by Gayle Roper
Ted held what he was carrying high over his head. Bill frowned. It looked like Grandma Jule’s silver jewelry box. She’d showed it to him one time when he asked if she had any heirlooms. They were doing reports for school on heritage, and Bill had decided to borrow the Whartons’ heritage since his own was so tacky. The silver box was the center of his report.
“It’s made of silver so thick that the carved flowers stick up several inches,” he wrote. “It is one of the prettiest things I have ever seen. I’m proud that it belongs to my Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe someday it will belong to me. I will take good care of it.”
He’d gotten an A. He suspected the teacher had talked to his mother about his adopting the Whartons, but Mom had never said anything to him about it. He thought that was because she wished she were a Wharton too.
Suddenly it occurred to him that he hadn’t been lying when he wrote about the Whartons. He was a Wharton. They were his heritage as much as the Spensers were. The wonder of that realization made him forget Ernie Molino for a full minute.
Because of Clay, he was a Wharton. He could even change his name if he wanted. He could be William Clayton Wharton III.
“Billy, are you all right?” Mom looked scared to death from worrying about him.
Bill pulled his attention to the problem at hand and nodded.
“Answer her out loud, kid. Tell her you’re fine—for now. Just don’t mention the gun.”
“I’m fine—for now,” he repeated.
Mom and Uncle Ted halted about twenty feet away. Uncle Ted put the chest down on the sand.
“Here’s your treasure,” Leigh called. “Now let him go.” She held out a hand. “Come on, Billy.”
Ernie Molino grabbed Bill by the shoulder. “Oh no. I’m not that stupid. I let him go, you grab the treasure, and I’m stuck with nothing. Uh-uh. You bring it all the way to me.”
Uncle Ted picked up the chest, and he and Mom started walking. Bill watched Mom with concern. She was limping pretty badly.
“Not you,” Mr. Molino hollered, pointing at Uncle Ted. “Just her.”
“I can’t carry it with my bad ankle,” Leigh called. “It’s too heavy.”
“Yeah, baby, heavy,” Ernie Molino muttered under his breath.
Bill was surprised the man wasn’t drooling at the sight of his “treasure.” If he had his hands free, he’d probably be rubbing them together in anticipation.
“Okay,” Mr. Molino called. “You can both come.”
Slowly and carefully, Uncle Ted and Mom walked toward the jetty.
Mr. Molino held Bill with one hand, the gun in his other hand resting between Bill’s shoulder blades, out of sight of Mom and Uncle Ted. Bill found it hard to remember to be scared of the gun. It was too TV, too movies to be real. Besides, no one with any smarts would shoot someone with two witnesses present. Then again, there was some debate over Mr. Molino’s intelligence. Anyone who believed Pop-pop’s line about a treasure was suspect, at least as far as Bill was concerned. Still he stood quietly, thinking it better to cooperate than take a risk.
Mom and Uncle Ted stopped about ten feet from Mr. Molino and Bill.
“You.” Mr. Molino gestured to Mom. “Bring it the last few steps by yourself. I don’t want your boyfriend near me.”
Bill blinked. He thought Uncle Ted was Clay. The man was not only dumb, he was blind. Couldn’t he see the hollow cheeks, the pale face? Granted the down jacket made Ted look fatter, but still, Clay radiated health, and Ted certainly didn’t. It must be a matter of seeing what you expected to see.
Mom took the chest from Uncle Ted and began limping toward them. Her eyes went to Bill. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, then watched with interest as her eyes slid past him, past Mr. Molino. She brought them back to him almost immediately, but suddenly Bill knew where Clay was.
“Now put it down, Leigh-Leigh, and back up.”
Mom did as she was told.
“Now both of you back up.” Mr. Molino waved the gun, and Mom and Uncle Ted backed up.
“Now let him go,” Mom said.
Mr. Molino ignored her. “Grab it, kid,” he ordered, his eyes glued to the treasure.
“The chest?”
Mr. Molino pulled the gun front and center and held it at Bill’s Adam’s apple. “Don’t get fresh with me. Get it!”
