Chapter 47
It turned out that Mountain View Assisted Living actually did have a mountain view. Emma’s room had one of the prettiest views Beatrice had ever seen from a window. Of course, the fact that it was fall helped. Fall in Cumberland Creek was a colorful, amazing experience. As Emma poured tea, Beatrice looked out the window at the crimsons, golds, reds, and bright, fiery oranges dotting the mountains.
As far as she could tell, her old friend still had her wits about her.
“Why haven’t they given you medicine to deal with the fear of leaving your room?” Beatrice asked.
“I’m allergic,” Emma said. “They’ve yet to find a medicine I don’t react to.”
Beatrice frowned. “That’s too bad. I’d love to have you over to dinner sometime.”
“Not possible,” Emma said with finality. “You don’t mind coming to see me, do you? This place isn’t so bad.” She gestured with her arm at her surroundings.
“Your place is lovely. Do you get many visitors?”
“I do. I have some family around. And several of the residents here come and visit with me.”
“I wanted to ask you about Sheriff Bixby,” Beatrice said and then took a sip of tea. Why not get on with it, she told herself. She didn’t want to upset Emma, but she needed to know.
Emma placed her teacup back in her saucer. It was beautiful, delicate china, the kind that Bea hadn’t seen in years. Pink roses had always brought Emma to mind. Nobody drank tea with beautiful china anymore.
“What about him?” asked Emma.
“Was he really threatening you, dear?”
“Oh, he wants to buy my house and I told him I’m not interested in selling.”
“But, to threaten you? That takes balls.”
“The thing is, the property is worth more than the house. I know that. He’d level the house and build something new. Well, he wouldn’t build it himself. He’d sell it to that damned Kraft family and they’d build more apartments or a Walmart or something. My granddaddy built that house with his own two hands. And I’ll be damned if I give it up.”
“How did he threaten you?” Beatrice persisted.
“He said if I didn’t sell willingly, he’d force me and that he’s not beyond blackmail or coercion. That scared me because my Michelle is still living in the house and I don’t want anything to happen to her. I’m not afraid of him. What can he do to me while I’m in here?” Emma looked out the window, the sunlight reflecting in her blue eyes.
“But he’s an officer of the law,” Beatrice said. “Surely he’d not do anything illegal?”
“Humph. I never liked those Bixbys. Sometimes you give a redneck an education and all you have is an educated redneck. Bone deep, I’d say. I didn’t like it when Chelsea married him. I still don’t like it. But she’s my niece, not my daughter, so what could I say?”
“Not much you can say, even if she was your daughter. Vera married Bill and I never really liked him. Well, that’s not true. A few months in, when he lived with me I kind of liked him. But then, it just didn’t work out between them,” Beatrice said.
All in all, it was a good visit. Beatrice came to find out more about Sheriff Bixby and decided then and there that she’d pay the man a visit and tell him to back off her friend.
Back home, she told Jon what she’d learned and what she planned to do.
“Listen, Beatrice, he’s a police officer. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go storming into his office,” Jon said.
“He’s still a person. How dare he threaten Emma? And, by the way, I wouldn’t storm. I would sashay, of course.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “I know you better than that. And I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail.”
“Okay. I promise I won’t go storming into his office. But if I see him—”
Jon held up his hand in his dramatic French way as if to stop her from finishing the thought. “I do not want to know.”
Bea shrugged. She could live with that. What the man didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.