“Thanks, Jerry,” she said to her brother when she went into the house to get Spencer’s bags. “I really appreciate you looking after Spence all this time.”
“Hey, no problem,” Jerry said with a rare guilty grin. “Even if you did criticize some of my child-rearing techniques.”
“With good reason,” Meg said as she moved Spence’s suitcase and backpack to the front door. Next she went to her desk to check the mail that had arrived in her absence. Flipping through a stack of bills, she put the most urgent ones in her purse. “By the way, where is Mary Beth today? I thought I’d get to meet this ideal of womanly charms.”
“It’s Sunday,” he explained. “The busiest day for her charity operation. She’s sorry she couldn’t be here to meet you.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Meg said.
“Anyhow, before you leave for Mount Esther, I want you to come by the auction house. You can see some of the merchandise Mary Beth has been bringing in.”
The suggestion was a good one for a couple of reasons. Maybe Meg could put her mind at ease about the origin of this merchandise, and she could skim over the paperwork from the last two auctions. “Okay, but let’s hurry. It’s a five-hour trip and the day’s not getting any longer.”
They loaded Spence’s things in Meg’s car and Jerry followed her to the auction house in his car. He took her to the storage room in back of the office and unlocked the door. Then he stepped back so she could look inside. “See? What did I tell you. We have all this stuff for next week already.”
Meg was impressed. She perused tools, lawn equipment and electronics whose cumulative retail value amounted to several thousand dollars. “Nice stuff,” she said to a beaming Jerry. “Did you say the men donating these things to Mary Beth’s charity had more?”
“That’s what she tells me. I suppose they’ll run out eventually, but for now working with her is making my job much easier.” He caught her eye over the top of Spencer’s head. “Among other, equally as pleasant advantages.”
“So you’ve told me.” Meg investigated a computer tower, noting that it was a late model. “This is nice. I wish we could bid on this for the auction.” And then the metal plate on the back of the unit grabbed her attention and she crouched down to examine it. “Jerry, what’s this?”
He peered down at the computer. “You talking about the serial number?”
“Exactly,” she said, tapping the plate with a fingernail. “The number’s been scratched so it’s unreadable.”
Jerry waved off her concern. “Oh, that. The men told Mary Beth not to worry if she couldn’t find serial numbers on all the items. He said the companies that wholesaled these things obliterated the numbers so people trying to make a dishonest buck couldn’t get away with returning them to retail outlets for a full refund.”
“Wouldn’t the companies have a record of the serial numbers of items they sold at a discounted price so they could be cross-checked if someone tried to return the computer? They wouldn’t need to scratch the numbers off everything.”
A flash of anger lit Jerry’s eyes. “Meg, stop looking for trouble where there isn’t any. I’ve just explained this to you. Besides, I have the name of the guy who brings this stuff in if there’s ever a problem—which there won’t be. The flow of merchandise in this country revolves around guys just like Mr. Horton who have the contacts to get excess merchandise and channel it into retail operations like ours.”
She recited aloud the brand names on some of the boxes in the storage room. “So you think these respected companies called Mr. Horton to pick up their excess?”
“I certainly do. And we were lucky when Mary Beth offered the opportunity for us to benefit from his connections.” He frowned at her worried expression. “For Pete’s sake, Meg, can’t you just appreciate our good fortune for once and quit looking for the dark cloud behind the silver lining?”
He looked like she’d just dumped buckets of water on his one-man parade, and Meg chastised herself for her usual, and sometimes unwarranted suspicions where Jerry was concerned. “You’re probably right,” she said and almost convinced herself that it made sense for the manufacturers to obscure the serial numbers to keep these discounted things from showing up in a regular retail market.
“Of course I’m right.”
Spencer had wandered to the exit and was waiting impatiently. “Mom, let’s go. I’m hungry and you promised we’d stop at McDonald’s.”
