Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(67)

Not that she was complaining. The food was all right when she had an appetite, and she noticed the meals had improved since her first week there. Granted, most days she didn’t have much of an appetite, but she made an effort to eat. She was growing used to the way they did things here. It worried her some when she discovered that they locked the doors at night, but her friend George—not her husband, the other George—had told her why. The doors were locked to keep the crooks out. She could believe that. She already knew the world was full of people eager to swindle an elderly widow.

Barring the doors to thieves was fine with Vivian, but it kept someone else out, too—her George. She hadn’t known locked doors were a hindrance to the dead, but apparently they were. He hadn’t come to visit—at least not until today. When she woke from her nap, he’d been there, in her darkened room. Oh, he looked wonderful to her. Vivian had been overcome with joy. It’d been so long since his last visit that she’d nearly given up hope.

She asked why he’d taken all those weeks to find her. He couldn’t answer, but that was all right. None of that mattered when he was with her. For a while they sat and looked at each other in silence. Tears had come to her eyes and although they didn’t speak, Vivian felt his love for her and their children.

Once she’d composed herself, she told him how upset Susannah was, although she still couldn’t recall exactly why. Poor George didn’t know what to think. He’d frowned and shaken his head, and Vivian wished she’d kept it to herself. All too soon he was gone.

Invigorated by the visit, Vivian joined Sally and a couple of other women for dinner. Earlier in the afternoon, they’d also met for tea, which was becoming a regular occurrence, and one she had to admit she enjoyed. Then she’d had her nap, followed of course by dinner. Afterward as she started back to her suite, she felt disappointed that she hadn’t seen her friend George, even though she knew he ate in his room. Vivian was proud of herself. She’d finished her entire salmon cake and small salad, but she didn’t much care for the rice dish. No flavor whatsoever.

Leaning on her cane for balance, Vivian walked past the pool room. Sure enough, her friend was there, using his crutch as a pool cue just as he had the first night she’d met him. George glanced up when he saw her.

“I wondered if you’d swing by,” he said in that gruff way of his.

“Well—here I am.”

George made a dismissive grunt. “What’s put you in such a good mood?”

“My husband visited this afternoon.”

George lowered his crutch to the floor. “Did he now?”

Vivian nodded. “He stayed for a while, too.”

The other man’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t see him.”

That made perfect sense to Vivian. “Of course you didn’t. He only appears to me. He’s dead, you know.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. I don’t suppose he talks much, either.”

“Can’t. He’s dead.”

George rubbed the side of his face, as if testing to see whether he needed a shave or not. “Did he let you know what he wanted?”

The question gave Vivian pause. “I think he was just checking up on me. I was mighty glad to see him, I’ll tell you that.”

“Did you mention that business with your daughter?”

“I tried, but it really bothered him.”

“I thought I saw her here earlier.”

If this conversation was going to take much longer, Vivian would need to sit down. She made her way over to the sofa and slowly sank into the soft cushion. “She was here.”

“She didn’t stay long.”

Vivian frowned, clutching her cane with both hands. “Why not?”

“She didn’t say, but she was here barely five minutes. I saw her when she was walking out the front door.”

Ah, yes, Vivian remembered now. “My friends were visiting and then I lay down to rest.”

“Did you sleep?”

Suddenly Vivian wasn’t sure, but she must have. “Do you know who’s looking after my roses?” she asked.

“Can’t say I do.”

“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll find out when the nurse comes with my pills.”

“That’s a good idea,” George agreed.

Vivian started to get up, then changed her mind. She frowned. “Susannah stopped by like you said, and I think she was upset again.”

“Does your daughter have a problem with anger management?”

Vivian took offense at that. “What a horrible thing to say about my Susannah,” she flared.

“Don’t get huffy. It seems to be a family trait.”

This conversation was declining fast. Vivian tried to get up but found she didn’t have the strength. “Somebody help me,” she called out, ignoring George.

“I’m coming,” George said, limping toward her with the aid of his crutches.

“Not you.” George had insulted Susannah and she wasn’t going to stand for it. Or sit, either.

“Who’s going to help you up if not me?” George asked.

He parked himself directly in front of Vivian, making it impossible for her to escape. “Guard,” she yelled at the top of her lungs.