Introducing Polly from novella book #2, by Fay Lamb.

One of my beloved Write Integrity authors, Fay Lamb, is the writer of this sixth installment of The Visitor Misses a Visit.

In this chapter, you’ll gain some insights into a very familiar problem: family and sibling wounds, even though mostly intentional, can linger long after the initial hurt.

Polly Reagan glanced at the caller ID on her house phone as she rushed by. A local politician, asking for donations. She didn’t have time. As it was, she needed to carve out a few moments to call her little sister.

Kimberly had mentioned in their conversation yesterday that Connie was insisting that something was not quite right with the new accountant her parents had hired for the foundation.

Polly pondered getting the story straight from the horse’s mouth as it were. Now, though, she needed to get busy. Saturdays were always busy. Her four-year-old son, Ethan, had a group tennis lesson in less than fifteen minutes. Tennis was important to her kid, and even though he was the youngest in the group, she made it a priority.

Even so, she had an apology to make to Connie. She’d let her sister down. After years of being out of the law office, she still hadn’t learned to schedule. She’d relied heavily upon her secretary to keep her free of conflicts. Her faux pas in agreeing to help with her nephew’s birthday party on the same day as Connie’s graduation had created not only a scheduling conflict but a very big personal conflict with Connie.

“Mama, we gotta go!” Ethan called from the door. “Dad’s gonna leave us.”

Polly laughed. Yes, Marc would do that. Being on time was an important lesson to teach their only son. “You have your racquets, water, your towel?”

“I got it all.”

Of course, he did. At four, he was better at preparation than she had ever been. “Have. You have it all.” She hurried behind him, closing and locking the door. The call to Connie would have to wait until Ethan settled into the lessons and stopped looking back at her.

A half-hour later, Polly gave Ethan a thumbs-up as the larger than usual red ball used for his age’s tennis lessons sailed over the net, showing off her son’s excellent backhand. At four, the kid showed promise.

She cast a glance to Marc. Her husband’s face showed his intent interest in the lesson.

Ethan stood in the line with his friends and chatted.

Now was her chance. Polly pulled out her mobile phone and dialed Connie.

“Hey,” Connie answered after the first ring. “I almost didn’t answer. Have you ever called me on your mobile phone?”

“Ha. Ha. I don’t like talking on these things.”

“You do know that people are getting rid of house phones, right? Who uses a house phone these days?”

“I do.” Polly smiled at her sister’s teasing. “Listen, I owe you an apology for not attending graduation. I had already agreed to help with our nephew Jimmy’s birthday party. He holds a special place in my husband’s heart. Not that you don’t . . .”

“You aren’t the only one who didn’t attend.” Connie’s words fell soft with a sense of disappointment.

“Connie, I’m sorry, and I don’t have an excuse.

“You’re forgiven.”

“Kimberly called me.” Polly put the truth out there.

“Figured she would. Did she tell you what she thinks is going on or did she tell you what I said is going on?”

The kids on the court began a new game. Ethan took his place at the shortened service line. Polly held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t look to see she wasn’t being an attentive mom. “This is Kimberly we’re talking about.”

Polly somewhat agreed with Kimberly about giving Connie the responsibility of fundraising for the foundation, but Mama and Dad had the right to do just that. Besides, Polly felt that Connie had to be given room to prove herself—not something the entire family agreed upon. Especially Kim. “What’s going on?”

“I’m really uncomfortable with the accountant Dad hired.”

Kimberly had said as much. “What do you mean when you say uncomfortable?”

“Call it a spidey sense.”

“So, tell me what exactly raised your antenna?”

“My very first conversation with him was off. I don’t know how to explain it. All the sudden, Dad says Clint has decided we don’t even have money to work a fundraiser for one of Aunt Fanny’s causes that I want to champion. Mama and Dad shut me down when I tried to tell them my concerns. Polly, what should I do?”

Mama and Dad had always been too trusting. So far, their trust had not been betrayed. Connie was wet behind the ears, but she wasn’t one to cast dispersion without reason. Even when she’d tattled on her older siblings, she’d always had truth on her side. Connie sounded truly worried. Polly sensed there might be some truth to her youngest sister’s reaction. “What do you mean they shut you down?”

“They don’t seem inclined to believe me. Kimberly dismissed my fears. Apparently, if a man dresses well, looks you in the eyes, and says all the right things, he’s to be believed. Though Phil took my side.”

Polly would have laughed with a description that fit Kimberly to a T, except Connie seemed sincere—and that caused worry to wedge into Polly’s heart.

Still, this was a learning opportunity. “First of all, you’re doing a great job.”

Connie’s exhale of breath did not go unnoticed. “You—you really think so. Kimberly disagreed with everything I said.”

“Kiddo, Kimberly cares about you, but she’s hurting. She wanted the folks to ask her to help. They chose you. Not your fault. I’m trusting you to do what needs to be done so far as your responsibilities for the foundation and the family.”

“That’s just it, Polly. I don’t know what to do.”

“Come on. You’ve already taken steps. You’re following your instincts, and you’ve reached out to others. Keep pressing forward.”

