She slowly shook her head at the dilemma she faced with Wade. The compassion she felt for him was deep and real. In truth, perhaps she was beginning to feel something even stronger than compassion. But it would break her heart to let him have her house. She might never be able to restore it to its previous glory but this home was always meant to be hers. Just as Stewart had conceived it and Amelia had safeguarded it, Meg was destined to keep it company in the years to come.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROONE MURDOCK’S pot roast was the tenderest and most flavorful Meg had ever tasted, but the dinner was a jittery affair. Wade tried hard to keep the conversation on a friendly, nonconfrontational level, but Jenny seemed determined to thwart his efforts. Apparently the close proximity to Lady Jay wasn’t enough to compensate for the sudden move.
First she complained about not having enough drawer space for her clothes. Meg offered to have another bureau brought into her room. When the teenager remarked that she didn’t have her own telephone, Wade promised to inquire about having an additional line installed the next day. But when she referred to Ashford House as the creepy haunted mansion, Wade scowled her into submission.
She was silent and sullen for the rest of the meal, prompting Meg to decide that tonight wasn’t the appropriate time to announce that her ten-year-old son would be arriving in a few days. After she finished eating, Jenny said she was going to ride her horse.
“Fine,” Wade said. “As soon as you rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.”
Jenny’s lips turned down in a deliberate pout.
“I’ll help,” Meg offered, trying to keep the tenuous peace. “When I was growing up, my mother had one rule we all lived by. Whoever cooked the meal never touched a dirty dish.” She pointed toward the front of the house and smiled at Roone. “There’s a television in the parlor that has your name on it, and the remote control is on the coffee table.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Roone said and left the kitchen.
Wade carried his own plate to the sink and then his cell phone rang. “Wade Murdock,” he said when he’d connected to the caller. He paused and then groaned. “Not again. Can’t you just put the dog back inside the Arnolds’ fence?” Another pause. “All right. I’m on my way.”
He stuck the phone in his pocket, mumbled something about small-town sheriff departments and citizens having cell numbers, and picked up his car keys from the kitchen counter. “Looks like a rose bush trampler is loose over on Mulberry Lane. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He pointed a finger at Jenny. “Make sure you buckle that cinch tight enough, young lady. And take it easy. No fancy stuff.”
Jenny tsked as she put a plate in the dishwasher. “I know, Dad.”
He jotted a number on a notepad, tore off the paper and handed it to Meg. “This is my phone number. But if it looks like anything’s broken, call 911 first.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Just go, okay?”
He went out the back door, but hollered on his way to the patrol car. “And do your homework!”
Meg released a long, shoulder-drooping sigh, her best portrayal of a teenager put upon by an obtuse parent. “I wonder which one of us he’s talking to.”
Jenny almost smiled. “You’d think I made a regular habit of bailing on my assignments.”
“We’re about done here,” Meg said. “Why don’t you start saddling up. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come out and watch you ride.”
It had been Meg’s experience that no kid could pass up an audience. Spencer had been urging her to watch his feats ever since he’d first tackled his three-foot Little Tykes slide. Jenny tried to hide her pleasure behind a blasé look as she went out the door. “Sure. If you want.”
Meg set the dial on the dishwasher and went to the telephone in the front hallway. Since she had a few minutes, she was finally going to make the phone call she’d promised to make the night before. Besides her own motives for calling Gloria, Meg knew it was past time to inform her cousin of the auction.
She sat down, took Amelia’s address book from the small drawer in the phone bench, and looked up Gloria’s number. Her cousin was home.
“Gloria, it’s me, Meg.”
“Oh, my God, Meggie! I haven’t heard from you in ages. Is something wrong?”
It was a typical but somehow sad reaction from relatives who rarely stayed in touch. Something catastrophic had to have prompted the phone call. “You could say so. I’m at Aunt Amelia’s.” She explained about Amelia’s condition.
Gloria asked a few questions and concluded with a resigned observation. “Well, Meggie, we knew you and I would have to face this some day.”
You and I? Meg looked around at the myriad items in this room alone that still had to be catalogued for the auction but refrained from asking Gloria exactly what she was having to face. “I just thought you’d want to know, Gloria.”
“Oh, absolutely. You know I’d come down and relieve you at the nursing home, but we’re terribly busy at the store just now. The summer line has come in and Desiree’s is swamped.”
Meg had never seen the upscale women’s clothing store on Michigan Avenue where Gloria worked. But she imagined “swamped” was an exaggeration for a store that catered to a specific upper-class clientele. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ve got everything under control.” Right. “Anyhow, Aunt Amelia has asked me to auction everything in the house and send you the proceeds.”
Gloria’s voice bubbled with excitement. “Wow. That’s right. She told me I would someday get the contents of the house. How marvelous that she’s taking this step now. I mean, why wait until—?”
Meg cut her off. “Exactly.” She didn’t tell Gloria that she’d advised Amelia to keep the money herself.
“Are you running the auction?” Gloria asked.
“Yes. It’s a week from Saturday. I’ll deduct our company percentage and send you an accounting of the sale and a check for the rest.”
