But who could know about the child? Who wanted Clint alerted? His family knew about all his girlfriends. Had someone in the family managed to track all this down? Take the photo? Who else would even care? For a crazy moment, Cindy wondered if her marriage to Clint could have ever worked? Suddenly, she wasn’t sure. There were so many unknown clouds floating around him, so many dark corners in his life. She didn’t know if she could bear finding another one, could bear losing the memory of the man she’d so deeply loved.
Chapter 12
When Cindy got home, she was exhausted. She made herself a cup of tea and collapsed on the sofa, drinking it slowly, thinking about Clint’s son. Clint would have been a wonderful father. Cindy felt awful that Clint would never see him, never even know that a woman he barely knew was the mother of his child.
Then out of nowhere, the doorbell rang.It must be another package, Cindy thought. Wedding gifts were still arriving daily from people who hadn’t heard what happened yet.
Cindy got up and went to the door.
It was Clint’s mother.
It was extremely unusual for Clint’s family to just drop by. And his mother couldn’t have picked a worse time. Cindy was not in the mood to see her.
And beside her stood Marge, looking distraught.
“We need to talk to you.”
They marched into the living room without asking and scanned the place, up and down. Cindy wondered what they were looking for.
“I never knew why Clint chose this house,” his mother said bitterly. It was an old story, Cindy’d heard it many times.
“Because he loved this house,” Cindy said briskly. “And so did I.”
“Clint loved all kinds of odd things,” Clint’s mother looked at Cindy through half closed eyes. “He didn’t always have the best taste.”
Cindy didn’t really have energy for this.
“There was a lot in Clint’s life that we didn’t understand,” said Marge.
“Sit,” Cindy said perfunctorily. “It’s been a busy day.”
“Really?” said Marge. “What did you do?”
Cindy resented any question at all from them about her personal life. She decided to push the envelope now, as she was sick of pretending all was normal.
“I’ve been checking on some leads I have,” Cindy said, matter of factly.
“What kind of leads?” his mother perked up.
“Leads about who might have had Clint killed.”
Both Marge and his mother shuddered. Cindy knew it was harsh, but she was tired of games.
“I’m delving more and more into Clint’s life,” Cindy continued, and looked at both of them closely. “There’s a lot that doesn’t add up.”
His mother peered back. “Whatever Clint did or didn’t have in his life, he didn’t deserve to die.”
Cindy met her head on. “No one deserves to die. And no one deserves to be a young widow either.”
“You’re hardly a widow,” Clint’s mother snapped. “You two weren’t even married a week. More like a girlfriend.”
Cindy felt punched in the heart. She couldn’t let this go on.
“I am Clint’s wife,” she retorted, “We were married on May 18th, in full view of friends and family. Even if you didn’t like it. And I have the papers to prove it.”
“What is and isn’t legal is a big question regarding marriage these days,” Marge replied.
Cindy began to feel nauseous. “You’re bigger than the law?” Cindy said, “think you can do whatever you like?”
“What do you mean by that?” said his mother.
“Richard knows all about these matters,” Marge continued. “He’s a wonderful husband and wonderful lawyer . We’ve been talking it all over.”
Clint’s mother nodded avidly. She suddenly looked frail and pathetic, clutching a huge, patent leather bag. In that moment, Cindy felt sorry for her. She wanted to bring her tea. After all, she had lost her son.
But his mother continued, on the attack. “I want you to tell me why there wasn’t anyone there to rescue my son? It doesn’t make sense. The time of death listed on the Coroner’s report was just a few minutes before you got down to the beach.”
That odd fact gripped Cindy again. She didn’t know what to make of it, or how the time had been determined. It left her weak in the knees, imagining Clint dying and then her arriving a few moments later.
“You took our son away from the family, and now he’s never coming back.”
Cindy felt the blood drain from her face. “It’s convenient, isn’t it, blaming me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Marge. “And neither does anyone in the family. We don’t understand you. Never have. Never will.”
Cindy would never think of these people as her family. She had no idea how Clint could have died and left her here with them.
“Where were you this afternoon?” Clint’s mother asked her. “We were calling and calling.”
“What difference does it make?” said Cindy.
“The insurance company has contacted us and the Will has to be probated.”
Why would the insurance company contact them, Cindy wondered?
“My father is very ill,” Marge added. “Big decisions need to be made.”
They’re here because they’re worried about money, Cindy realized.They haven’t once asked me how I’m feeling.
Clint’s mother spoke up tensely, “Everyone knows that Clint was headstrong and foolish at times in the past. He’d made some poor choices. Now we have to sort those choices out.”
“I always knew Clint to be completely upright in every way,” Cindy said. “Was I wrong? Are there things no one is telling me?”
“That’s the whole point of it, isn’t it?” His mother’s face grew tighter. “You only knew him for a short while. We knew him his entire life long. We knew every little thing about him, his friends, his lovers, his mistakes. What did you really know? Very little.”
They were trying to shake her total confidence - that was their tactic . She wouldn’t allow it.
“We need to discuss what happens with the insurance and the house,” Marge shot in .
Now that Clint was gone, Marge probably wanted to get her fair share.
“What’s to discuss? Cindy said. “The house belongs to me.”
“The house is in my son’s name alone,” Clint’s mother corrected her.
Cindy was shocked. She hadn’t realized that. She thought Clint had put it in both their names.
“We gave him money for the down payment with the agreement that he would put it exclusively in his name.”
Cindy didn’t know that they gave him the down payment. He’d led her to believe that he had plenty of funds on his own.
“Well, I am his wife,” Cindy said, “so the house automatically goes to me.”
“Nothing is automatic,” Marge replied. “It depends on the Will.”
“You want to take the house away from me?” Cindy was shocked.
“It doesn’t rightfully belong to you,” said Marge. “The house belonged to Clint. And he belonged to us.”
Cindy’s faced flushed .
“Clint didn’t rightfully belong to you either,” Clint’s mother spat out. “Who knows how you wrapped him around your little finger? You met and were married in less than a year. That wasn’t like Clint.”
Clearly, the family was building a case.
“It seems as if I need a lawyer,” Cindy said .
“You need more than a lawyer,” Marge continued. “You need to get out of here. Go home. Clear out. This is too painful to all of us, having you so close by. Then we’ll let lawyers decide about who gets the house and how the insurance settlement will be divided up.”
Cindy couldn’t leave the house, even if she wanted to. Clint was there. He belonged to her .
“I suppose you’re claiming that you gave Clint money for the insurance policy as well?” she said.
“Not claiming. We have evidence of it. Signed checks and receipts. Compensation is due us. Fair is fair.”
Cindy couldn’t take another second of this. “I’ll tell you what’s fair,” she finally burst out, livid. “It’s fair for me to have in-laws who care about me! It’s fair for you to realize that your precious son got married and didn’t belong to you! Who knows how he really died? Did it enrage you so much to actually lose him, that you arranged it yourself?”