m.
It seemed lucidity was no respecter of time.
Not that it mattered, of course.
For whatever reason, Coralee Bettencourt was truly in her right mind for the first time in weeks, if not months. And there could be no doubting that the internal weather change would be temporary.
Madison’s heart skipped a beat or two; she wanted to grab on to this moment with both hands and cling, lest it escape too quickly.
Because escape it would.
She went to Coralee’s bedside, touched the old woman’s hand.
Coralee was wearing lipstick , at this hour of the night, and even a touch of blusher on her papery cheeks. Her favorite ring, an oversized sapphire that had probably cost more than the Bentley, graced her right-hand ring finger, and—Madison squinted in the dim light—yes, those were Coralee’s Jackie O. pearls, as she’d long since dubbed them, hanging around her neck.
Instead of making her feel better, the old woman’s efforts at looking her best were mildly disturbing.
Madison found her voice. “You look—beautiful,” she said.
Coralee waved a dismissive hand, the one Madison wasn’t holding. “No time for flattery, young lady,” she replied. “I’m going to die soon, and there are things I need to tell you. Pull up a chair and sit down.”
Ignoring the instruction to take a chair, Madison perched on the edge of Coralee’s bed instead. She didn’t want to let go of that fragile bird’s wing of a hand.
“I’m listening,” Madison said, and her vision blurred slightly as she watched her grandmother’s face, with all the lines time and life had carved into it.
“Most of what you’ll need to know is already on record, with my attorney. You’ve probably heard from Ezra by now.”
Madison nodded.
“There’s a considerable estate, as you probably know,” Coralee went on briskly, “and most of it, including the house, will come to you. I want you to do something constructive with Bettencourt Hall, Madison. It’s a very special place. A refuge of sorts. There’s plenty of money, so you won’t need to sell the place or any of the property.”
“Okay,” Madison murmured, clinging to her grandmother’s hand, though not hard enough to hurt, but not so loosely that it could slip from her grasp.
“I’ve made bequests to Estelle—maybe she’ll finally retire—and of course to my favorite charities. There’s a particular bracelet, rose-gold, set with emeralds, that my good friend Althea admires very much. I would like that to go to her—you’ll find it in the safe hidden away in my bedroom closet. Ezra has the combination.”
“All right,” Madison said. A part of her wanted to change the direction of the conversation, because she didn’t care about the money, and she’d never have let Bettencourt Hall go if she could help it. Nor did she begrudge the chatty librarian, Mrs. James, Coralee’s emerald bracelet.
“I hear your wedding to that Jeffrey person was a flop,” Coralee said brightly. There it was, Madison thought with a faint smile. The change of subject she’d hoped for—well, sort of, anyway. Jeffrey and the foiled wedding were not the direction she’d hoped her grandmother would take.
Still, she was there to listen. She owed Coralee that much and a lot more.
It surprised her, though, that the older woman had retained that much information, given her many cognitive lapses.
Probably, the nurses gossiped, too, and in a clear-minded moment, Coralee had probably overheard the account.
“Yes,” Madison agreed belatedly, when she realized her grandmother was waiting for a reply. “It’s all for the best, though, so don’t worry.”
Again, that dismissive wave of the hand. “You’ll find the right man eventually,” Coralee said with conviction. “He’ll most likely show up when you stop looking.”
Madison nodded. There wasn’t time to explain her attraction to Liam; this kind of mental clarity was rare for Coralee, obviously, and Madison didn’t plan to waste it.
“Tell me about that summer,” she ventured as the pause lengthened, “when you got lost in the woods. Althea told me something happened to you, and I’m curious about what it was.”
Evidently, Coralee knew what incident her granddaughter was referring to, because she blew out a breath of frustration and said, “Althea never believed a word I said—nobody did—and I can’t imagine why she’s yammering on about it at this late date. When your best friend in the world confides in you, you ought to believe them!”
“I agree,” Madison said. “But what happened, Coralee?”
Coralee seemed to deflate a little; her energy was already ebbing away. “My journals are somewhere in the house,” she replied. “I forget where. You can read about what happened when you find them.”
Madison hid her own frustration, which matched Coralee’s. “Why did you call me here?” she asked gently. “I know all about the will, and you know I’ll make sure your wishes are followed. Why now, in the middle of the night?”
