Wild Child

by Shelley Munro

  It was the right place.

  A prickle of awareness jerked her upright. Alice glanced up from her folded hands, peeking through lowered lashes. A man. She hunched forward again so she didn’t appear so obvious but continued to spy on him. A gorgeous man surrounded by flirtatious females of all ages. Tall. A rangy build. Dark shaggy hair and bright blue eyes that focused on her and bore distinct interest. Alice wondered what it would be like to have a man like that at her side, touching her like a lover, then guilt assailed her and she glanced away.

  Definitely not her sort.

  He appeared too dashing, and his wicked grin indicated a man too daring for her. No, despite this man’s obvious attractions—her fascinated gaze darted back to scan his broad chest, his overlong hair and his…

  Awareness pulled at Alice, her skin suddenly overly warm and her mind uneasy with her wayward thoughts. She squirmed on her wooden chair and tugged furtively at her white cotton cardigan. A quick jerk of her wrist pulled it away from her breasts but did little to cool the swelter of her body. She barely resisted fanning her face, smoothing the wayward strands of her hair away from her forehead instead. Oh my goodness. She’d stared right at his…

  Aghast at the way she’d ogled the man’s crotch when practically engaged to another man, she turned to Steven for distraction. His PDA held his attention. Alice knew better than to interrupt especially since he hadn’t wanted to attend the reading of the will. An ambitious man, Steven intended to advance to partner with his law firm. She admired his will to succeed so could hardly fault him when he thought of their future with each carefully planned decision. With a sigh, she scanned the room, making sure her gaze stayed well clear of Mr. Dashing. Alice had read magazine articles about men like him, and they weren’t good material for a girl who desired security and a relationship to rival the happy-ever-after end of a fairy tale.

  Over to the side of the room, a group of elderly women operated a trestle table. They had a steady stream of customers for cups of tea and huge slices of chocolate cake and worked together like a well-oiled machine. The steady clink of gold coins added to the general racket in the hall. Alice noticed a small podium on the stage at the front of the hall. Nearby, a sound system sat, ready for the arrival of a speaker. Behind Alice, and in front of her, locals occupied rows and rows of wooden chairs, or at least they appeared to know one another. Surely, they weren’t all beneficiaries in her godmother Alicia’s will?

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Steven asked in an undertone once three people in full white robes had safely squeezed past them to take possession of a row of empty seats on their left. Polite and circumspect, no matter what the aggravation, this strange town seemed to have him rattled, which probably accounted for his attempts to bury himself in the security of work while they waited for the lawyer to arrive.

  Alice could hardly blame him. She had to admit the people she’d met in the small town of Sloan so far were pure provocation. Ask a question and they gave a roundabout answer. No one, from the local police to the young woman walking the brown dog near the post office or the robed men and women who loitered outside the hall had wanted to discuss her godmother’s company Fancy Free Limited. Her request for directions and polite questions had led to smirks or icy silence, followed by mutters when she’d walked away. She’d tried to ask questions while they purchased petrol and learned zilch. Their reticence reeked of a conspiracy of sorts. Alice huffed out an exasperated breath. It would be lovely to learn a few details about her inheritance. It was all so mysterious.

  “Yes, we’re in the right place.” Alice supposed she should have jumped on the Internet and done some research after the lawyer’s bombshell call, but there hadn’t been time since they’d both worked late and then had to rush to attend a work function.

  Steven bent toward her and spoke softly, his warm breath puffing against her cheek. “Are you sure the lawyer didn’t give you a hint about your inheritance?”

  Great minds thought alike. Alice smiled with pleased self-congratulation even as she pulled away, out of range. If she grew any hotter, she’d self-combust. Her mother might consider Steven stuffy, but she was wrong. A pompous windbag, her father had stated the first time she’d taken the young lawyer home. Alice knew better. Despite her parents’ opinions, Steven’s thought patterns and ideals aligned completely with her own. They were perfect for each other.

  And she’d finally have security, both financial and emotional.

  Steven cleared his throat in a non-verbal reminder that he awaited details. Alice reconstructed the hurried phone call she’d had with her godmother’s lawyer in her mind before shaking her head. “No. I asked Mr. Bellbooth when he rang me last night but he said in accordance with the will, I had to come to Sloan to learn more details. He told me the date and time and hung up to take another call.”

  “Mighty peculiar.” Steven spoke in a well-modulated voice. “I told you to let me handle it.”

  Alice felt a niggle of irritation grab hold and immediately guilt surfaced. Although not officially engaged, they had an understanding, so she supposed his attitude spoke of concern. Really. They were perfect for each other.

  A tubby man dressed in an old-fashioned pinstriped suit limped onto the podium and the locals immediately ceased their loud chatter. The clamor diminished to a low hum. Most of the inhabitants in the drafty hall resonated with excitement. Alice stared in fascination. The man looked as if he’d stepped straight from a Munster’s movie. Actually, after the show so far, she wouldn’t be surprised to see a few bats flitting through the air or body parts start to somersault across the floor. It had been that kind of day.

  “If everyone is ready, I’ll start to read the will.” Despite his benign appearance, the man exuded confidence and took control. The lawyer, Mr. Glen Bellbooth she presumed, cleared his throat and silent expectation ensued. He pulled a pair of spectacles from his inside jacket pocket, put them on and surveyed them all before he started to read. “Alicia asked me to read the will in its entirety.”

  Alice groaned silently. This torture would continue? The lawyer obviously didn’t realize the size of her student loan. The notion that she’d be able to pay off the loan and start saving seriously for the small house she’d always dreamed of refused to go away. Steven and she could have a family sooner rather than later. The idea of a home, a family and financial security was almost too much for her to comprehend. Oh please, she prayed silently. Please let my dreams come true.

  She wanted an average life in the suburbs with an average two point four children.

  Alice craved normal so much. And after her topsy-turvy upbringing and the way her parents had dragged their children around the world from one good cause to another, she hungered for ordinary.

  At first, she listened attentively to every word, thinking she’d learn of her inheritance soon. The lawyer droned on and Alice drifted into dreams of the future while various persons around the hall let out excited squeaks and jumped up and down. Financially independent and debt free. The idea, the potential benefits filled her with exhilaration. Steven knew about the student loans she’d taken out to pay for her university tuition. She’d confided in him about the house and how badly she wanted her own home. Something that would always be hers and nobody could take away. Steven wanted to rent a property so she hadn’t brought up the subject again. It didn’t mean she agreed with him. He was a good man. He’d see the sense in compromise and realize the importance of future security.

  “What?” Steven gasped, his backbone hitting the back of his chair.

  Alice’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with panic. Had she missed something important?

  “To my goddaughter Alice Beasley, I leave my company Fancy Free,” Mr. Bellbooth, the lawyer, repeated. He paused to study Steven over the top of his glasses before continuing to read. “I am confident that you, along with my manager James Bates can work together to grab a larger portion of the condom market share.”

  “A cond
om company?” Steven didn’t bother to hide his horror or keep his voice down. “Not bloody likely.”