of the wheel, as he’d unconsciously assumed. Instead, he realized, everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Hampton seemed to revolve around Keith Clayton.
Clayton, after all, had been the first person he’d met in town. He’d taken Clayton’s camera. Clayton and Elizabeth had been married. Clayton was Ben’s father. Clayton had sabotaged Elizabeth’s relationships. Clayton had seen them spending an evening together on the night he’d brought Ben home with the black eye; in other words, he’d been the first to know about them. Clayton had broken into his house. Clayton—not Elizabeth—was the reason he’d come to Hampton.
In the distance, thunder sounded, low and ominous. There was a storm on the way, and the heaviness in the air portended a big one.
Aside from what Elizabeth had told him about Clayton, he realized he knew very little about Elizabeth’s former husband. As the first drops began to fall, Thibault went back inside. Later, he would visit the library. He had a little research ahead of him if he hoped to get a better feel for Hampton and the role the Claytons played in it.
20
Beth
Doesn’t surprise me,” Nana snorted. “I wouldn’t put anything past your late husband.”
“He’s not dead, Nana.”
Nana sighed. “Hope springs eternal.”
Beth took a sip of her coffee. It was Sunday, and they had just returned from church. For the first time since Nana’s stroke, Nana had had a small solo in one of the musical numbers, and Beth hadn’t wanted her to be distracted. She knew how much the choir meant to her.
“You’re not helping me,” Beth said.
“What’s to help?”
“I was just saying . . .”
Nana leaned across the table. “I know what you’re saying. You’ve already told me, remember? And if you’re asking whether I think Keith actually broke into Thibault’s house, I’m simply saying that it wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve never liked that man.”
“Gee, really?”
“There’s no reason to get fresh about it.”
“I’m not getting fresh.”
Nana didn’t seem to hear her. “You look tired. Do you want more coffee? Or how about some cinnamon toast?”
Beth shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Even so, you still have to eat. It’s not healthy to skip meals, and I know you’ve already skipped breakfast.” She got up from the table. “I’m making toast.”
Beth knew there was no point in arguing. Once Nana made up her mind about something, there was no way to dissuade her.
“What about the other part? About whether Keith had something to do with . . .” She trailed off.
Nana shrugged as she put two pieces of bread in the toaster. “About running other men off? Nothing that man did would surprise me. And it kind of explains things, doesn’t it?”
“But it doesn’t make sense. I can name at least half a dozen women he’s gone out with, and it’s not like he’s even hinted that he wants to get back together. Why would he care whether or not I date?”
“Because he’s no better than a spoiled child,” Nana declared. She put a couple of dabs of butter into a saucepan and turned on the burner. A small blue flame whooshedto life. “You were his toy, and even though he’s got new toys, it doesn’t mean he wants anyone to play with his old toys.”
Beth shifted in her seat. “I’m not sure I like that analogy.”
“It doesn’t matter if you like it. All that matters is whether it’s true.”
“And you think it is?”
“That’s not what I said. What I said was that it wouldn’t surprise me. And don’t tell me you’re surprised, either. I’ve seen the way he still looks you up and down. It gives me the willies, and it’s all I can do to keep from clobbering him with the pooper-scooper.”
Beth smiled, but it lasted only an instant. When the toast popped up, Nana grabbed the pieces and put them on a plate. She dribbled melted butter over the top, then added sugar and cinnamon. She brought over the plate and set it in front of Beth.
“Here. Eat something. You’re skeletal these days.”
“I weigh the same as I always have.”
“Which isn’t enough. It’s never been enough. If you’re not careful, you’ll blow away in the storm.” She nodded toward the window as she took her seat again. “It’s going to be a big one. Which is good. We need the rain. I hope we don’t have any howlers in the kennel.”
Howlers were dogs that were afraid of storms, and they made life miserable for the other dogs. Beth recognized the conversation’s shift as an opportunity to