“I told you, I’m going to die soon. And I need to warn you. I should have done it a long time ago, but—”
“Warn me about what?” Madison interrupted softly.
“The woods. There are places out there, along the creek, around the cemetery, that are—dangerous.” Coralee closed her eyes, sagged against her pillows. She was drifting, and once she floated out of reach, there might be no bringing her back.
“Dangerous how?” Madison asked, with a quiet urgency she couldn’t hide. “In what way are those places dangerous, Coralee?”
The old woman opened her eyes, looked directly into Madison’s, and said, “It’s all in the journals. Find them.”
With that, she faded back into her usual state of bewilderment and something that vaguely resembled fear.
“Coralee, please,” Madison whispered, clasping her grandmother’s hand with both of her own. “Don’t go—not like this—”
Coralee shook her head, very slowly, very slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a croaky whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
In the next instant, Coralee drew a breath, expelled it shakily, and retreated into a sleep that was more than sleep.
It was oblivion.
Despite the monitors that conveyed Coralee’s vitals to the nurses’ station, Madison reached for the buzzer and pushed the button, still unwilling to let go of her grandmother’s childishly small hand, now limp in her own.
Two nurses, one male and one female, entered the room.
The man checked the monitors while the woman gently eased Madison away from Coralee’s bedside and used her stethoscope.
Madison didn’t need to be told that her grandmother was gone.
Her knees melted, and she dropped into the nearest chair, lowered her head, and struggled to breathe.
Beyond that first shock and the weariness that followed, she felt nothing.
One of the nurses removed Coralee’s ring and strand of pearls and placed them in a zippered bag for safekeeping. They were now part of an estate, and they would be handled accordingly.
Madison didn’t care one way or the other.
She signed forms but refused to leave the room, though she was urged, however gently, to go home and rest, because there was nothing more she could do there at the facility.
She sat with Coralee until the people from the funeral home came, shifted the tiny, used-up body onto a gurney, covered her up and rolled her out into the hallway.
Still unable to feel anything, Madison stared at her phone.
Should she call someone?
Audra, or one of her other close friends? It was too early to disturb them.
Liam?
Well, he would be kind.
But he had young children at home.
He couldn’t be expected to leave them alone.
Still, it would have meant so much just to hear his voice.
Madison stood, finally, and the muscles in her legs and back throbbed in protest. First the horseback ride, and now an hour or two sitting stiffly upright in a chair in her grandmother’s room.
The female nurse came back, her beautiful mahogany face a study in sympathy. “Is there someone we can call?” she asked gently.
Madison was dazed, but her composure remained in place.
She’d known Coralee’s time was short—the woman had been in her late eighties, after all, and her health had been going downhill for quite a while now—and yet the loss of her would, at some point, be a powerful blow.
For now, though, she seemed to be coping.
Holding the inevitable grief at bay.
She shook her head, tried to smile. “No,” she whispered, her voice raspy, “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure you’re all right to drive?” the nurse persisted.
The name Julie was stitched into the upper right hand corner of her scrub shirt. Aqua blue, with pants to match.
Funny the things you noticed when you were stunned to numbness.
“Yes,” Madison said. “I can drive home. Nothing to worry about.”
Looking unconvinced, Julie walked Madison out of the room without further protest, down the long corridor, past the doors of sleeping patients, through the quiet, softly lit reception area and out to the parking lot.
She waited while Madison unlocked the Bentley, opened the door, sank into the driver’s seat. The keys jingled in her shaking hand as she tried to line one up with the ignition.
Julie opened her mouth, closed it again.
Madison acknowledged her concern with a stiff nod, said nothing, and started the car.
She drove home, hardly aware of doing so, parked the Bentley in the garage, and went inside, as usual, by the back door.
Charlie met her immediately, jumping up, making a soft whining sound in his throat, his paws brushing her blue-jeaned legs repeatedly.
And it was then that the loss finally hit her with the force of a tsunami.
Or a Category 5 hurricane making landfall.
The tears came, floods, rivers of them.
She knew this was more than a reaction to her grandmother’s death; it was the result of being hurt, many, many times, and not allowing herself to let down her defenses long enough to process her pain.