There was a pause as if Gloria were deciding how to pose her next question. “Ah, Meggie, you know I trust you, but just out of curiosity, what is your take?”
“Twenty percent.”
“My, isn’t that a little high?”
“No, Gloria, actually it’s very low. The standard rate in Florida is forty percent these days.”
“Well, of course you would know.” If she were still skeptical, Gloria at least had the good sense to hide it. “You know me, Meggie. I don’t have a head for numbers, so I’ll just put my faith in you to do a good job.” She lowered her voice. “You know how it is. We girls can always use a little extra cash.”
Like for rent, electricity and food, Meg thought. “There’s one more subject I’d like to discuss with you, Gloria,” she said. “It concerns the house and property.”
“I thought Amelia was giving you the house,” she said. “You always cared more for it than I did anyway, and that’s probably why.”
Meg allowed herself to feel hopeful. “Four years ago, she gave me the property in a Quit Claim Deed. Did you know anything about that?”
“A what?”
“A deed. A special document that granted the house to me as a gift.”
“Wasn’t that generous?” Gloria said.
“Yes, but I need to find a copy to prove my ownership. Do you know where Aunt Amelia might have put it?”
“Why would I know about it? She didn’t give it to me.”
“No, but I just thought Amelia might have mentioned something to you….”
Meg heard the beep of a microwave in the background.
“I’ve got to go, Meggie. Sorry I can’t help you with that quickie thing or whatever it was. It was great hearing from you. And give Aunt Amelia a kiss for me. Tell her thanks and I hope she feels better.”
“Sure thing. Bye, Gloria.”
Meg set the phone into the cradle and stared at the walls, the ceiling, the wood floor. Back where I started, she thought, trying to understand her aunt’s peculiar way of
thinking. “I wonder which old plank that deed might be hidden under.”
MEG OBSERVED JENNY until dusk began to settle over the property. She helped return the riding equipment to the tack room and put the horse into a stall for the night. Wade hadn’t returned yet, and Roone apparently hadn’t stirred from his chair in front of the television.
“I guess I’d better do my homework now,” Jenny said. “Deputy Murdock will probably write me a ticket if I haven’t gotten it done.”
Meg didn’t feel like going in the house. The sun was a hazy golden orb sliding behind the old oak trees, and seemed to set the Spanish moss aglow. The breeze from the river was cool and fresh, and so Meg followed it, down a twisting path to the edge of the Suwannee. Sumac and wild ferns blanketed the river bank, their vibrant green color no doubt due to the special fertilizer Wade deposited from the barn. Meg walked along the edge of the river until she reached the end of Amelia’s property. She came to a spot she remembered well from her childhood.
She climbed down a short embankment and sat on an outcropping of boulders worn smooth and slick from centuries of river water rising and falling with the whims of seasons and storms. One of the many springs that fed the Suwannee eddied just inches below her, and she gave in to temptation and stripped her feet of sneakers and socks, and dangled her toes in.
The cold water stung, but Meg met its challenge as she had many times in the past, by letting loose with a squeal of invincibility and lowering her feet even more into the swirling depths. She knew her nerve endings would adjust to the chill and the discomfort would soon pass. This was the Suwannee River, eternal and unchanging, and humans had to adapt to its environment. Here the river ruled.
Within a minute Meg was kicking her feet in the air, sending droplets of pure clean water dancing upon the surface of the spring. She hugged herself tightly. And she rejoiced, freely and without restraint, as she had many years ago.
Despite darkness falling around her, Meg remained at the spring, putting off the trek back to the house. She lay back against the river grasses rising from the spring to the bank and stared at the stars. When she was younger she used to try to count them.
Creatures scurried in the brush above her head and somewhere in the near distance owls hooted and night birds called. Meg closed her eyes and listened to sounds that were so different from the night sounds of downtown Orlando. Minutes later she sat up, took a deep, refreshed breath, and then was startled to notice that she could no longer make out the details of the land across the river. The night around her wasn’t just dark. The scant sliver of moon sat in a black-as-pitch sky that shrouded the landscape in unrecognizable shapes.
Meg scolded herself for not bringing a flashlight. She peered over the embankment and squinted into the distance hoping to see the outline of the barn or the high pitch of Ashford House’s roof. “What have you done, Meggie?” she said to herself when she realized that the area around her was broken only by the soaring trunks of towering oak trees.
Deciding that inaction would get her nowhere, Meg reached for her shoes and socks. But before she could put them on, a beam of light sliced through the oaks and veered off in different directions, bouncing off branches and leaves. It was followed by a familiar voice. “Meg? Are you out here? Meg!”
This couldn’t be happening. Despite her overwhelming relief at hearing his call, Meg couldn’t let Wade think she wasn’t able to take care of herself—again! He’d come to her rescue too many times as it was. She wasn’t about to add stupidity to her list of weaknesses. Still, she didn’t want him to wander around in the dark looking for her. So she waved her hand above the bank and hollered back to him. “Over here, Murdock!”
The light shone upon her arm, followed by the snap of twigs and the scurrying of some critter as Wade approached. Soon he stood above her and pointed the flashlight on her face. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “We were all worried about you.”
