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Actually, Pettit had said that in one of her social media posts.
“She’s right, and it’s definitely time for a break. Would you care for ice water or lemonade?”
“Ice water would be great.”
Pettit ushered her to the veranda, where an icy pitcher of water waited. The sweat dripping down the pitcher told Finley it had been waiting there for a while now. Pettit gathered a second glass, and they settled around a small table in the pleasant shade of a massive sycamore tree.
Finley eased into the conversation by asking about her garden. Anyone who loved flowers this much would be only too happy to talk about gardening. Pettit stated proudly that she had lived in this house for fifteen years and she intended to be here until she died. The garden was her true love.
“It’s very kind of you to provide a sanctuary for Ellen during this terrible time,” Finley said.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Pettit assured. “She is quite dear to me. We’ve known each other for eons.” She laughed. “I’m much older than her, of course. I celebrated the big six-five this year.”
“That’s impossible,” Finley said, playing the usual game.
Pettit waved her off. “I love my life, and I love sharing it with Ellen every chance I get.”
Dear friends, Finley decided. “You’re very close, then.”
“We are.” Pettit nodded. “Very close.”
“Did you feel Jarrod was the right person for Ellen when she first introduced him to you?”
Pettit was silent for a bit. “Honestly, I never liked him. I didn’t tell Ellen, of course. She was happy, and I wanted to support that. But I didn’t trust him. Not at all.”
“Have you spoken about your feelings since his death?”
She shook her head. “What’s the point? What’s done is done. No need to rub it in.”
“Ellen seems like a strong woman,” Finley ventured. “Which explains how she is holding up so well under the pressure of the investigation.”
“She is strong,” Pettit said. “Stronger than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“But we all have our moments when we’ve had enough,” Finley suggested. “No matter how strong we are.”
“Well, of course. She is human.” Pettit blinked rapidly. Sipped her icy water slowly as if considering how to proceed. “She was feeling a little out of sync with everything a few months back. I encouraged her to see someone.” She smiled. “The most amazing therapist was recommended to her, Dr.Theo Mengesha. He was so helpful. In just a few sessions, he helped her to find her way back on track.”
Finley was speechless for a moment. She and Winthrop shared a therapist? “That’s great,” she finally managed.
Of course Mengesha wasn’t onlyFinley’stherapist. He had other patients. But why hadn’t Winthrop mentioned she was seeing someone? It was possible the information was irrelevant, but this was exactly the sort of thing the police would be digging for. The possibility of depression or other issues along with any prescribed medications would need to be considered.
“Yes.” Pettit nodded resolutely. “It was exactly the right move. Made all the difference.”
Finley set her sweating glass aside and folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me more about Ellen. She grew up in Nashville, didn’t she?”
Her background had been fairly easy to research. A lot of articles had been written about her. She’d been woman of the year more than once. Countless accolades had been bestowed upon her over the years. Like the Judge, Winthrop’s name was well known in charitable circles. She was one of the few who really did give back at a level reflective of her wealth. There was little out there about her childhood.
“She did,” Pettit agreed, “but not on this side of town. Ellen’s is a true rags-to-riches story. Her mother died when she was very young, and her father, God rest his soul, was a hard, hard man. She had no siblings.” Her expression turned grim. “Her homelife was difficult. Oh, butshe loved school. Everything about learning, actually. I was a brand-new teacher the first time I met her. She was a third grader and full of life and wonder. Watching her blossom into a confident, ambitious young woman was immensely satisfying.”
“I imagine her tragic childhood influenced her decision not to have children of her own,” Finley suggested. This was certainly not true of all or perhaps even many women who chose not to have children of their own. Spouses and children were no longer considered essential to having a full life. Many women and men chose not to go that route. The statement was an impetus for more information.
“Perhaps. She never spoke of her feelings on the matter. Not even when the rest of us were wrestling with all the usual expectations.” Pettit shrugged, her gaze growing distant with memories. “The journey was not always easy for Ellen, but she never gave up and never complained.”
“You mentioned her father was a hard man,” Finley nudged. “Can you explain what you mean?”
Pettit averted her gaze. “She doesn’t like to speak of her childhood. Nowadays her father would be jailed and the key thrown away for the treatment she suffered at his hand. But she never brings it up.” Pettit shook her head. “Never talks about it or complains, as I said,” she reminded Finley.
Pettit wasn’t going to give those details either.
