"That's not necessary."
"But Ben loves shopping," Jesse drawled. "Take him, Willa. Please?"
Willa looked down at her salad. So far, she'd only managed to push it around on her plate. "I suppose. If you're sure you want to," she said, looking at Ben.
"Like my brother said, I enjoy shopping," he said, his smile tight. Willa saw him dart a killer glare at Jesse, though. Which meant that neither of them thought she was capable of buying a dress by herself. Sam didn't even look up from his lunch to offer an opinion.
"Unless, of course, you'd like to go, Sam," Ben said.
"I've got phone calls to make," Sam said, finally looking up. "No, you go with Willa. Have a good time."
All three men were putting up a valiant front, but Willa guessed none of them would relax until their grandfather was home, until they actually saw him again, even though he'd be lying in a casket.
"It's really weird, not having to cook for myself," she said conversationally, taking a bite of her salad.
"You get used to it," Jesse offered with a smile.
Willa smiled back. "You've all grown up rather spoiled, haven't you?" she said, hoping to get a reaction. She got three dangerous glowers.
"Spoiled! Because we have a cook?" Ben asked.
Willa waved her fork in the air. "A cook, a mansion, money coming out of your ears. Women hanging on your arms, a chauffeur to drive you places, a helicopter, probably a jet, a Sengatti sloop, a grandfather who loved you to distraction. Shall I go on?"
"Please do, Ms.Kent ," Sam said. "And while you're at it, tell us how deprived your life has been."
"My life has been just great, Mr. Sinclair," she shot back. "I'm not complaining. I'm just making an observation."
"We have no say in how we enter this world," Sam countered. "Your words, if I remember correctly. Bram certainly didn't have any say about the poverty he was born into. His choice was how he lived each day." Sam pointed his fork at her, his eyes narrowed. "And our grandparents made sure we weren't spoiled. We work just as hard as the next man. And we take nothing for granted."
"Whew! I can see you got the sense of humor in the family." Willa put some salad in her mouth, chewing it quietly while she watched Sam Sinclair redden with either anger or chagrin, she didn't know which.
"Tell us why you own a casket-manufacturing business," Ben interjected. "How did you get started?"
"I used to work at Grand Point Bluff, a retirement community in Keelstone Cove, where I live. I was the director of entertainment. It was my job to plan all the social activities."
"And you started making coffins during craft hour?" Jesse asked dryly.
"No. This wasn't a nursing home; most of the tenants were still quite active. I set up a woodworking shop in one of the outbuildings." Willa smiled in memory. "Tools began appearing. The men dug them out of the boxes they'd brought from their old homes. They hadn't been able to part with them."
"And … " Ben put his fork down to lean his elbows on the table.
"And one man, Levi, began to build a coffin for his wife. She had cancer and only had a couple of months to live. It was therapy for Levi. He was a master carpenter, and he built a beautiful casket-gorgeously detailed, finer than any furniture I've seen. His wife, Muriel, took a quilt she'd made and fashioned it into a lining for the casket."
Willa stared at her plate. "I was appalled, at first-until I realized that it was comforting for both of them. Muriel knew she'd be resting eternally in a gift her husband had built with loving hands. And Levi felt more at peace because he was seeing to his wife's final comfort, just as he'd done for her all his life."
Silence echoed through the large dining room as Willa looked up at the men, who were staring at her with unblinking, unreadable eyes.
"I decided I wanted to do that for people," she continued softly. "I took some of the money from my divorce settlement, found a silent partner for the rest, and bought an old factory. The residents of the retirement community became my employees. They'd all watched Levi, and they all wanted to do something just as nice. Older people have a wonderful attitude about death and about life in general. And they're really great employees. They've taught me a lot about running a business."
"And you say your caskets go all over the world?" Jesse asked. "That's rather impressive growth for what is basically a cottage industry."
"Yes." Willa gave him a Cheshire cat smile. "There are several retired executives living at Grand Point Bluff as well. I hired them, too."
"That was damn smart of you." Jesse leaned back in his seat and looked over at Sam. "A very intelligent business move, wouldn't you say, Sam?"
"That's what I've been saying all along." Sam gazed at Willa with that look again. The one he'd given her in the car that had made her bolt.
"Can we go shopping now?" she asked Ben, standing up.
Chapter Five
Willa munched the lastbite of toast Peg had made her for breakfast as she headed for the parlor to help the staff prepare for Abram's wake. When she reached the end of the hall leading from the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks. "Richard!" she exclaimed, taking a step back. "What are you doing here?"
Her brother-in-law stood in the foyer, glowering at her. "Somebody had to drive the old bastard home,"
he said. "And your sister volunteered me for the job."
"That was thoughtful ofShelby . And you," she quickly tacked on, stepping to the side of the hall when he started toward her. "Um … you'll probably want to start back right away, just as soon as you get yourself some coffee," she said, motioning back down the hall. "Peg will fix you up in the kitchen."
He stopped in front of her. "You've been talking toShelby again," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes cold and accusing. "Trying to persuade her to divorce me."
Willa pressed up against the wall. "What makes you think it's me? MaybeShelby reached that conclusion by herself."
He snorted and stepped closer. "Women don't just suddenly start talking divorce after sixteen years of marriage unless somebody puts the idea in their heads. And you," he growled, grabbing her by the shoulders when she tried to sidestep away, "are the only person with that kind of influence overShelby ."
Willa became alarmed. Richard Bates wasn't merely being his contrary self; he was honestly, truly angry. She ducked under his arm and ran toward the parlor-directly into a hall table holding several vases of flowers.
She managed to stop one of the vases from falling, but the two on the far end toppled over, glass shattering onto the marble floor. Richard lunged after her, grabbing her when she slipped, causing her arms to jerk upward. The vase she was holding broke on impact with Richard's head. She screamed, Richard shouted a succinct curse and let her go, and she fell to the floor with a thud. With a sudden blur of motion, things went from bad to worse. A roar came from the direction of the stairs, and she was suddenly picked up and tossed against a rock-solid chest.
"Did you get cut?" Ben asked, carrying Willa away.
"I don't think so," she said, looking over his shoulder when she heard another roar. That one had come from Richard as Sam's fist made contact with her brother-in-law's gut. Willa wriggled to get free, but Ben merely continued to carry her away.
"We have to stop them!" she cried, squirming violently enough that Ben lost his grip, allowing her to stand. But it didn't stop him from dragging her into the parlor, out of sight of the battle she could hear raging in the foyer. "Why is Sam beating him up?"
Ben pulled her over to one of the windows. "He's got this thing about seeing a guest being attacked."
"But Richard was-"
"Hold still," he growled. "I want to make sure you didn't get cut on the broken glass."
The sound of splintering wood came from the foyer, along with the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the wall. Willa flinched, and Ben chuckled as he lifted her wrists to see her hands.