Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [26]
“Not until you tell us what you’re so afraid of, Mrs. Steinhart.” Heather’s voice was insistent.
“Afraid? I’m not afraid. I’m mad as hell!”
“Why?” Lex asked gently.
“Because I have a daughter who doesn’t just see things in the future but makes them happen. Now you take that any way you want to, and do with it anything you want to do. I don’t care. It’s your mall, your responsibility. Not mine!” Sylvia was shaking, her teeth chattering violently.
“Mrs. Steinhart, are you saying that what Angela fears for Timberwoods might come true? Or are you saying that she could be capable of blowing up the mall?”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say. Look at this chaos, this—this destruction! Is that the work of a sane person? Get out, get out!”
Heather and Lex quickly exited the room, heading for the front door. Behind them they could hear Sylvia Steinhart’s wails.
Sylvia collapsed against the soft padded chair, trembling from head to toe. The grave implications of what the man had said finally penetrated her numb mind.
The phone rang and it was all she could do to make her legs obey her. Clutching the receiver, she gasped, “Murray, is that you? Listen to me, you have to come home. Get to Heathrow and get the next flight to the US. Charter a damn jet if you have to. It’s about Angela. I know you just got there! I don’t care! Come home!”
“For God’s sake, what is it this time?” Murray asked impatiently. “I told you before I left that I’m closing a multimillion-dollar deal. Why can’t you handle whatever it is? If you’d stay home once in a while and talk to Angela, maybe she wouldn’t get into so much trouble. Take a drink and calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to take a drink. I’ve already had too much scotch, and the problem isn’t going away.”
“Then sleep it off. You’re probably drunk,” Murray answered shortly.
“Damn it, Murray, I’m not drunk. Listen to me. First of all, Angela’s flooded the whole damn house. Everything is ruined. And when I say ruined, I mean ruined, Murray. Floors, ceilings, carpets, wiring, the whole bit. We’re going to have to move out. And that’s just the first thing. When I came home to inspect the damage, there were two people from Timberwoods Mall here. They wanted to talk about Angela.”
Her husband was silent, as if he was waiting to hear the worst.
“This Mr. Lassiter said Angela went to the mall offices yesterday, acting strange. Finally she told them she’d had a vision of the whole place being blown up. Apparently she filled them in on some of the details of her mental health history. Wasn’t that helpful of her?” She continued slowly and distinctly. “They said they believed her!”
“Where’s Angela now?”
“How in the hell do I know where she is? She’s like a phantom—she comes and she goes. After she’d ruined the house, she left. What do you want from me, Murray?”
His answering silence infuriated her, and Sylvia’s voice rose to a near shriek. “She’s your daughter, Murray! My family is normal. She gets this—this craziness from your side. I think she’s actually planning on blowing up the mall! I told you she should have been put away. It would have been for her own good. But oh no, you said she needed a little freedom and time to try her wings. Well, your fledgling has turned into a hawk, and it’s all your fault!”
“If we’re going to start laying blame, let’s put it right where it belongs—on your doorstep. If you had listened to me years ago, this wouldn’t be happening now. All you were concerned about was the social stigma and Angela’s appearance. Now you can see where all your conniving has got you. The whole world is going to know about your daughter now, not just a few psychiatrists—”
“Come home!” Sylvia made the demand full blast.
“Yes, yes—sometime tomorrow—tonight, if I can get a flight. And for God’s sake, keep your mouth shut till I get there!”
The call clicked off in her ear and Sylvia stared at the silent receiver. She slowly replaced it and quickly poured herself a brimming glass of scotch. The whole world would know