Page 70 of Is Anyone Listening?
"Yes. I'd also say ruthlessly ambitious, very focused on money, and the kind of person you just don't get close to."
"He wasn't always that way. There was a time when he seemed like too much of a dreamer."
"Seriously? That doesn't sound like my father at all."
"He started changing even before he left. My son and my husband were often at odds. Sometimes I was at odds with both of them. They were strong personalities."
"Well, you don't seem like you have a weak personality."
"Circumstances forced me to be stronger."
"How did my grandfather die? I heard something about him falling from the cliffs."
"There are a lot of rumors about his death. This town loves to gossip."
"What happened?"
She hesitated, then said, "The year before Richard died, we were living in a house on Spring Lane. David was a senior in high school, and I was a stay-at-home mother and wife. But I'd always wanted to run a bed-and-breakfast like this inn. It was my dream to one day own this place. When the former owner decided to move away, she put it up for sale. It was in bad shape. It hadn't been operating as an inn for probably three or four years while she was ill. I knew I had to buy it. After many discussions, Richard agreed we would sell our house and use the money to buy this inn. Your father was almost an adult and thinking about going to college. Although Richard wanted David to work with him at the Boatworks. He wanted him to carry on the family legacy."
"I can't imagine my father working on boats."
"He was a very skilled carpenter. But he wanted a bigger life. Anyway, we moved here, and we started a long process of renovation. We weren't going to be able to open for guests for several months." She took a moment before continuing. "One night, there was a bad storm, and Richard went outside to check that the oceanfront windows were covered with wood so the glass wouldn't break. I was asleep when he left. I didn't know what had happened until the sheriff knocked on my door and told me a tourist had found Richard's body on the beach." Her lips tightened. "He must have gotten disoriented in the wind and the fog and slipped off the bluffs."
"I'm sorry," I said, seeing what appeared to be genuine pain in her eyes. "That must have been awful."
"It wasn't supposed to end like that for him, for me, for us…"
Silence followed her words. I wasn't sure exactly what to say. Her story matched some of what I'd read in the old newspaper, but I didn't think she'd told me everything. And while it was a sensitive subject to broach, I had to do it. I had no idea if this would be the first and the last conversation we would have. "Why are there rumors that my father killed him?"
She gave me a startled look. "Is that what you heard from your dad?"
"No. I told you he didn't tell me anything. I read an old article about Richard's death. And then Margaret?—"
"That damn woman is always spreading gossip," Ellen said sharply. "And she doesn't care who she hurts."
"So, you don't think my father killed his father?"
"Of course not."
"Then why would anyone else?"
"Because they argued a lot, especially when David was at the Boatworks. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want that to be his life, but Richard was determined that that's what he would do, and he told him he wouldn't pay for college. If he wanted out, he'd have to earn it." She paused. "Margaret's son worked at the Boatworks. I think he told her about a fight that got physical between them a few weeks before Richard died. That's where the gossip started."
"Did my father hear about the gossip?"
"Yes, but he wasn't that bothered by it, because he knew he didn't do it."
"Why did my dad leave a month later if he wasn't bothered by the gossip?"
She took a quick breath, then said, "Because he'd been wanting to leave for a long time, and now he could. That's really all I have to say."
"That isn't nearly enough. If my dad just left to go to college and have a different career, why did he stop talking to you? You were a widow. You had just lost your husband. And my father just turns his back and walks away? That doesn't make sense."
"He was angry with me, too. He didn't think I supported him enough with his father. He told me he was done, and he left." Her tone turned hard and cold. "I never heard from him again. I never knew where he went or what he did. In the beginning, a few of his friends tried to tell me, but I shut them down. I didn't want to know until he wanted me to know. And he never did. He could be stubborn, just like his father."
"And like you," I commented. "As the years passed, didn't you ever want to look him up, to find out if he'd married or had children?"
"He always knew where I was. If he wanted me in his life, he would have told me."
