Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [52]
“Life is lookin’ good, Rosie. Real good!”
Dressed in a woolly robe, her feet tucked under her, Rosie at her side, Annie stared into the flames as she waited for the eleven o’clock news. She was breathing hard and felt jittery. She knew Tom and Elmo were also glued to the television screen.
The segment was so short, Annie felt cheated. A few seconds of the bank president saying how delighted he was that half the money had come back. Then a short clip of Peter Newman taking credit for putting the fear of God into people his insurance company felt were suspects. His bulldog countenance intensified when the reporter asked him to comment on the fact that interest was paid on the money. He offered a curt “no comment.”
Just as Annie was about to turn off the television, a clip came on of an interview with the young man sitting in jail for the crime. He looked more fierce than Peter Newman. She found herself starting to shake when she heard the man say he had his own suspicions and would follow them up when he was released. He also said he had cooperated fully and-completely with Peter Newman the insurance investigator. “This is not over,” he said belligerently. Annie turned off the set and threw the remote control clear across the room. She was still shaking when Rosie wiggled and squirmed until she was half on her lap and half off. Annie hugged her tightly. She should have returned all the money. Why in the name of God was she keeping it?
“It is so over. I gave half of it back. It’s done.”
Rosie growled deep in her throat.
“Yeah, girl, that’s how I feel.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eleven years later
Annie hated hospitals. She hated the crisp white uniforms worn by everyone, hated the antiseptic smell that made her want to gag. Worst of all was the knowledge that people died in hospitals. She thought about the endless hours she’d spent in the hospital when her father was so sick and the five-minute rush down the hall just three short months ago when her mother was rushed to the emergency room only to die a few minutes later. Now it was Tom in the hospital. People recovered from ruptured appendices. People didn’t die from a little gut incision. Tom was too young. Tom had three kids who loved him with all their hearts. Surely God would be kind and compassionate. What would she do without Tom? The kids and Tom were all that was left to her family.
“I know you’re out there, so you might as well come in,” Tom called hoarsely.
“How’d you know I was out here?” Annie asked.
“I smelled your perfume.”
“I got here as soon as I could. How are you, Tom?”
“My throat is sore from the tube they had down it. My gut hurts. The good news is I’m going to live to walk out of here. For God’s sake wipe that awful look off your face, Annie.”
“I’m sorry. I was... You know, remembering.”
“Yeah, I know. I was thinking the same thing myself when I came in. I’m going to be all right, Annie. How’s things going?”
“Believe it or not, things are running smoothly. You said you needed to talk to me about something important. Are you up to talking about it now?”
“Mandy brought my briefcase last night. Open it up and spread it out.”
“Tom, you are a pack rat. What is all this stuff?”
“Look, kiddo, we have to make some decisions. Time has just galloped by. You opened your first shop in 1980. It’s now 1993, thirteen years later. You own eighty-four Daisy Shops. It’s time to discuss the franchising of those shops. Every single one of them is profitable to the point of being obscene. You’re a multimillionaire. So am I, thanks to your generosity. My kids’ futures are secure, again thanks to you. You have one of those old mansions on the battery filled with priceless antiques, you drive a pricey sports car, you set up a trust fund