Page 69 of Backwater Justice
“What do you mean?” Myra placed her hand on top of Danielle’s. She could tell there was something eating at the younger woman.
“He’s been very edgy. Flying off the handle sometimes.”
Myra listened intently as Danielle went on about all the high-ticket items Oliver had purchased. “I don’t know what he’s invested in, but I know what his salary is and, well, it’s none of my business, really.”
“But it is Benjamin and Milton’s business,” Myra reminded her.
“I suppose you’re right, but aside from marketing, I have had very little to do with the operation of the company, and Benjamin tries very hard to keep business dealings separate from family. When he’s home, he’s totally focused on us, the house, his parents.” She took another sip of her champagne. “But these past few days . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Myra wanted to change the subject. Danielle was becoming a little sloshed. She looked at the beautiful spread of food in front of them. “This looks lovely, and I’m a bit peckish. Shall we try some of these delectable delights?”
“Oh, of course. My apologies. I’m a terrible hostess.”
“Not at all,” Myra encouraged her.
“It’s just that I don’t usually have anyone to talk to, except for at charity events. Of course, there’s Benjamin, but I really don’t want to get between him and Oliver.” She shook off her mood. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with family gossip.”
“No burden. And I totally understand. It’s not always easy to keep business and personal life separate.” Myra noticed Danielle’s eyes were watering up. “Are you alright?”
Danielle dabbed her eyes. “Yes. Thank you. I’m glad you and I decided to have lunch. Just the two of us.”
“Sometimes it’s good to have an impartial ear. Helps keep things in perspective.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Interviews and More
Maggie and Benjamin arrived at the George family residence at the same time. “Good morning. I’m Maggie.”
“Nice to meet you, Maggie. I hear you’re a crackerjack reporter.” Benjamin held out his hand.
“Well, I do like to eat Cracker Jacks,” Maggie joked. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t have the opportunity the last time I was here.”
“Two weeks ago, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s when your dad offered the reward. My boss, Annie, is best friends with Myra, and she wanted me to help cover the story. Is there any other news?” Maggie had to play it cool.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Well, we have to keep wishing, and hoping, and praying,” Maggie said. “By the way, I heard someone say that a young girl was brought to the hospital but then disappeared. Do you think that may have been the same teen?”
“I have no idea, but if it was, then at least we know she’s still alive. As of yesterday, anyway.”
* * *
Benjamin rang the doorbell. A woman with a long black braid answered. “Hello.”
“Mrs. George? I’m Benjamin Spangler. This is Maggie Spritzer.”
“Yes. Please come in.” The woman stood to the side to let them in. “My husband, John, is out on the porch. Follow me, please.”
The house was filled with Native American artifacts, including blankets and pottery. “Is this all your craftsmanship?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, most of it. Even though we’ve assimilated, we also want to keep our legacy and ancestry alive. We come from the Kalapuya people. My husband’s father, Jacob, moved here years ago. He wanted his son and the next generations to be educated through the public school system. I met John at a cultural event. When we got married, I moved here, too.”
“It’s beautiful.” Maggie spoke softly. It was as if they were in an art exhibition. They walked through the modest home, and Maggie spotted a line of photos on the dining room credenza. “Is that Lori?” she asked.