Beth Solheim: At Witt's End

"You're too old to be buying that kind of stuff.” Attempting to straighten the rest of the items on the bookshelf Jane said, “Why don't you look at something intelligent?"

"Like one of your cooking magazines? I don't know why you bother to read them. You don't follow the recipes anyway.” Sadie batted at Jane's hand as her sister tried to stop her from pulling the catalog back out of the stack. “You're driving me nuts. All you do is clean, clean, clean. It's to the point where I have to Duct Tape my undies to my butt. I'm afraid if I lost sight of them for one second, you'd put them away and I'd never find them again."

When Jane's tidiness drove Sadie to distraction, Sadie countered by creating a mess. Even though Jane's exasperation resulted in a sermon clarifying the finer points of organization, Sadie took pleasure in flustering her sister. However, this sparring hadn't been intentional. Jane's worries had escalated to a feverish level because of a pending lawsuit, a lawsuit that could produce devastating results, and Sadie knew it would be wise to keep her retaliation to a minimum.

Sadie had dealt with crossers for forty years. That she could handle, but not the lawsuit.

Jane crossed to the door to let Belly out. “What a nuisance. He's been pacing for the past ten minutes. Everywhere he goes I have to wipe up a puddle of drool.” She peeked through the screen. “Is the guy in the suit still out there?"

Sadie caught sight of movement near a Norway pine as she slid her feet into her rhinestone-adorned sandals and wriggled her toes. “He's still there. He's walking toward the parking lot, but he keeps looking back at our cabin."

"I hope he's not a crosser. I can't take much more stress. Besides, you've already got your hands full."

"I'm not the only one who's got my hands full,” Sadie said. “Nan's got the Fossum family in storage at the mortuary. I don't know how she's going to manage. I still can't believe all three of them died in that accident."

"From what Nan said, Deputy Friborg stopped by twice to look at the bodies.” Anguish tightened Jane's aged features. “He must really miss his friend to view his body twice."

"I don't think that's why Deputy Friborg wanted a second look.” Sadie looked through the window at the mortuary next door. “From what Nan said, he's not totally convinced it was an accident."

"What?” Jane whispered. “Do you mean…?” Jane's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Shut your mouth before a bird builds a nest and you choke on it. I'm not in the mood to do CPR."

"Not an accident?” Jane said. “When you told me Tim thought his dad was murdered, I didn't believe it. But if Deputy Friborg is concerned, maybe it's true."

Goose flesh rose over Sadie's arm as Jane's comment hit her. If the deputy's curiosity snowballed into a full-blown murder investigation, it would only add to her problems because Tim was one of her crossers.

Jane's gaze darted back and forth. “Who would want to hurt the Fossums?"

"Hopefully no one. I think Tim's imagination got the better of him.” Tim Fossum's body lay in cold storage at the mortuary next to his parents. It wasn't unusual for crossers to deny their demise. The fact that Tim didn't cross over when his parents did made it harder for him to accept. If he fostered a notion of murder, it gave him something to concentrate on, other than his death decision.

"The poor lamb,” Jane said. “What a terrible thing for Tim to go through."

"How do you think I feel? I'm the one who broke the news to Tim. To make it worse, he's forced to make a death decision that might prevent him from ever seeing his parents again.” Sadie tipped her head upward and sighed. “It breaks my heart to see him so confused."

"That's the problem,” Jane said, waving her arms in frustration. “I can't see your crossers but you can. Even that bothersome dog can see them. It's not fair."

"You missed your calling, Jane. You look like a traffic cop trying to get the Hell's Angels to turn in at the church."

"I do not. I'm upset because you're the death coach and I have no choice but to believe what you tell me.” Jane looked out the window again, trying to spy the man in the black suit. “I'm too tired to deal with this. I couldn't sleep last night because I kept worrying about our lawsuit. Now I'll be worrying about a murder, too."

"Quit worrying. I told you our attorney will take care of it. And I'll bet it's not true about the Fossums anyway."

Sadie pushed back the despair that engulfed her every time she thought about losing the lawsuit. Putting forth a positive front was safer than thinking about the consequences.

"But what if we don't win? What if we actually lose the resort?” Jane slammed her hand down on the table. “How can you be so calm?"

Drawing on her reserve, Sadie said, “I'm trying my best not to think about it. There's nothing we can do until the hearing."

"That's what drives me crazy. I hate waiting.” Jane fidgeted with her blouse collar, attempting to pull the points into alignment. “Our employees depend on us for a living. They'll be out of a job if we lose this resort."

Sadie sat in the chair next to her sister and folded her hands around Jane's fists. “You can't think like that. You've got to have faith it will be settled in our favor. We've owned this resort since Mother died. The judge will take that into consideration."

The women turned at the sound of Belly's bark. His stubby tail jerked anxiously as he sniffed the air.

"Judge Kimmer never liked us,” Jane said. “He won't give a hoot how long the resort's been in our family. You know he's wanted to buy this property. The fact we turned him down won't help."

"The resort was never listed with a realtor. He had no right getting angry when we turned him down.” Impatience squeezed at Sadie like a vice. Witt's End was the most prime vacation property in Northern Minnesota. For over twenty years every developer in the upper Midwest had tried to buy their resort. Some of the locals, including Judge Kimmer, had also expressed an interest in the property, but Sadie held fast by declining their offers.

The resort featured three thousand feet of shoreline dotted with towering Norway pines and sheltered one of the most popular fishing bays on Pinecone Lake. A reservation list spanning two years, a lodge, a restaurant, a marina, a sand beach, and a gift shop guaranteed many return visits by satisfied vacationers.

"You were the one who suggested we get this over with as soon as possible. Because you were in such a hurry, they selected an earlier court date,” Sadie said. “Now we're stuck with it. If we'd have waited, Judge Kimmer wouldn't have been assigned to our case."

Jane pushed back from the table. “I couldn't wait because I'm dying by inches every day. I can't think about anything but this lawsuit.” As Jane paced, she fidgeted with a pleat in her tan slacks. “I know you're right. I know I have to put this out of my mind. You've got the crossers to keep you busy. I don't have anything to occupy my mind."

"It's not like I asked to be a death coach,” Sadie muttered.

"Then why did you take the job?"

"Job? Job? Being a death coach isn't a job. It just happened."

"Well it sure seems like a job,” Jane said. “You're busy every day dealing with them. And now you think there might be another one out there. You need to find someone else to do it."

Through lips tight with exasperation Sadie said, “You know I was chosen to guide them. How else will they know how to cross over to the other side?"

"The fact they couldn't cross over shouldn't be your problem. Let them find their own way."

"I'd like to, but that's not possible. I've explained this a million times."