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nodded.
"Okay, tell me about Linden," he commanded
as we headed out. "What did he do now?"
I described Linden and what I had discovered
he had done to his paintings. Thatcher listened
intently, his face grim. We got into his car. He sat
there for a moment in silence and didn't start the car. "Thatcher?"
"I don't like the sound of it. Willow. Art has
been his whole life. For him to turn his back on that
has to be something very serious. I'm not the
psychiatrist here, but to me it sounds like another
attempted suicide. He's simply destroying himself in
another way. Not only are you possibly endangering
your mother and yourself, but you're certainly risking
Linden's health and welfare by not committing him. "I don't like to lecture anyone," he said. "I hate
when anyone lectures me, but it seems to me this is
just the wrong time for Grace and you to be taking on
all the added responsibility of running Jaya del Mar.
Let my parents extend their lease for another year and
get that off your head for now."
I thought for a moment. Maybe he was right;
maybe I was pushing everyone too hard and this was
all my fault. Maybe my mother didn't even want to go
back into the main house.
"You don't even have to live on the grounds, if
you don't want to," Thatcher continued as he started
the engine and pulled away from the beach house. "I
can help you find a place more suited to your needs
and finances. It could do Grace a lot of good to have a
fresh view of things, don't you think?"
