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by Barbara Lien-Cooper
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“You look troubled,” I said to Roger. “And you’ve hardly eaten your food. It seems silly to bring me to one of the most lovely restaurants in Bangor and then not touch a bite of your food…”
“Ah, well, you’re far lovelier than this place, my dear…” said Roger.
I smiled at him. Roger might not have been other women’s romantic ideal; he was balding, and his countenance often seemed grim. But he had a fine mind, and he’d always been every bit the gentleman, especially to me. I’d known him for almost five years. We’d met soon after his first wife, Laura, had died under mysterious circumstances; he’d come to Bangor on business. He always seemed to have a lot of financial reasons to visit Bangor, something to do with his family’s business ties… He wasn’t the owner of whatever company or companies his family owned—his sister Elizabeth seemed to have the lion’s share of the stock in the concern, and he just managed things. I once asked Roger about the family’s financial arrangements… he told me quite honestly that he’d spent his money on having fun. Since he didn’t like talking about it, I was never sure quite what the family business was—something to do with lumber, or canneries, or perhaps both… “I appreciate the comment, Roger, but it concerns me that you’re not eating.”
“Family troubles again,” said Roger.
“When is it anything else? Is it David again?”
“No, not my son, not this time…”
(more…)
