“So you’re ruled by the hens? Staying in with them?” Byon stopped. “That’s a good title. ‘In with the Hens.’” He hummed a bit.
Jack picked up the tune and hummed it too.
Chris surprised them by coming up with words. “To pay for my sins with the hens.”
Clive was silent for a while, then he sang a bit in a baritone.
“I had no idea you had a voice,” Byon said.
“No one ever asked me to join in. I could have—”
The booing from the other men stopped him.
“Time to give it up, old man,” Chris said.
“Yes, your lordship,” Clive answered.
Chris’s eyes widened. “Never thought of that.”
“If your parents had married,” Byon said, “you’d have the title now.”
“How about a DNA test?” Jack asked. “It would prove that he’s Nicky’s heir.”
Clive and Byon groaned.
“You start checking for true fatherhood and the British aristocracy will collapse,” Byon said. “It’s all based on legal marriages, not who shagged whom.”
Jack and Chris looked at each other and laughed.
By the end of the day they’d made progress on the building. “Tomorrow we work on the roof,” Jack said.
“We’ll do Sound of Music,” Byon said. “The roof will be our mountains.”
They went in the house through the kitchen. It was a pleasant place without Mrs. Aiken there. A pot of beef stew was bubbling, homemade bread was on the table, a note from Kate beside it.
Beer in the fridge. Thank Puck for all of this. We women are busy.
The men sat down in their dirty clothes and ate it all.
“This is how I remember it,” Byon said. “This camaraderie.” He looked at Clive. “I didn’t think about...about the others.”
They looked at Clive, waiting for one of his poor-me statements. Instead, he said, “I have some really rich clients. I bet they’d love to meet you. Maybe they’ll back your new play Love and Death at Oxley.”
It was seconds before the others could react.
Byon recovered first. “Jack will star in the show.”
“Like hell I will,” he said. “I have enough trouble trying to get Kate when I live with her. If I left her alone I’d never get her.”
The other men burst into laughter.
“What?!” Jack demanded.
“Should we tell him?” Byon asked.
“If he’s that dumb, I vote no,” Chris said.
“I agree,” Clive said.
“What does that mean?” No one answered Jack’s question.
Byon looked at Chris. “You can play your father.”
“No thanks. I’m going home, and I’ll marry Teddy and have three kids.”
Clive snorted. “Won’t happen. She’ll stay with her mother.”
Chris leaned forward. “It’s already started. The women are planning to open a Renewal studio in Sydney, and Teddy is going to run it. Nadine is going to become the manager here in the UK. The idea is to give Wilhelmina time off because she plans to marry the lawyer and have kids. Adopt or IVF. They haven’t decided which.”
The men were staring at him.
Chris shrugged. “If you grow up with two mothers, you learn the female language.”
“I always suspected there was one,” Jack said.
Clive spoke. “You’re going to leave your farm and move to Sydney?”
“I was born into farming,” Chris said. “I didn’t choose it. But I do like the animals. I might look into zoo work.”
“Job satisfaction over money,” Jack said. “I like it.”
“Teddy will earn more than you,” Clive cautioned.
Chris smiled. “You old men and your egos. My generation doesn’t believe in that sexist lunacy.”
* * *
That night, Jack asked Kate what was going on.
“Just making plans.”
“For Teddy to move to Australia and run a Renewal branch? And for Nadine to stop looking for a rich husband and support herself?”
The look of surprise on her face gave Jack great satisfaction.
“Who told you?”
“It was my clever deduction,” Jack said.
“Yeah, right. We heard you guys singing. Will Byon give you credit in his new show?”
Jack, clean from a shower, stretched out on Kate’s fancy princess bed. “So give me the facts, ma’am, on everyone.”
“Seems like you already know it all.”
He remained silent.
Kate climbed up to sit at the foot of the bed. “Nadine and Teddy are going through a three-month course to learn about Renewal. Diana’s going back to Australia as soon as she’s allowed to leave. She said Chris wants to stay here in England while Teddy is in training, then they’ll leave together. Actually, Chris wants to spend more time at Oxley.”
Jack nodded. “Wants to learn about his father, does he?”
“Yes, but I hope he doesn’t think about what he could have had.”
“He’s got his feet on the ground. He won’t do that. And what about Puck?”
Kate grinned. “That has been interesting. She visited her mother in prison and Mrs. Aiken was really nasty to her.”
“As always.”
“Right, exactly. When Puck got back, Teddy and I were hugging her in comfort, but Nadine got angry. Yelled at her. ‘Have you never heard the word NO?’ The next day Puck was only gone for an hour. Seems she walked out on her mother.”
“Good for her.”
“And then...drumroll please... Puck asked Willa if she needed anything to do with plants for Renewal, like maybe edible gardens.”
“You think Puck would ever leave her house? Leave Oxley?”
“Maybe.” Kate drew her knees to her chest and stared at the pretty bedspread.
“Okay,” he said, “out with it. What else do you have to tell me?”
