Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [25]
“Mr. Lassiter, is it? I really don’t have the time to speak with you right now. I’m expecting an international call any second.” Sylvia’s tone was frigid.
“That’s why we need to speak with you immediately. After we’ve finished, you can discuss the issue with your husband.”
“What has my daughter done now?” Sylvia asked in a bored voice. “Whatever it is, can’t you just send me the bill? I’ll have my husband take care of it immediately, I assure you. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Mrs. Steinhart, your daughter hasn’t done anything that would cost you money. But yesterday she came to the mall offices—she seemed very distraught—and spoke with Ms. Andrews here. She wasn’t that clear, but we finally got the whole story just a little while ago. She said she’d had a vision that the Timberwoods Shopping Mall was going to explode and collapse during the height of the Christmas season. Now do you see why we need to talk with you?”
Sylvia Steinhart paled and grasped the edge of the desk. Heather noted her white, clenched knuckles and the too-dark blush standing out sharply on her high cheekbones. She’s afraid, she thought. No, she’s petrified. She knows it’s true.
Controlling herself with an effort, Sylvia wet her lips before speaking. “And . . . you . . . you believe her? Listen, you two, Angela has been doing this for years. She’ll go to any lengths to get attention. She and I had a slight argu—I mean, discussion yesterday, and this is Angela’s way of getting back at me. It doesn’t mean a thing. Really, it doesn’t.” Her eyes were bright and staring.
Heather Andrews spoke up. “Your daughter opened up to me, Mrs. Steinhart. She told me she’s been having these visions for quite a while. But this one seems to be extremely detailed.”
“I believe her, Mrs. Steinhart,” Felex added. “And Miss Andrews believes her, too. Look, it was obvious that Angela was upset and wanted help. Someone to listen to her. Even if it is a bid for attention, as she says you seem to think, we have to check it out. You must understand our position. Do you have any idea how many people shop in the mall during Christmas week? Angela said it would be a series of explosions. She described things no one could possibly know.”
“Of course. She had a temporary job with you,” Sylvia said, adding in a contemptuous voice, “She designed those skating mice and some other things, didn’t she? I haven’t seen them. I don’t have time.”
“Yes, she did freelance for us,” Heather said, struggling for patience.
“Angela . . . has . . . this gift of a fertile imagination,” Sylvia said, waving a hand in dismissal. “She can make people believe what she says she saw by describing it so vividly. She has these . . . these nervous fits. In my opinion, they don’t mean anything. You must not take her seriously. That’s what she wants, to make people jump to her command.”
“Mrs. Steinhart, I don’t buy what you’re saying. I listened, really listened to Angela in this room not more than half an hour ago. Nothing she had to say struck me as a product of her imagination or a ‘nervous fit,’ as you put it.”
“Don’t you see that you’re playing her game?” Sylvia retorted. “She’s in control. She always wants to be the center of attention!”
“Mrs. Steinhart, please . . .”
“I don’t want to discuss it any further. If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to call the police.”
“Mrs. Steinhart, Angela told Heather about a psychiatrist she had been seeing.”
Heather didn’t think it was possible for the woman to pale still further, but she did, her face turning chalky as she moistened her lips. She swayed, and Lex rushed to put an arm around her.
“Sit down, please—Mrs. Steinhart, you don’t look well. Heather, could you get her a drink? Just plain water, if there is any.”
Heather shook her head, glancing meaningfully at the well-stocked bar.
Sylvia picked up on the look they exchanged and her composed face became a mask of rage. “Get out of my house!