Sadie had accumulated a group of fine individuals who only needed a second chance. Her clan was a lot like the group on The Walking Dead. Everyone came from different backgrounds but they were all very close and cared deeply about each other’s welfare. While The Walking Dead group shared survival from zombies, hers shared survival from real, hard-hitting, life-altering circumstances.
Sadie stepped down the stairs into her indoor pool. Windows took up two walls, framed in pine logs and beams, showing off a panoramic view of the Tetons. Water trickled from a fountain into the pool. Tan-and-beige stone surrounded the pool and stone of differing texture and size made the walls. Dark wicker seating in three corners provided splashes of contrasting color, along with some trees and plants. On warm days the end window opened to an outdoor patio. She didn’t spend much time out there. Something about outdoor patios demanded a crowd. She went out there only when she threw barbecues for the household staff.
As soon as she reached deeper water and tried to swim, sharp pain stopped her. She almost went under before regaining her footing.
“Finley said you were in here.”
She turned in the water to see Jasper coming down the stairs in swimming trunks. Finley must have hooked him up with those. But it wasn’t the swim trunks that tickled her heartstrings. His rippling chest and abdomen. How that had her senses singing. Jasper...wow. Nice.
She’d seen little of him as she recovered, spending much of her time resting in her room or the library. He’d established a rapport with the lead detective working Bernie’s case and studied the file. She’d heard him on the phone a couple of times, asking questions, focusing on where the body had been found and what witnesses saw. So far he hadn’t progressed any further than the San Francisco police, but he’d asked questions and looked in directions no one else had yet. Something would develop soon. She felt confident of that, and in him.
“Are you sure it’s not too soon to start rehab?”
“Doctor said I should get moving as soon as possible.”
“Then let me help you ease into it.” He stood next to her. “Why don’t we start with floating on your back? You can move your arms, stretch your muscles.”
“All right.” That sounded delightful. She lay back on Jasper’s arms. He created a shelf under her mid-and lower back. Her left arm was stiff and sore. She couldn’t move it far. She rested her other hand on Jasper’s lower back. “This is going to take a while.”
“It’ll probably be a few months before you’re back up to full speed. We’ll take baby steps.”
She didn’t miss how he said we, but she wondered if he knew he’d referred to months. Did he expect to be here that long? She didn’t comment and floated for a while. He kept her head above water so all she had to do was concentrate on moving her left arm.
“You have an interesting staff,” he said after a while.
Was he merely making conversation? Or was he fishing for information? “I’m very attached to them all.”
“Your family must be envious.”
“I have no family.” She stared up at the pine ceiling, a circle of glass in the middle showing a sunny blue sky. “Didn’t Steven tell you that at the hospital?”
“Your father passed, but what about your mother?”
More fishing? She always got anxious when people asked her about her past. She had to be careful what she said. “My mother died when I was born.” She kept her emotion out of her response. Any talk of her mother usually spurred up some kind of sad thought.
“No other relatives?”
“No. None.” She hoped she didn’t sound rehearsed. And that he would stop asking personal questions.
“Do you miss him?” he asked.
She found that an odd question. Moving her gaze to him, she tried to see if he had a purpose, an ulterior motive, for doing so. But the detective in him kept his facial expression blank.
“No.” She could speak honestly about this part. “My father was not an easy man to please.”
“A lot of dads are like that. They want what’s best for their kids. They want them to be successful. Sometimes that means pushing them hard.”
“Well, then I’m a stereotypical rich kid when it comes to my father’s expectations. He gave me everything I wanted as long as it was within his rules. I grew up in a mansion and had lots of toys. He planned for me to take over for him since I was in high school. He planned my career path, made me study business in college. Nothing I did was my choice. The only women he respected were the ones he worked with, and then only those who practically killed themselves for their jobs. Forty hours a week was never enough. And if you didn’t work when you were home, you received more black marks. He didn’t care about family. He only cared about making money. And if those who worked for him didn’t feed his love for it, they didn’t last long. He was never faithful in his personal relationships, either. He was the most selfish person I’ve ever known or even ever heard of.”
“You resent him quite a bit,” Jasper said.
“Resent?” She thought on that awhile. Resent didn’t describe her feelings toward her father. “I might resent the way he dictated my life, but I don’t resent him. I feel sorry for him sometimes. But mostly I’m...” She caught herself before she said the wrong thing. “I’m glad he’s gone.”
“So are a lot of people who worked for him, I bet.”
She smiled up at him, floating on the water, slowly paddling one arm. “I did inherit his money. I suppose I like him for that part.”
“You do a lot of good with it.”
“I do a lot of frivolous things with it, too.” She winced as she overextended her arm but continued to work her muscles.
“Are you all right?” Jasper asked.
“Yes.” Had she ever been with a man this attentive before?
“Do you want to stop?”
“Not yet.” She looked up at him and couldn’t look away.
As the seconds ticked by, an attracted sort of awareness sparkled in his blue eyes.
“Where did you grow up?”
She wasn’t sure why he asked, maybe because she’d said she grew up in a mansion. “San Francisco.”
“Is that where his company was?”
She didn’t want to answer that. After a few seconds she finally did, reluctantly. “Yes.”
He seemed to notice so she treaded water with her hand, pretending not to notice him, as well.
“Why do you care so much about homeless people?” he asked at last.
No one had ever asked her why. “I didn’t until I met Bernie.”
The charity held special significance because of the injustice many homeless people endured. Whether they landed on the streets after suffering financial catastrophes or mental illness, they were treated like trash by the rest of civilization. But why did she care so much? She did care. A great deal. She cared about the people and their destitute circumstances.
“I needed something to do with my time and I wanted to run a nonprofit,” she said. “Bernie opened my eyes to a lot of things.”
“What things?”
She remembered her childhood, going to her father’s corporation and witnessing him rule like a bloated king. It used to disgust and embarrass her.
“The