been a careless mother, not exactly neglectful, just consumed with her own problems and dramas. Russ had always been so good, so well behaved, that she hadn’t given him a whole lot of extended, concentrated thought and attention in his early years.
Bert was the one who’d taken the boy fishing, shown him how to do all that wilderness stuff, even how to do his income taxes, and Russ had eaten it up with a spoon. Bert had always been there for them. He was widowed, his children grown and moved away, so the Kleins and Bert had been a good fit.
“Betty, hold the fort for a little while, will you? I’m going to run over to the store and pick up a couple of things for dinner.”
Winnie put on her good winter coat, which she’d happily dug out from the back of the closet that morning. Not much call for a heavy coat here, but hers was nice, a real camel hair with classic styling that Russ had given her for Christmas a few years back. She slipped it on, pulled on a pair of gloves and stepped out into the chilly air.
Her high heels were useless for winter weather, but some thoughtful soul had sanded the sidewalks and street, so Winnie was able to mince her way carefully down one block and across the street to the general store. The bell over the door rang as she entered, and Bert, sitting in his usual place reading his newspaper, looked up with a smile.
“Well, hello, there, Winnie,” he said. “Cold enough for you?”
“Oh, I love the cold weather, even if it is bad for business,” she said. “It’s such a rarity. Wish we’d have a real snow, though, instead of this ice.”
“Got snow up in Dallas,” he said. Bert loved talking about the weather.
“I just need to pick up a couple of cans of chicken stock,” she said. “Oh, by the way, you haven’t heard from Russ, have you?”
“Not a peep,” Bert said as he pushed himself out of his rocking chair and walked over to the shelves where he kept the canned goods. “But don’t you worry, Russ can take care of himself. He’s probably holed up at the cabin.”
“What about the woman with the white car?” Winnie asked as casually as she could. “I think her name is Sydney. Any sign of her?”
“What woman?” Bert said with obviously feigned ignorance.
“Bert, I just told you what woman. The one with the white beemer that’s parked right in front of the store.”
“Oh, that woman. Nope, nope, haven’t seen her.”
“Okay, Bert, what do you know that I don’t know? Is she Russ’s new girlfriend?” Russ’s story that Sydney was some kind of stalker had sounded fishy to her. Normally Russ didn’t lie to her, but he would if he thought he needed to protect her somehow.
It wouldn’t surprise her if Sydney had caught Russ’s eye. He had a habit of taking up with beautiful, sophisticated women, and in theory Winnie had no trouble with that. But they never worked out in the long run. They were always nice enough girls. Winnie was even a little jealous of them sometimes, with their designer clothes and their exciting city jobs. But she knew enough about Russ that that sort of girl wouldn’t make a good wife for him.
“I never heard him speak of her before,” Bert said.
“But you know something about her I don’t,” Winnie said.
“Now, what would I know? I just sit here minding my own business-”
“Don’t give me that, Bert Klausen. You’re almost as bad a liar as Russ. Now, you better tell me, ’cause I’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Oh, all right,” he said, “I’ll tell you what I know. But don’t you let on to Russ that I blabbed. He’d be plenty put out with me.”
“I won’t say anything.” She eagerly pulled a chair closer to the stove and sat.
“Her name’s Sydney Baines and she’s a private investigator. She came here asking Russ a whole lot of questions about his parentage. Wanted to know if he had a mother named Winifred. He said no, but didn’t volunteer any further information. Fact is, he knew he was the one she was lookin’ for, but he tried to convince her otherwise.”
“Interesting,” Winnie said, somewhat relieved to know that Russ’s story wasn’t entirely manufactured. Apparently she was stalking him, sort of. “What do you suppose it all means?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Bert said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with your life back in Vegas. Which probably means Russ did the right thing, scaring her off.”
“Well, maybe so,” Winnie said. If any of her old so-called friends were trying to track her down, looking for a handout, they were out of luck. She didn’t have much money to give out anymore. She’d foolishly squandered much of the settlement Sammy had given her.
But her shop was bought and paid for, as was her little house. She did okay. Years ago she’d never have guessed she could be happy living such a normal, small-town life. But she’d found the contentment here in Linhart that had eluded her in Vegas and Dallas, despite the diamonds, parties and fancy clothes.
“I think Russ didn’t scare her off, though,” Winnie said. “They’re both missing, so I think they must be together.”
“It’s none of our business,” Bert said, which was so out-of-character for Bert to say. She knew he knew something more, something he didn’t want her to know.
“Of course it’s our business. This is Russ we’re talking about. Will you let me know the moment you hear anything, about either of them?”
“’Course I will, Winnie.”
“Thanks.” Winnie looked around the store, trying to come up with a believable excuse for going into Russ’s office to snoop. “Long as I’m here, I think I’ll use Russ’s computer and catch up on my e-mail.”
“Don’t you have a computer?” Bert asked suspiciously.
“The cold weather has frozen up the phone lines or something. My Internet has been out all day.”
“Russ’s computer is still turned on from yesterday. I don’t touch them evil machines.”
Winnie had to smile. Bert had embraced the cell phone, because it allowed him to gossip more efficiently, but he didn’t trust computers.
She went to the office and Nero followed her, probably sensing she was up to no good. The dog’s instincts were incredible. As she sat at Russ’s desk, Nero sat beside her, watching her vigilantly. She reached down and scratched him on his neck.
“Now, Nero, I’m not doing anything that would hurt your master. You know I’d never do that. I’m just gonna Google this Sydney Baines and make sure she’s not some criminal out to fleece us down to our underwear.”
She got a lot of hits on Sydney Baines, the most intriguing of which was a Web site for Baines & Baines, a company that described itself as being in the “heir-finding” business. Hmm. She’d never heard of such a thing, but it sounded like maybe Sydney reunited family members. Could she be one of those people who tracked down children who’d been put up for adoption and matched them up with their natural mothers? She’d seen a show about that on the Discovery Channel.
She was about to investigate further when Bert appeared at the office door. “Betty just called and said you have a customer.”
“Oh, shoot.” She quickly closed down the browser so Bert couldn’t see what she was doing. Winnie refused to turn down business, not on a day like today. She’d have to continue looking into this matter another time.
But maybe Betty would know something about heir-finding. Or she could ask her son, who was an attorney in Houston.
THE DAY PASSED TOLERABLY WELL, Sydney thought as she mixed up some instant grits for dinner, following Russ’s instructions. She’d never imagined she would like something called
Besides the time-consuming task of tending the fire and meal preparation, she and Russ had played Monopoly, put together a jigsaw puzzle and talked about everything and nothing. He was far more intelligent and well-read than she’d first thought, judging from just his job and his clothes. Although he hadn’t graduated from college, he obviously read voraciously and was curious about everything. He’d read more of the classics than she had, that was
