by Day Leclaire
She regarded him in surprise. "Doesn't everyone? So, will you tell me about Josiah's apples?"
He shook his head, refusing to give in. "Sardines don't rate the apple story. And don't try that poor-little-me look, green eyes. I haven't bought into it for years."
"Please?"
"I might be open to a bribe, but only if you tell me you have more in that basket than fish, peppers, and rice cakes. Otherwise, I'm likely to starve before I get halfway through the story."
"I have more in my basket than fish, peppers, and rice cakes," she repeated obediently. "Now will you tell me the story?"
He shrugged. "Okay, but it's no big deal." He rolled the sleeves of his crisp white shirt up past his elbows, exposing the golden-brown skin of his forearms. "When I was somewhere around ten, I heard Aunt Maudie say that Josiah Hankum's apples were the best pie apples in the county."
"So you stole some."
"Wrong," he rapped out, his tone quelling. "Schoolteachers should know better than to leap to conclusions. Now listen and learn." He returned to his story. "I suppose I could simply have stolen them, but you know Maudie, she'd never approve of that. She'd have made me give them back."
Callie pried open Danny's hand and released the grasshopper he'd captured, wondering whether they grew their limbs back the way starfish did. If not, Mr. Grasshopper would have a bit of trouble living up to his name. "So what clever little scam did you come up with to get Josiah's apples?"
"Old Hankum hated people trespassing on his property. He also hated kids." He frowned at an angelically beaming Danny. "I'm beginning to understand why."
"Julian!"
"Listen, anyone who dines on bugs..." He held up his hands to still her interruption. "Do you want to hear this story or not? Anyway, Hankum especially hated kids who trespassed. And he had a very effective way of discouraging us."
"Which was?"
"You haven't guessed?"
She began to laugh. "Throwing apples at you."
"Got it in one. Whenever Aunt Maudie needed apples for a pie, I'd head on over to the Hankum farm and wait for old Josiah to come tearing out and pelt me with apples."
"Didn't he ever catch on?"
Julian leaned back against the sycamore trunk and offered one of his slow, teasing smiles. "If not, then he was the only one in all of Willow who didn't." He glanced at Danny and groaned in disgust. "Callie, that kid's decided on dirt for dessert. Can't you control him? No wonder Valerie was in such a hurry to cut out."
She grabbed the picnic basket and pulled out another napkin, applying it to Danny's dirty fingers and mouth. "Are you thirsty?" she asked Julian. "There's lemonade."
"And chocolate chip cookies. Good as they are, I'd like something more substantial. Do you have anything that's actually edible in that basket?"
"How about tofu? No? I have salad," she offered.
"Salad? That's lettuce, right? I can handle lettuce. You did make it with lettuce?"
She popped off the lid and examined the contents. "Nope. Mustard greens and tomatoes with black pepper dressing."
"No lettuce. And let's take a wild guess here. The dressing is nice and spicy. Right?"
"If you weren't so particular—"
"Or if you had packed any real food." He reached down and picked up Danny, who busily gummed his shoe. "You and me, both, buster. If I don't find something to eat soon, I'm going to be reduced to shoe leather, too."
"Fish, peppers, and salad are real food. So is tofu."
"I'll tell you what. Why don't we just skip the eating part? As pleasant as this has been, we need to get back to our earlier discussion."
"Willow's End?" she asked with a sigh.
"The disposition of Willow's End, to be exact. You remember the conversation, don't you? It was right before kid dynamo here dropped into our lives. I believe I left off with 'Find the will? What do you mean find it? It's missing?' And you left off with—"
"It's not exactly missing," Callie supplied helpfully. "How long can you stay? This might take a while."
"Fortunately, I have a while." He gave Danny an experimental bounce on his knee. "I was about to invite myself to Willow's End for the summer to write a time management book, when I heard about Maudie."
"You were?" She smiled in delight. "That's perfect. That would give us plenty of time to work out our little problem."