You weren’t the only ones worried, she thought. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm anyone. I used to come here all the time when I was a little girl. I know these woods like the back of my hand.”
He gave her a skeptical look, one she was getting used to. “Yeah? Well, what about when it’s so dark you can’t even see your hand? Do you even have a flashlight?”
She shielded her eyes and squinted into his light. “Don’t need one. I just told you…”
“Right.” He cast the beam onto the water. “What’s so special about this spot?”
She followed his light and watched the ripples swirl and sparkle. “It’s a freshwater spring,” she said. “The Suwannee River has lots of them. Water bubbles up from an underground river deep in the earth’s core, millions of gallons a day.” She patted the rock, offering him a place beside her.
“You want me to come down there? Is it wet?”
“Just where my feet have been.”
“I guess I can stand that. But first I’m calling the house.” He punched a number into his cell phone and told Roone that he’d found Meg. Then he climbed down the embankment and sat next to her.
“Take your shoes off,” she said.
“What?”
“Here, see?” She stuck her own feet back in the water and kicked vigorously, laughing when he ducked flying spray.
“That’s cold. I’m not putting my feet in that freezing water.”
“You’ll get used to it.” She flashed him a daring grin. “Are you chicken, Deputy?”
“No, I’m smart. And I’m from New York. We keep our feet out of the rivers up there.”
She stared hard at him until he accepted her challenge. He yanked off his boots, rolled up his pant legs, and suspended his bare feet over the spring.
“Well, go on,” Meg said.
“Don’t rush me. I’ll do it.” He dunked his heels into the water and whistled through his teeth. “Ho! That’s some kind of cold.”
“You get used to it.”
And, good sport that he was, he did get used to it. At least the bottoms of his feet did since that’s about all that actually touched the water.
“So what happened with the dog and roses?” Meg finally asked him.
“It was a little more involved actually,” he said. “Turns out the dog is a sensitive creature who jumps the fence in his backyard whenever he senses trouble in the family.”
She gave him a perplexed look. “Trouble? What happened?”
“Mr. Arnold, a sixty-five-year-old recent retiree has too much time on his hands. Unfortunately it’s time he doesn’t know what to do with and he spends it picking on Mrs. Arnold. And in this case she pressed charges.”
“Wow,” Meg said. “Imagine an abuser in Mount Esther.”
“Yeah, well he’s not in Mount Esther tonight. He’s in the county lockup. When I left him, he was blubbering like a baby and swearing he’ll never touch demon gin again.”
“And Mrs. Arnold?”
“She was with three neighbor ladies who were consoling her with tea and chocolate cake. And the dog was resting under the kitchen table.” Wade smiled a little. “Mrs. Arnold really wasn’t hurt. But I think a night in jail will straighten her husband out.”
Wade drew one foot out of the water and wrapped his hands around his knee. “But enough about that. How is Amelia today?”
“I took some family pictures to her this afternoon, but she slept through my visit. The nurse said she’s been sleeping more than usual lately.”
There being nothing to say, Wade picked up the flashlight and aimed its beam around them until he settled the light on a tire hanging from a tree branch.
“I can’t believe that’s still there,” Meg said. “Uncle Stewie made it for us. We used to swing out over the water.”
Wade chuckled. “You crazy kids.”
“We loved flying over the water and taking that deep breath of courage before…” She stopped when her thoughts filled of Spencer. And she realized she’d never mentioned him to Wade. She looked at him now and sai
d, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“I have a son.”
“And a good-looking little fella he is, too.”
“How do you know that?”
“Mrs. Ashford’s pictures. They’re not all of you.”
Meg nodded and felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t brought Spence to see Amelia often enough. “There’s something you don’t know,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows in question.
“He’s coming here. I’m going to pick him up on Sunday and bring him back. He’ll stay here with me through the auction and until I wrap up the paperwork.”
Wade’s answer was simple and direct. “The more the merrier.” Then he laughed. “In fact, that changes the dynamics around here to three guys and two girls. Those are my kind of odds.”
She smiled. “Spencer’s a good boy, but he’s quiet and sometimes withdrawn. Things have been hard on him. I’m just telling you because this living arrangement might be difficult.”
“For who?” Wade shrugged. “As I see it, Spencer’s a kid. He’s most likely going to act like one which means he probably isn’t perfect. And one thing I know for sure is that when he grows up, he still won’t be.” He smiled at her. “We’ll get along okay.” He pointed in the direction of the tire swing. “Maybe I’ll get my courage up and let him teach me to soar over the water like you used to.”
Meg didn’t admit that the suggestion pleased her, though it probably wouldn’t have that effect on Spence.
“Which reminds me,” Wade added. “Jenny said you watched her ride tonight. Thanks.”
“No problem. I enjoyed it. She’s a good rider, at least from my limited perspective. I hope she and Spencer get along.”
Wade appeared thoughtful. “Let’s see. A teenaged girl and a ten-year-old boy. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Meg smiled. “I know what you mean. I’m hoping Ashford House might bring Spence out of his shell a bit. I’ve always regretted that I didn’t share more of this part of life with him.”
Your House or Mine? Page 14