Now, Madison slid down the counter nearest the door, landed on her backside on the floor with a thump that raced up her spine and immediately blossomed into a headache. Charlie scrambled into her lap, licking her face almost frantically, as though desperate to stop her from crying.
Madison clung to that sweet little stranger, holding him as close as she could without hurting him, weeping into the soft warmth of his coat.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, though the sun was coming up when she finally collected herself, moved a sleeping Charlie off her lap, and stood.
She ran cold water in the sink, splashed her face with it.
Her skin felt raw, chafed by all that salt water, by the constant rubbing, by Charlie’s rough tongue, but the headache was fading fast.
After cooling herself down a little, she brewed coffee.
And finally, when the hour seemed decent, she called Audra.
Her friend didn’t answer with a hello, a yawn, or a recrimination for phoning her so early in the day. Except that in Florida, it wasn’t that early.
“What?” Audra asked, her voice anxious.
Madison had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could reply. “It’s Coralee,” she said. “She’s gone.” She paused, gave a humorless chuckle, painful to utter, painful to hear. “Dead, I mean.”
“I’m sorry, Mads,” Audra said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Madison remembered the Zoom meetings scheduled for that morning. They were important, and no matter how stricken she was by Coralee’s death, she meant to get through them.
More than get through them.
She was a professional. She would do this right.
“We have the meetings—”
“We can reschedule them, Mads. Right now, you need to handle arrangements. You need to grieve.”
“Oh, trust me,” Madison sniffled, crying again, but not sobbing like before. That was something. “I’ll do all that, especially the grieving. But business—”
“ Please don’t say ‘business is business.’”
“Okay,” Madison agreed, dashing at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “But it is.”
Audra sighed heavily, and Madison could picture her as clearly as if they’d been using FaceTime: chin-length blond hair, always slightly—and attractively—mussed, large china-blue eyes, emphasized by thick lashes, pretty mouth lipsticked and wobbling just a bit because this woman was one of the most empathetic people Madison had ever known.
“All right, Mads, you win. We’ll get through the meetings together. But the minute they’re over, I’m going home to pack a bag, book a flight, and arrange to rent a car. I’ll be at your place by tomorrow night at the latest.”
The trip would almost certainly disrupt Audra’s otherwise well-ordered life, but talking her out of it would have been a waste of breath, time and energy.
“I could pick you up at the airport,” Madison suggested.
“No need,” Audra responded. “I’ll rent a car.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Audra replied, unfazed. “It’s only an hour or so, a drive I can manage quite easily, thank you very much. And anyhow, I’m going to need wheels once I get there, aren’t I?”
It wasn’t the kind of question that required an answer, so Madison offered a question instead. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Of course I’m sure. And the drive is beautiful. I’ll enjoy it.”
Madison smiled slightly, in spite of the great sorrow churning within her. “You could enjoy the scenery from the Bentley,” she said reasonably. “If I picked you up at the airport, I mean.”
Audra made a pffft sound. “Bentley Schmently,” she said. “Have I mentioned that I think that car is highly impractical? You live in rural Montana now, and I’ll bet the winters are one long blizzard. Hence, you need a pickup truck instead. Or at least an SUV.” A pause. “Or a team of huskies and a sled.”
“That’s it,” Madison replied. “This conversation is officially off the rails. Let’s concentrate on selling our company for an s-load of money, for today, anyhow.” A pause. “And Audra?”
“What?”
“Thanks for being exactly who you are.”
Now it was Audra who sniffled, though she had her brave voice up and running in the next second or two. “Shall I call the others? Let them know about Coralee?”
“The others,” of course, were Kendall, Olivia and Alexis.
“No,” Madison said, perhaps a mite too quickly. “They’re all dealing with their own stuff. Especially Olivia. And besides, the four of you were just here. Which is—”
“They’ll want to know, Mads,” Audra interrupted.
“I’ll send emails. I really don’t want to burden them, Audra, and while I’m super-glad you’ve decided to come back, I feel a little guilty about it, too. You shouldn’t have to drop everything and hop on a plane.”
“I want to be there,” Audra replied, sounding more upbeat now, and less sniffly. “And I promise I won’t get underfoot, okay? I get the subtext, kiddo. You love the girls, and you really don’t want to inconvenience them, but you also don’t want a houseful of people just now. Am I right?”