"Little problem? That's what I've always loved about you, Callie. Your unswerving optimism in the face of overwhelming disaster." He smiled at the face she made and reached for another rice cake, handing it to the greedy baby. "I think I'd better speak to Maudie's lawyer as soon as possible and get a handle on how we should proceed with all this. Is she still using Peters?"
"Caleb, Junior. His dad retired a year ago. Though I doubt Junior or Senior can tell us where she hid it."
A long silence stretched between them. "Maudie hid the will?" Julian repeated very carefully, returning Danny to the blanket. "You didn't mention anything about its being hidden. I know you didn't. You said missing. Now it's hidden?"
She frowned at him. "Don't worry. It's not all that urgent. I already told you what the will says. More or less. We only need to find it in order to verify things legally."
Julian appeared to be struggling with his breathing. "Callie, it's not that simple. The court is not going to accept your word alone on how the estate should be settled. Especially when you don't know what her will actually says. They need proof. They need it in black and white. What about Caleb, Jr.? Doesn't he have a copy?"
"Oh, I wouldn't think so."
"Why not?"
She hesitated, then reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a pink, rose-scented envelope. "Because of this."
He took it from her and turned it over, studying their two names scrawled on the front. "What is it?"
"It's a note to us from Maudie." Callie bit down on her lip. "I found it in the study. It explains about the will and that she hid it."
"I don't believe this. Does Maudie happen to mention where she put her will?"
She shot him a look of reproof. "Of course she does."
"Well that's a relief. Where?"
"She said she put it someplace in the house."
"Someplace in the—" Julian ran a hand through his crisp dark hair, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "Callie, that house has three stories, if you include the attic, with two wings, and more cubbyholes than a rat's palace. I won't bother to mention the basement, various porches, and the vast assortment of storage closets. I don't suppose you could be more specific about where in the house her will might be?"
"No, I can't. That would defeat the whole object of the exercise, don't you think?"
He closed his eyes briefly. "Okay. I'll ask. I'll regret it, I know, but I'll ask. What exercise, Callie?"
She sighed in exasperation. "If you'd read the note, you'd understand."
"Fine." Without another word, he extracted the single sheet of paper from the envelope, scanning it swiftly. "She says I work too hard. What does she mean I work too hard? I do not work too hard."
"Yes, you do, Julian. She thinks looking for the will would give you a much needed vacation. It'll get you away from all those rules and regulations and... and schedules and things."
"What about all your projects and committees? Isn't she worried that you're overdoing things. That you'll wear yourself out?"
"She doesn't mention it," Callie said smugly. "Her note is perfectly clear. If we want to find out who inherits the house, we have to find her will. In order to find her will, we have to search for it. Her reasons for hiding it may be a little vague, but think of the good a treasure hunt will do you. It'll be fun. It'll help you relax."
"I am relaxed!"
"Of course you are," she said soothingly. "That's why your muscles are all bunched up like that. They're relaxing."
"So, I like tension. Sue me."
She shook her head in amusement and glanced at Danny. He sat quite happily, one hand holding t
he pickled herring jar, the other stuffed through the small opening, squishing the bits of fish between his fingers. She extricated his hand and held out the jar. "Are you sure you won't eat something before I pack it all away?"
"No, I want to settle this business about the will."
"You don't need to shout," she informed him in her best schoolteacher's voice. "I'm sure it's not healthy for you to turn all red like that. As for the will, there's nothing to settle, remember? We have to find it first."
She heard him grind his teeth. "Are you sure you aren't hungry?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "You're looking very strange. Here. This should make you feel better." She reached into the basket and pulled out a small platter, holding it out to him. "Have some sushi."
* * *
By the time they returned to Willow's End, the sun sat low in the sky. Julian dropped his load of picnic paraphernalia on the front porch and turned to glance at Callie, who stood on the walkway, motionless.
"You coming?" he asked.
"In a minute. I just wanted to look at the house."
"Has it changed?" He came back down the stairs to join her and stared up at Willow's End. "Nope. Still the same old place. And a darned special one, at that." He frowned. "Though now that I look at it, it could use a coat of paint or two. And those shutters are sagging a bit."
