Love With A Stranger (7 page)

Cass lowered her cup from her lips and clasped it between her hands. “I haven’t made any, but I should give it some serious thought within the next few weeks. I love this area and the house, but one might be too large for a woman alone and the other might drive me away if things don’t settle down soon. I suppose it’s obvious I haven’t made any friends here and this might not be the best time to start looking, not with everybody so intrigued by Tom’s accident. The way things are now, I wouldn’t know who was seeking me out for myself or only as a source for obtaining gossip for their little cliques.”

“As soon as the investigation’s closed and we become old news, things will change. I had noticed you kept to yourself most of the time, even when Dad was away. Strange, but you’ve never struck me as being a shy person.”

“Most of the time I’m not. I tried to get into several activities to help me get to know people, but Tom wanted me to stay home until he had time to check out who and what I had in mind.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Cass, he was probably afraid you might meet somebody and he’d lose you before he settled down. He told me he was planning on doing that at the end of this year; it was to be a surprise.”

“It certainly is, he never mentioned anything like that to me.”

They strolled in silence for a time as dusk slowly crept across the secluded location. Finally, Peter suggested they turn and head back.

As they strolled homeward, Peter talked about the protected species—dolphins and Right whales—that seasonally roamed
the coastal waters, and about shrimping. Several times he made jokes, to which Cass laughed in genuine amusement.

“We’re making progress, Cass, and I like this relationship better. It’s a shame we both stayed so stubborn for so long.”

“You’re right, Peter, and I’m grateful we’ve both changed.”

Cass suddenly noticed somebody—a telltale light behind the person—watching them from a window. No doubt the snoop wondered why the young widow and her handsome adult stepson were ambling along a romantic beach in approaching moonlight, sipping cocktails, laughing, and chatting less than a week after Tom’s death. She certainly did not need that kind of gossip added to the supposed rumors already circulating about her and Tom and the accident. “Let’s pick up our pace,” she suggested to Peter. “I’m feeling very relaxed, even drowsy.”

“Am I so boring I’m putting you to sleep on your feet?” he teased, but knew it was what he had slipped into her drink that was doing the trick. He noted how her pace had slowed, her body had loosened, and her lids were drooping.

“No, the person to our right has binoculars trained on us, but I am feeling most relaxed, thanks to you, this walk, and a delicious drink. I think, after a warm bath, I’ll be ready to snooze like a baby tonight.”

“Good, because I’m sure you need it.”
So do I, to go through Dad’s desk in privacy.
“How would you like to go to Sunday brunch at the King and Prince tomorrow about eleven?”

Cass loved the resort restaurant on neighboring St. Simons Island. “Do you think we should?”

“Why not?”

“People might talk, Peter, if they see us out having fun this soon.”

“They’re going to talk whether we go out or not. We don’t have anything to hide about Dad’s accident, and we are family, friends.”

“You’re right again. Eleven o’clock it is.”

“A splendid decision, Cass. Here we are, so I’ll say good night.”

Cass took the cup from his hand, smiled, and told him good night before she entered her home to shower and get to bed while she was still calm.

Following what Cass considered to be a pleasant evening and an improvement in her mood and behavior, things changed the next day, or rather returned to their previous state before deteriorating rapidly.

By Sunday evening, Cass was a bundle of raw nerves. At brunch, either people had actually stared and whispered at the two of them or Cass had imagined they did. Her mood had darkened and her tension had increased by the minute as she tried to force herself to relax and eat and to ignore those around them. Peter had cautioned her to stop frowning and clenching her teeth several times, and she had snapped at him once to leave her alone. Finally, he had suggested they leave before she embarrassed herself.

At home, she had apologized to him and told him she didn’t know what had gotten into her, though she was still struggling to gain control of herself, then taken his advice about a Valium and a nap.

Monday was much the same for her, due in part to another visit from the two offensive detectives who came by to see if she had thought of anything helpful. Cass had told them again she didn’t know of anyone who had wanted Thomas Grantham dead, but she wasn’t sure if she was convincing in view of what she had learned about her deceitful husband following their last visit. If the men had pried into Tom’s briefcase and
knew she was lying, it wasn’t apparent to her. The men probed for information about Tom’s net worth and will and beneficiaries, but she told them to ask Tom’s lawyer or son about those matters since they had not yet been discussed with her. She told them she would not speak with them again without Simon Johnson being present, and in parting, she demanded they finalize the investigation as soon as possible and stop tormenting her.