“You’re right,” Madison sighed. “Sometimes I think you’re a mind reader.”
There was a smile in Audra’s response, a kind one. “I’m like the algorithm on Amazon, sweetie. I see all, I hear all, I know all.” She was quiet for a moment, probably taking a sip from her ever-present water bottle. “We’ve been friends for a long time, remember, and I’m very observant. I probably know almost as much about you as you know about yourself.”
“And you still like me. Amazing.”
“Hush,” Audra scolded her good-naturedly. “See you on Zoom.”
“See you then,” Madison answered, touched by her friend’s determination to help out in whatever way she could—including flying across country for the second time in under two weeks because “Mads” needed her.
“Wait,” Audra said just as Madison was about to thumb the End button.
Charlie was scratching at her legs, this time because he needed to go outside. He’d already eaten and lapped up his water. “What?”
“Does the cowboy bartender know about Coralee—that she’s passed?” Audra asked, sounding slightly breathless, as though she’d set her phone down, crossed a large room, and then run back to ask the question.
“His name is Liam McKettrick,” Madison said, mildly amused in spite of the cavernous loss she was feeling at the moment. “And, no, I don’t think so. At least, I haven’t told him. Given that this is a very small town, however, I imagine he’ll hear about it before he’s had his second cup of coffee.” A moment of biting down on her lower lip, then, “Why do you ask?”
“You know darn well why I ask,” Audra replied crisply. “He’s a man. You’re a woman. He’ll want to offer comfort.”
The kind of comfort Madison wanted from Liam McKettrick had little or nothing to do with Coralee, God rest her soul.
“He’ll know soon enough,” she said very quietly. “And it’s up to him how he reacts. I’m not going to call or text him, Audra, and beg him to drop everything and rush over here to hold my hand.”
“Touchy much?”
“ Tired much. Lost my grandmother much.”
“Sooooorreee,” Audra said. As in, Sorry. Not sorry.
Madison couldn’t help laughing, though it was a broken sound that scraped painfully at her throat. “ Later , Audra. I’ve got a dog to walk, a company to sell, a guest room to prepare, and, finally, a chat to have with Coralee’s lawyer. I expect him to call at any time.”
“What dog?” Audra said, having apparently skipped over the rest of Madison’s to-do list for the day.
“Another story for another time,” Madison said. “Thanks for listening—I really mean that—and goodbye , for now, anyway.”
With that, the call ended.
Madison skipped most of her usual morning run, not sure how much stamina Charlie had, or if he could keep up.
He more than kept up, as it happened.
When they got back to Bettencourt Hall, circumventing the woodland paths weaving through the trees and along the creek behind the house because she’d remembered Coralee’s strange warning about the dangers of the area, Madison felt better, if only marginally.
The mystery of Coralee’s warning was something she didn’t have the bandwidth to mull over presently, and it would have to wait. Still, she couldn’t shake the strange sense of urgency, or the fear underlying it.
Don’t wait too long , chimed a familiar voice in her head.
Coralee’s voice.
A little shiver traveled the length of Madison’s spine as she and Charlie reached the backyard.
She used the steps to brace herself as she stretched her aching legs, thighs and calves. Never mind all that had happened since; she was still suffering the effects of yesterday’s horseback ride.
Had it really only been yesterday ?
It seemed as though a month had passed since she’d last been with Liam, not mere hours.
Pride, she reflected, would be her downfall.
Audra had been right; Liam would have found a way to help her. He was that kind of man.
Still, like her other friends, Liam had problems of his own.
Not the least of which was winning the trust of his daughter.
And that, clearly, was not going to be easy.
It might take years, in fact. Or never happen at all.
Although it hurt her heart, Madison concluded that she ought to back off in more ways than not expecting him to comfort her. She had a lousy track record with men, she reminded herself, and she probably wouldn’t be doing Liam any favors by holding on.
Romantically speaking, she was a hot mess, and the best thing she could do for him, most likely, was to walk away, before both of them were in too deep.
She needed to straighten out her life.
Give Liam a fighting chance to mend his broken family.
What, after all, was more important?
Nothing, that was what.
Friendship came a close second, but blood was blood.
And now, with Coralee gone, Madison had absolutely no one.
