DECEITFUL LEGACY
Justine Wittich
Chapter One
Felicity Canaday allowed herself a satisfied smile as she looked around her new room. The “Whatever Room,” as her niece Mindy had christened it. The niggle of guilt she’d felt about moving Oliver’s library out of her home had been vanquished by a bubble of contentment, and she was still amazed by the changes Max Todd had made to the vacated room over the past winter.
Spring sunshine poured through the new skylights and flooded the room with light, which splashed over the occupants. Subdued chatter from the twenty or so women gathered there hovered over the group. Each guest had brought some kind of needlework to work on and brag about.
Her niece, Mindy Matthews, who was expecting a baby girl very soon, concentrated on counting the stitches of a pattern for a knit baby throw. While across from her ...
“That cat just stole my scissors!” Kate Berrigan cried. “I don’t know why you let him in here. Dirty, nasty thing.”
The stocky woman moved faster than Felicity had thought possible as she trailed Lazarus across the room. Without hesitating, Felicity stuck out her foot and swung the door shut. Lazarus slid to a stop against the panel, all fifteen pounds of his black-furred body wedged at its base. She said firmly, “Give them back, Lazarus.”
One loop of the embroidery scissors was clenched between his teeth, but he flattened his ears and narrowed his green gaze defiantly.
Felicity rose and bent over to remove the shiny shears. “You’re being bad today. Mrs. Berrigan needs those.” She wiped cat saliva off the handles and handed them to her outraged guest. “He’s not dirty, and he’s only nasty when people aren’t kind to him, Kate. Here.”
“I’ve never been able to understand why you keep that creature,” the fiftyish woman said as she retrieved her possession.
“He lives here because Oliver saved him from drowning, Kate. He’s my pet.” Felicity braced herself for an argument. Kate had a tendency to try to run other peoples’ lives, and she wasn’t having any of it.
Muriel Downey, Felicity’s long-time friend, broke the silence that followed the altercation with news sure to turn the conversation. “Did you hear about the man they found behind that old gas station off Hill Road? He’d been struck in the head, and he’s in a coma. I heard about it when I did the book cart at the hospital this morning. He had no identification, and the police are asking for anyone with information to come forward.”
“Oh, dear,” Felicity said, glad for a change in the conversation, although it was a shame that the poor man was hurt so badly. “Do they think he’ll recover?”
“He’s probably a vagrant,” Kate interjected. “Now the county will have to pay for his care.”
“Let’s wait and see,” Mindy broke in. “As soon as he returns to consciousness, he can say who he is. Surely the man has family somewhere.”
Felicity smiled at her niece, who had been perfectly polite, but had put Kate in her place. The woman was a trial sometimes. Hoping to turn the conversation to a civil track, she said, “I hope you notice all the light fiction I’ve gathered over there on that nook. It was time to collect my favorite books from all over the house and put them in one place. You wouldn’t believe some of the hiding places I’d tucked them. If any of you want to borrow something, be sure to let me know. All I ask is that you bring it back.”
Kate gathered up her half-finished crewel canvas and tucked a collection of wools into her tote bag before rising and wandering toward the books.
Felicity gathered a sigh of relief. Every time she included Kate in her blanket invitations to her church circle she found herself crossing her fingers that the woman wouldn’t come. So far, it had never worked, and there was no way to disinvite her, but maybe now she was going to leave. With a sigh, she picked up her knitting needles and the soft pink yarn she’d picked for a brimmed hat for Mindy’s baby. The pattern looked quite complicated, but if she took her time, she’d have something special.
“Sven Swordswinger! Good grief, Felicity! Don’t tell me you read that trash.” With a book in each hand, Kate strode across the room as if she were on a mission.
Oh, dear. Felicity had put all nine books of the series, in order, on the third shelf. They were her favorites, but she realized that, once more, she had fallen short of Kate’s standards.
“Don’t you just love them?” Mindy exclaimed. “I’ve become quite a fan of that superhero. What makes the books even more fun is the Viking history incorporated throughout each book. The author is brilliant.”
Felicity wanted to join in Mindy’s joke, but didn’t dare, for fear of letting the secret out. After all, Josh, Mindy’s husband, wrote the series, and was probably at home working on another one this very minute, since he had no classes to teach at the college today. Instead, she said brightly, “I’ve become quite fond of them, too. They’re certainly a change from some of the other books that are out there.”
“I’ve read and enjoyed every one of them.”
The defiant look on Muriel’s face made Felicity smile inwardly. The tiny woman seldom spoke up when they were all together. She simply nodded and smiled agreeably regardless of what was being discussed. Today she had already contributed more than her quota. Therefore it was even more surprising when Murial said defiantly, “I’m getting tired of all the woman’s angst that fills most of the books that are supposedly popular. There’s enough heartbreak and pain on the news every night.”
“And you like to escape into another world, just like me,” Felicity finished for her.
Kate stood with the books in her hands and looked from face to face. Silence had fallen over the rest of the room when Kate criticized Felicity’s taste. The quiet lingered a moment longer, then the other women picked up their handwork and went back to their murmured discussions.