“Don’t hurt him!” Mom pled. Bill thought for a minute she might collapse. “He’s only a boy!”
Bill leaned carefully away from the gun and reached for the chest. He almost dropped it. He’d forgotten how heavy it was.
“Don’t try any tricks,” Mr. Molino snarled.
“I’m not,” Bill protested. “It’s just real heavy. Lots of silver.”
Mr. Molino grabbed Bill by the neck of his T-shirt. The gun rested against his jaw. “Okay,” he shouted at Mom and Uncle Ted. “The kid and me are getting out of here.”
“No!” Mom looked ready to faint. “You said you’d let him go if I gave you the treasure.”
“Oops.” Mr. Molino smiled. “I lied.”
Bill felt real bad as Mom started to cry. “Mom’s real honest,” he explained. “She thought you’d be honest too.”
“Her mistake.” He jerked on Bill’s shirt, dragging him backwards. All the time he kept his eyes on Mom and Uncle Ted.
Mom’s eyes darted beyond Bill for just an instant. It was a mistake on her part, because this time Mr. Molino saw her. It was enough to warn him. He pulled Bill against him and glanced over his shoulder. He let out a shriek of anger when he saw Clay mere feet from him. He spun ninety degrees, his back to the ocean. He looked from Clay to Ted and back.
“You’re sick in bed!” He looked from brother to brother, confused. “One of you.”
“I guess not.” Clay took a step closer.
“I’ll kill the kid if you come any nearer! I mean it!”
Bill looked out of the corner of his eyes and saw Clay freeze. He didn’t know how Clay felt, but he felt real disappointed. The attack from the rear had come so close to success.
“You don’t want to kill the boy,” Clay said. “He’s ten years old. You want a ten-year-old on your conscience?” And he took a step closer.
Mr. Molino backed up a step, dragging Bill onto the jetty with him. “So maybe I won’t kill the boy. Maybe I’ll kill you.” He waved his gun at Clay.
“And have all these witnesses to murder? You might be a thief, Molino, but you’re not a murderer.” Another step. “At least you haven’t been. You don’t want to start now, do you?” Another step. “Think where they’ll put you if you murder someone.”
Bill thought for a minute that his hearing was playing tricks on him, but no, he did hear police sirens coming their way.
Mr. Molino heard them at the same time. “I said no police!” he shrieked at Mom. He leveled the gun at her.
Clay took two steps, big ones, up onto the jetty. Mr. Molino backed farther onto the jetty, moving away from the threat. A wave crashed and he flinched, the gun wavering.
“Don’t kill my mom,” Bill begged. “I haven’t got any other family. I’ll be an orphan!” He tried to squeeze out a tear or two.
“Shut up, kid. Who cares?” He backed away from Clay some more, dragging Bill.
“But you were Pop-pop’s friend. Think how upset he’d be if you hurt me.”
“Like I care. He was slime, and he’s dead anyway. He’ll never know.”
“Bill.” Clay called to him in a firm, unruffled voice.
“Shut up! Leave the kid alone,” Mr. Molino yelled as the sirens wound down and doors could be heard slamming and voices calling out on the street.
“You’re only a step or two from the Grand Canyon,” Clay said.
Bill frowned for a moment. “That’s in Arizona.” Then he smiled and nodded ever so slightly.
Mr. Molino yelled to Clay, “Stay away from me! And keep the cops away. The kid and I need to get out of here.”
“Want to have a game of toss after th
is is over?” Clay asked, staring intently at the silver chest.
Toss, not catch. Bill looked down at the chest and back at Clay. “Really?”
“Really.” Clay was very firm.
Bill shrugged casually. “Sure.” And he tossed the silver chest into the churning sea.
“No!” Mr. Molino screamed as he watched the chest sail off to port side. It hit the water just as a surging wave broke. It disappeared into the foam and sank immediately. “No!”
The breaking wave sent water creaming over the rock on which Bill and Mr. Molino stood. “No!” he screamed again. In his terror he clutched even more tightly at Bill’s shirt.