These depressing thoughts lingered while Madison showered, blew her hair dry, dressed in clothes left over from college—a boatneck shirt in bright blue and her only clean pair of jeans. They wouldn’t show during the meeting, unless she stood up, and she didn’t intend to do that unless something dire happened and she and Charlie had to flee for their lives.
Dramatic. Both Tom, her first husband, and Jeffrey, her almost husband, had accused her of being dramatic.
Strange, when neither one of them had ever managed to make her cry.
Determined to keep her thoughts on an even keel, Madison applied makeup, using more than she would have on an ordinary day, perused the notes on her laptop, mostly compiled by the always diligent Audra, and drank more coffee.
Charlie, meanwhile, curled up at her feet beneath the desk in the library. He was tuckered out from the run, but happily so, judging by the way he’d grinned up at her from beginning to end.
Coralee’s attorney called just as she was finishing up her preparations online. Getting ready for the Zoom meeting had raised her spirits, reminded her of just how much she and Audra had accomplished, working together. Small-town girl makes good , she thought, grateful for the distraction the morning’s activities had provided.
The lawyer’s call brought reality thundering home, though.
“Ms. Bettencourt?” he began as soon as Madison had said hello. When she confirmed that she was indeed Ms. Bettencourt, he went on. “This is Ezra Clark. I am—or was—your grandmother’s legal advisor. Allow me, first and foremost, to offer my sincere condolences. Coralee and I were old friends, as well as associates, and I will miss her very much.”
“Thank you,” Madison said, glad she was sitting down, because she suddenly felt weak all over.
Maybe she shouldn’t have gone out for that run, short-circuited as it was.
“I trust you received my emails?”
“Yes,” Madison replied. “I’m—I’m sorry for not replying yet. There has been so much going on.”
“So I’ve heard,” Clark said kindly, and with a touch of amusement.
Madison bristled, wondering if he was referring to her debacle of a wedding, decided it wasn’t important one way or the other, and said, “You want to discuss the will.”
“Yes,” Clark agreed. His voice was melodious and deep. “I was hoping we could meet today, in fact. There are stipulations, you see, about how Coralee wished to be buried, among other things.”
“I was under the impression she wanted to be cremated.” Was she really discussing this? Cremation? It was hard to think about, not just for the obvious reasons, but because this was Coralee they were talking about. The woman who had been so vital, so full of life and energy, until very recently.
Mr. Clark cleared his throat. “Well, yes, but there’s more. She requested that her ashes be buried in the Bettencourts’ family cemetery in two weeks’ time, give or take a day or two. You see, your grandmother wanted a proper ‘send-off,’ as she called it, not a standard memorial service, when we last spoke. It’s to be held in the rose garden there at the family home, and she arranged for caterers, musicians, decorations and, of course, a preacher, far in advance of her death. She asked for one—” the lawyer paused, apparently consulting his notes “—Daniel Summers to officiate at the service. Interestingly enough, the man is a former navy SEAL.”
Madison knew about Daniel Summers, who happened to be Melba Summers’s husband, though she’d never met him. Coralee had taken a liking to the man when he became a minister a while back, though she hadn’t been a churchgoing woman. Not as far as Madison knew, anyway.
There had been a lot she hadn’t known about her grandmother, after all. Coralee had been loving, but she’d been reticent, too. And sometimes mysterious.
“I wonder if I might drive over and meet with you this afternoon, Ms. Bettencourt. I’ve given you an overview, but there is a letter, as well as a very detailed list of instructions. These things would be much more effectively discussed in person.”
Madison thought about the business meetings, the first of which was scheduled to begin in less than half an hour. It would be followed by two others, each an hour long.
The idea made her head spin, but as she’d told Audra, business was business.
As much as she would have liked it to, the world wasn’t going to stop turning just so she could catch her breath.
They agreed that Mr. Clark would arrive at Bettencourt Hall at approximately three p.m. He lived in a town on the other side of Silver Hills, some fifty miles from Painted Pony Creek, and there was roadwork in between that could cause delays.
Once the call was over, Madison reached for her bottle of water and the two over-the-counter painkillers she’d shaken into her palm before she sat down at the computer.
If she didn’t have a second headache now, she told herself, she surely would by the time the morning was over.
She knew she would need all her strength to get through this day.