“Old news, hon. Margaret something-or-other, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. She goes by Meg. Meg Hamilton.”
“Rumor has it that Mrs. Ashford has decided to sell everything in your place at auction with her niece conducting the sale.” Betty leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Imagine. A lady auctioneer. That ought to be interesting.”
“I don’t know about that,” Wade said, wondering if Betty’s comment was intended as disparaging. “She seems competent. And I’m sure she personally cares about what each item could bring. She wants to do the best job she can for her aunt.”
“I suppose,” Betty admitted. “I heard that Miss Hamilton used to spend a good deal of time at Ashford House, some years ago, that is.”
“That’s true, and that’s the crux of the problem.” Wade leaned forward and set his coffee cup on the desk. “It seems that Miss Hamilton had planned to spend a great deal more time at her aunt’s house in the future.”
“What do you mean?”
“She says her aunt made out a Quit Claim Deed a few years ago that gives Ashford House and all its surrounding property to her.”
The smile faded from Betty Lamb’s face. “A deed? I’m not acquainted with any such document concerning that property.” She picked up a pencil and began tapping it on the desktop. “Have you seen this deed?”
“No, and apparently neither has Meg…ah, Miss Hamilton. She hasn’t seen it recently anyway. But she’s living in Ashford House and actively looking for it.”
“But so far no deed has surfaced?”
“So far. But why would she lie about its existence?”
Betty clucked her tongue as if amazed by the simple naivete of men. “Oh, honey, why indeed? Maybe to get her hands on ninety-eight thousand dollars?”
“No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem interested in the money. She truly wants to live in the house someday.”
Betty’s perfectly shaped eyebrows arched in surprise. “In that old place? I understand that Miss Hamilton is divorced. A woman alone couldn’t possibly expect to fix that old monstrosity into a livable condition.” Then, realizing how her words must have sounded, she amended her statement. “Not nearly so well as a big strong man with an eye for the possibilities could.”
Wade knew when he was being played, and he felt his patience slip. “At any rate, Betty, where do I stand on this thing?”
“My first thought is, if there’s no deed, there’s no problem. And I didn’t uncover one when I did a search on the property.”
“But I believe that a deed did, or does, exist. If not in Mrs. Ashford’s house, then somewhere.”
Betty chewed on the pencil eraser. “I’ve got an idea.” She picked up her phone and pressed a couple of numbers and a speaker button. In a moment another agent answered from his office down the hall. “Hi, Milt,” Betty said. “Do you happen to know who handled legal affairs for Amelia and Stewart Ashford?”
Milton Joyner’s voice boomed over the speaker. “Jude Smothers. He was the attorney for almost all the old-timers in town, until he died over three years ago.”
“Do you know what happened to all his files?”
“Sure do. Everything was lost in the rains of 2002. The river rose and flooded every business on Center Street. That’s why we have the embankment today. Jude’s files had been stored in the Save-It-Safe storage facility behind the post office. As I recall, every last scrap was ruined.”
Betty appeared almost jubilant when she disconnected. “Now, then, Wade, as I said before. No deed, no problem. But if you’re still worried, then I’d suggest that you exercise your contractual right to purchase immediately. Miss Hamilton and her aunt will have to be out of the house within thirty days. You close on the property, take possession, and voilà, case closed.”
Pretty cut and dried, Wade thought. The only problem was that he’d promised Mrs. Ashford when they signed the contract that he wouldn’t force her to leave her home. Plus it gave him time to scrape more money together before signing a mortgage. That pledge had only been an oral agreement, but Wade wasn’t about to back down on his word to the old lady. He reminded Betty of the agreement now.
“Look, hon,” Betty said, “Mrs. Ashford isn’t ever coming back to that house. You know that. I know that, and so does everybody at Shady Grove. So you can put your conscience to rest on that one. I’ll dig out the contract this afternoon, make the necessary adjustments, and have it ready for you to sign. Then we’ll notify Miss Hamilton that she has thirty days to hold her little auction and get out.”
