Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
Bettina crossed her arms over her chest. “I have nothing to say about that woman. She destroyed my brother’s life. He was obsessed with her from a very young age, and she did everything she could to string him along, right up until his death.” She glared at me. “Yes, I know all about her dying in his bed, the old...bitch. You won’t get that story from me. My secretary will show you out, and I trust I can count on your discretion. This is a waste of your time and mine.” She started to rise, nodding at Rick and turning to me.
I leaned forward. “Miss Hughes, I am so sorry we’ve upset you. If you have anything of your brother’s, or could share any memory that might tell me more about Violet’s life, I’d be very grateful. You see, I’m writing a book about her.”
“Why would you do that?” Bettina said. “She was about as interesting as a bathtub ring.”
I detected, for the first time, a trace of CeeCee’s erased Alabama accent. She picked up a pen and flipped it over and over on the desk between her thumb and index finger, staring at it.
Rick put his hand atop mine and pressed down. He offered Bettina his knee-melting smile and said, “Of course she was nothing like you, Bettina. You’re one of the most beautiful and successful women in the world, and all of America loves you. Ronni became very attached to poor old Violet when she took care of her in the nursing home, that’s all. She likes writing about her patients and the lives they led.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at Rick’s “poor old Violet.”
“You’re a nurse?” Bettina smiled, but coated the word to drip with condescension.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve worked in a nursing home for years. I love my patients.”
Rick sought Bettina’s eyes and announced, “We didn’t mean to trouble you, Bettina. I am sure you’ve forgotten about most of this. It was long ago.” He waited until she softened in the chair under his gaze. “We are sorry to take up your valuable time.” He held out a business card. “Please let us know if there’s anything you can remember to tell us about Chet.”
My mouth hung open. Was he really giving up this easily?
“It’s not that I’ve forgotten anything, Mr. O’Shea. I remember it all in perfect detail. I am a reporter at heart, you know.” Bettina looked indignant at the suggestion her recall might be questioned. “Tell me, though, why I would help you write a book associating me with a past I’ve carefully hidden for my entire career?”