“And what about the foundation’s reputation? How do I protect it if what I suspect is true?”

Polly remained silent for a long moment, trying to think of the right words for her sister.

“You still there?” Connie’s voice softened.

“Yes. I was thinking of how to put this. Dad would never purposely let the foundation fail. Follow his lead, but continue to follow your instinct, and keep him apprised of things you learn even if he balks at you.”

“Okay . . .”

“And if Dad drops the ball despite your best efforts, it will be on him. He’s the head of not only the non-profit, but also our family. That means the responsibility to protect the family and the foundation is his until he passes it on. Your only duty in that regard is to alert him of possible troubles. What he does with that information belongs to him.”

Connie whistled. “Thank you for that. I’ve been carrying this weight on me, but you’re right. And thank you for believing in me.”

The twacking of balls hitting the court reminded Polly that she was missing Ethan’s lesson. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

“Thanks for that, too.”

“Unless you do something stupid. If you do something stupid to make Dad mad, I’m outta here.”

Connie laughed, a good sound to hear. “I don’t do stupid.”

“Yeah, you do. You just get away with it better than the rest of us.” And Connie, the baby, had often been the one who called her siblings’ stupidity to the attention of their parents. “Call me and let me know what you learn.”

“I will. Thanks, again, and I love you.”

“You’re welcome and back at you.” Polly hung up and stepped back to stand behind her husband.

Ethan, his fingers wrapped around the racquet’s handle, swung with all his might, hitting the large red ball over the net and past his older opponent. Her kid had a winning forehand to complement that excellent backhand.

Marc stood and stretched. “That’s our boy. He’s got the skillset to do well.”

Polly nodded. She prayed her little sister had her own skillsets to get through this difficult situation. The foundation, and her family’s reputation, were at stake.

***

It had felt good to chat with Polly. She and her sister didn’t always see eye to eye, but Connie respected her judgment.

And the fact that she thought Connie was in the right place and doing well warmed her heart.

Still, going behind Dad’s back was not something she was accustomed to doing. She picked up her purse and strolled toward Mrs. Hodge’s counter. “I think I’ll go for a sandwich. Would you like for me to bring you something?”

The woman wrinkled her nose and shook her head lightly, but then she smiled. “You’ve been mighty busy, my dear. And you look a little worried. Is there something I can help you with?”

Connie shrugged. “I’m a little confused with the changes that I’m seeing.”

“Ah, yes. There have been some changes indeed, but I think they will be good ones in the long run.”

“You think so?”

The woman nodded and got a serious look in her eyes. “Take the reimbursement process we’ve always had. Anyone involved with the foundation simply turned in a slip with an amount on it. It didn’t even have to be itemized. Diana would cut a check for them the next time she was in office—no questions asked.”

It certainly wasn’t a good business practice, but the volunteers here were like family. Or was that naïve of her to think so? “You don’t think anyone has taken advantage of that do you?”

“Not on purpose. But yes, I’ve heard of folks rounding up and giving about amounts. Your dad had wanted to require itemized receipts, but Eleanor talked him out of it. And in truth, the people that purchase for the events find things all over, from places where formal receipts just aren’t available, you know.”

Mama’s crew had a special talent for finding the most amazing and unique items. Hopefully, they would do that for Connie as well.

The door chimed and Diana Carson herself waddled in on her cane. Diana had been the volunteer at the foundation who took care of most of the administrative items. Including the bookkeeping when it was needed. She’d been there almost as long as Mrs. Hodges had been working the front desk. “Is there any word about the murder yet?” She leaned over on the counter that was almost too tall for her. “I don’t mind telling you that it has me all a-shiver. Someone buying it like that. And right out there, not thirty yards away. There’s someone up to no good.”

“There’s very little information, even in the papers.” Mrs. Hodges lifted a folded newspaper to the counter. “You’re welcome to look, dear.”

“Thank you.” The woman picked up the day’s edition.

Connie hung onto the other subject, though. Not that the crime behind their building wasn’t intriguing, but the issues at hand tended to affect them even more. “We were discussing the reimbursement policy that Clint Rutherford has put together.”

The woman scowled. “I think it’s completely unfair of Mr. Rutherford to treat the volunteers like that.”

“So he is requiring receipts, then?”

She nodded, “More than that, he has some sort of list of what items will be reimbursed and what sorts of things won’t.”

Like the storage fees for Connie’s furniture.

“No one knows what an acceptable purchase is until they bring it to him. And if he says no.” She waved her thumb away from her as she blew a raspberry.

Mrs. Hodge’s mouth puckered as though she suppressed a laugh. And on most days, Diana Carson could make Connie chuckle with her direct manner and her no-nonsense style. But her concerns about Clint Rutherford weren’t a laughing matter. And while Connie had no evidence of anything out of sorts about him, she had a bad feeling about all of this. Maybe her next call could give her an idea of the next step she should take.

Watch for Episode 7 tomorrow!

I hope you’ve enjoyed the first four installments of The Visitor Misses a Visit.

