“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt it. He’s into a lot of things anyway, but it’s too late to worry about it tonight. Come on to bed, honey.”
“I think I will,” I said, beginning to rise.
“Wait,” Sam said, frowning as he looked at me. “How’d you get that scratch on your cheek?”
“Oh,” I said, frantically trying to think of a reason without out-and-out lying. “I guess . . . well, I got too close to a holly bush as I was leaving Sue’s and sorta brushed against it. Scratched my hand, too.” I held up my hand to show him the stinging scratch across the back of it.
“You need to be careful,” Sam said. “Both of us do. We’re at the falling stage, and neither of us wants a broken hip.”
“You’re right about that,” I agreed, then went to the bathroom to look for the Neosporin.
—
I lay in bed listening to Sam breathe through chest rattles and realized with a jolt of concern that I had more to worry about than zoning laws, block takeovers, or lapsed leases. First thing in the morning, I was taking him to Dr. Hargrove.
When Sam turned onto his side, though, he began to breathe easier and the same old concerns with a new twist invaded my thoughts.
Pete Hamrick had thrown out the word lease to Madge. “Check your lease,” he’d said, and laughed as if he knew something she didn’t.
Was there something in the fine print that she’d overlooked? Maybe something in print so fine that it was meant to be overlooked? Maybe it had to do with the term of the lease. Or maybe it didn’t address options to renew.
Or—and with this thought, I popped straight up in bed—was there no lease at all? Had Madge, in her eagerness to lay hold of the house, moved in as LuAnne had moved into Helen’s condo, without the protection of a lease? Which would mean that Madge and her merry band could be moved out at the whim of the owners—Pete Hamrick being, apparently, one of them.
His last-minute jab to check her lease could’ve been a double-edged sword if there was no lease to check.
Okay, I thought, lying back down, what do we really know at this point?
Number one: Madge had known from the start that her nonprofit undertaking was safe from the zoning board. That was now confirmed by the conditional-use permit that Pete Hamrick had arm-twisted the board of commissioners into granting.
Number two: A holding company by the name of Ridgetop Corporation was attempting to buy the other houses on the block. Pete’s showing up at the Cochran house in the dead of night to warn Madge of an impending change in her status as a renter confirmed him as a member of that group. Only an insider would know something like that.
Number three: Pete Hamrick, from what I’d overheard that night, was unaware—so far—that plans were afoot to outbid Ridgetop’s offers to purchase. It was obvious to me that a lot of money was being staked on not just the Cochran house but the entire block. What would he do when he learned that Mildred and I were cutting him off at the knees?
Number four: And what would Madge do now that she knew Pete’s plan to evict her? What would she do when she learned that Mildred and I would do the same as soon as we could? Madge had to know that she wasn’t wanted where she was, so it could hardly come as a surprise. She had done nothing but sneak around and ensconce herself in the Cochran house, then justified being there as her right. It seemed equally just to me that others would make a few stealthy moves to unensconce her.
Then I mentally summed up with number five: She would need another place to house her homeless teens.
And with that obvious conclusion in mind, I turned over and fell asleep in spite of Sam’s full-bore snoring by this time.
Chapter 44
Sam absolutely refused to go see Dr. Hargrove, or rather, to go so Dr. Hargrove could see him. He came to the breakfast table fully dressed, freshly shaven, and looking only half peaked.
“I’m a hundred percent better,” he said, then coughed for several seconds. “Well”—he grinned when he’d caught his breath—“maybe ninety percent.”
“All right,” I reluctantly concurred, “but I’m watching you. At the first sign of a relapse, you’re going to the doctor or the emergency room. Take your pick.”
“Yes, ma’am. Lillian,” he said, turning to her, “I attribute my return to health to your recommendation of Vicks VapoRub. The next time I come down with something, I’m checking with you first.”
She smiled, pleased with herself, and said, “Ole-timey cures pretty much work ev’ry time.”
We all turned as Lloyd rapped on the back door, then walked in. “Hey, everybody. I came over to tell you about the excitement we had last night. Boy, something was really going on at the Cochran house.”
I quickly intervened. “Have you had breakfast? Come sit with us. Lillian, bring another plate, please.”
Lloyd slid into a chair across from me. “I guess I could eat a biscuit or two. Nobody makes ’em like Miss Lillian.”
The day was certainly starting off right for Lillian with all the compliments she was getting. And deservedly getting, I thought to myself, and tried to think of a few more to keep the subject on her rather than on Lloyd’s news.
“What happened last night?” Sam asked, to my dismay.
“Well,” Lloyd said, his face lighting up with the telling, “when I took Ronnie out about eleven, he went crazy, and I mean, crazy. See, there was somebody visiting next door at the Cochran house. I saw him when he left, and of course that set Ronnie off because he always barks when anybody goes or comes over there.”
“Who was it?” I asked, as if I didn’t know. “Not that it matters, but that time of night? Who’d be visiting then?”
“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to calm