Cass was appeased a little when Killian apologized and told her they would comply just as soon as the serviceman was questioned about the missing air bag and faulty brakes.

After their departure, Cass told Inez not to allow the men in the house again, not without Tom’s lawyer being present to guide and protect her. Then she took a Tylenol to ease her pounding head.

On Tuesday, Cass awoke with the determination to stay calm and busy that day. After breakfast and against Inez’s cautions, she went to a nearby spa with hopes a shampoo and blow dry, facial, manicure, pedicure, and body massage would help her drab appearance and turbulent emotions.

Instead of relaxing her, Cass realized she was getting more and more agitated with each ensuing procedure. The masseuse’s fingers seemed to dig into her flesh, pinch her muscles; the facial seemed to irritate her skin; and the beautician seemed to claw her scalp during the shampoo and pull her hair during the light teasing and comb-out. During the manicure and pedicure, it was as if the girl was shoving her pleading cuticles back with a screwdriver and as painfully as she could manage.

Cass knew she was grimacing, moaning, and complaining at each stage of discomfort. At first, each woman tried to chat with her, but she made it very clear she wasn’t wasn’t in a mood to talk. Cass saw each woman frown and try to hurry their specialty, no doubt to get rid of her. She wondered if they
were being intentionally rough or if it was all in her wild imagination or her body and nerves were exceptionally sensitive today.

Cass’s head throbbed; her face was pale; her cheeks were rosy; her eyes looked strange. She just wanted to escape the torture chamber. She knew her condition was noticeable because three of the women asked if she was all right. Despite her annoyance with them, she thanked them and told them she was fine, just getting over a twenty-four-hour virus that had weakened her.

She paid her bill, noticed she wasn’t asked if she wanted to make another appointment, and rushed to her cashmere-beige BMW. She rested her sweaty forehead on the steering wheel for a few minutes and tried to wish away her trembling. She was certain those women at the spa were gossiping about her and concluding she was having a nervous breakdown.
Perhaps I am,
Cass silently accepted the possibility.
I’m certainly feeling and acting crazy these days!
All she wanted to do was lock herself in her bedroom, take a Valium, and go to sleep until she felt better.

Cass took her own advice about the tranquilizer and rest, but they worked only until the next morning.

On Wednesday, Dr. David Hines was called over by Peter during his lunch break. Cass’s stepson had been summoned home by a worried Inez.

Following an examination and blood withdrawal with the housekeeper present, Peter joined them to hear the doctor’s report.

Cass listened to the stocky middle-aged physician as he diagnosed her condition as a major depression, delayed shock, severe exhaustion, and either a panic or anxiety disorder. He prescribed several medications, a well-balanced diet, and ample bed rest. “I really don’t want to take drugs day and night,”
she told Doctor Hines. “Won’t bed rest be sufficient? Or a vacation?” She saw the gray-haired man shake his head.

“If you want to get well, Mrs. Grantham, you’ll have to follow my advice. This isn’t just a simple case of sadness and fatigue we’re talking about; you have physical and emotional problems causing your symptoms. Your blood pressure is elevated, your pulse is rapid, and your heartbeat’s a little irregular. By your own admission, you’re having headaches, dizziness, weakness, flushing, mood swings, low energy, trouble sleeping, and panic attacks. If you go away, you’ll only be taking your medical problems with you, and they’ll get worse. I would suggest hospitalization, if I weren’t sure you would resist going. If you take your medications, remain in bed as much as possible, and let Miss Doughtery take care of you and the house, you’ll be well by…at the latest, mid-April. If you refuse to follow my orders, you can wind up with severe complications that won’t leave you any choice except an extended hospital stay.”

“I feel ridiculous, Doctor Hines. I’m not the first woman to lose her husband, and I’ve never become a nervous wreck in the past when dealing with adversity.”

