The Wrong Woman. Linda Warren

Clint Eastwood type with the boots and the hat.”

      Serena picked up the card. “Said his name’s Ethan Ramsey. He’s a private investigator.”

      “Do you need a private investigator?”

      “No. He thought I was someone else.”

      “He used a line like that? I didn’t figure he was the type.”

      Serena started to tell her about the stripper part, but decided not to. She didn’t want any more rumors to circulate. There were enough already. More than enough.

      “You just can’t tell, can you?” she replied as she collected her briefcase and slid the card into her pocket. She’d throw it away later.

      Daisy quickly wiped the table. “No, you sure can’t, but he could use that line on me any day of the week. I served him coffee and breakfast, and all he said was thank-you. All the guys go for you.”

      “Maybe he noticed the wedding ring on your finger.”

      Daisy twisted her hand. “Oh, yeah, forgot about that.”

      Serena smiled. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”

      “Oh, Serena,” Daisy called before she could leave. “I’m sorry about your grandfather and all.”

      The smile left Serena’s face. “Thank you,” she said, and walked out.

      As she got into her car, she reflected that everyone was sorry about her grandfather…and all. But it didn’t change a thing.

      AS SHE ENTERED THE driveway, Serena saw that all the other cars were gone. Her grandmother’s monthly bridge meeting took place this morning, and Serena was glad it was over. She had to talk to Gran and she couldn’t put it off any longer. Her grandmother had to stop spending money. They were broke; it was that simple. Her grandfather had died three months ago and left them heavily in debt. Her grandmother wasn’t helping by ignoring the problem.

      She went in through the kitchen and found the house completely quiet, except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway, which only emphasized the silence. The lady Gran had hired to serve refreshments must have gone. She and Gran had argued about it this morning. They couldn’t afford to pay someone for maid services, but as usual Gran had turned a deaf ear to her pleadings.

      As Serena started for the hall, the kitchen phone rang. Startled, she merely stared at it. She hated answering it these days. It always seemed to be a bill collector.

      She took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

      “Ms. Farrell, please.”

      “This is Ms. Farrell.”

      “This is Mr. Wylie from the bank.” Serena knew exactly who it was. She’d heard his voice more than she wanted to during the past three months. “I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, Ms. Farrell, but this is getting serious. We have to have an installment on your grandfather’s note. We can’t continue to let this go on. If we don’t receive at least a partial payment by the end of the next week, we’ll have to start foreclosure proceedings on the house. Your grandfather put it on the note as collateral. There’ll be a notice in the mail.”

      Serena swallowed the painful knot in her throat. “I’m doing the best I can, Mr. Wylie.”

      “I know, Ms. Farrell, and I hate to do this. I’m aware of your situation, but my superiors are demanding restitution for this loan.”

      Serena glanced outside to the beautiful May day. The sun was shining, the trees were flourishing and the grass was greener than it had been even a week ago. A perfect day in an imperfect world. She recognized that now she’d have to do something that would break her heart.

      “I’ll be in next week, Mr. Wylie,” she said.

      “Oh, Ms. Farrell,” Mr. Wylie replied, surprise in his voice, “I’m so glad. I’m aware that this house has been in your family for years and I hated to take it away from you.”

      Serena couldn’t respond, couldn’t say that without this house, her grandmother would lose all hope, all sense of pleasure in life. What she said was, “I’ll see you at the end of the week,” and hung up the phone.

      Serena continued down the hall into the den. Her grandmother, Aurora, was reclining in a chair with a blanket over her feet. At seventy-one, Aurora was regal with a polished Southern charm. She had grown up in Georgia and moved to Texas when she was fifteen. Later, she’d married Henry Farrell. They’d had one daughter, Jasmine, who died shortly after a car accident more than thirty years ago. Jasmine was almost nine months pregnant with Serena at the time, and while both parents had died from their injuries, Serena had been safely delivered. After Jasmine’s death, Henry and Aurora had raised Serena.

      They gave her a storybook life. They lived in a lovely home in an affluent neighborhood. Serena attended the best schools. Her life was full and happy, and she’d never wanted for anything. After college she’d returned to Fort Worth and gotten a job teaching. She met Brad and they were making plans to get married when her grandfather passed away.

      Her life changed that day. While she was still trying to deal with the grief of losing her grandfather, she discovered he was deeply in debt. That storybook life had been a fiction all along, paid for by loans. She’d never discussed finances with her grandfather, so she was unaware of their money problems. His family had owned a pharmaceutical company, which he’d inherited. The company had evidently been in a financial bind, and her grandfather had taken on private investors. The investors soon bought him out, but her grandfather had maintained a position in the firm with a salary—a salary that did not accommodate their lifestyle. His savings were gone and he’d taken out a second mortgage on the house, as well as a series of loans. His life insurance had paid off some of them, but Serena was still struggling to save their home. She’d never had to worry about money before; now it was all she ever thought about.

      Her grandfather had tried to shield Gran and her from everything, letting them live in a fictitious world—a world without dark clouds or storms. He used to say, “I want my girls to have nothing but rainbows.” That wasn’t real, though. Now the real world had surfaced with a vengeance, and Serena wasn’t sure how to cope. But she was trying.

      Serena kissed her grandmother’s forehead. Aurora opened her eyes, their blue a little faded. “Oh, darling, you’re home.”

      She sat on the stool at Aurora’s feet. “We have to talk.”

      “It’s about money, isn’t it,” Aurora said tiredly. “You know I don’t like talking about money.”

      “We have to,” Serena insisted. “You have to stop spending so much. We don’t have any money,” she said bluntly. “We barely get by with your social security and my paycheck.”

      “I don’t understand how we could be broke. Henry always took care of everything. I never had to worry.”

      That was the problem, Serena thought. Henry had borrowed and spent more and more to make sure Aurora and Serena had the life he wanted them to have. Serena had explained this repeatedly to Aurora, but she never fully grasped the situation. And to be truthful, Serena wanted her to have the life she was accustomed to, just like her grandfather had. She found herself weakening. She decided against telling Gran about her conversation with Mr. Wylie, even though she knew she should. Aurora would be so distressed, and Serena was determined to avoid that. Besides, she’d figured out a way to stop the foreclosure.

      Serena kissed her forehead again. “We’ll talk later,” she said, and headed for the stairs. She’d do anything for her grandmother. That was why she didn’t understand Brad’s attitude. When they found out about her grandfather’s debt, Brad urged her to file for bankruptcy and put her grandmother in a seniors’ home. Serena was appalled at such a suggestion. She’d been raised to be honest, loyal and dedicated to family. Brad was asking her to do something that went against every belief, every instinct she had. They argued