Today’s installment finds Connie discouraged in her attempt to get information our of her siblings. But Connie is nothing if not persistent and discerning.

Connie took Phil’s advice and contacted one of her former roommates right away.

Gretchen had majored in journalism, and she doggedly pursued a job as an investigative reporter. Though she only had an entry-level position, her job at the Tribune connected her with all types of information retrieval systems.

Thankfully, she wasn’t too busy to dig into Clint Rutherford’s past. “I’ll give it a shot. And I head you had some excitement out there the other day.”

Her graduation hadn’t really been all that exciting. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“I think murder is a big deal.”

Oh, she was talking about the dead man. Wait. “Did you say murder?” She’d been right all along?

“Sure thing. The report I got said he was shot three times at fairly close range with a small caliber pistol.”

“I can’t imagine …” How come no one heard gunshots?

“I was more deducing than asking. It must have happened at night or on a weekend when none of the volunteers were here. It’s close enough to the offices that, barring a hailstorm, anyone would have heard gunshots.”

“Nobody heard anything?” Gretchen clearly pressed for a story, but Connie had nothing to offer.

“No one’s said anything. And I think, considering that the police were here for two solid days, they would have said something.” Especially
Mrs. Hodges. And she’s at the foundation almost every day, right there by the front door.

“Well, I’ll let you know what I hear. Right now, they’re moving heaven and earth to try to identify the dead guy.”

Connie could certainly sink her teeth into the mystery like Gretchen seemed to be doing, but she’d already promised Dad that she wouldn’t do a Nancy Drew. “I want you to dig into the past of someone for me.”

Okay, maybe she would do little Nancy Drew-ing, but clearly her promise had no bearing here since the issue dealt with matters within the foundation itself.

Her friend hummed into the receiver. “Well, I’m between gigs as it were, so I can probably swing it. Who are you investigating? New boyfriend?

Why did everyone always go directly to that assumption? “New accountant here at the foundation.” She gave Gretchen his name. “I want all the details.”

“Is there a problem?” Possibility rang in Gretchen’s tone.

“This is strictly off the record, Gretchen. There isn’t a problem. I just want to know a little more about him. That’s all.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can get worms to wiggle.”

Connie half-scoffed a chuckle. Hopefully, her friend wouldn’t find a can of worms at the bottom of this.

The thought kept niggling at her. She had a terrible time avoiding the discussion with her dad that evening.

Thankfully, he was focused on their upcoming trip to support a charity near her oldest sister’s home. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen Margaret?”

Connie hadn’t seen her since she’d been in high school, though even then her sister rarely spoke with her. “I’m so looking forward to meeting your namesake, Dad. I’ve spoken on the phone with like Mac, and she is just adorable.”

“She is.” He gave her a sidelong look. “And she looks exactly like you. But you won’t be coming along this time.”

“What do you mean I’m not going with you?” Connie sounded like a five-year-old in her own ears, but she’d been looking forward to visiting with her sister’s family, even if her old sister did’t usually acknowledge her. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she laid her napkin on her lap.

“The money isn’t there right now.”

Connie glanced at Mama.

She served herself some potatoes, clearly not wanting to be part of this conversation.

Something was going on. First Aunt Fanny’s charity, and now this fundraising trip. “Dad, you’re going to need to explain this to me. You ask me to be the new head of fundraising, but you don’t let me go to the first scheduled event? That doesn’t even make sense.”

He lifted his chin. “There’s no need for you there. The group has plenty of volunteers. We’re only making if officially part of the Wright Foundation by making an appearance. The rest of the trip is meeting with financiers. Not part of your area of expertise.”

“And spending time with Margaret’s family?”

“You hardly know your oldest sister.”

She shut her eyes and took another breath. “Does this have something to do with the pregnancy center we talked about.”

He shook his head and held out his hand. “One thing at a time, Constance.”

She swallowed her ire at hearing her formal first name. Dad had only ever used it when she was in trouble. Hearing it as an adult didn’t fly, but calling him on it wouldn’t help anything.

Still, if her father was going to treat her like a child, this job might not be such a great fit after all. She lowered her tone. “It seems to be that this is all connected. Otherwise, why would’t we take on the pregnancy center. It is exactly the type of charity we support. You know the people Aunt Fanny meets.”

“I just don’t now.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” All of her patience fled out the nearby window. After all, this was Aunt Fanny they were talking about. Not some idealistic group trying to do something they’d never heard of.

“Well, to be honest.” Her father slathered some butter on a roll. “Clint’s been highly concerned about some of the extraneous expenses this year.  A few of our best donors have drastically lowered their giving.”

What donors? And why was she only just hearing about his? “So, how will that affect the day-to-day business and our outreach?”

Her father locked eyes with her. “I’m afraid we might have to let some people down. I’m indebted to Clint for finding the problems. But I’m just not sure what to do abut it all. It seems that this is going to end up being an extremely lean year even though we’re only just learning about it.”

Connie needed to talk to Clint Rutherford. “So, what unexpected expenditures have you had to deal with?” She took a bite of her mom’s roast beef and tried to focus on the analytical details that her father began discussing, but the emotion knotting the pit of her stomach made it hard to focus.

