Lie, Lie Again - Stacy Wise Page 0,28

with him? As she had waited at the urgent care, worst-case scenarios raced through her mind. Car accident? Hit by a bus in the crosswalk? Or something even more tragic?

Even though there were signs posted all over the urgent care waiting room prohibiting phone use, she had ignored them. If anything was urgent, it was finding Hugh. She had called all three of the area hospitals, and no Hugh Martin had checked in to any of them.

As she had waited in that horribly sterile place that reeked of antiseptic and bleach, she realized she knew nothing about Hugh except his name and address. That and the type of car he drove. When she’d asked to friend him on Facebook, he’d laughed and said he was a dinosaur. “I don’t do social media. I’m happily existing in the Dark Ages. Don’t wake me from the dream.”

How delighted she’d been with his quirks. “You make a good point. Social media sucks.” And that had been the end of it. She should’ve asked more questions.

None of this would’ve seemed strange if that drippy little man hadn’t insinuated that Hugh was some kind of squatter. He was a wealthy man, for God’s sake.

Leaning forward, she popped the cap off the Tylenol bottle and took two more. It’d been a good five hours since she’d taken it last—plenty of time to warrant another dose. She certainly didn’t want to OD and have to go back to a medical facility. Dreadful places. Being at one hadn’t helped her peace of mind. She pulled a throw blanket across her lap. Riki had been right, though. The urgent care was much easier than the ER.

How strange that she had brought books with her, as though Sylvia were a child. Maybe it was because she was a teacher, and that was how she dealt with emergency situations. She could picture Riki scooping up an injured child from the playground. Come along, honey, she’d say. Let’s go get you a nice book to read, and we can put a nice ice pack on your head. Nice, nice, nice. That seemed to be her favorite word. She was an odd one, that Riki. Embry and Brandon were from the south, so their gooey sweetness was easy to understand. But Riki? It was like she was from another universe, as if Mary Poppins herself had raised her. Or more likely, nice parents. Though Jonathan had had a wonderful mother, and he was a dick.

Sylvia grimaced as she thought of the sadness that had always flooded Nadine’s eyes when she spoke of Jonathan. It had been quite a surprise that Sylvia had befriended a woman older than her own mother. Nadine had invited her in for a cup of coffee and homemade cookies when she’d turned in her rental application. “I like to get to know prospective tenants. There’s only so much a credit report shows me,” she’d said, her eyes bright.

Sylvia’s radar had gone up, and she’d nearly left. The thought of having coffee and cookies with an old woman who smelled of cupcakes wasn’t on her agenda. But Nadine’s warm smile and I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer aura had lured her to the table. She was curious about this woman who seemed so at ease with herself. The coffee was strong and the cookies were sweet, and as it turned out, not unlike Nadine herself.

Tightening her gaze on Sylvia, Nadine had said, “I like you. And one of the great things about having this old place paid for is that I can charge whatever I want for rent. I don’t need much. I’d rather find tenants whose company I like than those who can pay me a hefty check every month.” She’d tapped the table with a finger. “My son heartily disagrees, but I’m the one living here.” She’d met Sylvia’s eyes. “If you can promise to help me carry the odd package of bottled waters up the stairs, maybe join me for a cup of coffee now and again, I’ll let you tell me how much rent you’re comfortable paying.”

The offer had been too good to pass up, so she’d said yes on the spot. Oh, Sylvia had assumed she’d help with groceries every time Nadine asked, but she’d planned to avoid the coffees and chats. She wasn’t one for scheduled commitments.

But week after week, she’d found herself looking forward to her visits with Nadine in a way that was entirely foreign to her. The woman was sharp as a tack. Funny too. They’d