by JL Wilson
Portia nodded, slipping her hand away from mine to smooth the crisp white sheet covering her. "I didn't know it mattered that I talked to him so I never mentioned it." She regarded me sympathetically. "No reason to bring up old memories."
"Did you call him or did he call you?" Dan asked.
"Why do you care?" Portia countered.
"Genny cares, so I care," he said quietly.
He sounded completely sincere. I turned to look behind me. Dan met my gaze squarely, his dark brown eyes so expressive, so full of--what was it? Love? Concern? What was I was seeing? I wasn't sure, but I felt suddenly uplifted, supported, as though he was next to me, his arm around me and holding me solidly against him.
"Thank you," I whispered. I wasn't sure if I was thanking him for caring for me, or thanking him for being with me. All I knew was that at that moment, I was so thankful to have him there. It felt as though the earth shifted under my feet. I knew that I had taken a step onto a moving walkway, one that would carry me away. The only question was where was I going?
Portia watched us, her eyes flicking back and forth between Dan and me. "I called John that night," she said. "He called me earlier in the day and asked me to check something then call him back."
I couldn't get any words out. I was still so stunned by what I thought I saw in Dan's eyes that I couldn't formulate a comment, much less voice it coherently.
Neither Dan nor Portia seemed to notice, though. "What did you need to check for him?" Dan prompted.
Portia regarded me with pursed lips, probably surprised by my sudden muteness. "It was about my will. You know I'm leaving everything to you and to Amy, don't you?"
I nodded. "Mom mentioned it."
"I knew she couldn't keep quiet about it." Her voice took on a brisk, business-like quality. "The farm is worth about half a million as it sits. That's without selling the land to any developers. If you sell to developers, it triples in value, maybe more. Plus there's a bunch of bonds and securities and stocks. You and Amy need to sort through it all and get scholarships set up, do bequests, and all that." Portia waggled one finger at me like a cautionary child. "The only stipulation is that you can't get rid of the house and the land. If you try to sell the house or the land it sits on within twenty-five years, all the money goes to the Red Cross and a wildlife fund. Either you or Amy must live on the farm for one calendar year. If neither of you live there, the money and the land go to the Red Cross and the wildlife fund. That's how I want it." She nodded triumphantly.
Dan's eyes narrowed in thought. "So they'll need to set up trust funds and tax-sheltered annuities. And determine how the funds will be distributed. Are the scholarships supposed to be based on need or merit? Do you want to stipulate what college majors should be supported? Do you have a particular college in mind? Are all the scholarships for students here from town?"
"Whoa. We're jumping the gun." I nodded toward Portia.
Dan looked abashed. "Sorry. It's the business side of me getting involved."
Portia's eyes widened. "Business side?"
"Dan used to teach high school business classes as well as coach baseball," I said. "He's been retired for a few years."
"Well, that's useful," Portia murmured. "I'm having an audit done of all of my assets. I would dearly love to get an objective opinion from someone who doesn't know me at all." She turned her gaze on me. "All of the papers are in the safe upstairs, in my dressing room. You know the combination."
I nodded. As children we played Bank in her dressing room, the small half-bedroom that adjoined the big master bedroom in her house. The two-foot-tall safe tucked into the corner was our Vault. Portia taught us the combination long, long ago with a simple rhyme that I still remembered: Start at one, spin left for fun, stop at four, spin back for more, go to nine, it's almost time, now forward four, there is no more.
"Why did Genny's husband want to know about the will?" Dan asked.
I blinked widely, suddenly returning to the here and now, memories of a carefree childhood vanishing. For the first time I noticed that Dan never said John's name. It was always "Genny's husband" or "he." I started to mention this, but Portia spoke before I could.
"John said he was going to talk to someone about Michael." Portia frowned, her white eyebrows drawing together like two little caterpillars on her pale wrinkled forehead. "John was worried that Michael might have changed the will. But I checked, and it's still the same one with the wording I intended. I keep a copy with me. The original is in my safe at home. Darryl Brody handled it."