“Aunt Sara is going to stay here while you and I spend two weeks in Scotland.” She waited for his reply.
“Sounds good.” He looked at her from under lowered lashes.
His look was of such invitation that Kate got off the bed. “Aunt Sara says she wants some time alone but I think she’s going to try to win back Isabella.”
“How angry is she?”
“Very. It’s a my-life-is-ruined level of anger and it’s understandable. She grew up here. Restoring Oxley was her lifelong dream.” Kate sighed. “She’s been getting requests from people to hold séances here. They’re saying Sean’s spirit wants to be heard.”
“They’re probably right. Poor guy. I wonder if he had any family.”
“Nadine says no, that Sean was orphaned young.”
“He never got to see his daughter.”
“And Chris never knew about his father,” Kate said.
Jack rolled off the bed. “I like that the kid will be here with Sara, but I still wish she’d stay somewhere else. In London, maybe. She could go shopping.”
“She feels guilty about what happened. She said we solved a murder but she lost a friend.”
Jack frowned. “Sara paid for all this. I think that shows her concern for her friend.”
“Money and friendship don’t go together,” Kate said.
Jack was still frowning. “I know you’re right, but I wish she’d get out of this place. All the needless deaths that have happened here. Sara isn’t thinking of joining a séance, is she?”
“Only if she could get a book out of it.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Please do,” Kate said.
He started for the door but paused. “Two weeks, huh? Just us?”
“No one else,” Kate said.
Smiling, Jack went into his room
and closed the door behind him.
Twenty-Eight
Sara was in front of the house saying goodbye to everyone. Diana said she and Chris had said their farewells the night before. “He’s fascinated by what he’s found out about the Renlow family and his...his, uh, father.” She had trouble saying the word.
“At least he’s not angry because you didn’t tell him what really happened,” Sara said. “There are some, well, unknowns about Kate’s father. I dread when she finds out the truth.”
“I wish you luck.” Diana got into the hired car. She was going to the airport.
The rest of them—even Puck and Bella—were off to London. Nadine had talked Bella into taking a break from all the turmoil, and Sara had paid for a suite at the Connaught for three days. Reluctantly, Bella had agreed to leave. Puck was going to a meeting with Renewal executives.
Jack and Kate had rented a car, and it was packed with their suitcases. Kate looked happy but at the same time nervous. They weren’t used to it being just the two of them.
“You’ll be fine,” Sara told Kate. Jack was a few feet away, being repeatedly kissed by Nadine, Teddy and Byon.
“I’m sure I will be. Where’s Chris?”
“Diana said he’s reading about the Renlows.”
Kate glanced up at the house. “Do you think you’ll be able to patch things up with Bella?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Jack would warn you not to try to buy her friendship.”
Sara smiled. “The dower house could use some work. That’ll be expensive.”
Kate kissed her aunt’s cheek. “It’s up to you. I can see that the prince is ready to go. It’ll take an hour to get all the lipstick off of him.”
Sara laughed.
“Keep in touch,” Kate said. “Texts work here.”
“You know me. I’m the empress of texting.”
“True, but I also know that you get so absorbed in whatever you’re doing that you ignore the outside world.”
Jack came over, kissed Sara, then escorted Kate to the car. He winked at Sara as they drove away.
For a few moments, Sara stood there looking at the empty parking area. To a true introvert like her, there was nothing so glorious as when everyone went away.
Smiling, she entered the house. She hadn’t told anyone, but there was something still bothering her. Who told Clive that some billionaire client had asked for him? Told Nadine there was a party that didn’t exist? Called Byon to go to London? Who put the note into Sara’s camera bag?
Mr. Howland’s funeral was in a few days. Did he kill himself? Sara trusted Jack’s instincts more than she did what the police said, and Jack hadn’t felt any of the despondency that foretold of suicide. It could have been spontaneous but...
Sara wrote a note.
Lunch at one. In the kitchen. Sara.
She slipped it under one of the doors into the attic. She knew she should find Chris, make chitchat, then invite him properly, but she had other things to do.
As soon as she was in her room, she called Eddie the lawyer. Sara truly hoped things would work out between him and Willa.
A secretary answered the phone. “Oh! Mrs. Medlar. I was told that if you called, I was to put you through right away.”
“Thank you.” When Eddie answered, she said, “I won’t take much of your time, but—”
“Since I owe you my entire life, I am yours.”
“How flattering. I was wondering if Mr. Howland ever told you a story about breaking an elephant.”
Eddie laughed. “It was one of his favorites.”
“Would you mind telling it to me?”
“He was kissing a pretty maid at Oxley Manor, and they knocked over a little glass elephant. I think it was valuable. The trunk broke off. The girl was so upset that she wouldn’t see him again.”
Sara waited for him to go on but he didn’t. “That’s it? That’s not much of a story.”
“Not by your standards, but Mr. Howland was heartbroken. He said that if it weren’t for that damned elephant he might have married that young woman. But he said she was too scared after that.”
“Scared of what? Or who?”
“Bertram, I guess. Or maybe Nicky.”
