LITMIR.BIZ

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snapped.

      “Hello, Guy,” Edith said with what could only be described as a knowing smile. “Come closer and let me see you.”

      Jumping to conclusions (he didn’t think he’d ever mention jumping the gun again) seemed to be a family problem. The lady had decided Guy and Jilly were an item, he could see it in her eyes.

      Who knew? They might be heading in that direction—if they hadn’t actually arrived without knowing it.

      He held the dry hand Edith offered and looked into a face that could only belong to someone closely related to Jilly. This was how Jilly would look in her late forties—and very beautiful she would be. He hoped life would be kinder to Jilly so she wouldn’t carry the fine lines of worry Edith had, or the darkness beneath her eyes that he thought would be there even if she hadn’t lost blood. She was too thin, although from what he could see of her beneath the covers, Edith remained very feminine.

      “How do you do, Guy,” Edith said in a whisper. Her hand felt like a small bird in his own. She smiled up at him. “No wonder she’s fallen in love with you. You’ll be able to make sure she’s happy and no one spoils her life. I’m glad.”

      He didn’t dare look at Jilly, but he felt squeezed inside. If he could, he’d do those things for Jilly. “How are you feeling?” he asked Edith. Regardless of what he thought of her, he felt sympathy for the frail woman.

      Jilly felt so tense she ached. Guy’s jaw worked and she felt a strong connection between them.

      Cyrus came to stand beside him. “Hello, Mrs. Preston,” he said. “Are you feeling better?”

      “I’m not sure,” she told him.

      Ken moved forward. He placed his bouquet on the foot of the bed and the nurse promptly removed it. Next Ken took Edith’s other hand, even though a taped-down catheter remained in a vein. He closed his eyes and grew quite still.

      “Jilly’s the only one who should be here,” Preston said suddenly, getting to his feet.

      “Hush,” Edith said, but she smiled at her husband. “This is good for me. They’re life and I need that. I don’t want to die.”

      Instantly, heavy silence fell.

      Ken’s eyes remained shut. “Bring me the tonic,” he murmured. He looked at Edith. “I made it myself and it will help you grow stronger.”

      “Look here. I’ll get one of the docs,” the nurse said.

      “You will not, thank you,” Edith told him. “These are friends of mine and I absolutely trust them.”

      From the bag, Jolene removed a round plastic bowl with a lid, which she took off. She gave the bowl and a spoon to Ken, who stirred a thick brown mixture inside. “Just soup,” he said. “Made from good, natural foods.”

      Laura joined them and once again Edith smiled. “This is my other daughter, Laura.” Then she let Ken feed her the soup. At first she swallowed tiny amounts, but gradually she speeded up, taking spoonful after spoonful until it was all gone. “So good,” she said. “Thank you.”

      Ken gave the empty bowl and the spoon to Jolene, then placed his hands on Edith’s head.

      He had to be wrong, but Guy could swear the faintest blush of color entered Edith’s cheeks.

      “Mumbo jumbo,” Preston said. “If my wife gets sicker, you two will wind up in jail.”

      “Hush, Sam,” Edith said. “Ken and Jolene wouldn’t hurt me.”

      “She should rest now,” the nurse said.

      “I’m going to sit with you, Edith,” Laura said. “Jilly has to get a ride back with Guy. She’s got to open her shop in the morning—and help with the baking, I should imagine.”

      “Of course,” Edith said. “I love the shop. Pink door and all.” She smiled and looked younger.

      “Did you try Jilly’s marzipan tarts?” Cyrus said. He kissed the tips of his fingers. “My mouth waters just thinkin’ about them.”

      “Marzipan is my favorite,” Edith said. “You’d better get some rest, Jilly.”

      “I’m not in a hurry,” Jilly said.

      Ken began chafing Edith’s arms. First one, then the other, through the sleeves of a silk gown.

      As Guy watched the left sleeve slid higher and he saw a heavy dressing on her wrist. She’d been shaving her legs and accidently cut her wrist—seriously enough to almost kill her?

      Cyrus touched his back, letting him know he’d seen the same thing and had his own thoughts.

      “Did Caruthers stop the bleeding?” Cyrus asked. “I should like to tell him how grateful we all are.”

      “He did it,” Edith said. “He’s so strong. Laura told me all about it. He did it with his hands and told Laura to call for help. When I started to come to, Caruthers was still gripping my arm. It hurt so much. He’s a very strong man.”

      The very strong man was nowhere to be seen.

      “He’s on an errand for me,” Preston said to Cyrus. “I’ll give him your regards when he gets back.”

      Guy nodded. He couldn’t take his eyes from Edith’s left arm. He’d been around enough lowlifes to know needle tracks when he saw them. Cyrus’s fingers pressed slightly harder on his back.

      At least the tracks didn’t look fresh.

      How had Edith got from the bathroom to the bed without dripping blood everywhere on the light-colored carpets? Surly she wouldn’t shave her legs on the bed. If he didn’t think Jilly would accuse him of deliberately making trouble, he’d suggest contacting Spike. As long as Edith continued to improve, Guy decided he’d keep his mouth shut.

      She kept on smiling, apparently oblivious of a new and chilly atmosphere in the room.

      Cyrus’s cell phone rang, and as usual, it took him a couple of seconds to realize he’d got a call. “Excuse me,” he said, and left the room.

      “Father Cyrus Payne here,” he said, looking over the banisters into the hall below, where the front door stood wide open.

      “This is Spike. Madge said I should get in touch with you in case you know where Jilly is.”

      “She’s here,” Cyrus said, keeping his voice down. “We’re at Edwards Place.”

      “Why?”

      “Mind if we discuss that later?”

      “No, but we can’t put off what I’m dealing with. I wish Joe was in town. I’m at Jilly’s place.”

      Cyrus looked at the door to Edith’s bedroom. “Her house? Why?”

      “No, All Tarted Up. Folks across the street called…oh, shit! Keep her out of here.” Spike talked to someone in the background.

      “What?” Cyrus said. A man walked into the hall below, his face shadowed by the brim of his fedora. He shut the door and strode toward the back of the house, but not without feeling around in his pocket for a scrap of paper, spitting out his gum and tossing it into a tall Dresden vase.

      Spike hadn’t answered, although Cyrus could hear voices and shouts in the background.

      “You there, Spike?”

      He told Cyrus he was, and added, “That Lee O’Brien from the Trumpet’s showed up and she doesn’t hear the word no.” He coughed. “I need Jilly over here. You should come with her. This isn’t pleasant.”

      “Just tell me about it.” Sometimes he got irritated when people tried to soften things for him. “Guy’s here, too, by the way.”

      “Fine. Bring him with you. How about the Preston men?”

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