Stipulations and Complications

by Becki Willis

  Cutter threw a protective arm around her waist, turning so that his body shielded her from the man spouting hateful jargon.

  “Get out.” Cutter ground out the bitter warning with a deadly gleam in his eyes. “Pay your bill and get out. And don’t come back.”

  When Barry pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and would have considered it enough, Cutter plucked another twenty from the folds. Ignoring Barry’s blubbered protest, Cutter took the money and handed it to a still-pale Genny. “This should make up for his rude behavior.”

  “That’s the last money you’ll ever see from me,” Barry glowered, wagging his finger dangerously close to Genesis’ face.

  Genny managed a nonchalant shrug, even though her body still trembled. How dare he bring up the past the way he had!

  With a very loud snort of disgust, Barry Redmond shot one last glare toward Madison and stormed out of the I. A small spattering of applause heeled his departure.

  “Are you okay, Genny?” Cutter asked in concern.

  “Yes. He didn’t hurt me, just startled me.” She leaned into his strength.

  “He’s lucky I didn’t beat the snot out of him,” Cutter said darkly. Genny could feel the anger still coiled within him. “Miss Maddy? What about you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Cutter.” She offered a small smile of reassurance, even though it wavered a bit. She picked up her cell phone and examined it for damage. “My phone survived, too, so everything is good.”

  Cutter gave Genny’s waist an encouraging squeeze before he disentangled his arm from her waist. “I hope you didn’t mind that I kicked him out permanently,” he said as an afterthought.

  “No. No, not at all. Good riddance.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he grinned, finally beginning to relax. “Come on, I’ll buy you two lovely ladies some coffee.”

  Genesis held up the extra twenty. “How about some Gennydoodle cookies to go with it? Barry’s treat.”

  He gave her a mischievous wink. “You’re on.”

  ***

  “I think I found something.”

  Madison blurted out her announcement the moment Brash answered the phone. He picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Maddy?” he mumbled in confusion.

  “What other woman calls you this late at night?” she asked irritably. Belatedly, she glanced at the clock and felt a stab of remorse. “You weren’t asleep, were you?”

  “It’s after midnight. Yeah, I was asleep.”

  “Sorry. You want me to call back in the morning?”

  Sheets rustled on the other end of the line. Madison refused to let her mind wander down that path, even though his sleep-roughened voice was so sexy it conjured up all sorts of tempting suggestions.

  He mumbled something unintelligible as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Even over the phone lines, she could hear his knee pop. “Nah, I’m awake now. Tell me what you found.”

  “I’m reading in one of her journals, and Miss Juliet is talking about a trip she and her husband have taken. A sort of honeymoon, I suppose. When they came home, Darwin had a surprise waiting for her. A custom-made bookcase for their bedroom, designed and installed by her dear friend Clarence.”

  Interest sharpened his sleepy voice. “How long of a trip did they take?”

  “One month. They traveled by train to Philadelphia to meet his family.”

  “Hmm.” She could imagine his mind working as he thought aloud. “That might explain how someone managed to build a retro-fit staircase within the walls. That’s always bothered me. How could a person add a staircase without anyone knowing it?”

  “A month should be enough time to build one, don’t you think?”

  “With time enough to start on a cellar addition, to boot.”

  “So maybe she really didn’t know about the room. Or the stairs.” The thought was oddly comforting. “That was what bothered me the most,” Madison admitted, “thinking Miss Juliet might somehow be involved in that unknown person’s death.”

  “I understand. I didn’t like that theory, either, but I couldn’t make any other scenario fit. But an extended trip would explain how a staircase was built without her knowledge. I’m not sure what the servants thought, but maybe they felt it wasn’t their place to speak up.”

  “I think I read… yes, right here. She gave the servants the entire month off, a paid vacation to celebrate her marriage. The only ones to stay behind to keep an eye on things were Truman and Lily Ford. Truman was her butler and most trusted employee.”