"Michael said he handled it," I blurted. When both Portia and Dan swung their gazes to me, I continued before the memory slipped away. "Michael said something about there being two versions." I struggled to recall the conversation. "Or multiple versions. He said you kept changing your mind."
Portia gave an unladylike snort. "I didn't change my mind. He kept trying to change it for me. That's why I switched lawyers. I didn't trust Michael."
"You and everybody else," I muttered. "I wonder how the guy stays in business." I remembered my conversation with Paul. "Did you ever have any reason to suspect that Michael may have, um, used some of your money when he was investing it for the club?"
I expected shock and surprise. What I got was a narrowing of Portia's eyes and a speculative look. "That's one of the reasons I wanted an audit," she said. "To make sure. I realize it was years ago, but a lot of time with many of those accounts, oddities aren't obvious for months at a time."
Dan nodded. "Especially if a fund was sold, or if the stock doubled, or split. It can get pretty complicated."
"You're talking to a woman who doesn't even balance her checkbook," I said, holding up a hand. "I wonder why--" I stopped myself in time from saying I wonder why Michael thinks he can get his hands on the land. Paul had told me that little nugget of information and I wasn't supposed to share what Paul said. I rubbed my forehead. I couldn't keep track of the secrets I was supposed to be keeping.
My gaffe went unnoticed. "You don't balance your checkbook?" Dan asked incredulously. "How do you know how much money you have?"
I shrugged. "I have enough."
"Time for lunch!" a cheery voice said from the doorway. Ms. Pink-Butt was back, holding a tray with several covered dishes. She eyed me askance. "Sorry, you'll have to move. Mrs. Winslow needs her lunch."
I hopped off the bed and stood near Dan as Pink rearranged the roller tray and fussed around with Portia's bed, all the time maintaining a cheerful commentary about "let's get that bed raised," and "be careful of the soup, it's hot today." When Portia was in place, Ms. Pink whipped off the lids with a little flourish.
"Oh, yum," Portia said, deadpan, as she eyed the plastic bowl of chicken soup, two slices of toast, and Jell-O that was set before her.
"At least it's red Jell-O," I pointed out. "Not green."
Dan stood and slipped his arm around my waist, giving me a squeeze. "Nothing wrong with green Jell-O," he said with a grin. "Don't you have any good recipes for green Jell-O?"
"There are no good recipes for green Jell-O." I leaned against him, surprised how good it felt to have him there. I shifted slightly, and a delicious aroma of spicy aftershave wafted toward me. I sighed happily.
Ms. Pink smiled brightly at Portia, who was stabbing the blobbing red Jell-O with energetic little fork pokes as though attempting to deflate it. "Let me know if you need anything else." She moved briskly toward the door and paused. "I'm on duty until two this afternoon." Her gaze settled on Dan but she glanced at me before leaving.
"Busy girl," I murmured.
Dan's arm tightened around me. "We'll go and let you enjoy your meal."
Portia grinned. "Thanks. Next time you come, can you smuggle in a bourbon and coke?"
I nodded. "I think that can be arranged."
Dan smiled. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope." I left his slight embrace reluctantly and went to Portia, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll come back this afternoon
and keep you company. Shall I bring you any library books? Anything to keep you occupied?"
"You don't have to do that," she said, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it and she would be happy for the visit. "I've got a book at the house I was reading. You could drop that off if you would."
"Will do. We'll go there this afternoon and get a room ready for Amy. I'll get groceries, too. We're still having that picnic before the fireworks this weekend, aren't we?" I touched her shoulder affectionately. "You'll be out of the hospital by then, I'm sure."
"I sure hope so. I hate to have you fuss around on your vacation running errands for me, but I do appreciate it."
"Not a problem," Dan said, falling into step with me as I headed toward the door. "There's nothing I like better than reading a good financial statement."