“I don’t think we need to hurry on this, Betty,” Wade said. “Even though we’re taking a chance that the deed might appear.”
“Unlikely,” she said. “There’s no evidence that it was ever filed. But you should sign the Right to Purchase Agreement just in case. In the meantime, be nice and polite to Miss Hamilton. Here in the South we have a saying about catching more flies with honey. If Meg likes you, if she sees your country-boy charm, she’ll be less likely to want to see you lose the property.”
Wade almost laughed out loud. He was about as country as Rudy Giuliani. “So I should be nice and polite,” he said, “and just not mention that I want to throw her out of the house.”
Betty smiled. “Something like that. Let her have her sale and go back home with the profits from that. Eventually she’ll probably stand to gain some of the money from the sale of the property anyway. I don’t think Mrs. Ashford has many close relatives. Believe me, when that city girl lives in Ashford House for a while, she’ll be happy to relinquish it to you and go home to the twenty-first century.”
She stood up, effectively dismissing Wade. “You just be the sweet small-town deputy you can be, and I’ll do the legal work to make sure this works out in your favor.”
Wade left, but he wasn’t nearly as confident as Betty. He’d sure feel a heck of a lot better if he knew for certain that there wasn’t a copy of that deed lying around someplace.
THE MOUNT ESTHER Savings and Loan inspired confidence the minute a customer walked in the door. Meg noticed the dark paneling on the walls, the subdued wildlife prints hanging in eye-appealing groupings and the dark blue Colonial-style furniture with amply padded seats. She walked up to the receptionist and asked to see the bank manager. After sitting in one of the plush chairs for ten minutes, she was greeted by a portly middle-aged man in a conservative gray suit decorated with a plain etched lapel tag which said Horace Acres.
“What can I do for you, Miss Hamilton?” the man asked.
Meg explained her need to gain access to Amelia Ashford’s safe-deposit box. “I’m fairly certain I signed an authorization slip when I was here a few years ago,” she said. “And I found this….” She produced a small white envelope with a tiny key inside. “I think it’s the key to the box.”
“Certainly looks like one of our keys,” Mr. Acres said. He led her to the vault where he consulted a file of index records. “Your signature should be in here if Mrs. Ashford authorized you.” After a minute of searching, he pulled out a three-by-five card. “Yep, here it is with your name plain as day.”
He gave Meg a clipboard with a list of the morning’s activities attached. “If you’ll just sign here, I can check the signature to see if it’s a match.” He smiled again. “Not that I expect otherwise, of course.”
Once the paperwork was complete, Mr. Acres gave Meg the safe-deposit drawer and ushered her into a private room with a table and one chair. When he left, Meg closed the door and stared at the box before releasing the metal clasp. “The deed has to be here,” she said as she lifted the lid. After all, what else are security boxes for if not important papers and family records?
Recipes? A certificate of authenticity for a Mickey Mantle baseball? A high-school class ring with the initials SHA on the inside? Meg searched frantically, taking papers out of the box and spreading them on the table. When she reached the bottom layer and the yellowed copies of birth certificates, social security in
formation, and marriage license, she was certain she would find the deed. She had proof that Amelia Adele Levenger had been born. She’d held a job during the Great Depression. And she’d married Stewart Hall Ashford. But there was no evidence that she’d ever made out a deed.
Meg took a few items and slipped them into her pockets. When she handed the drawer back to Mr. Acres, she asked if he could direct her to the law office of Jude Smothers. Surely he would have an original copy of the deed, and this problem would be solved. Unfortunately the banker gave her the discouraging news that Jude Smothers was resting in peace in the Presbyterian cemetery, and his records had been destroyed in a flood.
This can’t be happening, Meg thought as she drove back to Ashford House. She’d always relied on the fact that Ashford House would be there for her and Spence. Driving almost as if she were on auto-pilot, Meg continued down the county road, thinking, planning, searching for a solution. A copy of the deed had to be somewhere. Someone had to know where it was.
