Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [195]
Lily turned a bit pale. “But why would any of them want to see me again?”
Sherlock took the tray off her lap and said matter-of-factly, “Because their pigeon is bent on flying out of the coop. You survived the attack on the city bus this morning. No more attacks since Dillon and I have been with you. Nope, now they’ve got to visit you and try to convince you that Tennyson can’t live without you.”
“A final shot,” Lily said.
“Yes, that’s right,” Sherlock said.
Savich smiled. “Only thing is, they also know that their little pigeon has two big crows guarding her. We’ll see exactly what tack they take. Ah, look at that dessert Sherlock was hiding from us. Chocolate mousse, one of my favorites.”
Tennyson and his mother showed up an hour later, at precisely eight o’clock.
Charlotte Frasier had come to the hospital only once, stood by Lily’s bed, and told her at least three times that she desperately needed to see dear Dr. Rossetti, a fine doctor, an excellent man who would help her. She was so worried about her dear Lily, everyone was. No one wanted her to try to kill herself again. To which Lily had simply stared at her, not a single word coming to mind after that outrageous speech. This evening, she was beautifully dressed in a dark wine-colored wool suit, a pale pink silk blouse beneath. Her thick black hair, not a hint of white, was cut short and tousled in loose curls and waves around her face. It was a very young style, but it didn’t look ridiculous at all. Her teeth were white and straight, her lipstick bloodred. Charlotte looked good; she always had.
As for Tennyson, he paid no attention to either Savich or Sherlock, just marched directly to Lily’s bed, grabbed her hand, and held on tightly.
“Come home with me, Lily. I need you.”
“Hello, Tennyson. Hello, Charlotte. What more could we possibly have to say to each other? Dillon thought you would come by this evening, but I have to admit I’m very surprised.” Lily finally got her hand back and asked, “Oh yes, where is your father? Isn’t he well?”
Savich said easily, “Maybe they don’t think they need him. They’re hopeful they can talk you around by themselves.”
Lily said to her husband, “You can’t.”
Charlotte said in her rich-as-sin Savannah-smooth voice, “Elcott wanted to come tonight, but he had a slight indigestion. Now, listen to me for a moment, Lily. My son loves you very much. Since he’s a man, it’s difficult for him to speak from his heart—that’s a woman sort of thing to do, so I am telling you for him that he really does need you.”
“Actually, Charlotte, Tennyson can speak very eloquently. However, I don’t think his heart has anything to do with it. No, Charlotte, what Tennyson really needs is my Sarah Elliott paintings.”
“That’s not true.” Tennyson whirled about to face Savich. “You have filled her head with suspicions, doubts, with lies about me and my family and my motives. I don’t have any ulterior motives! I love my wife, do you hear me? Yes, that is from my bruised and bleeding heart! I wouldn’t do anything to harm her. She’s precious to me. Why don’t you and your wife go back to Washington and fight criminals, you know, people who have really done bad things, not innocent people you’ve taken a dislike to. That’s what you’re paid to do, not rip apart a loving family! Leave us alone!”
“That was a very impassioned speech,” Sherlock said, smiling and nodding in approval. She knew from the furious pulse pounding in Tennyson’s neck that he would cheerfully murder her.
Charlotte’s voice was still as silky and soft as gently flowing honey. “Now, now, my dears, all of you need to calm down. Lily dearest, you’re a grown woman. My Tennyson is as protective of his own younger sister as your brother is of you. But your brother and his wife have gone over the line. They dislike my son, for whatever reasons I’m sure I can’t say. But there can simply be no proof to any of their accusations, not a shred. Mad accusations, all of them. Lily, how could you possibly believe