I rolled my eyes. "Snore." I waved to Portia over my shoulder. "See you later." We went into the hallway and I put a hand on Dan's arm outside the room. "What did you mean by that? When you said that you care about what I care about."
He put his hand on the side of my face, his thumb gently stroking my chin, an intimate gesture for such a public place. "I meant what I said." He gave me a self-deprecating, wry look. "Well, I don't care about your husband, I guess."
I took a deep breath. "My late husband," I murmured. I leaned toward him and kissed him lightly on the lips. "John's gone."
He fell into step beside me. "I do care, Genny, and not only about who set that fire and why."
"Thank you." I glanced at the nurse's station as we passed. Ms. Pink Butt watched us, her eyes narrowed with speculation. I smiled and slipped my arm through Dan's.
Take that.
Chapter 13
When we got to the house, we discovered Penny was gone and a note was left for us on the kitchen table: Drove Marcia to the doctor, help yourself to food in the fridge, back soon.
"Lord, that's the blind leading the blind. Marcia's only a year or two younger than Mom." I opened the refrigerator door. "Do you want ham or roast beef?" I turned...
...and went straight into Dan's arms.
His chest felt broad and warm against mine and his eyes, those expressive, dark, beautiful eyes seemed to be peering into my heart. Our lips met and it felt like I was reborn, renewed. It was the first kiss, the first time I had ever kissed a man. It was new, shocking, amazing. His lips were firm and hot on mine, and my body responded, warming and softening and anxious, so anxious for his touch.
Had I ever felt this way before? My brain was sluggish, slow to process any thought. All I could focus on was Dan, his warm breath as he nuzzled my neck, his murmurs, his hands as they moved over me. Did anyone ever awake such lustful thoughts in me? Did John?
Like a dash of cold air, the thought of my late husband made me return to reality. "This is going so fast," I murmured, disentangling myself from Dan's embrace. "I need time to think."
"Don't think, feel." He gently touched my face, his fingers tracing a line down my chin and pausing at the button to my shirt. "Please. Feel."
I took a deep breath. "I will. But not now. Not here."
Deep dimples appeared at the corners of Dan's mouth. "Maybe later?" he whispered, leaning forward and brushing a kiss against my lips. "Maybe after we get away from your mother's house and go somewhere more private?"
"I--maybe--I'm--"
He touched my lips. "No pressure. We'll see what happens." He pulled me to him, his body hard on mine. I felt his erection press against my middle. "We'll see."
*****
We'll see...
Those words seemed to echo in my mind as we ate lunch, my head spinning from lust and confusion. I went upstairs afterward to use the bathroom and peeked into my old bedroom, relieved when I didn't see John there. Maybe the lustful thoughts of Dan kept John out of my head and thus out of my presence. I wasn't sure if there was cause and effect at work and I wasn't sure if I cared. As long as John kept his distance and I had time to consider how to handle Dan, I was content.
Penny returned as we re-loaded our bags into the car. "Portia seemed worried about the house," I said in explanation. "So we'll stay there tonight."
"Good. Once Portia gets released from the hospital, Amy probably won't mind staying there, but it's spooky if you're alone. Your room will be waiting for you when you two come back to town."
"I'll call you later," I said as Dan slid into the car. "You can come for supper. We'll probably eat late since Amy won't get in until after six."
"It's card night at the club and I promised the girls I'd join them." Penny eyed me over the top of my car, her shrewd gaze evaluating my reaction.
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved I wouldn't have my mother around, or worried that her absence would allow Dan and me time to...what? I decided not to think about it. "That works for me," I said, more blithely than I felt.
"Why don't you call later? We'll make plans for tomorrow."
I nodded acceptance and got into the driver's seat. Dan waved to my mother before turning to me. "You forgot about your husband's notebook, didn't you?"
"What?" I twisted to check behind me as I backed the car down the drive and I caught the speculative look he gave me.
"Your husband's notebook. You forgot about it, didn't you? You sounded surprised when I mentioned it to your aunt."