Meg stood up and followed Jerry out of the storeroom. “See what you’ve done? Turned my son into a junk-food addict. And while I’m thinking of it, you might as well throw out the turkey meat loaf I left in the refrigerator nine days ago. It must be green by now.”
He turned around and grinned. “It was green two days ago. Spence drew the short straw and got rid of it.”
“HOW MUCH FARTHER?” Spencer asked just before slurping the rest of his root beer from the bottom of the cup. They’d stopped about an hour ago for gas and dinner, and Spence had polished off an order of chicken fingers, a large order of fries and a candy bar. Meg was definitely going to filter vegetables back into his vitamin-deficient system starting tomorrow.
She exited the highway and turned onto the county road that led to Mount Esther. “About twenty minutes,” she said. “It’s been a few years since you’ve been here, but do you recognize any of this scenery?”
He glanced out the window without really looking. “Nope. Can I play my Game Boy the rest of the way?”
Meg sighed. “Sure.” She couldn’t blame him for passing the time with game cartridges. Into her tenth hour of driving in one day, Meg wished she, too, had something to stare at besides asphalt. She’d caught up on all of Spencer’s news the first hour until she could tell he was bored with relating every little detail of his week with his uncle. After he pulled some comic books out of his backpack, she’d had nothing to do but dwell on the conclusions she’d drawn in the little time she’d been home.
She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the merchandise Mary Beth brought to the auction. Everything she’d seen was clean, new, expensive, and too good to be true. Something just didn’t add up. She wished she’d had the opportunity to meet the men who were supplying Colonial Auction with the goods, or at least meet Mary Beth.
“Quit worrying,” Jerry had advised one last time when she’d gotten into her car to head back to Mount Esther. “You’ve got enough on your mind without inventing more problems.” He’d gleefully repeated the auction profits from the past two weeks. “Trust me on this, Meggie. Think about the bottom line, and stop letting your imagination run wild.”
It had been good advice, and Meg wished she’d been able to follow it. But even now as she was approaching Mount Esther, and a host of other more pressing problems, she couldn’t get Colonial Auction out of her mind. Her livelihood depended on its continued operation and reputation, now and in the future. And that was especially true if she lost Ashford House.
The old home popped into her mind as it had so many times during the last few hours. And so did the man who was living there. Wade Murdock was her biggest problem, and now, her most frustrating fantasy. His supportive presence had become a constant in her life, and she decided that perhaps he could be some help to her with regard to Colonial Auction. She would mention her concerns to him and see what conclusions he might draw based on his law experience. Maybe Jerry was right and there was nothing to worry about.
“We’re here,” she said to Spencer as she pulled into the property.
He turned off the Game Boy, stared into the trees lining the drive and said, “Pull over.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got to ask you some things.”
“Now? Spence, you’ve had hours to ask me questions.”
“I know, but I forgot to. And now I have to ask them.”
She stopped in the middle of the lane. “Okay, what’s bothering you?”
“Is the deputy nice?”
“Of course
he’s nice.”
“Is he allowed to boss me around?”
Meg smiled to herself. “Well, since bossing you around is my biggest responsibility, and I haven’t been able to do that in over a week, the deputy will have to knock me out of the way to have a chance at you.”
Spencer frowned. “Mom, I’m serious.”
“Okay. Wade Murdock is a sensible man. He’s an adult and you aren’t. So if you were about to do something that in his mind were dangerous, foolish, or morally wrong, then, yes, I suppose he could advise you against doing it and you should listen and react appropriately. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes. You’re selling me out. What about the girl? What if I don’t like her?”
Meg flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. She wished Spencer had brought up these matters hours ago so they could have thoroughly discussed them, instead of asking them now when they were halfway up the drive to Ashford House.
“Since you’re asking that question,” she began, “it seems to me that you are already prepared to not like Jenny. If that turns out to be the case, then I would suggest that you avoid each other. It’s a big house, and that shouldn’t be a problem. But before taking such evasive action, I would also suggest that you try to like her.”