“We ended up buying essentials for six different shelters in the area instead of only the one we had pledged to support. I originally understood that we had the backing to cover all of that, but when Clint got here, he informed us that we did not indeed have that backing. Of course, that was just the tip of the iceberg.” Dad continued to explain other situations. Something to do with an unexpected roof replacement at one charity and a broken water heater at another.

The bottom line was, they were upside down in the financial department.

“Mind if I look into it a little?” Connie picked up her tea glass and gave her father an innocent look as she took a sip.

She needn’t have gone to the trouble of trying to look innocent. His eyes narrowed. “Now, don’t go looking for mysteries and hooligans where there aren’t any.” His chiding voice was only a little on the gruff side.

She set her glass down and lifted her hands in surrender. “Only to get a better feel for what’s going on, so I know how I need to move ahead.”

“I’m sorry about the trip. I know you were looking forward to it.”

Shrugging, she took another bite of the roast. “I’ll miss finally meeting Mac, but I’d rather dig into this problem and see how I can help.”

More like uncover, learn, ferret out. It was all the same, but she couldn’t really use any of those terms around her dad.

“I’m sure Clint gan guide you in that.”

“Guide me?” Didn’t the man work for her?

“He knows what he’s doing, dear. It would not be of help to anyone for you to come in and begin stirring up the muddy water that he’s been able to settle.” Her father picked up the last bit of his roll and ran it through his leftover gravy. “Besides, you have enough on your plate with the coming Louisville event. No sense wasting time duplicating someone else’s job.” His voice became crustier than normal.

“All right.” She said, but instantly knew she couldn’t just turn around and pretend nothing was wrong.

He ate his final bite, pulled his napkin from his lap and laid on the table as he stood. “Things will work out. They always do.”

Dad had said that all her life. But he was wrong. Things didn’t work out. People worked on them and the Lord worked them out. But things didn’t just magically jump up and right themselves.

And she wasn’t about to sit by and watch to see if she shoemaker’s elves were planning to come solve their current problem.

What will Connie do with this distressing information from her father? If I were her, I’d surely want to dig into the finances to see for herself what’s going on.

Come back tomorrow to see what Connie does next!

Lil Kohler is the author of our prequel chapter four. Here, she introduces another  of Connie’s siblings, Kimberly.

