Then in came Helen herself, a welcoming but somewhat strained smile on her face. “How nice to see you both,” she said. “Do have a seat. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but there’s so much to oversee with construction going on.”
“We apologize for just dropping in, Helen,” I said, “and we can’t stay but a minute. We know you’re busy, but just thought we’d see how Thurlow is. He must be anxious for news about Ronnie.”
“That’s thoughtful of you because he is eager to hear how Ronnie’s doing. I have never in my life known a man so attached to an animal.” She stood, then said, “Let’s walk upstairs, and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just leave you with him while I get back to selecting the flooring for the kitchen.”
“That will be fine,” I said, rising, too. “We’ll visit for a few minutes, then see ourselves out.”
So far, LuAnne had barely said a word, and she didn’t on our way up the stairs, her head swiveling around so much that she almost tripped on the painters’ drop cloth on the top step.
But as we walked across the landing to Thurlow’s room, she said, “Helen, my lawyer says that I need a lease on the condo, and I hope you won’t think it’s because I’m afraid you’ll want it back, because after seeing this, I’m sure you won’t. But, well, just in case and so I won’t worry about being evicted, would you mind signing one?”
As my eyes rolled so far back in my head that I was afraid they’d never straighten out, Helen smiled her serene smile and said, “Of course. Send me two copies. We’ll both sign them and each keep one. How long a lease would you like? One year, two, or maybe five? Whatever you want, because there’s always the danger that you might move and leave me with an empty condo. It will be a relief to know that I’ll have rent coming in for as long as the lease is in effect—whether you’re in it or not.”
A look of sudden dismay swept over LuAnne’s face at the realization that a lease worked both ways. “What do you think, Julia?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. What about three years with an option to renew? And also first refusal if Helen decides to put it on the market. That should give you both some reassurance, as well as some breathing room.”
“Perfect,” Helen said as she tapped on Thurlow’s bedroom door. “If that suits you, LuAnne, we’ll get it done.” Then she said, “Please don’t stay long—he’s quite excitable and gets upset if he has too much stimulation.”
Well, they Lord, I thought, the last thing on my mind was stimulating Thurlow Jones. He generated enough of that all by himself.
“Look who’s come to see you,” Helen said as we trooped into Thurlow’s room. “It’s Julia and LuAnne. Do you feel like a little visit?”
Thurlow was in bed, propped up by pillows, his temporarily useless legs spread out under a sheet. He gave us a dismissive glance from under his thatch of white hair and white eyebrows, then snapped his fingers at the muscular, T-shirted man on the other side of the bed. “Mike,” he said, “hop to!” and the man immediately drew up two chairs for us.
“Well, ladies,” Thurlow said in his typically challenging way, “what lured you from your tea parties to visit the sick and ailing? Or the lost and lonely? Or the dead and dying?”
“Christian compassion,” I shot back at him. “And not one thing more.” As sick as he looked with patches of red on his cheeks, I was encouraged by the sharpness of his tone and the usual belittling comment he’d flung at us.
“Ha!” He came back at me quickly enough. “Glad to see you ain’t lost your spirit, in spite of marryin’ Sam Murdoch.” Then he glowered at me from under those bushy eyebrows. “Where’s my dog?”
“Ronnie is lying on a three-hundred-thread-count comforter in a corner of my kitchen. He’s been getting eardrops every four hours. He’s being walked and driven around and played with by Lloyd and the Pickens twins. He’s been overseeing some yard work that Mr. Pickens is doing, and he’s being fed by the best cook in town. In other words, Thurlow, Ronnie is in dog heaven and thoroughly enjoying your recuperation.”
“Well, I don’t want you spoilin’ him.” Thurlow turned his face away, then mumbled, “He won’t get any of that here.”
“He has another few days for the eardrops,” I said. “Would you like me to bring him home then?”
Instead of answering, Thurlow said to his minder, “Mike, get up from there and get these ladies something to drink. Some coffee, that’d be good, and I want some, too.”
LuAnne leaned forward, her mouth open to say something like we couldn’t stay, but I held her back, shaking my head. As soon as Mike left the room, looking back at us as he did so, Thurlow pushed himself farther up in the bed.
“Whatever she tells you,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “don’t believe it. She aims to get rid of my dog one way or the other, so don’t believe anything she says.” Then, even though I’d been watching for it, his hand snaked out as quick as a flash and grabbed my arm. “She’s gonna leave him in that backyard pen to freeze to death this winter—that’s her plan. Listen,” he said, shaking my arm, “I’ll pay you, Lady Murdoch. I’ll pay you to keep him for me. She thinks she’s got it all, but she don’t know everything.”
Hearing Mike hurrying up the stairs, Thurlow released my arm, but not before giving it a hard squeeze to underline his plea. Panting, Mike strode in, saying that the maid was perking coffee and would bring it up in a few minutes. It was clear to me that Mike had his orders about leaving