  “So wonder why he allowed this Clarence person to build a hidden staircase in the walls?”

  “Maybe because it was his son?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Apparently, Clarence was Truman Ford’s illegitimate son. Miss Juliet didn’t say so in such crude terms, but she alluded to the fact.”

  “Hmm. I did not know that. So either the good butler knew about construction, or he left the house in his son’s care and was as ignorant about the staircase as Miss Juliet was.”

  “Are we thinking she lived there all those years, and never knew about one last secret passage?” Madison asked.

  “I would say it is definitely a possibility. Unless you find information in those journals to tell you otherwise, she may have slept just feet away but been none the wiser.”

  “So maybe my instincts were right. Maybe there was a one-sided relationship going on, and Clarence decided to put in a secret passage so he could spy on her.”

  “Or maybe the staircase was Darwin’s idea.”

  “Either way, the whole thing is creepy. A secret passage that feeds directly from the cellar into the master bedroom. Ugh.” A shiver ran through Madison’s shoulders. “If I haven’t already given the instructions, I want the staircase boarded off the minute you are through with this investigation.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll drive the first nail.”

  “Any word yet from Austin?”

  “These things take time.”

  “It’s been five weeks already!”

  “We may have to wait five months before we get the official report. Even then, I’m not holding out much hope for identification. There are just too many unknowns,” Brash warned.

  “Still, I’d like some sense of closure.”

  “That’s not always possible, Maddy, particularly in cold cases like this one.”

  “I know. I don’t like it, but I do know it’s a possibility.” She paused only briefly. “Changing subjects, guess who I saw today in town?”

  “No idea.”

  “Barry Redmond. It wasn’t a pleasant reunion, to say the least.”

  “Madison, I told you not to read anything into those names. I pulled several names at random, without making any accusations. Don’t make this more than it is.”

  “Ooh, I must be in trouble,” Madison taunted. “You’re calling me Madison, not Maddy. You only do that when you’re miffed with me.”

  “Miffed?” Now his voice held a ring of amusement.

  “So maybe I’ve been reading too many journal entries. Some of the vernacular is wearing off.”

  “Be careful. I don’t want too much of the prim and proper town matriarch rubbing off on you.” The amusement gave way to pure devilment. His voice slipped an octave. “Not when I have another moonlight picnic planned.”

  It had to be exhaustion. That was the only explanation for the sultry tone that infiltrated her voice. “You don’t say. And just when is this picnic taking place?”

  “You tell me. You name the time, and it’s a date.”

  She loved the low timber of his voice, roughened now with undisguised desire. She closed her eyes and bit back a sigh. “Things are still so crazy, Brash. The cameras may be off at the house, but they follow me like a shadow everywhere else. Now we have all these requests for interviews and appearances. The third episode hasn’t even aired yet.”

  “All the more reason you need a little escap
e. River therapy.”

  “This weekend, maybe? Oh, wait. It’s Mother’s Day weekend.”

  “That’s Sunday. We could squeeze in Saturday night.”

  “The kids and I have a tradition. We make cookies and watch old home videos the night before Mother’s Day.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “It is. Can I get a raincheck on that picnic?” she asked hopefully.

  “You bet. Like I said, you name the time, I’ve got the place.”

  “Thanks, Brash. I’ll let you get back to bed. Sorry I woke you.”

  “I’m not.” His voice was wicked and low. “I was already dreaming about you. Talking to you was so much better.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The kitchen resembled a disaster zone. Mixing bowls and measuring cups littered the countertops, crammed alongside opened canisters and an electric mixer. Empty eggshells dripped on the tile counter, flour dusted the hardwood floors, and a trail of oats scattered from the pantry to the sink. Cookie sheets and cooling racks dominated every inch of the kitchen table.

