Four-fifteen on a lightly raining morning marked what appeared to be the start of social disintegration in the life of Betsy Milton-Stewart.
Betsy awoke to hear her husband Royce cry, "I don't feel well." He coughed and gurgled, starved for air, dying of a massive coronary at 4:15.
A former star athlete and regional Young Businessman of the Year winner, Royce (40) was publisher of The Sentinel, the morning newspaper for Milton Falls and outlying settlements.
Regrettably for Betsy, that business also was dying so the pickings for the widow (29) would be lean, and virtually the whole town would learn about that simply because Milton Falls was an isolated community of barely 15,000 people.
The problem for Betsy was she was an outsider and had hurt the second oldest family in town, the Kennedys, by coming in and winning the heart of Royce when he was thirty-three days from wedding Mae Kennedy.
There was no Kennedy at the funeral and in fact the only person from the A-list in town society was the wealthy and pugnacious widow Matilda McBride, who'd not missed a christening, wedding, funeral or post-divorce party in town since returning to the town fifteen years ago when newly widowed.
Most women at the funeral, and many men, wore black. Matilda was dressed in cobalt blue while Betsy wore the recently purchased dress Royce had adored; it was blue, white and orange – and very low cut. The whisperings and the hostile eyes of women at the funeral service said it all: Betsy was finished in this community.
Of course, most mourners – and they truly mourned the passing of the lovable Royce – paid their respects to Betsy as they filed from the church. But just the like men, the women shook Betsy by the hand or simply didn't touch her at all, rather than kissing her as women tend to do at weddings and funerals.
Matilda was the exception to this indifference: she hugged and kissed Betsy and was heard to say, "Come and see me dear if you get lonely or troubled."
Only two weeks after the funeral, Betsy was lonely and troubled and needed someone in who she could confide. That afternoon she'd gone to the bank to meet the loans manager, at his request.
He advised Betsy that the board had decided to call in the mortgage advanced to The Sentinel, now owned outright by Betsy, in sixty days and no extension was possible.
"Who is the bank's managing director?," Betsy asked. "I wish to seek to overturn that decision."
"My father, Reginald Kennedy," said the loans manager, Reginald's son Ross.
"Well then, who is the president of the bank?"
"My grandfather, Silas Kennedy."
Leaving her coffee untouched, Betsy stood up and smiling at Ross Kennedy, uttered her brief farewell with dignity and walked out.
Round fucking one to the Kennedys, snorted Betsy as she walked up the street to where she'd parked her car, but the space was empty.
Mary-Lou the florist came out on to the sidewalk and said: "I'm sorry to have to advise you Betsy but your car has been repossessed by Kennedy Motors. The talkative tow truck driver told me he understood that the lease term expired on the vehicle yesterday and it is not being renewed."
"Thank you, Mary-Lou. Would you kindly call me a cab?"
While waiting for the cab to arrive the two women chatted. Mary-Lou picked out a selection of her best-grade flowers, wrapped them and handed them to Betsy, kissing her. Mary-Lou, since remarried, had been a young widow herself and she and Betsy were members of the same book discussion group.
The cab driver Mike Street, who'd been a regular drinking mate of Royce's, was friendly and talkative. As he stopped to let Betsy out at her home he said, "No charge and some free advice: Watch the Kennedy clan, they may try to squeeze you as a revenge thing. Call me if you need help."
I need help, thought Betsy as she unlocked the door of the house. The property had been registered just in Royce's name was unencumbered and the transfer to her of the clean title was currently going through the system as part of estate tidying up, being undertaken by her solicitor, Megan Ryan.
Everyone who had a complaint against a Kennedy hired Meg to fight his or her case. Not everyone in town was in the pocket of the Kennedys, not be a long shot. Meg had been jilted by Ross Kennedy when they were in their late teens, the next night after Meg had allowed him to take her virginity one holiday weekend when she was home from law school.
Well, what now? Betsy asked herself. No answer was forthcoming but while making a cup of coffee Betsy recalled that friendly offer made at the funeral. Betsy phoned Matilda McBride and disclosed she was in trouble, giving brief details.
"Come now, right away," instructed Matilda. Betsy was not expecting a miracle but being in need a sympathetic ear, she thought perhaps Matilda might have some useful advice. Older women were supposed to be good at that.
Matilda hugged Betsy warmly, which rather got to Betsy and she'd been feeling rather out on a limb. Inside the house Betsy was introduced to a lean man, probably in his early thirties, with the coldest blue eyes she'd ever seen. But not only that: he had a hooked nose, a scar down the side of his face and a very square jaw.
As he moved towards Betsy a ridiculous thought came to her – he moves like a cat. He did move rather stealth-like. It must be his dark expression and his black clothing, she thought while deciding she wouldn't wish to meet him in the dark.
Betsy shook hands with Kenny, introduced as Matilda's younger son. The grip was powerful, the hand surprisingly warm. Well, at least blood flows through him, she mused.
They sat down, and when Matilda asked for full details of the problems, Betsy flashed a look at Kenny.
"Don't mind him, dear, he's probably going to be assigned to help you. My guess is you're having Kennedy problems. I was born Matilda Kennedy – not many people around here baring the Kennedy's know that. I was banished from the family by my father Silas when I became pregnant to Father McBride. Danny left the church and we married.
"I came back here to live with my children, being the sole survivor of an air crash which took the lives of my husband, his parents and sister and older brother who owned and was piloting the aircraft. That's when, sadly, I got my inheritance. Danny's folk were quite wealthy. Fortunately our two children were staying that weekend with friends of Danny. That tragedy left us three as the surviving members of that branch of the McBrides."
Betsy was shocked by those revelations and expressed her sympathy. Matilda nodded in response but Kenny just stared at Betsy, obviously waiting for her to explain her problems in detail.
Half an hour later when leaving, Betsy accepted an offer by Kenny to drive her home. The fact that his car was black, with darkened windows and was without any shiny metal at all on its exterior did not surprise her – it was the sort of vehicle a man like Kenny would mate with.
"What line of business are you in, Kenny?"
"Was in Special Ops in the military then have just finished working for almost four years helping a loans company find clients who had disappeared owing big money. Now my mother wants me to troubleshoot for her. She's decided the time has come to deal with Kennedy problems."
"Oh heavens, here was I downloading my problems on to her when she's got problems of her own. I must go back and apologise."
"It's cool, Betsy. My mother thrives on being in the middle of problem-solving business. She should have been in Special Ops herself."
As they drove to Betsy's front door she had the ridiculous image of Kenny bending over her as she went to get out of the vehicle and kissing her. She blushed and was relieved that he didn't do that. Nor did he lean across and open her door for her or walk around and gallantly open and hold the door ajar, politely adverting his eyes as she struggled to keep her short skirt from revealing stocking tops and panties.
My God, why am I thinking these things of Mr Debt Collector Man in Black? His heart would have been extracted by the military.
But Kenny had a most unusual farewell message. As Kristy leaned forward to say thank you and goodnight as she closed the car door, he said, "Your car will be back later tonight."