Kimberly McConil plated the juicy pot roast on the gold rimmed floral platter, pleased the carrots, onions and potatoes slid into place without spilling over the edge. A deep whiff confirmed she had remembered to add all the seasonings. She poured the thickened broth into her grandmother’s gravy bowl. Giggles from the upstairs loft area signaled that Phil managed to distract the twins from their video game Cars Mater-National Championship. She smiled and sighed. Ah, this is the life. But she was still on a time crunch. One last review of the table reminded her she forgot the applesauce. Once she poured that into her newly acquired antique crystal etched bowl, she placed it next to the meat and vegetables at the center of the table. “Phil, kids, dinner’s ready.” She grabbed the butter for the rolls and the serving utensils then called again. The giggling grew in volume. “No, Daddy, not like that.” “Hmm.” She made her way upstairs in time to see the three of them fixated on the TV screen. “Excuse me.” She raised her voice enough to get over the squeals. None of them turned or stopped. Heat rose in her cheeks. Her meal would not taste good if it was cold. She walked in front of the screen. “Mom.” The twins echoed. She cleared her throat as she mentally counted to ten. “I called for you guys. Dinner is ready. And it’s getting cold.” “Oh, honey. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Phil cocked his head toward the twins. She threw him her famous if-looks-could-kill stare. He smirked and then swirled his finger in a circular motion. “Come on, wrap it up. You heard your mom. Dinner’s ready.” Five minutes later they were finally settled at the table. They joined hands and blessed their meal. Phil leaned over and gave her his traditional peck. And with that she forgave his delay. Lori had barely finished buttering her bread in the time it took her twin, Cory, to devour half of the large portions he served himself. “Slow down Cory. You’ll get ingestion.” Lori reprimanded her brother. “Indigestion, sweetness.” Phil corrected. “How was school today kids?” Cory immediately replayed the soccer game highlights and the almost fight in the cafeteria. He did manage to share some of the day’s history and science lessons. Lori began her stories as soon as Cory took a breath. She focused on what each of her friends wore to school and what they all ate for lunch. She took a few more bites. “Oh, I almost forgot. Aunt Connie called.” “That’s who you were on the phone with?” Cory slammed his fork on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me? I want to talk to her too. She knows things.” His brows lifted and eyes twinkled. Kimberly almost dropped her fork into her lap. A quick glance at Phil revealed he hadn’t missed her reaction. She painted on a perfectly composed expression. “Oh? When was that?” “When you ran to the store after we got home.” Lori licked the applesauce off her spoon. “She is so cool. We talked a long time. She even helped me with my math homework.” “How long were you gone, sweetheart?” Phil’s right eyebrow was cocked. She waved it off. “Not long, but the store was more crowded than I expected.” She refocused on Lori. “So, did she say why she called?” Kimberly hadn’t left her youngest sibling a message or anything. Never mind that their relationship was more strained than most sisters experienced. “Ah. No.” Lori tilted her head to the right. “She just said to tell you to call her.” Great. “Well, thank you sweetheart.” Kimberly gently placed her fork on her near-empty plate then rubbed her hands on her pant legs. Kimberly passed the rest of the meal in a fog. Her sister never called her about anything. Good or bad. They rarely spoke. The twins asked to be excused to finish their homework and then dashed upstairs. “I need to take a little walk.” She told Phil as she cleared the table. “Can you get the kids ready for bed tonight?” “Sure.” He rose and pushed his chair in. She stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He pulled out a towel and began to dry. “By the way, that yellow bowl you used tonight . . .” Oh, he noticed. She wanted to jump for joy. “It’s new, isn’t it?” “Yes.” She smiled. “It’s an antique.” “How much?” Her stomach roiled. “Only fifty dollars.” Phil stumbled back. “Ah, sweetheart. Did you get this at an authorized antique dealer?” “Oh, my, no.” Her hair bounced on her cheeks as she shook her head. “It would have cost so much more. I found it at the arts and crafts mall. There’s a sweet old man who sells antiques from time to time. He said it was crystal.” “Ah.” Phil covered his face with the towel then looked at her again. “Honey, my grandma Josephine had one like that. Unfortunately, I accidentally broke it when I was twelve.” Kimberly’s stomach flipped as she felt blood drain from her face. “She bought it at the local five and dime store. It had St. Martin stamped on the bottom of it.” “What are you saying?” “Did you check the bottom for a stamped name?” “Ah, no.” Her throat tightened as she pulled the bowl out of the drying rack. Like a spotlight beam the glaring words St. Martin stood out. “So, it’s not crystal?” “It was a poor man’s crystal. They managed to make a thin glass that made purchasers feel wealthy.” She felt light-headed. Her hands clung to the bowl with white knuckles to fight the destructive urge to throw it onto the floor and shatter it. “Tell you what.” Phil took the bowl from her and placed it in their china cabinet. “It’ll be our little secret. But don’t brag on your find. Sound good?” She bobbed her head, but she felt like an idiot. Just another poorly made financial decision. When would she ever learn? His eyes roamed her face. “You all right?” “Just need time to gather my thoughts before I call her.” “Connie?” “Yes.” She shook her head. “I need to walk and pray.” Kimberly stepped out onto their back deck then down the incline past their pool. She was thankful for the small patch of woods that backed up to the neighborhood green belt. Walking among God’s creation helped her clear her mind. If baby sister hadn’t called before, even those times when Mama and Dad told her that Connie might call, why now? The last time she spoke with her parents, they were excited her sister was going to join them at the Wright Foundation. Kimberly had always wanted to be asked to come alongside them, but they never proposed that. Maybe Connie wasn’t going to join them. Maybe she needed advice on how to tell them. Then again Connie never asked Kimberly for advice. Maybe something was wrong with Mama and Dad. That would explain why she didn’t tell Lori anything. Fear spurred her on as she did an about-face to traverse the manicured wood trail back to her home. She found her husband in the exercise room. Kimberly sat on the edge of Phil’s workout bench as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Connie never calls me. I’m really starting to worry.” “Tell you what. Let’s call her together. We’ll make it a conference call. I’ll see if I can read between the lines. See if she’s saying something without coming right out and speaking the words.” “Yes. Let’s do that.” She nestled her head against his shoulder. “Sounds good.” Phil gave the top of her head a peck then stood. “Do you think it’s too late to call now?” “Should be alright. It’s not that late.” Her stomach fluttered. Phil’s warm sweaty hand grabbed her shaky fingers as he led her to the house phone. “I’ll get on the extension in the bedroom.” With a deep breath, Kimberly dialed the number of her sister’s fancy cellular phone. Connie answered on the third ring. “Hey there.” Sure didn’t sound like an emergency. “Lori told me that you called. Phil is on the line, with us.” “Hi Connie.” His voice encouraged Kimberly. She wasn’t in this alone. Whatever this was. “Are Mama and Dad okay?” “They’re fine. Hold on a sec.” Kimberly heard the closing of a door through the phone. “Okay. I’m walking alone now.” “Why don’t you want Mama and Dad to hear you?” Maybe there was something wrong, even with her sister’s light tone. “I’m having trouble trusting their new accountant. Dad keeps putting me off, telling me that this other guy is doing exactly what Dad wants. But the man gives me vague answers like, ‘I’m looking into it.’” “Why don’t you tell us your concerns.” Phil piped in. After several minutes of Connie’s descriptions and replaying of conversations the line went quiet. “Well, I think he’s fine.” Kimberly’s mind stopped focusing on Connie’s concerns shortly after she started. She’d met the man, and as far as she was concerned, he passed her tests. “The man’s handsome and always dressed in the latest style. He looks you straight in the eyes when he speaks to you. Someone who’s lying to you, or deceiving you, wouldn’t do that.” “I wish that were true, sweetheart.” Phil’s voice sounded calm, but the slight condemnation undertone increased her heart rate. Her face warmed. “But he always seems to be upfront whenever I asked him questions. Seems like an open book type of person.” She rubbed her forehead. “You know someone you can trust.” Phil gave something between a hum and a growl. “Connie, I believe your mom and dad did a background check when he first applied, or they wouldn’t have trusted him. That being said, I think you have legit reasons for a second independent check done on the man.” Phil’s words were totally opposite of what she told Connie. She wanted to scream. Connie spoke up before Kimberly could open her mouth. “Phil, thank you. I have an investigative reporter friend. I’ll see if she can do a little digging. Maybe call his previous employers to get a better idea about him.” “But . . .” Kimberly still felt the man was innocent. “Thank you both. I’m home now, so I’ve got to go. Love you guys.” She clicked off. Heat burned in Kimberly’s face as she laid the receiver in the cradle. Once again, her opinion didn’t seem to weigh much in Connie’s eyes. She heard Phil call her name from the top of the stairs. She turned on the water in the sink and splashed some on her face as his shoes clicked on the foyer’s tile floor. He stopped in the kitchen entry. “I know you disagree with me, Kimberly.” Phil reached for her. “But if she feels in her gut something’s wrong then she needs to check it out.” He lifted her wet chin, so her face was in his line of vision. “If she’s wrong, then you’ll know you were right.” Kimberly smiled and bounced her head. This man sure had a way of making the sun shine on a gloomy moment. Thank you, God. Watch for Episode 5 tomorrow!

