"Why me? Why do I have to do everything?"
"Okay you two, quit bickering,” Nan said. “This resort's been in your family for years. How could you possibly lose it?"
"Because of that horse's ass Carl Swanson. He insists the resort belongs to him.” Sadie stood and walked to the window.
"What? Carl Swanson, the deputy?"
"That snake thinks our mother got the resort from his grandfather through illegal means.” Jane wadded her second napkin into a tiny clump.
"The deed is in your name, isn't it?” As the question escaped Nan 's lips, another more pressing question surfaced. “What do you mean it has something to do with my work?"
Sadie inched her gaze from the floor to Nan 's anxious face. “Carl told us if he wins the lawsuit, he won't honor our lease with you."
"What?” Nan reached for the back of the chair. “How could Carl possibly get ownership if it's in your name?"
"Because he filed a Constructive Trust Lawsuit."
"What on earth is that?"
"It's complicated,” Sadie said, “but from what I understand, Carl's claiming his Grandfather told his aunt he planned to leave his estate and all his holdings to Carl's father. The aunt claims the grandfather never intended to give the resort to our mother. It's a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, but our attorney put it in simple terms so we could understand it."
Processing the information, a woozy heat engulfed Nan. The statement that Carl wouldn't honor the lease grew more menacing as she realized the consequences. “Did your attorney give any indication of how the lawsuit might turn out? Will there be a trial?"
"There won't be a trial. It's up to Judge Kimmer to make a ruling."
"Now I know why Carl's been avoiding me,” Nan said. “The last few times I've stopped by Paul's office, Carl was there. He disappeared right after I got there. And, come to think of it, the other night he backed out of going to dinner with us. That's not like Carl to turn down a free meal."
"Carl's a weasel,” Sadie said. “He knows there's a dirty deed afoot and he doesn't have the balls to talk to you face-to-face."
"Is this something you just found out?” Nan demanded.
"No,” Jane said glaring at her sister. “She's known for quite some time and put off telling you. She thought you'd be upset."
"Upset? Of course I'm upset. If he won't honor the lease, I'll have to find a new location for the mortuary. I can't afford to do that.” Nan pointed toward a cabinet drawer and said, “Thank goodness that funeral home in Minneapolis offered me a job. I got another letter from them last month. They're willing to provide housing for a year while we settle in. But if I have to move, I'll never realize my father's dream. He wanted this business to be passed on to Aanders."
Nan gestured in frustration. “I can't believe you held off telling me. Selling a business and relocating takes time.” Fighting back the urge to cry, she added, “What am I going to do if Carl wins the case?"
Sadie watched fear cloud Nan 's ability to think past the pending devastation.
"See. I told you. I told you to tell her earlier,” Jane said. “Talk about not having balls."
"It's not a matter of balls,” Sadie said. “It's a matter of setting off an alarm when it isn't necessary.” Sadie stabbed her finger toward Jane. “If you thought she should know, then why didn't you tell her? You're just as much to blame as I am."
"Someone should have told me,” Nan said. Placing her elbows on the table she buried her face in her hands. “Maybe Paul's marriage offer isn't such a bad idea."
"Don't you dare think that way,” Sadie said. “He and Carl came from the same thorny bush. You don't want to get tangled up with the likes of him."
The women turned toward Aanders’ bedroom door as a peal of laughter echoed from the room.
"Was that Aanders?” Sadie exclaimed.
"Yes.” Nan frowned. “I'm concerned about him. Yesterday he insisted on viewing Tim's body, but today he hasn't mentioned it once. I can hardly get him out of his room."
Another outburst rang from Aanders’ room followed by a squeal of words.
"I don't think Paul's that bad,” Jane said. “He impresses me as someone who's always neat and polite and dresses like a gentleman."
"Well then, that makes you a fool, doesn't it?” Sadie said. “If he's neat, he must be nice? He's not from here, you know. He's from some other part of the country. He's too sneaky to suit me."
"I don't understand what you're basing that on. You barely know Paul.” Nan crossed to the pan of toffee bars and pulled a chunk out with her finger. “I've known him for over a year. He asked me to marry him several months ago and said he'd be patient while I sorted things out."
"That's a ploy. He wants you to think he's a good catch."
"You're wrong, Sadie,” Nan said.
"If you're desperate, of course you think I'm wrong. Ask yourself why most of Paul's clients are over the age of seventy."
"Because he specializes in life insurance, investments, and endowment policies,” Nan said.
"That's right. And why does he cater to them? Because they're old and vulnerable.” Sadie joined Nan at the sink. “Paul came to the cabin last year and tried to sweet talk Jane and me into a policy. Jane was ready to write him a check right there on the spot, but I told her it would be over my dead body."
"What he had to offer seemed like a good deal,” Jane said. “And besides, there's nothing wrong with life insurance."
"It's not a good idea if we can't afford the payments. Paul's sales pitch consisted mostly of sweet talk and compliments. You were ready to spread your legs for the man."
"I was not,” Jane gasped. “You're jealous because he spent most of his time talking to me rather than you."
"My point exactly. You were literally drooling and he knew he had you wrapped around the axle."
"I was not drooling. I was interested in what he had to say."
"Stop it,” Nan said. “Neither of you know the real Paul. At least we've got the option of staying in Pinecone Landing if I accept his proposal."
Nan 's hand flew to her mouth. “Oh please forgive me. I was so worried about my own future I forgot about the two of you. Have you figured out what you'll do if you lose the lawsuit?"
11
Sadie eyed the clock as she pulled the final plate from the dish drainer. The previous evening's confrontation with Nan had drained her energy. The relentless humidity didn't help, either. She dabbed the towel across the floral design before placing the plate in the cabinet.
Mr. Bakke sat spread-eagled on the davenport attempting to benefit from a cross breeze filtering through the screen door. He had pushed his black socks down around his ankles so his white legs protruded like Popsicle sticks from below his Bermuda shorts. “I sure hope this storm brings relief. I don't have the gumption to get off the sofa.” He fanned the newspaper in front of his face.
"I hear you,” Sadie said. “I thought I'd feel cooler wearing a thong, but it doesn't seem to help."
"You mean a thong as in underwear?” Jane said.
"Do you see any thongs on my feet?"
Jane glanced at Sadie's feet before contorting her face in disgust. “Since when did you start wearing a thong?"
"Since I ordered one from the catalog. It came a few days ago."
"That's repulsive. A woman your age wearing a thong?” The furrows in Jane's forehead deepened. She lifted Sadie's purple miniskirt and took a peek. “Don't those sequins irritate your skin?"
"No. They match the pink in my shirt. It's called Pink Passion. Color coordination is all the rage. It also matches Belly's neckerchief.” Sadie patted her heavily-gelled, pink-spiked hairdo and said, “Big Leon created this color to coordinate with my outfit."
"You look like a wad of bubblegum.” Jane took three steps back toward the kitchen sink. “That's a waste of money. Who'd want to see your old butt in one of those things?"