“People have different ways of dealing with grief, Mrs. Grantham, and it’s obvious your body is telling you something is amiss. If I’m wrong, which I can assure you I’m not, the results of this blood test will tell me.”

“What will you be testing for, Doctor Hines?” she asked, worried that Tom might have given her a sexually transmitted disease, or worse…

“I’ll run a wide-screen check so I won’t miss anything. Sometimes chemicals or hormones run amuck at stressful times like this. I also want to make sure your potassium, glucose, hemoglobin, and iron levels are okay. It wouldn’t hurt for you to take a multi-vitamin and drink extra fruit juice. I want you off of stimulants: no coffee, tea, colas, or chocolate.”

“Listen to him, Cass, and do as he says,” Peter advised. “David Hines is one of the best doctors in town.”

“But he wants me to take a lot of medication, Peter.”

“If you had the flu or some other illness, you’d take medicine. Right?”

“Yes, but this is different,” she protested. “It’s partially emotional and that scares me,” she admitted to Peter. Yet, she didn’t want to get worse, which appeared to be the direction in which she was heading. Even so, she hated for potent drugs to be her salvation.

“You aren’t the first person to need help in that area; Cass. Before you know it, you’ll be your old self again.”

Cass pulled her gaze from Peter to focus it on Hines. “Are you positive this is the only line of treatment for my problem?”

The physician cupped his chin with one hand and tapped his lips with his forefinger as he pretended to think. He knew he had to do as Peter demanded or the younger man could destroy his reputation, career, and life. Besides, he told himself, he wouldn’t be drugging the woman for long and wouldn’t be doing any permanent damage to her, as Peter only wanted her incapacitated for a few weeks, not killed or made into an addict. But what worried him as much as Peter carrying out his blackmail threat was the fact he had to provide extra drugs from samples he received from pharmaceutical companies to go along with store-bought prescriptions, which would tie him more tightly to this illegal deed if it were exposed. He didn’t know how Peter had learned about his sexual practices and preferences because he had guarded that secret well over the years; so had Tom.

Hines took a deep breath and said, “Yes, Mrs. Grantham, this is what you need. If you don’t do as I say, things will only get worse for you. I promise you, none of the drugs I’ve prescribed are addictive in these dosages or for short-term use, if that’s what’s worrying you. Besides, I’m going to keep a close watch on you. I’ll check on you at least once or twice a week. However, I would advise against having other visitors; we don’t want anybody annoying and upsetting you and interfering
with your treatment. In my opinion, you should confine yourself to the house and let Mrs. Doughtery and Peter tell everyone you’re away on a trip. Besides, the medication will relax you to the point you shouldn’t be driving, shopping, or going out alone; and you don’t want people seeing you—shall we say?—not at your best.”

Cass saw him smile as if he thought that statement was amusing, which it wasn’t to her. She didn’t like this creepy man, but he was Peter’s physician and had been Tom’s, and he did have plenty of so-called upper-class people as patients. She wished Dr. Burkman was treating her, but she didn’t want Jason to learn she had a mental disorder or to see her in this awful state. With reluctance, she nodded concurrence.

Hines continued, “You’ll also want to be careful you don’t take a fall while you’re dizzy and weak because that’s how you’ll feel for a while from the medication, and I advise you to take extra caution in the bathtub. Oh, yes, if those detectives come here again, Mrs. Doughtery will refer them to me and I’ll tell them you can’t be harassed because you’re under medical treatment. Besides, that nonsense should be cleared up this week. Just lie around and nap, watch television, read, and let Mrs. Doughtery wait on you. I’ll give her my instructions before I leave; she’ll be in charge of giving you your medicine and keeping a schedule chart. You may be forgetful and might take too much or skip doses.”

“I promise to take good care of you, ma’am,” the housekeeper said.

“We both will,” Peter added.

Cass realized that Hines must have questioned Inez and Peter about mood swings and other strange symptoms. “Thank you,” she told them and forced out a smile for each person.

“Now, before I leave, I want to give you a shot to get the medication into you as quickly as possible. Very soon, Mrs. Grantham, you’ll be fine again.”