He nodded, apparently accepting that advice. “One more thing. Will Aunt Amelia know me?”
“She might. But she probably won’t.” Meg put her hand on Spencer’s arm. “But she has remembered you since I’ve been here and she asked about you. And I put a picture of you by her bed.”
“Okay.” He looked out the front windshield, tightened his features into a mask of determination, and said, “Let’s go then.”
She resumed driving. “It’s going to be all right, Spence. You’ll see.”
As if he’d been waiting for her, Wade came out on the porch when she pulled up. He leaned against a post and crossed one ankle over the other. His hair, streaked with copper in the veranda light, curled over his collar and lay in tousled waves on his forehead. His smile was warm and natural, and he was as beautiful a sight as Meg had ever associated with Ashford House. In faded worn jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt he looked utterly male and totally at ease. He seemed to belong right where he was, as if he were meant to be standing there to welcome her back.
An intense sexual longing, a feeling so alien to the last years of Meg’s life, jolted her so that for a moment all she could do was sit behind the wheel and simply stare at the man on the porch. Her reaction to seeing him again terrified her because of its effect on her mind and body. She had to put any domestic thoughts of her and Wade out of her head. Yes, he’d kissed her, even said that he wanted to again, but he was a man with a family and a past. She was a woman with responsibilities. And even though they claimed to share Ashford House to protect it, truly they were both here because neither wanted to give it up.
“Is that him?” Spencer asked.
Meg’s answer came out on a wistful breath of air. “That’s him, all right.”
He came down the steps and reached the car in a few long strides. He opened Spencer’s door and stuck his hand inside. “I’m Wade Murdock and I’m pleased to meet you.”
Spence shook his hand though the look on his face was guarded as he climbed from the car.
“You got a lot of gear?” Wade asked.
Spence grabbed his Game Boy and backpack from the floor of the front seat and then opened the rear door and pulled out his duffel bag. “Yeah. A couple of bags and some stuff in the trunk.”
“I’ll take that one.” Wade slung the bag over his shoulder. “You can help your mother with the rest.”
Meg had unlocked the trunk and waited for Spencer to retrieve his small suitcase. When she noticed that Wade watched her over the raised lid, she let her gaze linger on his face.
“Long drive?” he finally said.
She slammed the trunk lid and came around the car. “Too long for one day.”
“Dad’s got stew on the stove.”
Meg had only ordered an ice cream when they’d stopped, and Wade’s announcement made her realize she was starved. “Remind me to do something nice for that man,” she said. “Whatever he wants.”
Wade touched her arm and began walking with her to the house. When Spencer ran ahead of them, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “In that case, next time I’ll make the stew.”
The bones in Meg’s legs felt as though they were melting inch by inch. Surely it was fatigue, she told herself. When they entered the house, Jenny was standing in the foyer and Spencer had rooted himself to the floor about five feet from her. He backed up when Meg came up behind him. “This is Wade’s daughter,” she said. “Jenny.”
“Hi.”
Jenny crossed her arms and assumed an I’m-not-really-interested slouch. “Hi. You can ride my horse if you want.”
Meg sensed she’d been coached to say that as a welcoming line.
Spencer shrugged. “I don’t want to.”
Meg nudged him from behind, reminding him of his manners.
“…but thanks anyway.” He turned to look at her. “Where’s my room?”
“Upstairs, turn right, third door.”
He tore up the stairs, his backpack clomping behind him on every step. Jenny went into the parlor and sat down in front of the television with Roone.
“Where’s the boy?” Roone called over his shoulder.
“He’s escaped unharmed,” Wade answered.
Meg dropped her purse and keys on the hall stand. “That went well,” she said.
“Hey, things can only get better.” He followed her into the kitchen, pulled out a chair for her, and placed a bowl of stew and thick slice of bread on the table.
After taking a few bites, Meg thought of her brother and Colonial Auction. “Wade, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” she began. “It’s kind of a legal issue.”