  “These smell awesome,” Bethani beamed as she took a batch of hot cookies from the oven. With her hair up in a ponytail and flour smudged across her cheek, she looked like a little girl playing dress-up. She wore one of Granny Bert’s old aprons, the frills and gingham check at odds with her ripped jeans and rhinestone flip-flops. As she made her way to the table, she inhaled another whiff of pure heaven. “Move over, Goober, so I can put these down.”

  “I’m trying to open these sprinkles,” her brother complained. “They seal these suckers with some sort of cement.” He gave one last tug and the seal broke free. Tiny bits of colorful candy confections sprayed across the kitchen.

  “Way to go, bro.”

  Ignoring his sister’s sarcasm, Blake held the jar up in victory. “Free at last. Free at last.”

  “Enough with the speeches,” Madison advised. “Grab the broom and sweep those up, before we grind them into the floor. Beth, how many does that make now?”

  After a quick count, the teen reported, “Two dozen and three Chunky Charlies, three and a half dozen sugar cookies, four dozen peanut butter bites, three dozen chocolate chips, less the two your son just stuffed in his mouth.”

  “So when we finish this last batch we should be done.” Madison surveyed the evening’s efforts with a satisfied smile. It was one of their favorite traditions, started when the twins were just toddlers. What cookies they didn’t eat or save for later, they wrapped up and gave in small batches to friends and neighbors, particularly moms.

  “Can we start decorating the sugar cookies?”

  “Sure. Granny, is that frosting about done?”

  Stirring the mixture to smooth perfection, Granny Bert pointed to three small bowls at her side. “Finishing the white right now. There’s the blue, pink, and yellow.”

  “This year’s cookies are going to be the best!” Bethani grinned with confidence. “I love these colors. They’re more like turquoise and hot pink. Totally awesome.”

  “Amazing what Easter egg coloring will do for frosting,” the older woman smirked.

  “Not very manly,” Blake complained, swiping the vivid pink frosting across his finger.

  “Hello? It’s Mother’s Day, you goofball,” his sister chided. “It’s not supposed to be manly.”

  “Yeah, well, without dads, there would be no Mother’s Day.” He stuck his tongue out in contempt, but the bright pink stain on its tip killed the desired effect. Bethani dissolved into giggles.

  A warm sensation of joy blossomed within Madison’s heart as the teens fell into a playful rapport while frosting cookies. It did wonders for a mother’s soul to hear her children laughing and working together. Madison stood back and watched their antics with a tender smile upon her face. Where had the time gone? The twins were almost sixteen now. In her mind’s eye they were still babies, still two exuberant toddlers who tried her patience but brought her the greatest joy she had ever known. Of all her accomplishments in life, she considered motherhood her greatest contribution to the world. It definitely brought her the most pride and happiness.

  “Come on, Mom. You too, Granny. Come help us,” Bethani encouraged.

  “I think you two are doing a fine job,” Madison said, but she joined in to make it a true family effort.

  “These cookies are great, but what are we doing for supper?” Blake wanted to know. He stuffed a Chunky Charlie into his mouth before applying a layer of yellow frosting to the cookie in his other hand.

  Wondering where he put all the food he consumed, an indulgent smile touched Madison’s face. “Why don’t we order pizza? I’ll run get it while you set up the movies.”

  “I wish someone would offer home delivery around here,” Blake complained. “If I had one gripe about moving to a small town, that would be it. No pizza delivery.”

  Hear that, Annette? Blake is happy here.

  Thoughts of her mother-in-law’s accusation intruded on their special evening. In truth, the heated conversation shadowed her constantly, reminding her of Annette’s competitive — and often combative — nature. Madison could not ignore the possibility, however improbable, that Annette might try to take her children away from her.

  Pushing unwanted thoughts of her mother-in-law aside, Madison laughed. “If that’s your only complaint, I’d say we’re in pretty good shape.”

  “Don’t eat all the Chunky Charlies or there won’t be any left!” Bethani fussed at her brother as he popped another into his mouth.

  “Happy might not be much of a cook, but she sure makes a mean cookie,” Blake said with a satisfied smack of his lips.