When she pulled into the drive she was reminded once more of the urgency to find the document. Wade’s car was parked near the barn. She scanned the yard looking for him and finally noticed clouds of dust sailing out the open dormer window of the attic. Wade’s face appeared next when he leaned over the second-story roof to get a breath of fresh air.
Fighting the unexpected reaction the sight of the deputy had produced inside her, Meg climbed out of the car and strode to the veranda. “You’re getting your dust all over my flowers!” she yelled up to him.
“Yeah? Well, you’ve got spiders all over my blackjack table!” He stuck a broom out the window and pulled dust bunnies from the bristles. “I’ve got to get this area cleaned out so the fumigation guy can come in. Do you want to help me?”
Meg wasn’t about to go up in the attic with him again. “Sure,” she said, “if you’ll help me sort through two drawers of hankies, three dozen handbags, and a linen chest filled with tablecloths and napkins.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, pulling the broom back inside and ducking behind it.
“Wait a minute,” Meg said.
His face appeared again.
“I saw you coming out of River Real Estate this morning.”
“Oh yeah? Was that when you were on your way to the bank?”
Good grief! Was there ever a town with a more efficient grapevine than Mount Esther? “Did you meet with your agent and decide to tear up your worthless lease option contract?”
He laughed. “No, sorry. Did you find anything of interest in Mrs. Ashford’s safe-deposit box?”
Nothing was sacred in this tiny burg. “Yes, I did as a matter of fact,” she shouted up to him.
“But it wasn’t the deed, was it?”
Oh, how she wished she could tell him she had the document in her purse at this moment. “I’ll find it! In the meantime I’m going in the house to look for a signed Mickey Mantle baseball to match the certificate I brought home from the bank.”
“Oh, cool,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to bid on that at the auction. I am a Yankees fan you know.” He leaned far out the window. “Can I come back later tonight when I’m off duty to see the ball?”
“Absolutely not. Once I’m finished working here I’m going to Shady Grove. It’s family night. The residents and relatives are having a potluck dinner followed by a variety show featuring kids from the middle school.”
She caught the teasing edge to his voice when he said, “Does that mean you’re cooking something?”
She stuck her hand in her pocket and felt the index cards she’d stuffed there earlier in lieu of a deed. “I’ve got a recipe or two I thought I’d try.”
“I’ll tell the paramedics to be on the alert for a call from Shady Grove around dinnertime.”
“Very funny, Murdock. How long do you plan to stay today?”
“Another hour or so. Then I have to shower off spiderwebs and get to work. I can’t devote all my time to your little eight-legged pets, Miss Hamilton. There is a town to protect.”
“Of course. I know I feel better knowing you’ve left my house and are out in the community securing our safety.”
He chuckled and leaned back from the window. “Don’t concern yourself with amenities, Meg. I’ll let myself out.”
She was smiling when she went into the house. The words she’d just spoken were actually the exact opposite of the way she was beginning to feel about Wade. She missed seeing his patrol car in the drive yesterday or knowing he would soon be on the premises. And she’d been relieved to find the car by the barn today. As much as she might try to fight it, she was starting to like the man, a dangerous and unwise reaction to a person who was trying to sabotage her dreams for the future. But, darn it, he was just easy to like.
“Keep your mind on your goal, Meggie,” she said to herself. “Find the deed and protect your rightful ownership of this house. Remember, Wade Murdock has a good job and a secure future. He’ll survive the disappointment.”
She stood in the middle of the parlor and looked around at all the familiar objects her aunt had acquired over the years, things Meg had admired since she was a little girl. In a short while, all of them would be gone, but the house would remain. Her bulwark against life’s disappointments, her comfort in the storms of an uncertain future.
Meg walked into the dining room, picked up the clipboard and tried to concentrate on the painstaking task of making sense of the minutiae of her aunt’s life. She worked steadily for an hour until she heard the front screen door open and close. She imagined Wade striding down the porch steps and getting into his car. She didn’t resume working until she heard the patrol car heading down the drive. “Come on, Meg,” she said to herself as she entered another of Amelia’s possessions on her inventory sheet. “Quit thinking about Wade and the darned kiss that never was!”
