Mary Baxter - In Hot Water

During those years of hardship, her social life had been nonexistent. Only once had she agreed to attend a charity ball given by a client. There she had met Dr. Seymour Ramsey, a man twenty years her senior. He had been instantly smitten with her and wouldn’t leave her alone. Finally, he had worn her down after promising to love, honor and cherish her while at the same time resurrecting her previous life of wealth and luxury.

That had been a deal she couldn’t pass up. While she hadn’t loved him with passion, she had loved him.

She’d certainly been bowled over by his attention. Seymour had turned on the same charm that had helped catapult him, a young man from the wrong side of the tracks, to the top of his profession. Maci had sensed he was a decent man who wanted to make a home with her.

Being “in love” was no longer high on Maci’s priority list. Seymour understood, having told her he’d take her any way he could get her.

Two weeks after taking a Jamaican holiday, Maci had married Seymour despite the teasing from her friends that she would be joining the “trophy wife’s club.” Maci had known better. In their own way, she and Seymour had formed a bond based on mutual respect and admiration.

She had signed a contract that entitled her to a certain amount of money for every year she remained married to him. Once that fact hit the gossip mill, her friends had upped the ante on their teasing.

She had taken it all in stride since that contract had been so important to Seymour, which she understood. She’d had no quarrel with him wanting to protect his investment and his pride. What no one knew was that she’d had no intention of touching the money for her own use. Instead, she’d put it in trust to care for her Alzheimer-stricken mother as long as she lived.

The fact that shortly after they had exchanged vows Maci had found out she was pregnant had served to strengthen her and Seymour’s marriage. They had both been delighted. Her life then settled into a normal routine. She had thrived on her role as expectant mother and wife of Doctor Seymour Ramsey, convinced she had everything she’d always wanted.

And while she’d concede their marriage was far from perfect and probably unconventional by most standards, it had worked for them.

Until now. Until his abhorrent habit had come to light.

Maci’s heart faltered as she leaned down and kissed her baby on the forehead, holding him a bit tighter, careful not to disturb his sleep.

The consequences of what Seymour had done could be forever life-changing. They had already been life-altering.

If her husband failed to get control of his problem, then she… Maci refused to think about that. Seymour would mend his broken life and emerge a stronger, healthier individual. She had to hold on to that thought. Anything else was too painful to pursue.

Jonah stirred again prompting her to place him in his crib. That done, Maci glanced at the Waterford clock on the table and realized that Seymour should have already been home. She knew Annie, the housekeeper, had their brunch ready. And so did Seymour. Maci frowned, trying not to panic. Most of the time her mind was her own worst enemy.

Still, she couldn’t settle the disquiet that accompanied her downstairs. After passing Liz who was on her way back to Jonah, Maci made her way into the breakfast room. She was startled to find her husband.

No one would ever guess Seymour’s secret by looking at him.

His charming demeanor and handsome features persuaded many to believe in him.

He was tall and lean with silver hair that showed no signs of thinning. His deep-set green eyes seemed to smile when he did. But his pride and joy was his body. He kept it in tip-top condition by working in their gym at home as well as one at an exclusive country club.

“You’re just in time, my dear.” Seymour smiled and pulled out her chair. “Annie’s just about to serve us.”

“I didn’t know you were home,” Maci said inanely, feeling herself staring at him, looking for signs that he was using again. She couldn’t believe such horrible terminology popped into her mind much less applied to any part of her life. The idea seemed to sully everything around her.

If Seymour noticed her reaction, he didn’t let on. Instead, he smiled and asked, “How’s my son?”

Clearly he wanted to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened, even though they had had the sharpest disagreement of their marriage. Momentarily her temper flared, but she held it under wraps. Maybe his way was the best way. Holding a grudge definitely wasn’t the answer.

Maci released a sigh. “He’s great, as always.”

“I started to come up, but Liz told me you were rocking him.” Seymour shrugged. “I figured he’d be asleep.”

Maci sat down and the buxom housekeeper served their food. After taking a sip of almond-flavored tea, she glanced at Seymour. “How was your morning?” she forced herself to ask, still having difficulty pretending everything was normal.

Seymour touched his mouth with the white linen napkin, then smiled. “Fine. Another normal surgery day. One stacked on top of the other. How ’bout you?”

“Same here. I called on a new client who I think will turn into a gold mine. Shortly, I’m headed to Bobbi’s.”

“How’s that project coming?”

Maci played with her chicken salad. “Down to the wire, actually.”

Bobbi Trent was her best friend turned client. As a divorcée, she was trying to adopt a baby. Maci felt driven to get Bobbi’s house refurbished before the agency called her to say that they had located a child for her.

“I just wish you wouldn’t work so hard.”

“I know,” she said softly but with determination. “You also know how important it is for me to keep my independence.” Especially now, in light of the circumstances, she was tempted to add, but didn’t. There was no point in fueling an already simmering fire.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry, my dear. There’s no point in my belaboring the point. Besides, I just want you to be happy.”

“I am, Seymour. Or at least I—”

The chiming of the doorbell aborted her sentence.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Seymour asked.

“No. Are you?”

He shook his head just as Annie appeared in the doorway, a perplexed frown on her face. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” her eyes turned to Seymour, “but there are two gentlemen here who insist on speaking to you.”

Putting down his napkin, Seymour stood. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t bother, Doctor, we decided to come to you.”

The taller of the two men had made that declaration and now strode over to Seymour. He had a stern look on his face.

“And who are you?” Maci demanded, furious with their blatant intrusion and total lack of manners.

“I’m Detective Greg Johnson,” the short, stout one said. “And this is my partner, Detective Oscar Ford.” They both flipped open their badges.

Maci was glad she was seated as every muscle in her body weakened.

Johnson’s gaze whipped to Ramsey. “Doctor, we have a warrant for your arrest. The charge is criminally negligent homicide in the death of your patient, Grant Dodson. Cuff him, Ford.”

Maci gasped in shocked horror at the same time Seymour’s tanned skin turned deathly white.

Keefe Ryan looked like what he was—a socially inept attorney. He was short, bald, wore black-rimmed glasses and there was nothing attractive about him or his personality. Maci had always considered him to be the most boring man she’d ever met.

Yet when he walked into the police station, she had never been so glad to see anyone. She would never think ill of Keefe again.