Welcome to the third installment of The Visitor Misses a Visit. We seven authors have all contributed a chapter to this prequel, and today’s installment is by Julie B. Cosgrove, a writer of suspense and cozy mysteries.

Enjoy!

CHAPTER THREE

Fanny Lee Gillespie Henderson sat in the sunroom of her mansion sipping her second cup of coffee. Her housekeeper and cook, Izzy, brought the cordless phone to her.

“Eeats your niece, Meet Connie,”  Izzy whispered as she handed the call over. “She is the one who just graduated, si?”

Fanny nodded, then she punched the button and put the receiver to her ear. “Is that my favorite niece calling?”

“Hi, Aunt Fanny.”

“Congratulations, my dear. Graduated Cum Laude with honors. Not a small achievement. But I knew in my heart you would succeed, and I know you will, now in your new position.”

“I got your amazing bouquet of star lilies. So kind of you to remember they are my favorite. I promise to write you a proper thank you note as soon as I settle in.”

Fanny chuckled. “I know you will, my dear. And I know it isn’t the horse you always wanted. Oh, how I recall the times you’d visit the family ranch here. You’d dash to the stables the moment the car stopped.”

“Snowball always seemed to be ready to greet me. I loved that horse.”

Fanny detected her niece’s voice crack with emotion. “He loved you as well.” Perhaps the stallion’s demise five years ago still stung. But horses were not meant to live forever.

“Aunt Fanny, I called to discuss the information you sent to Dad.”

Fanny took a sip of her coffee and set the cup down. “I see. Do you foresee any problems?”

“No, it’s not that  … well … I need your advice.” Connie seemed a bit distracted. Not like her at all.

“Oh, what is it? You can always come to me, you know.”

“Which is why I called. Just a minute.”

Fanny heard a door softly close. “That’s better.” Connie’s voice lowered. “Have you heard about the new accountant, Clint Rutherford?”

“Your mother mentioned him in passing on the phone last week.” Eleanot’s voice had sounded almost sing-songy. “She seems to think he’s a Godsend.”

“I get the same feeling.”

And Fanny detected a flatness in Connie’s response. “From what your mom told me, he seems to be a gung-ho young man. Has a knack for numbers. And a steady churchgoer. That’s important. Why do you ask?”

She heard Connie suck in her breath. Had her sister’s intuition been flawed? Fanny had learned to rely on it in the past. Sort of a Holy Spirit teleprompter. It had yet to steer her wrong in all the years that Eleanor and Mackenzie ran the foundation, which is why Fanny always agreed to help them find outlets for their funding.

“There is something about him. I don’t know. His smile didn’t seem genuine. It never reached his eyes. And they, well … dart about, as if he schemed what to say next. Like plotting the next move in a chess match.

“Oh?”

“It isn’t tangible, just something I sensed. He seems to have taken on quite a lot of authority very quickly, though.”

“Have you had much contact with him?”

Connie sighed, making a roar through the receiver. “I know that tone. Judge not lest ye be judged. Not only Jesus’s warning in the Bible but your motto for life. Mine, too.”

A pause lasted so long Fanny wondered if there had been an interruption in the connection. Then Connie’s voice returned. “Frankly, we just met.”

“Aw, well then perhaps you need to wait before you decide about his motives. Your parents talk well of him. And he is only a few years older than you. Maybe you sense your mother playing cupid and are a bit defensive?”