SOMETIMES AMELIA RECOGNIZED Meg. Sometimes she didn’t. But since Meg was at Shady Grove so often, the two women were forging a bond that was based on their relationship today. Amelia seemed to find comfort in the visits, even if she didn’t always remember their past. And Meg experienced a renewed connection with the woman who needed her now more than ever.
After family night festivities, Meg wheeled her aunt back to her room. “Did you enjoy the evening?” she asked as she helped Amelia into bed.
“Oh, my, yes. It was lovely.”
Meg handed her the TV remote. “Would you like to watch a game show?”
Amelia shook her head. “Not now. I think we should talk a minute about how plans for the auction are going.” She reached for Meg’s hand, and closed her own around it. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you came to handle things for me?”
Meg pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. For the moment at least she was Meggie, talking to Amelia, and she was thankful. “I’m happy to do it, you know that, Aunt Amelia.”
“You are so dear to me, Meggie. Tell me, are you happy in your life?”
“Of course. Jerry and I have the auction in Orlando and it’s doing well.” Meg could only hope that was true. She’d spoken to Spencer after school, but she still hadn’t spoken to Jerry.
“And that darling boy of yours?”
“He’s fine. Growing up and getting smarter every day.”
“That’s good.” Her grip on Meg’s hand loosened, a sign that she was growing weary. “Don’t sell the family photos, Meggie. Bring some of them here. I want them around me for a while.”
“Of course.”
Knowing that she might have only seconds before her aunt fell asleep, Meg leaned over the bed and tried to command Amelia’s fading attention. “Aunt Amelia, I’d like to talk to you about Jude Smothers.”
Amelia nodded. “Jude was my lawyer.”
“That’s right. He prepared a document for you called a Quit Claim Deed. Do you remember that?”
“Oh, my. I think Jude died.”
“I know. And his records were lost. But I was thinking that you must have a copy o
f the deed, and I’d like to see it.”
Amelia’s eyelids fluttered toward sleep. “I must have a copy somewhere. I wonder what I did with it.”
“In the deed you made a decision to give Ashford House to me.”
The delicate skin between her aunt’s eyes furrowed. “Oh, I don’t think so. I sold the house to that deputy. He paid me twenty thousand dollars for it.”
Meg had to smile, though she’d been hoping for a different response from her aunt. “Actually, the deputy paid you ninety-eight thousand dollars. You received twenty thousand as a down payment.”
Amelia’s face reflected more confusion, and Meg regretted burdening her with trying to recall facts. But she was desperate for her aunt to remember one more detail. “About the house, Aunt Amelia, do you remember giving Ashford House to me?”
“My niece, Margaret Hamilton, loves Ashford House,” she said as if talking to a stranger. “She and I are the souls of that old place.”
“Yes!” Meg said. “That’s right. I do love Ashford House. Do you remember…”
Amelia’s eyes closed and Meg had to lean closer to hear her mumbled words. “Ninety-eight thousand? My. I need to see my catalogues. There are things I would like to have….”
Meg placed her aunt’s hand on her chest and drew up the blanket. There would be no more conversation tonight.
MEG’S HOPES OF Amelia ever remembering the deed were fading. How could she go into a court of law, if this issue ever went that far, with only her word against Wade Murdock’s contract? Any judge would decide in the deputy’s favor. There must be something she could do. If she tore the house apart board by board, she might find the deed and gain some satisfaction. But she would destroy the one thing she wanted most.
Still pondering the problem, she pulled into the drive to Ashford House. It was late, after ten o’clock, and she was thankful she’d had the foresight to leave the porch lights on. Then Meg had an idea.
Gloria! It was as if a bulb went on in Meg’s head. Of course. Gloria must know that their aunt intended for her to receive the profits from the contents of the house. She might also know of the deed prepared four years ago. If so, Meg wouldn’t have to defend her claim all alone. It was a long shot, but Gloria could be the answer to her prayers.
Your House or Mine? Page 10