Wink of an Eye by Lynn Chandler Willis Page B

cry?”
    â€œNot just any teenage boy—my big brother. Nobody ever made you cry. You didn’t even cry when Daddy left.”
    â€œYou were ten years old. What do you remember about it?”
    â€œI remember you didn’t cry. You said the hell with him. We’d be just fine.”
    Guess she didn’t hear me cry myself to sleep that night. Or the night after that. Or the night after that. Finally, I forced my thoughts back to Claire. “Do me a favor and get over it already. I mean, she’s not going to make me cry again, okay? I promise. I won’t let her.” All these years I thought Rhonda had just been jealous of the pampered princess.
    â€œGood. Because I’d hate to have to kill her.” She punched me on the arm. She then smiled and stood up. “You need to get up and get going.”
    â€œGoing where?”
    She jammed her hands on her hips. “Doing whatever private investigators do. You told Tatum you’d start today.”

 
    CHAPTER 7
    Well, that would certainly teach me to never down another bottle of Jim Beam. I showered, then stumbled into the kitchen, where Rhonda had a fresh pot of coffee waiting. “So, when did I agree to this?” I fixed myself a cup of coffee, straight black, and carried it over to the table.
    Rhonda was prepping mystery meat for the Crock-Pot. Bless her heart. “Somewhere near the end of the bottle.”
    â€œWhat exactly did I agree to? Did we talk fees or anything?” I did, after all, have to make a living.
    Rhonda turned around and stared at me. Her hands were covered with a variety of spices. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
    I remembered mouthwatering ribs and said a quick prayer I hadn’t agreed to take this case for food.
    â€œYou told them you’d do it pro bono; I mean, considering the insurance angle and all.”
    I stared at her. “What insurance angle?”
    She sighed, turned back to the sink, and washed her hands, then sat down at the table with me. “As long as Ryce’s death is declared a suicide, his life insurance won’t pay a dime. Tatum will be able to collect survivors benefits, but … the house, Tatum’s medical insurance, all of that still has to be paid.”
    â€œRyce didn’t have mortgage disability insurance?”
    She shook her head. “Everything was tied into his life insurance. Tatum’s his beneficiary, but it doesn’t pay in the event of suicide. The mortgage was in Ryce’s name and Burke, in his condition, can’t qualify for a loan to assume it.”
    I took a long drink of coffee. “His condition shouldn’t have anything to do with qualifying for a loan. That would be discriminatory.”
    â€œNot his physical condition … he can’t afford it. For what the house and the land would appraise for now, he’d have to put nearly half down to get the payments low enough so they wouldn’t have to struggle.”
    I scratched at my head, remembering the conversation Burke and I had at the diner. “Burke told me at Dunbar’s whatever my fee was, he’d pay it. He said they weren’t oil barons, but they weren’t hurting, either.”
    â€œHe’s a proud man, Gypsy. He only told me because he asked me to help him find an affordable medical plan for Tatum.”
    â€œDoes Tatum know all this?”
    She shook her head. “To Tatum, it’s all about restoring his dad’s honor. Burke hasn’t told him they may have to move. It’s the only home Tatum’s ever known. He was born there.”
    I finished my coffee, got up and poured another cup, then returned to the table. “Maybe moving wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Every time he looks out that kitchen window, I can only imagine what he sees.”
    She stared at me a moment then sighed heavily. “Gypsy—I’m not telling you how to run your business, but can’t you