Asking For Trouble. Millie Criswell

do you mean, the kindest way?” he asked. “You’d better explain what you mean,” he said, staring at them intently and watching as the two sisters squirmed restlessly in their seats. It didn’t look good. The more the old ladies talked, the more off-kilter they seemed, which was a nice way of saying they were a few slices short of a loaf of nut bread.

      “My niece has conversations with herself. Did you know that, Dr. Donovan?” Iris asked, handing him a plate of scones. “Care for another?” She smiled sweetly.

      “No, thanks. Now, about my father—”

      “We’re worried Beth will never find another husband,” Ivy added. “She’s always reading those romantic novels and watching old movies. She simply adores Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. She lives in a fantasy world, if you ask me.” She tutted. “Not good. Not good, at all.”

      Distracted by the woman’s comments, Brad took a moment to digest the information. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that about her. I mean, I knew Beth liked old films, but she seems very well grounded. I’ve never heard her talk to herself. Does she do that often?”

      “Oh, yes,” Iris offered, “all the time. And sometimes she answers herself.”

      Brad’s eyes widened. Did insanity run—gallop?—in the family?

      “My niece suffered an unhappy marriage. I think she’s looking for a knight in shining armor to whisk her away.” Ivy placed two scones on her napkin before continuing. “Most young women these days aren’t prepared for the harsh realties of life.”

      “Now, Ivy, I think you’re being unfair,” her sister said “Beth does a wonderful job of running this inn.”

      “Yes, and it’s a safe place to hide, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s quite natural for a woman Beth’s age to be holed up with a couple of old ladies, morning, noon and night. She should be out enjoying herself. I just pray that being married to that awful Greg Randall hasn’t turned her against men and into a…well, you know.”

      Brad’s mouth fell open. Beth might be a great many things, but a lesbian? He doubted that very much. In fact, the idea seemed quite preposterous.

      “Ivy Swindel! What a ghastly thing to say.”

      The old woman shrugged. “I call them like I see them.” When Brad turned to wave goodbye to the Rogers, who were off on a sight-seeing trip, she smiled and winked at her sister.

      Checking her wristwatch, Iris frowned. “I wonder what’s been keeping Beth? She told me she wouldn’t be out in the garden long.”

      “Shall I go and look for her?” Brad suddenly felt the need to escape. He had just asked the question when the object of their discussion came bounding out of the house, slamming the front door behind her and carrying a wicker basket filled with pumpkins and gourds. Beth’s cheeks were rosy and her hair something of a disaster, but her smile was as radiant as ever.

      “Good morning, everyone! Sorry I’m late.”

      “Have you seen Stacy, by any chance?” he asked, trying to ignore the way his gut clenched at the sight of her. “I don’t want her wandering off. She’s not familiar with the area and might get lost.”

      “Yes, we spoke a few minutes ago.” She explained about Stacy taking the dog for a walk. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. I used to roam all over this place when I was young.”

      “Dr. Donovan’s been inquiring after his father,” Iris informed her niece. “We didn’t tell him very much. We couldn’t.”

      “I’m sure you were as helpful as you could be,” Beth said, silently thanking God that her aunts had the presence of mind to keep quiet.

      “Yes, some of your aunts’ comments were very enlightening.”

      Brad’s comment gave her pause. She sensed a change in his demeanor from last night. He seemed a tad more reserved, not quite as friendly. Or maybe it was just her imagination, which had been in overdrive lately. And after Stacy’s cruel comments, she was admittedly feeling a bit sensitive about things.

      “My aunts can be quite talkative when they put their minds to it. Can’t you, dears?”

      The two women burst into giggles, then stood. “We’ll leave you to entertain Dr. Donovan, dear,” Ivy stated, casting her sister a meaningful look.

      “Iris is anxious to try another incantation. She’s trying to raise the dead,” the older woman explained to Brad, who nearly tipped his rocker backward into the front window but caught himself just in time.

      Feeling her cheeks warm, Beth told her aunts, “You’d better go upstairs and rest. It wouldn’t be good to overtire yourselves.” She smiled apologetically at the handsome doctor, wondering what he must be thinking.

      Her aunts sounded like a couple of nuts.

      They are a couple of nuts!

      She had no sooner formed that thought when out of the corner of her eye she spotted Buster dragging a large bone onto the front lawn. “Holy hell!” She covered her mouth when she realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud and glanced at Brad to see that he had heard her.

      Damn! She was really having a bad day…make that year.

      “I beg your pardon,” Brad said, staring at her strangely.

      “Nothing. I’ve…I’ve got to see about my dog. He’s gotten into…something…the garbage…yes…the garbage. Buster, shame on you!” The cellar doors were warped and didn’t always shut properly. What if Buster had gotten back in?

      Good grief! What if Stacy had seen Buster dig up the bones? What if she told her father about them?

      Vaulting over the porch railing effortlessly, as if she’d been doing it most of her life—which, of course, she had—Beth rushed toward the dog, knowing something had to be done about the bones buried in the cellar. Right now! Before Dr. Bradley Donovan insisted on having them all committed to the hospital for the—criminally?—insane.