Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [17]
“Good for him,” Rayburn said with what sounded like a chuckle.
“How can you say that?” Bernice cried. “It’s obvious that this woman must be completely unacceptable.”
“Now, Mother…”
“Why wouldn’t Charles tell us about her?”
“I don’t know, but I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I’m not! I just know something’s wrong. Perhaps she tricked her way into his home, killed him and—”
“You’ve been watching too many crime shows,” Rayburn chastised.
“Perhaps I have, but I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of this.”
“Fine.” Her oldest son apparently grasped how serious she was, because he asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Oh, Rayburn,” she said with a sob, dabbing her nose with a delicate hankie. “I don’t know how I’d manage without my sons to look out for me.”
“Mother…”
“Take the train to Boston and investigate this situation. Report back to me ASAP.”
“I can phone him and handle this in five minutes.”
“No.” She was insistent. “I want you to check it out with your own eyes. God only knows what your brother’s gotten himself into with this woman. I just know whoever it is must be taking advantage of Charles.”
“Mother. This is Christmas week and—”
“I know what time of year it is, Rayburn, and I realize you have a life of your own. A life that’s much too busy to include your mother. But I’ll tell you right now that I won’t sleep a wink until I hear what’s happened to Charles.”
There was a pause.
“All right,” Rayburn muttered. “I’ll take the train to Boston and check up on Charles.”
“Thank God.” She could breathe easier now.
SEVEN
The Boeing 767 bounced against the tarmac and jarred Faith Kerrigan awake. She bolted upright and realized that she’d just landed in Seattle. She glanced at her watch; it was just after seven. She’d had less than four hours’ sleep the entire night.
She’d survive. Any discomfort would be well worth the look of joy and surprise on Emily’s face when Faith arrived and announced she’d be joining her friend for Christmas.
Remembering that was a better wake-up than a triple-shot espresso. Although the flight—which was completely full—had left the Bay area at 5:00 a.m., Faith had been up since two. Her lone suitcase was packed to the bursting point and she’d stuffed her carry-on until the zipper threatened to pop. After filing off the plane and collecting her suitcase, she dragged everything to the car rental agency. Thankfully, an attendant was available despite the early hour.
Faith stepped up to the counter and managed a smile. “Hi.”
“Happy holidays,” the young woman greeted her. The name tag pinned to her blouse identified her as Theresa.
With her confirmation number in hand, Faith leaned against the counter and asked, “Will you need my credit card?” She couldn’t remember if she’d given the number to her travel agent earlier.
Theresa nodded and slid over a sheaf of papers to fill out. Faith dug in the bottom of her purse for her favorite pen.
The girl on the other side of the counter reminded her of Heather, and she wondered briefly if Theresa was a college student deprived of spending Christmas with her family be cause of her job.
The phone pealed; Theresa answered immediately. After announcing the name of the agency, followed by “Theresa speaking,” she went silent. Her eyes widened as she listened to whoever was on the other end. Then, for some inexplicable reason, the young woman’s gaze landed on her.
“That’s terrible,” Theresa murmured, steadily eyeing Faith.
Faith shifted her feet uncomfortably and waited.
“No…she’s here now. I don’t know what to tell you. Sure, I can ask, but…yes. Okay. Let me put you on hold.”
Faith shifted her weight to the other foot. This sounded ominous.
Theresa held the telephone receiver against her shoulder. “There’s been a problem,” she said. Her dark eyes held a pleading look.
“What kind of problem?”
The young woman sighed. “Earlier we rented a van exactly like yours to a group of actors and, unfortunately, theirs broke down. Even more unfortunate, we don’t have