Felicity had seen it before. Normally, no one wanted to challenge Kate, who seemed to feel it was her duty to set the moral standards for the little group, so it was a joy when Muriel defended them. Otherwise Mindy and Felicity would have been left to more or less twist in the wind.
“Be a dear and bring those to me, Kate. Mindy used to work at Hawkshead Press, and she’s arranged for me to receive autographed copies as soon as they come out. I want to show Muriel the inscriptions.” Felicity deliberately ignored the disgruntled expression on Kate’s face as she complied. She felt it served her right for being so critical.
Muriel admired the title pages and laughed at the simple drawings of the Viking flag Sven flew on his ship. “What fun writing these must be.”
“I suspect it’s fun, but I also feel sure it’s hard work,” Felicity replied. She put the books on the end table, then turned the conversation back to the injured man. “Do the doctors think the poor fellow who was struck down is going to live?”
“I heard one of them say the next two days would be critical. They’re hoping he’ll come to and tell them his name so they can notify his family.” Muriel directed her gaze to Kate, and added, “He was very clean, and his clothing is well-made, so they feel sure someone somewhere is missing him.”
“The new neurosurgeon, Dr. Singh, is really very good,” Mindy contributed. “I know he’ll do everything possible for the man.”
Kate continued on her way to the door, then paused for one parting shot. “I suppose a foreigner is good enough to take care of a vagrant.” The door swung silently closed behind her.
A murmur of embarrassed conversation began immediately. Felicity remained silent, but her thoughts were churning. I believe I’ll be issuing personal invitations to my craft days from now on.
“Have you heard anything more from Cousin Freddie?” Mindy asked. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
&nb
sp; Relieved that here, at least, was a safe subject, Felicity answered, “Not yet. His letter last week said he’d be here in a week or ten days. Freddie never did like to use the telephone, and of course, email is out of the question, since he despises computers.” She cast on five stitches before continuing, “The Canaday men were always just a tiny bit eccentric, and Freddie is Canaday thru and thru.”
Althea Murphy snorted as she tackled her crochet project. “No need to gild the lily, Felicity. Oliver was almost as twisty as a piece of old wire. Look at that cat door he put in your house. Not another one like it in town.”
“We’ve lived back to back for forty years, Althea. I don’t have any secrets from you,” she replied resignedly.
“Guess I don’t have any room to talk, since my Jack was the neighborhood disgrace.”
Felicity chuckled. Jack Murphy had been overly fond of whiskey, and his exploits were legendary. She’d been particularly fond of his drunken rendition of Come Back to Erin. “We watch out for each other, as Mindy knows too well.”
“You two ought to put some of these things on paper,” Mindy said. She shifted the bulk of her knitting across her burgeoning figure. “Uncle Freddie is an English professor, isn’t he? Maybe he could help the two of you put together a personal history of the neighborhood.”
Eager to nip any such idea in the bud, but aware that the other ladies had stopped talking and were avidly listening, Felicity smiled before saying, “I have no idea how long Freddie intends to visit, but it would be rude to expect him to spend his time here trying to untangle our tales. He mentioned something about meeting a distant relative in a few weeks. They have some notion of hiking part of the Appalachian Trail.”
“Land sakes, Felicity! Oliver was over seventy when he died, and his cousin has to be close to his age. If he’s setting out like that with someone who has to be nearly as old as he is, he’s an old fool.” Althea commented. She gathered several different colored balls of yarn, jammed her crochet hook into one of them, and dropped the bundle into the capacious tote by her side. “Dollars to doughnuts, those two would fall off a ridge somewhere and end up being lost.”
“Oh, Freddie never gets lost. He’s apparently one of those people who set out with a destination and never gets lost. Oliver always said he’d been born with maps imbedded in his brain. But he never plans for contingencies when he travels. That’s why I’m not sure when to expect him. He may knock on my door any day now.”
Felicity smiled at the thought. She hadn’t seen Freddie in twenty-five years, and then only the one time, but Oliver’s tales about his extraordinary cousin had enlivened many a dinner. The two had visited on the telephone every month or so up till her husband’s death, and the calls had been long and interspersed with howls of laughter from Oliver. She suspected the same had occurred on the other end of the phone, since her husband had frequently followed one of his tales by assuring his cousin the story had been gospel truth.
She’d had to suppress a pang of jealousy when she thought of what fun they must have had growing up together, even though, as she recalled, Freddie was seven years younger.
Althea stood abruptly, her tote slipping from her fingers and hitting the floor with a resounding thud.
“What on earth do you have in there?” Muriel demanded. “All I saw you put in that tote was your yarn and crochet hook.”
Felicity wondered how Althea was going to explain to her soft-spoken friend that her Glock went everywhere she went. Her outspoken neighbor had a license for concealed carry, and claimed to be prepared for any eventuality.
“That hook is heavier than it looks. Don’t you worry none,” Althea replied, looking at Felicity as if daring her to contradict her claim.
Ever ready to avoid conflict, Felicity smiled and said, “I’m so glad you ladies were able to come today. You know you’re welcome any time.” She patted Muriel’s shoulder and crossed the room to the three friends who’d been examining the small loom she’d just taken out of the box that morning. “A weaver is coming next week to show me how to get the most out of this,” she explained. “She’ll be here Tuesday morning, and I’d love for any of you who are interested to be here. Just let me know.”