“Sure, but I have something to tell you, and maybe I should go first.”
She stared up at him, instinctively ready for bad news. “Oh? What is it?”
“Someone called for you today. Her name is Gloria. She said to tell you she was flying down, and would be here on Wednesday.”
Meg dropped her fork on the side of the bowl. Oh, great. Gloria. In a few days there would be six of them living in Ashford House and Meg couldn’t imagine a more diverse group of people. Suddenly this grand old house with twelve rooms was beginning to feel like a closet.
“Is something wrong?” Wade asked.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“What did you want to tell me?”
“It can wait until tomorrow.” She didn’t want to think about Colonial Auction any more today. She didn’t want to think about Gloria arriving in three days. She just wanted to enjoy Roone’s stew and the man who’d served it to her.
MEG WAS UP EARLY the next morning, though she hadn’t beat Wade. A rinsed coffee mug and a wrinkled newspaper were the only signs that he had awakened and left the house. Refusing to admit she was disappointed she wouldn’t be sharing breakfast with him, Meg told herself she was lucky to have a few minutes of peace and quiet to start the day.
She decided to let Spencer sleep as late as he wanted. And since Jenny was a teenager enjoying the first of summer vacation, there was no guessing when she might come downstairs. The hum of a television was the only artificial noise that disturbed the solitude. Roone was obviously watching the news in his bedroom above the kitchen.
Meg had just finished her own coffee and a bowl of oatmeal when the doorbell rang. She went to the foyer and opened the screen door to a woman in a tan business suit. Her dark hair was impeccably groomed into a neat French twist. Completing the professional demeanor, she carried a briefcase and flashed a practiced smile at Meg. After handing Meg a business card, she said, “Hi. Is Wade Murdock home?”
Meg glanced at the card. The woman’s name was Betty and she was from River Real Estate. Of course Meg had heard of her. She was the agent
who’d put together the deal to sell Amelia’s house to Wade. “No, I’m sorry. He’s left already this morning,” she said.
“Well, shoot. I came by early hoping to catch him. That man is as slippery as a Minnesota sidewalk in February.” She smiled again. “I’m originally from Minnesota.”
“Oh.”
“You must be Mrs. Ashford’s niece.”
“That’s right.”
“Everybody in town is talking about you,” Betty said. “I imagine you’ll have a big crowd at the auction.”
“I hope so. I want to do the best I can for my aunt.”
“Of course you do.” Betty’s smile turned a bit cunning. “And make a little bundle for yourself as well.”
Meg refrained from responding as she wanted to. “Is there a message I can give Wade for you?”
Betty appeared to consider her answer for a moment. “As a matter of fact, there is. Tell him I came by this morning with his Right to Purchase Agreement. I really need him to sign the dang thing so we can proceed with the paperwork on the house. I’m sure you both want this matter settled.”
Meg didn’t have a comprehensive understanding of real estate, but the term right to purchase obviously meant trouble for her. And Betty’s calculated announcement was a warning.
“I don’t want to get in the middle of this spat you’re having with Wade,” Betty continued, “but he could conclude the purchase by dashing off his signature on the bottom of the agreement I have in my briefcase. Why he’s procrastinating is beyond my comprehension. He claims he wants this house so badly. Well, he could have it, free and clear in thirty days, if he’d only sign his name and get the ball rolling.”
Meg stared at the briefcase as if it contained the demise of everything she’d counted on. In fact, it did. And this overly confident agent knew it. She started to close the door, indicating that her conversation with Betty was over. “I’ll tell him you came by,” she said.
“Thanks. Tell him to stop at the office. Or at least call. If I don’t hear from him, I’m only going to keep bugging him. And I’ll eventually find him even if I have to fake a robbery or something to get his attention.” Betty smiled again and breezed down the steps. As she opened her car door, she called up to Meg, “Have a nice day.”
Your House or Mine? Page 17