"I did forget," I said. "All about it."
"Did you look through it?" Dan's voice was so quiet I barely heard him.
"Nope. The first time I saw it was when I found it with you. I haven't had time to go through it. You took it, remember?"
"I think you should go through it. There's information in there that pertains to you."
"Really? What kind?"
"Read it. Then we can talk."
That sounded ominous. I decided to shelve my questions until later and focus on my nervousness about the upcoming afternoon and evening. I was long out of the dating game, much less the sex game. What would Dan think if, or when, we had sex? I wasn't slim and svelte. I had a small muffin top around my waist, my boobs weren't perky and firm, and my skin didn't have the smoothness of youth. What would he think? How would I act? What would it feel like?
I tried to ignore my insecurities as I noted a few more sites of interest while we drove the mile outside of town to Portia's house. "New Catholic church," I commented as we passed the modernistic structure on the left.
"Does the town have more bars or churches?"
I considered his question. "It's about equal."
Dan grinned. "Nice to know there's a balance of good and evil."
"Hmm." Did I even want to have sex? I pondered that briefly. After all, sex added a complication to relationships. Suddenly there was possessiveness, jealousy, worry. Was it worth it? Did I want to go down that path?
"What's that?" Dan asked, pointing to the sprawling red-brick structure on the corner.
"New high school. It handles our town as well as surrounding communities." I barely heard my own words. I was mentally tallying positive versus negative on an imaginary tote board, chalking up the fun of having sex versus the angst involved.
I hadn't come to any conclusion by the time we arrived at the lane to Portia's house. "I can see what your mother meant about chores," Dan said as we drove along the gravel drive. "That tree needs trimming."
I peered myopically at the oak tree near the garage. It did appear lop-sided, with a couple of branches draping dangerously near the ground. "I suppose. Do you know anything about trimming a tree?" I glanced at his leg. "Won't that be tough?"
He tapped his leg with his cane. "You'd be surprised."
We entered the house through the kitchen entrance, on the west side of the house. "It's not locked," Dan said.
"Of course it isn't. Why would it be?" I led the way through the kitchen into the dining room where I turned the air conditioning to a lower temperature. I gestured to my right. "There's the living room and Portia's office is over there." I gestured toward the door near the staircase. "Bedrooms are
upstairs."
Dan waggled his eyebrows. "Really?"
I flushed. "Yep. I'll make the beds while you check that tree."
"You're nervous, aren't you?"
I started to deny it but I stopped. Lord knows, I'd been lying through my teeth for days. It might feel good to be honest for a change. "I am. It's been years since I was, um, active."
Dan leaned on his cane and regarded me with bemusement. "I haven't exactly been a Romeo, you know. I'm probably as out of practice as you." He leaned forward and kissed me quickly. "Don't worry about it. If it happens, it happens."
"I know." I shook my head. "It just feels like you're--" I was going to say "pursuing me" but that sounded arrogant. "You're moving fast. After all, you barely know me. It's almost like you're on a mission or something."
For an instant his face changed, hardening or flattening with all humor vanished. "We're both on a mission, aren't we? To discover what really happened?" He put his bag on the bottom step of the wide oak staircase and opened it, taking out John's notebook. "Why don't you look this over? I'll go check that tree." He set the notebook on the step.
I held out my hand to stop him as he turned away. "Don't be offended."
"I'm not." He disappeared back into the kitchen.
I grabbed his bag and mine, dragging them up the stairs. He was offended, of course. I could tell. But I was only telling the truth. Dan was moving fast. And I wasn't sure I wanted to move that fast yet.
I paused on the landing before ascending the last six steps. The bathroom was on my right and straight ahead was the hallway with doorways opening off it. Portia's "suite" occupied the far north end of the second floor, overlooking the porch below. Her rooms were a bedroom, a tiny nursery room converted to a dressing room and a tiny bathroom. Three other bedrooms and a bathroom took up the rest of the space.