Sara sighed. The story was a disappointment. “Thanks, and if you remember anything else, let me know.”
“I will. How are you?” he asked.
Sara wanted to go, but she didn’t want to be rude. And she also didn’t want to give anything away. “Oh, just researching. I may write another romance set in an English manor house. Chris has been praying in the chapel. He wants to—”
As she knew he would, he cut her off. If there’s one thing introverts learned early in life, it was that if you want to get rid of an extro, talk rapidly about some bookish subject and they’ll go away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to take this call.”
“Oh, okay. Stop by and I’ll tell you my entire plot. I think you’ll find it fascinating.”
“Love to,” he said, then clicked off.
Sara let out a sigh of defeat. That story of Mr. Howland was like buying a book with a bloody knife on the cover and finding a love story inside. The man’s heart was broken. So what? Everybody’s heart had scars. Sara’s own heart had a Grand Canyon-sized slash that still hurt deeply.
She looked around the pretty room. What now? Part of her thought she should plan a way to make amends with Bella. Sorry we were shown a skeleton. Sorry your cook is a murderer. Sorry your relatives are a lying bunch of—
Sara saw a big box on a side table. How did that get to her room? She opened it and saw it was full of papers. On top was a note.
Thought you might like these. Byon.
She pulled out what had to be five hundred pages. They were tattered and stained, some in folders, some loose. As she flipped through them, she saw that they were written during Byon’s college years. There were little character studies of his classmates. Sara smiled in memory. Cutting your teeth as a writer. Looking, analyzing, trying to make the mundane interesting.
Most of the stories seemed to be about Nicky. Nicky’s First Meal with Me. I Meet Nicky. Nicky’s Best Replies. “What? No bathroom stories?” Sara tossed those papers aside.
There were several short parody plays of the people around Oxley Manor. Sara read enough of them to see that Clive was often the butt of their “humor.” Knowing what she did now, it was almost amusing to read about Poorwilla. That so-called pathetic person was now the one who was pulling them together. Yesterday, Willa said, “I always did take care of them. I just didn’t know it.”
“How true,” Sara said as she picked up the last file. It was an old, white envelope. Bertram’s Drunken Stories.
It was the first piece that she actually wanted to read. She snuggled down in an overstuffed chair and began reading. Of course the stories were slanted. The reader was to see Bertram as a joke, someone to laugh at. He was stupid, while the writer was superior in every way.
There was a story about Bertram’s attempts to make money in horse racing. Byon had written Bertram as a buffoon, ridiculed by all the horse sellers—and by the young observers who did nothing but knew everything.
“He was trying to save Oxley,” Sara said aloud. “And Mr. Howland was paying for it all. He wanted his daughter to have the best. It’s just that he mistakenly thought Nicky and a falling-down old house were something to hope for.”
The last story caught Sara’s attention. The Sister I Never Wanted.
It was notes about something Bertram said when he was very drunk and very sad. He’d lost yet another race. “His words were slurred and hard to understand. He was giving up hope,” Byon wrote in a way that was supposed to make people snicker. Bertram’s lack of insight, his hope-without-a-reason, was meant to be humorous.
“She said she was my sister and I must let her run Oxley,” Byon quoted Bertram as having said. “I didn’t like her. She was too bossy.”
“She wanted control. I told her to get the hell out. But still, she made me worry that I don’t rightfully own the title.”
That was it. Just notes. Sara put the page down, frowning. What was written sounded familiar but she wasn’t sure why.
She glanced at her watch. It was ten to one. With the cook in jail, Sara had no idea what to do about food. She hoped the fridge was full, but she doubted if Bella had taken care of it before she left.
To Sara’s delight, Chris was in the kitchen and it smelled divine. “Ah,” she said. “Raised by two mothers.”
“Yes.” He was smiling. “I can cook and even iron.”
“Is it too late for me to hope you’d marry me?”
He smiled. “Sara, I’d be honored.”
She laughed and they sat down to eat.
For a while, they were both silent.
“Why do I feel that you’re dying to tell me something?” Sara asked. “The air in this room is fairly vibrating.”
“At home I take care of the finances. I should say that it’s not because I’m male and therefore better at numbers. Women are just as good at math as boys.”
Sara was smiling. “Those are stereotypes and not real.”
“I’ve been in the attic all night.”
Sara looked at him. Only youth allowed someone to stay up all night and look as dewy fresh as he did.
“Mom was against it, but I wanted to find out about my father.”
“I have some stories Byon wrote and they’re about him.”
“Wonder how they were missed? It seems like someone went through all the documents in the attic. I found diaries from the 1800s and land contracts written in the 1500s. But most of the records from the late 1940s until the early 2000s are gone. Years of journals are missing, packets of letters have had those years removed. I saw nothing about my father or grandfather.”
“Some of Byon’s stories were in a case that was hidden by Nadine’s old clothes.”
“So whoever took the other documents may not have seen them,” Chris said.
“You started this by mentioning finances. How does that relate?”
A Forgotten Murder Page 30