Belly plopped down next to Tim's chair and rested his head on his paws. His eyes turned upward to gaze at Tim.
"Do you see that?” Sadie pointed to the dog. “Even Belly is concerned about Tim's condition. What were you thinking, Aanders? Tim's death is at stake.” She glared at him. “I need to know exactly what happened today."
Aanders buried his face in his hands, eyes welling with tears.
Tim reached out and put his hand on Aanders arm. “He doesn't want me to go…"
"I know he doesn't want you to go,” Sadie interrupted. “But it isn't his decision. He's got a job to do. He needs to make sure you reach your destination.” Sadie placed her water glass on the table and stood next to the sulking lad.
"He had the perfect opportunity to help Tim through the light. Instead, he turned Tim's wheelchair around and ran the opposite way,” Lora said.
"Why? Why would you do that?” Realizing her voice had pitched two octaves above normal, Sadie fought to regain her composure. Fear of being disciplined would cause Aanders to slam the door on progress.
Tim rallied in Aanders’ defense. “There was a light building behind this old man. Aanders pushed me closer. When the noise got louder, I got scared. I asked Aanders to push me out of the man's room."
Aanders sat forward on his chair. “When I tried to turn the wheelchair around, the tunnel pulled at Tim. Tim shouted he didn't want to go. He said he had to tell Sadie something important. I pushed and we made it out of the room."
Sadie lifted Tim's limp hand. “Nothing is more important than getting you through that light. You may have made the biggest mistake you'll ever make."
"I hurried into the room when I saw Aanders running with the wheelchair, but it was too late,” Lora said. “The light moved up into the corner. I ran up to it, but by the time I got there, it was gone.” Lora glared at Aanders. “Because you fooled around, I lost my chance to go through the light, too."
"But we weren't fooling around.” Tim tried to shout his defense, but his voice caught in his throat. “I needed to get Sadie to listen."
"You're not still thinking it was murder, are you?” Theo said.
"It was murder."
"I thought we put that to rest,” Sadie said. “I thought you agreed it was your overactive imagination."
"No. There's a lot I haven't told you because you didn't want to hear it. I can prove Dad was murdered."
"If I listen, will you promise to make every effort to go through the light?"
Tim's shoulders drooped as he looked at Aanders. “I promise."
Sadie put her arm around Tim and pulled him close. He sagged against her body. His strength was deteriorating and she wondered if he possessed the stamina to go on. “Aanders, do you know what Tim has to tell me?"
Aanders nodded.
"Because I want Tim to reserve his strength, I'm going to let Aanders tell me.” She sat back and nodded for Aanders to begin.
23
Paul tucked the boat keys in his pocket as the dock attendant secured the rope to the post. “Make sure you put gas in it,” he reminded the teenager.
"Will do, Mr. Brinks.” The boy responded with a two-finger salute. “I'll keep a good eye on her.” He grinned and watched Paul wave a twenty dollar bill before stuffing it back in his pocket.
After gassing the boat, the dock attendant wiped the surface clean. Bending low to inspect the area near the gas cap, he dabbed at a smear hoping to prevent an episode like last time when he had missed a spot. Tips of the twenty-dollar magnitude were a rare commodity.
The thirty-foot Sea Ray sport cruiser, named Brink's Lady, featured a Bimini top, full galley, sleeping berth, and a swim platform. The boat was Paul's most recent purchase. Two weeks earlier he had surprised Nan with the celebratory voyage around the lake where they toasted his new acquisition with a vintage bottle of Malbec from his personal wine cellar.
The capacity crowd at Yerry's on the Bay taxed the dock boys to the limit. Locals and vacationers boated to the restaurant, the finest in the upper Midwest, and moored in a sheltered cove just below the facility. The restaurant sat on the eastern shore of Pinecone Lake. A recent article in a national travel magazine featured Yerry's as offering the most romantic sunsets in northern Minnesota. Dining reservations were difficult to obtain.
A hostess welcomed Paul and Nan to Yerry's and ushered them past a large group of people waiting in line. The maitre d’ asked if Paul was satisfied with the location. At Paul's nod, he pulled Nan 's chair out and waited until she was seated.
"How were you able to pull this off on such short notice?” Nan gazed at the spectacular view. “Window tables are impossible to reserve."
"The owner is a personal friend of mine. I manage his investments. My recommendations more than doubled his net worth,” Paul said, “so he was happy to accommodate us."
The maitre d’ waited as Paul swirled the wine in his glass and brought it up to his nose. After inhaling the bouquet, Paul tipped the glass to his lips and drew in a sip. “That will do,” he said. The couple watched the waiter fill each glass half full.
"I'm sorry it got to be so late. I was called out on a retrieval about the time you said you'd pick me up. Thanks for understanding.” Paul had been unusually attentive and she liked this new approach. Being the consummate businessman, his tunneled focus reflected his demand for perfection as well as his refusal to be distracted. Tonight was different. Paul made her his priority.
A blush from the setting sun settled over Nan 's face. Paul smiled at her. “Getting here later than I planned turned out to be even better. Look at that sunset."
Nan rested her chin on her fist. “It's almost surreal, isn't it? With those hues reflecting off the water, I feel like I'm surrounded by flowers.” Even though the dinner hour was drawing to a close, the restaurant was full of patrons seeking the perfect sunset.
Nan wiggled her fingers in greeting to a recent client approaching their table. “How are you doing, Mrs. Boutain?” The woman clasped Nan 's hand to express her gratitude for everything the funeral director had done in her time of need.
Paul patted the woman's hand as she clung to Nan. “I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Boutain. If there's anything I can do, please let me know."
"Such a nice young couple,” Mrs. Boutain whispered to her dinner partner as they were escorted to their table.
Strains of jazz filtered into the dining room from the lounge.
Nan sipped her wine. She grinned coyly. “Stop staring at me like that. You're making my mind wander."
"Good.” Paul laughed. “But that'll have to wait till later. I need to talk to you.” He raised his glass and waited until Nan 's glass touched his. “Here's to an important evening. Here's to our future."
The maitre d’ led the waiter to their table and stood back as the server set their plates in front of them. After a gesture signaling Paul's satisfaction, the two men gathered the tray and exited the room.
"I love your hair pulled back like that. You look angelic.” Paul rubbed his fingers over the top of her hand.
"It's the glow from the candles. Or maybe the wine's clouding your vision."
"You're beautiful whatever the reason,” Paul said. “But I suspect it's because I'm in love with you."
Surprised by Paul's declaration, Nan set her glass on the white linen and placed her fingers in the arc of Paul's hand. “That's the first time you've actually told me you loved me. I've often wondered if that's how you felt, but was afraid to get my hopes up. Before when we talked marriage, you seemed so nonchalant.” She cocked her head. “You're a hard man to read."
"It's hard for me to say, but that's how I feel. I'm in love with you Nan. I want to marry you."
The tender moment was interrupted by the waiter lifting their salad plates and replacing them with their entrees. “Enjoy your meal while it's hot,” Paul said. “We'll discuss this after dinner."