At the same moment Bill threw the chest, Clay rushed Mr. Molino, grabbing for Bill who tried to wrench himself free.
“No!” Mr. Molino yelled at Clay. He aimed at Clay’s chest even as he took a big step backward, right to the very edge of the rock. As he teetered and flailed, he pulled the trigger. The shot went wild as he fell into the hole in the jetty where the boulder was missing. Since the tide was almost high, the hole was full of cold brine, and Mr. Molino fell screaming and sunk below the surface.
As Mr. Molino fell, Clay pulled Bill from his grasp.
“Dad!” Bill threw himself into Clay’s arms. “Dad!”
Thirty-eight
IT WAS EARLY EASTER evening by the time things quieted down. With a sigh, Leigh settled herself on the couch in her apartment. At her side was her tote bag of work, papers to correct before going back to school tomorrow. Criminals may come and go, but marking papers went on forever. She placed an ice pack once again on her ankle, grabbed a red marker, and reached for the bag.
Bill was over at the Whartons, being plied with cake and sympathy by Julia who was appalled when she heard what had happened.
“What would I have done if I had lost you too?” she had cried, hugging Bill so tight he gurgled, “I’m turning blue here, Grandma Jule.”
She looked at her sons with disapproval. “Next time, don’t put the child at risk.”
“Next time?” Clay made the mistake of defending himself. “Mom, I don’t think there’ll be a next time.”
“Don’t get cute with me, Clay Wharton.” Julia stared him down while Leigh tried not to laugh. Bill enjoyed the scene with unabashed glee. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Clay frowned. “Mom, I’m a bit past the yelling-at age.”
“Not in my book,” she said with a sniff. “Never in my book. Once a mom, always a mom.”
Clay looked at David who stood off to the side, a wise man staying out of the family squabble. “David, she’s all yours. Take her off my hands, will you? If I’m going to settle here in Seaside, I don’t want to have to watch my back for a mom attack.”
Julia’s face lit with delight. “You’re settling here?” She rushed to him and hugged him. “Oh, Clay, I’m so glad.”
He leaned over and kissed her soft cheek. When he straightened, he looked at Leigh, then at Bill. “My family’s here.”
Leigh closed her eyes as she lay on the couch, the wonder of that pronouncement still almost beyond her comprehension.
“Here, love.” Clay stood beside her with a glass of sweetened tea.
“Sit with me,” she said and moved over. He lowered himself, finding barely enough room on the edge of the cushions. He lifted her and sat her in his lap.
“This position is not conducive to correcting papers.” She leaned against his chest.
He tilted her chin and kissed her. “I promise not to interfere.”
They sat quietly for several minutes, just enjoying each other’s presence. And, if Leigh were honest, Bill’s absence.
“How’s the ankle?” Clay finally asked.
“If I don’t move it, it’s only a dull throb.”
“Are you sure you should go to school tomorrow? Chasing fourth graders doesn’t make for quick healing.”
“The school district gets upset if you take the day after a holiday off. You actually need a doctor’s excuse.”
“David’ll give you one.”
She looked at the bag of papers. “It’s tempting,” she admitted. She bent and pulled a stack of papers free. As she did, a FedEx envelope slid to the floor.
“I forgot all about that,” she said as Clay retrieved it and handed it to her. She stared at it.
“What’s wrong?” Clay looked at the envelope and saw the return address. “Your father?”
“Something about him. It was here when we got home from school on Friday a week ago. I stuck it in the tote bag and forgot it.” She grinned at him. “A few things got in the way of my concentration this week.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “I wonder what?”
“I love you,” she whispered.
He kissed her again. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”
She sighed as she leaned against him. “I still can’t believe you’re here, right here in my apartment with your arms around me and me in your lap. I’m afraid I’ll blink and find it’s all a dream.”
“Shall we live right here in Seaside?” he asked.
She sat up and stared at him. “I heard you tell your mom you wanted to settle here, but how can you? The navy.”
“I resigned my commission before I came home. I’m a civilian, an unemployed civilian.”
“Really?” She frowned at him. And he hadn’t bothered to tell her? “Here I thought I’d caught me a sailor boy.”