  “You are right, my mother isn’t much of a cook,” Madison agreed. She remembered eating a lot of macaroni and cheese as a child. At the time, she thought ordering out for pizza and eating soup and pasta from a can was perfectly normal. Looking back, however, she realized her mother — known to Bethani and Blake as ‘Happy’ — was too busy with adventures to bother with the mundane task of cooking. Her one claim to fame was her Chunky Charlie cookies, a mish-mash of Charlie Cessna’s favorite candies and nuts thrown together in an oatmeal dough.

  “Do you miss her and Grandpa Charlie?” Bethani asked, tilting her blond head to one side. “We haven’t seen them in forever!”

  “Of course I miss them.” Her answer was perhaps a bit too quick. “But I was lucky enough to have a surrogate mother, one who turned out to be more of a mom to me than the woman who gave me birth.” She shot a quick glance to Granny Bert, who pretended not to be listening. Though the older woman was buried up to her elbows in soapy water, a ghost of a smile softened her wrinkled face.

  “Do you think they’ll ever settle down and come back home?” Blake asked.

  “I don’t know, honey. My parents love adventure. I’m afraid River County is a little too tame for their tastes.”

  Bethani made a sound of disbelief. “Not anymore, it isn’t! Between the ghosts and the skeletons and the television crews, this place is way more exciting than those foreign countries they like to visit.”

  “Oh! That reminds me!” Blake’s blue eyes lit up as he dug in his pocket for his cell phone. “I found the perfect Mother’s Day gift for you.”

  Granny Bert joined in the conversation with her own harrumph. “What? A guard dog to keep watch on her?”

  “Almost,” the boy grinned. “Or at least the sound of one, to scare off thieves and attackers!” He pressed a button on his phone, causing it to rumble with a long, low growl. “That should put the fear into someone, don’t you think? You can hook it up to a motion detector and — voila! Your own vicious attack dog.”

  “That should do it,” Madison agreed with a chuckle. “It sounds like… wait a minute. Where did you get that?”

  “It’s an app on my phone. Or you can get the barking Dobermans.” He pressed another button and rattled the windows with the incessant sound of multiple dogs ready for attack.

  “No, no, go back to the o
ther one. Yes, that one.” There was no barking in this recording, just a low and menacing growl, much like the one she and Derron heard at the mouth of the cave. Taken by surprise that day, they assumed they had disturbed a cougar in its den. They dared not linger long enough to make positive identification. Could it have been only a recording? One activated by motion, just as Blake mentioned?

  Suspicions swirled in her head. “Can anyone get that?”

  “Sure. I’ll send it to you, so you can have it on your phone. If you ever get in an uncomfortable situation and think someone is going to bother you, just crank this little baby up and send them running.” He pressed a few buttons and reported with a grin, “Done. Check your phone.”

  Hearing the bing that confirmed a new message, Madison pulled her phone from her pocket. She played the recording back, comparing it to the remembered sound at Hank Adams’ place. She wasn’t positive, but she thought it was a close match.

  Only one way to be sure, she told herself. First thing Monday, she would call Derron and drag him back to the wooded property.

  Blake hooked an arm around his mother’s shoulders and gave her a big, loud, sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Love you bunches!” A rakish grin crossed his face, one that was sure to slay countless of girls over the course of the next several years. “So, what about that pizza?”

  ***

  Granny Bert volunteered to pick up their meal while the three of them piled onto the sofa and started the first of a dozen or more home movies. It was a time-honored tradition for their family, an opportunity to look back at the past and remember the good times they had shared. It was particularly emotional this year. The first time Gray’s handsome face flashed across the screen, Bethani burst into tears. After watching several clips that featured their father, even Blake brushed away a tear or two.

  When a close up of her late husband’s face filled the screen, Madison could not deny the catch in her heart. Bethani grabbed the remote and punched pause, freezing the image for a moment in time.