“Perhaps. I admit Mama’s facial expression when she mentioned him sent prickles up my arm, like the times she suddenly invited a visitor to dinner who happened to be close in age when I came home from college for a visit.”

Fanny laughed. “She can’t help being a mother, dear.”

“True. And you may have a point. Still …”

“Tell me about your conversation, Connie. I sense this has stuck in your craw.”

She did. Fanny remained quiet as Connie spoke. Being a successful businesswoman herself, she had long ago learned that good listening skills were key to an acute insight into people. If Connie’s initial impression was off, Fanny would detect it.

When Connie finished, Fanny took another long sip of her now tepid coffee. She peered out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the garden. If only people could be pruned like flowers and bushes to grow right. Oh, well. Her niece had been well-groomed for this position. She needed to consider her intuition as valid. However, like her new dahlia shrubs. Connie was still growing and might need some bolstering to blossom in the right direction.

“Sounds as if perhaps the young man may be a tad over enthusiastic. As you may be as well, my child. If anyone can rein him in, it is your father.”

“I suppose.”

“I would suggest you keep an open mind over the next few weeks …”

Connie’s scoff came through the line.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“It’s just a gut instinct, I guess. But you are absolutely correct. I shouldn’t jump the gun.”

Fanny applied a serious tone to her voice as she leaned forward in her armchair. “Look, Connie. You are a smart young woman. You have your father’s knack for business and your mother’s heart for charities. I think God put you on earth when He did for a reason. You, above all your other siblings, have the talent and skill to carry on this foundation. Your parents are not getting younger, you know. Someday it will all land in your lap, not just the fundraising part.”

Silence. Had Fanny been too harsh? In her sixties, she could see the end of the line more clearly. Connie? At twenty-three, the world remained her oyster.

She tried again. “You have always had a good head on your shoulders, and if you sense something amiss about this young man, perhaps you should discuss it with others that you can trust. Your siblings have all been involved in the foundation at one time or other. I think you should speak to them about it. If Clint is pulling any wool over your parents’ eyes, your brothers and sisters should be made aware of it as well.”

Connie let off what sounded like a nervous giggle. “I feel vindicated and taken to the woodshed all at the same time. You do make sense. I trust your insight, Aunt Fanny. Perhaps I need more evidence to validate my initial reaction.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Thank you for your wisdom and your confidence in me. I appreciate your advice.”

“Then accept one more, my dear. Don’t let his nervousness or your own cloud your judgment. You are both getting your feet wet, as they say. However, you always were good at discerning people’s motives. Make sure you’re praying for God’s leading. then, if your gut, or shall we say, the Holy Spirit, continues to send off warning signals, heed them.”

“I will.” Her voice lilted with warmth. “And again, thank you for the flowers. They’re  lovely.”

“Goodbye, my dear. You are in my prayers, but I know you will do just fine. Give your parents my love, and I look forward to hearing more about your plans for the pregnancy center fundraiser.”

Fanny hung up and tapped the phone to her chin. When she’d been talking with Eleanor the other day, she’d heard a man’s voice in the background. Had that been this new man? He’d spoken to Anna Hodges in a rather authoritative tone. Not a respectful one that a long-term volunteer like Anna, who knew the ropes, should command.

Well, he was young as well. If it was him at all. Youth tended to be impulsive. I Clint Rutherford had any ulterior aspirations, Connie would get to the bottom of things. Yes, she would.

***

Aunt Fannie’s advice stirred Connie.

As hurt as she was that most of her siblings had ignored her college graduation—high school graduation, too, for that matter—she really did need to reach out to them. Family had always been so important to her, probably because, being so much younger, she’d been a little unincluded by most of them. Even Paul had childhood memories of a full house, family trips in a full van, and holidays around a full table that she never had.

For the most part, she got along with her siblings, but maybe she should reach out first to the ones she didn’t relate to as well, in order to get a more objective spin.

She needed to pray about it, but either Margaret or Kimberly needed to be her first call. Come to think about it, Margaret wouldn’t likely spend to her at all. Connie had only seen her oldest sister a handful of times as she was growing up. The woman didn’t seem the least bit interested in Connie.

Kimberly, it would be, then.

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Hi again, mystery/suspense readers … or just readers who like some drama and uncertainly in their daily reading.

. I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of The Visitor Misses a Visit.

Here’s the second installment.

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THE VISITOR Misses a Visit

Chapter Two – Impressions From the Golden Boy

The front door chimed and from Mrs. Hodges’ greeting, Connie wouldn’t have to wait for very long to finally meet the fair-haired golden child.

“Miss Wright, I presume.”

Connie looked up into a beaming face. “You must be Mr. Rutherford.” He didn’t look all that golden. Didn’t have a sparkle in his teeth or a shine to his gold hair, though he was on the handsome side with a clean-shaven, angular chin and piercing blue eyes.

“Call me Clint, please.” He came around the desk. “I have so been looking forward to meeting you.” He opened his arms wide and took a step closer.

A moment of indecision passed, but then Connie reached for his hand and pumped it several times hoping to match his cheerleader-like exuberance. “It’s odd that we haven’t met before now. But I hope you’re feeling at home here.” He hadn’t been involved with the foundation that long, but with the busyness of her last year in school, she’d hardly visited at all.