“Want to throw me over now?”
She narrowed her eyes and looked thoughtful. Of course he was used to making all his decisions as an individual, not as part of a couple. And they hadn’t been a couple when he resigned. Still he should have told her.
He wrapped his arms tightly about her. “Don’t you dare throw me over, lady. I couldn’t stand it.”
Forget the anger, girl. He didn’t mean to upset you. It’s not worth ruining a golden moment. Besides, there was a lifetime ahead in which to talk about the necessity of sharing important information.
“Then I won’t,” she said, returning his hug. “Though I do recommend you get un-unemployed sometime soon. Bill’s bound to notice you hanging around the house all day and have a few things to say.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Clay grinned. “What a kid.”
“I’ve always blamed all his bad behavior on you, though now that you’re going to be here all the time, it won’t be so easy.” She sighed.
“Do you mind staying in Seaside?” Clay asked quite seriously.
“You mean because of my father?”
He nodded.
She shook her head. “Most of the time most of the people are wonderful. Johnny’s old news to them.”
He nodded. “Good. I was hoping to open my own business, a computer engineering company, and I thought I’d rent an office downtown.”
“That sounds wonderful, Clay.” She smiled at him. “Of course I think you can do anything you set your mind to, you know. I always have.”
He looked genuinely humbled by her confidence in him. “Leigh,” he breathed and kissed her again.
She rested against him, and her hands began to fidget with the FedEx envelope.
“Go on,” he said. “Open it. Get it over with.”
She took hold of the tab and pulled. She peered into the envelope and found a business letter addressed to her father. There was also a note written on lined paper.
Dear Miss Spenser,
Your father gave me this letter to hold for him. He said that if anything happened to him, I was to make sure you got it. I been sick for a while and I just got around to sending it. I know it’s important.
Murray Lawton
P.S. I was your father’s lawyer in here. I been taking classes by correspondence, and I know everything a lawyer does. Too bad I can’t practice on the outside. But I’ll be here for a few more years and like helping the guys in here.
With a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she studied the letter addressed to John
ny. The return address indicated the letter was from some lawyers. She blinked. “Look. It’s been opened already.” She checked the postmark. “He got it several months ago.”
She slid her fingers into the envelope and pulled out a sheet of heavy stationery with the logo of Barnes, Chrichton, and Zelinski, Attorneys at Law embossed in red and navy at the top of the sheet.
Mr. Spenser:
We write to ask the address of your daughter, Leigh Wilson Spenser. We seek her in regards to the estate of her great-aunt Harriet Plummer Wilson. Please contact us at your earliest convenience as to where we might reach her.
Sincerely,
Alton Zelinski, Esq.
“Who’s Harriet Plummer Wilson?” Clay asked.
Leigh shook her head. “I don’t know, but my mother’s maiden name was Wilson. That’s why it’s my middle name.”
“Maybe I’m marrying an heiress,” Clay said with a smile and a roll of his imaginary mustache.
“You should be so lucky,” she retorted.
“I couldn’t be any luckier than I am,” he said with a look that made her want to cry.
Three days later, Leigh and Clay sat in the office of Alton Zelinski, Esquire, drinking cups of tea that he had made for them himself. Leigh found all the social pleasantries very nice, but her nerves were stretched with curiosity.
Finally, Mr. Zelinski leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “I understand that you never knew any of your mother’s family.”
“That’s correct,” Leigh said. “When she married my father, they basically disinherited her.”
“So you never met your Great-Aunt Harriet?”
“I didn’t even know I had such a relative.”
Mr. Zelinski smiled. “I liked Harriet. She was a lady who never bothered to stifle her opinions, but she was from an era when the men in the family laid down the rules and the women went along whether they agreed or not. When your grandfather, her brother, dictated that your mother be cut off, Harriet protested loudly but to no avail.”
“I remember my mother as a sad woman,” Leigh said. “My father wasn’t a very nice man, and she should have had the comfort of her family.”
“Don’t blame Harriet,” Mr. Zelinski said. “Many a time she sat in my office and cried over Candace.”