Cold Hearts. Sharon Sala

put it on vibrate so it wouldn’t disturb Betsy and was relieved to see that it was Trey.

      “Hi, honey,” she said, careful to keep her voice low.

      “Hello, sweetheart. How are things going? Was Mom all right?”

      Dallas looked over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone.

      “I thought so at first. She was making bread when I got here, but she looked so tired...almost old. I’ve never thought of your mother as old before. We went into the living room to sit down. She leaned back and closed her eyes, then for no obvious reason jumped up so fast she knocked her coffee off the table. The mug broke and coffee went everywhere. I went to get something to clean it up, and she started screaming. I ran back and found her on her knees in the middle of the spilled coffee. It was the most frightening sound I’ve ever heard.”

      Trey’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, my God, did she fall?”

      “No, I don’t think so,” Dallas said. “But she acted like she didn’t know where she was. I tried to get her up to go change her clothes, and she kept looking down at the floor telling me she couldn’t leave yet because she’d just thrown up in the floorboard of the car and she had to clean it up.”

      The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

      “The floorboard of a car? She said she threw up in the floorboard of a car?”

      “Yes. It makes no sense,” Dallas said. “I was afraid she’d had some kind of seizure, because she went right to sleep after I got her cleaned up.”

      Trey frowned. “I’m coming out. Don’t leave, I’ll be there soon.”

      “Oh, I’m not leaving. I have to bake the bread dough she has rising. Have you talked to Trina?”

      “Not yet. As for Mom, don’t tell her I’m coming,” Trey said.

      Dallas felt sick. Would this turmoil never end?

      * * *

      Trina Jakes was taking inventory on the number of radiator hoses they had in stock and comparing it to the computer readout of stock on hand to make sure the numbers matched.

      Freddie Miller, her boss at Miller Auto Parts, was beginning to suspect someone was selling inventory at a cut rate to certain customers and pocketing the money because he kept coming up short on parts when the computer said they were still in stock.

      There were only three other employees besides her who could be doing it: Tony, Elton or George, and she had to guess that since she was the bookkeeper and never waited on customers, Freddie didn’t suspect her. That and the fact that he’d asked her not to mention what she was doing made his suspicions fairly obvious.

      She was down on her knees in the aisle when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up.

      “Hey, Red, what are you doing?”

      She frowned. Not only did she not like that Elton called her Red, but she’d just been confronted, something she’d hoped wouldn’t happen. She had to come up with an explanation fast.

      “Oh, I’m checking some stock numbers against an invoice I got the other day. They don’t match, and I can’t cut a check to pay until I know for sure we got the right merchandise.”

      “I can help,” Elton offered.

      “Thanks, but I already have the numbers I’m looking for in my head, and it would take longer for me to make you a list than for me to just do it.”

      “Whatever,” he said. He grinned, and then gave a lock of her hair a little tug. “So when are you gonna dump that Daniels dude and let a real man show you a good time?”

      Trina stood up. It was a defensive move she’d used on the men before because she was taller than all three of them.

      “I already have a real man, and quit calling me Red,” she drawled. She then strolled up the aisle and back into her office.

      The phone was ringing as she walked in the door, and she hurried to answer.

      “Miller Auto Parts. This is Trina.”

      “Hey, sis, it’s me.”

      Trina had already heard about Paul Jackson’s death, so she guessed why he was calling.

      “Hi, Trey. Sorry about Mr. Jackson. You guys caught a bad one this morning, didn’t you?”

      “Have you talked to Mom?”

      She frowned. “Not since I left for work. Has something happened?”

      “She freaked out again when she heard about Paul’s death, just like she did when she found Dick Phillips’ body. Dallas is with her, but I wondered if you could give me your opinion of how she’s been acting recently.”

      All of a sudden Trina felt anxious. “Secretive, weepy, a little frantic at times, and then most of the time she’s Mom. What’s going on?”

      “Not sure. I’m going out to check on her shortly. If you feel worried about her at any time, night or day, call me, okay?”

      Tears suddenly blurred Trina’s vision. “You’re scaring me, Trey.”

      “Yeah, well, she’s scaring me, so that makes two of us. Listen, I’ve got to go. Remember, call if you need me.”

      “Do you think we should call Sam?” she asked.

      Trey thought of their oldest brother, an ex-military, hard-core private investigator and the last member of their family to put up with bullshit from anyone.

      “Not unless we need someone to put out a fire or start a war,” he drawled.

      Trina giggled. “Yes, you’re right. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Mom.”

      “Good deal. Talk to you later.”

      The click in her ear signaled the end of the conversation, but it had just begun a whole new set of worries. This stuff scared her. She needed to talk to Lee. She was having dinner with him tonight. He was the rational one in their relationship. He would make everything all right.

      * * *

      Betsy woke up to silence and for a few moments wondered why she was in bed, and then she remembered. She threw back the quilt and sat up on the side of the bed, absently rubbing the scar along her hairline. She distinctly remembered throwing up, but the bitter aftertaste was absent. And she’d been screaming. They were going too fast. That was it—they were going too fast! But that made no sense because she’d just woken up in bed, so had she dreamed it?

      “Betsy?”

      Startled by the sound of another voice, Betsy stood up as Dallas entered the bedroom.

      “Dallas? Oh, yes, you were here, right? How rude of me to go to sleep.”

      Dallas wanted to hug her, but there was something about the way Betsy was standing that told Dallas not to push her.

      “It’s actually time to work your bread. I was going to do it, but since you’re up I thought you might want to do it yourself.”

      Betsy blinked, and just like that she was back. She smoothed the hair away from her face and slipped into her shoes.

      “Yes, the bread! I love that first rising when you go to punch it down, don’t you? It’s like popping a big rubber balloon! Let’s get that bread in the baking tins and then make something for lunch, okay? You can stay, right?”

      Dallas smiled. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”

      Betsy patted Dallas’s cheek as she sailed past her on her way back to the kitchen. She knew what to do now. She had purpose.

      A short while later Betsy had the dough in the pans and was covering them up for the last rising. Dallas was heating up some soup Betsy had taken out of the freezer when they heard the front