He placed his hand over her own. “I sincerely feel as if I’ve found something of a home here at the Wright Foundation.” His eyes got a little misty.

Well, he was nothing if not sincere. And it was nice of him to give them such a discounted rate to his work. Connie gave him a slight smile. “I understand that you’re able to lend us a few hours per week?”

“Yes, yes.” He released her hand. “I’ve done freelance work for a number of 501C3s. Though I still have a full-time position at the tax firm. Must keep my nose to the grindstone, as it were.” He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head like some type of cartoon character. “But this is where I want to be. If I had my choice, I would work here full time.”

“Ah.” Connie merely smiled. “Well, I’m sure Mama and Dad are both delighted to have you here. I’m certainly glad that I don’t have to be the one to balance all the accounts.” Thankfully, Diana Carson had a financial background and hadn’t minded adding a little light bookkeeping to her volunteer hours.

Did she still do that or had Clint taken over the finances entirely? Oh …financials … She slipped past her chair to her backpack and pulled out the reimbursement form that she’d tucked in there. “I guess you should have this, then. It’s for the storage unit for my furniture.” She hated giving up her sweet little apartment, but the foundation only covered living expenses at the brownstone where her parents had lived all their married lives. Her suite on one side of the unit proved large enough for Connie to still feel like she lived on her own. Without the hassle of cooking or dishes.

Back to the business at hand. She held out the invoice. “If you’ll send the direct payment to my account, I’d appreciate it. It took years to get Dad to stop using checks. I don’t want him to go back to doing it that way.” She chuckled, and Clint joined her, taking the paper from her.

He glanced ed at it. “We’re actually doing reimbursements a little differently. I’ll have to make sure this purchase falls into accord with the new program.”

“A new program?” Sort of changing rules mid-game. “With no notice?”

He shrugged. “Your father asked me to do whatever necessary to keep the foundation working. This is part of my number one goal. But don’t worry. I’m sure something can be done for you if the charges don’t clear.” He squeezed his lips together for a moment and turned the sides up in a slim smile. “I’m not here to make waves.”

Connie attempted to duplicate his puckered gesture, but more than likely she only wrinkled her nose in his direction.

For someone not wanting to make waves, he sure did seem to be stirring the waters. “Well, it was wonderful to finally meet you.” She nodded and moved back to her desk, pulling out her computer cords. “And I’m sure we’ll be talking soon. I’m working out the details to support a pregnancy center. As soon as I unearth the files, I’ll send them to you.”

His smile faltered a bit. “Of course. I’d be happy to look into it.” He gave her a nod. “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

She frowned at the doorway that he’d just vacated. He’d look into it? What did he mean by that? She only needed Dad’s approval, and since Aunt Fanny sent her the information about this program, he’d certainly go for it.

Unless this Clint Rutherford held more sway over her parents than she knew.

***

Between moving all of her worldly belongings either into storage or back to the brownstone where her family had lived all her life, and jumping flat out into the middle of three fiendishly clever events that her mom had been planning, Connie barely saw her parents for the next few days. But she caught her dad just before bed one evening  in the family room. “Any more news from that detective?”

He gave her a sideways look over the edge of his newspaper. “Are we borrowing trouble?”

“Just a simple question. I haven’t heard anything. I thought maybe you had.” She adjusted her denim shorts and drew her feet into the comfy chair seat with her, resting her chin on her knees.

He turned the page of his newspaper. “There was a small article about the death.”

Murder.”

He glanced at her again, moving nothing but his eyes; “They aren’t calling it murder. Suspicious death at the very most.” Again, he gave the financial section his attention. “They’ve given us access to our warehouse again.”

Connie hadn’t even been aware of that much. “Do they know who the man was?”

“Some poor vagrant trying to make a home on the docks, likely.” He gave a slight shrug.  “There’s nothing you can do for him now, my dear.”

True. as much as she’d loved reading Nancy Drew mysteries when she was growing up, she didn’t have the observation skills to solve any crime like the Titian-haired detective. Especially not something as critical as murder. Um, make that a suspicious death.

She leaned against the am of the wingback and focused on her dad’s face as he sat in the recliner. “So, what about the pregnancy center? the project is really important to Aunt Fanny.”

“Yes, yes. But Aunt Fanny has important projects come up all the time.”

Not like this one, but Connie wouldn’t interrupt his thoughts.

“I’ve left this in Clint’s hands. He’ll do whatever is right.”

Clint’s hands? :Daddy, you hardly know him. Are you really willing to give the man that much authority?” She straightened. “He’s the one making the foundation decisions now?”

“There’s more to it than that, Sweetheart.” He closed his newspaper as he rose from his chair. “I’ll consider the matter.” He folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. “That’s the best I can tell you right now.”

Dad’s best tied a knot in Connie’s stomach that wouldn’t go away. Perhaps a call to Aunt Fanny was in order tomorrow morning?

Stay tuned for Chapter Three tomorrow!