“Looks are deceiving,” Josephine said. “I’m dying. The doctors did scans, and there are new tumors everywhere.” She stared out at the water. “And please don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sick of hearing that.”
“What should I say instead?” Brooke asked. Since Josephine felt so little empathy for others, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she expected none for herself. Still, her client’s matter-of-fact acceptance of her terminal diagnosis was unsettling.
Josephine turned dark, unblinking eyes toward the younger woman. “Tell me the real reason you decided to work for me. I know a little bit about people. You’re broke, but you’re not desperate, not by a long shot.”
“Maybe it’s the challenge. My colleague who’s worked on these kinds of cases says that fighting a state on condemnation issues is mostly a lost cause. I like the puzzle-solving part of being a lawyer, and lately, there hasn’t been a lot of that in my life.”
Josephine’s thin lips stretched into a ghostly smile. “You think I’m a lost cause?”
“You said it yourself.”
“So you’re a fighter, after all.” Josephine coughed violently, holding a hand to her chest as though trying to soften the racking spasms.
“I found the women you wanted me to look for,” Brooke said abruptly.
“Tell me.”
“Your friend Ruth has a granddaughter who lives out in California. Her name is Lizzie. She’s a freelance magazine writer.”
“Lizzie. She must have been named after Ruth’s daughter, who died when she was a teenager. Did you speak to this Lizzie person? When can she come?”
“I did speak to her, and she said she’ll only come if you pay her way.”
“Hmmph.”
Brooke let it drop, knowing that if she pushed the matter her skinflint client would probably push back and refuse to underwrite Lizzie’s travel expenses.
“Also, Varina and her great-niece Felicia came to see me.”
“They came to you? How extraordinary.”
“Not really. Louette told them how ill you are and mentioned that you’d hired me to help with fending off the state.”
The old woman scowled. “Louette had no business saying anything to that girl about my private business.”
“Felicia brought her great-aunt to town to pick out a headstone for her great-uncle. Louette’s a cousin. Saved me the trouble of tracking her down. If it means anything, Varina wants to come see you.”
“Because of the money. That Felicia is all about the money.”
“You’re the one who wants to see her old friend. Who, by the way, is in her nineties and suffering from diabetes herself, but whose first concern is praying for your health.”
“Preacher’s kid,” Josephine said dismissively.
Brooke threw up both hands in mock surrender. “I give up. Do you like anybody? Trust anybody? You asked me to find these women. I found them, and now you’re looking for reasons to turn them away.”
“Just being realistic,” Josephine said. “Did you talk to your mother? Tell her I’m dying?”
“Yes. She’s actually at my house right now, helping with Henry.”
“And what did she say? When you told her about my intentions?”
“She doesn’t understand why you feel so strongly about leaving the island to her and the others.” Brooke paused. “You didn’t even go to my grandmother’s funeral. You didn’t so much as send a card.”
Josephine looked away. “Things changed. I’ve changed. Did she say she’d come?”
“She’ll come.”
21
