Part 5
Howard had owned Whitaker Hardware Supply for more than forty years.
He had buried his wife after a long struggle with dementia, survived heart surgery, and still walked through his warehouse every Tuesday morning with a portable oxygen tank instead of using the golf cart his employees kept ready for him.
He was not easily rattled.
When I arrived at his office, two cups of coffee were waiting.
“One cream,” he said.
“You remembered.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I almost believed him.”
My stomach tightened.
Howard pressed a button on his phone.
Richard’s voice filled the office.
“Howard, I don’t want to alarm you, but Evelyn has been under tremendous stress. She’s becoming forgetful. Nothing dangerous yet, but you may want to transition payroll responsibilities before things become complicated.”