Moments later, the three left, talking excitedly about the next week’s gathering. Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. Today had gone well, but not without thin ice in a few places. She was going to have to divide her friends into compatible groups in the future. At just that moment, she wasn’t sure Kate would fit with any of the others at any time. Not inviting her might cause problems, as her husband was active in the church and chaired the Elders.
“I might be better off talking with Pastor Jensen about it first,” she decided.
* * *
The next morning she had just finished feeding Lazarus and was in the act of beating an egg with milk for herself when the doorbell chimed. She glanced at the clock on her new stove as she turned off the burner. “Eight-thirty. Who on earth would come calling this early in the morning?” With a glance to make sure her cotton robe was closed, she hurried to the front hall and opened the door to see a wiry gentleman wearing a wrinkled khaki jacket with many pockets and an Australian bush hat.
“I said I’d surprise you and I can see that I have. You haven’t changed a bit, Felicity. Oliver was lucky he saw you first, or I’d have scooped you up and carried you off myself.”
Cousin Freddie had arrived.
Chapter Two
Cousin Freddie’s appearance on her doorstep started Felicity’s day with a bang. The boisterous hug he’d administered after his greeting left her ever so slightly off balance. She hadn’t yet had her coffee, and really did wish she’d had enough notice so that she’d showered and put on what little makeup she bothered to apply. And his whiskery embrace didn’t seem right, somehow.
She always felt better when she had all of her ducks in a row.
“It’s wonderful to see you again after all these years, Freddie,” she managed when she’d recovered her breath. “I only wish you’d been able to make the trip east before Oliver died. He had such fond memories of the two of you growing up in the same town.”
Freddie propped a carved hiking stick against the corner of the entryway as he reached back to close the door behind him, then turned and shook his head. “Sometimes we’re better off carrying those great memories to the grave. None of us improves with age,” he said, then smiled broadly and added, “Except you, dear lady. I admit I’ve been worried about you coping with all the details of Oliver’s estate on your own, but I can see you’re thriving.”
Felicity had no answer for that. Instead she gestured toward the dining room and said, “I was just fixing myself some breakfast, Freddie. I feel sure you must be starved. Will eggs be enough, or should I make some pancakes to go with them? I’m afraid I’m out of bacon ... it’s on my grocery list.”
He followed her lead past the mahogany dining table to the swinging door to the kitchen, protesting all the way that he didn’t want to disrupt her schedule, before adding, “I must admit that I’m eager to see this library of Oliver’s. He bragged about his finds for years. I have to admit that I was convinced he exaggerated a little, but that’s what we Canadays do when we talk to each other ... turn our small successes into momentous events.”
“I’ll take you to see his collection right after breakfast, Freddie,” she said brightly. “There were difficulties, and I’ve moved the library to a new home.”
Freddie raised his bristly eyebrows until they nearly met his unruly shock of hair. “Seems I recall Oliver said that library would never be broken up. Surely you didn’t go against his instructions.”
Felicity reached into the refrigerator and brought out more eggs and milk. Without turning from the task of breaking eggs into a bowl, she replied, “You know I’d never ever go against anything Oliver wanted. I simply had a new addition built onto the college library to house the whole collection. Would you like cheese in your scrambled eggs?”
> There was no response. Her unannounced visitor collapsed onto the cushioned chair beside her kitchen table, his mouth opening and closing. No sound came out.
“Cheese, Freddie?” she repeated.
After several sputters, he produced sound. “Built ... built an addition?”
“Of course. Oliver left me quite well off, you know, and it’s ever so much more convenient for the students and faculty to use the material there than to come out here.” Since there had been no reply, she added a fistful of grated cheddar to the mixture in the bowl and stirred briskly. “I love the idea of donating to the college.”
“But ... surely that ran you quite low on cash. What have you been living on?”
“Oh, buildings don’t come cheap, and you never stint on libraries ... that’s what Oliver used to say. He invested wisely, and the money is just like a well. Every time I take out a bucket full, the level rises to the top so I can take out more.”
Felicity had no intention of sharing the story of Oliver’s stock market formula. She and her niece, Mindy, had carefully destroyed both the hard drive with all the information and the hard copy that had been hidden away. That had certainly been a trying time. There was also no need to tell him that she’d committed the formula to memory, which was very useful every time she felt her accounts were running low. She carefully poured the contents of the bowl into the shallow pan and stirred gently.
“Would you like white or wheat toast, Freddie?”
A hoarse call, followed by a sibilant hiss, was the only answer. When she turned, she saw Freddie sitting stiffly in his chair, while the immense black cat, his tail fluffed like a bottle brush, stalked toward him.
“There you are, Lazarus. Now, you behave yourself.” She bent and ran her hand across his back soothingly. “This is Oliver’s Cousin Freddie, who’s come to visit us. I’ll get your breakfast as soon as I can.” She turned to her guest, “Did you say white or wheat, Freddie?”
Deceitful Legacy Page 1