"Don't be so pragmatic. It's a wonderful, beautiful, terrific—"
"And locked house." Julian smiled, holding out his hand. "I tried the front door. It's locked. Give me the key, will you?" She hesitated and he snapped his fingers. "The key, green eyes. Wake up. It's been a long day and I'd like to end it."
She shifted from one foot to the other, not quite meeting his gaze. He wouldn't like this next part. "Well, you see, that's the problem. I don't have the key."
"No key? Who has it?" He frowned. "Not Maudie?"
"No. Not Maudie." She cleared her throat. "Actually no one has it."
"No one," he repeated. "What do you mean, no one? You locked the door and no one has the key?"
"You know we never lock doors around here," she explained. "At least we didn't until today. So if there ever was a key, it's long gone now."
Julian closed his eyes, marshaling his thoughts. "What made it so imperative that you lock the door this time?"
"Because of Brutus, of course. I didn't want him to get out."
"Not this again," he muttered beneath his breath. "Callie, listen to what I am about to say. Please, try to remember and accept it. Brutus is a dog. A dumb animal. A creature with a brain the size of a pea and with as much intelligence as your common everyday fungus. He does not have human feelings. He does not have human anything. Nor can he open closed doors."
"Yes, he can."
He thought for a moment, then smiled kindly. "Okay. Let's pretend I buy the premise that Brutus can open doors. If he could—which he can't—but if he could, then why didn't you simply chain him up? That way you wouldn't have to lock a door you can't open."
She gasped and drew herself up to her full five-foot-three inches. "Chain him? Chain Brutus? How could you even suggest such a thing? Do you realize how inhumane that would be? How cruel? He'd never forgive me. Never."
"So he'd never forgive you. I think he's going to be a damned sight less forgiving when we can't get into the house and he ends up starving to death. Or didn't that occur to you?"
Callie struggled to ignore his sarcasm, hanging on to her dignity through sheer willpower. "For your information, I left a window open. All we have to do is climb in, go around, and unlock the door from the inside. It's very simple."
He closed his eyes again. "I don't believe this. You mean, you locked all the doors because that mutt can open them, but windows are all right to leave open because he can't climb out through those?"
"Well, yes, he can. But he won't."
"God give me strength. Please, I really want to know. Why won't Brutus climb out the window? Does it involve some sort of special doggy honor? Thou shalt not escape out windows, but if thou getest open the door, thou mayest?"
Her reply was saccharine sweet. "I want you to know something. I hate you. I'm not angry with you, but I've come to realize that I honestly, sincerely hate you."
"Too kind."
"Don't mention it."
"You still haven't explained about the window."
The man was impossible. Why were they dwelling on details when they could be breaking into the house? "Ever since Brutus skidded through the sliding glass door, he's been terrified of all glass, including windows," she explained. "And I'll tell you something else. I'll regret to my dying day that Gail got pushed into the lake."
If Julian found it difficult following the progression of the conversation, he didn't show it. "You're sorry she was—"
"Pushed in. Yes. I've spent the better part of last year feeling guilty about it. Now I realize why. You two were made for each other. She was just as precise and perfect as you."
"Why, thank you," he said, not quite suppressing a smile. "Regardless of what you may have thought, I never held that lake incident against you."
"You deserved each other," she continued, ignoring his interruption. "Why Brutus didn't understand that, I'll never know. For some reason he thought you two—"
"Callie?"
"What?"
"Where's the window?"
"Around back. Why? What's wrong?"
"Not a thing, if we stop the conversation now before you say something I'll regret." He walked down the steps and headed around the side of the house, speaking as he went. "I always forget coming back here is like stepping into a Saturday Night Live skit. I'll have to remember to write that down. You tend to retain things better when you record them."
Callie trailed behind him, determined to be understanding. After all, Julian wasn't acting like himself. Reaction to Maudie's death must have set in, and humoring him seemed the best option. He just needed a long cool shower and a hot dog or more cookies or something. Once she got inside, she'd open a bag of Oreos.
Besides, she shouldn't have mentioned Gail in the first place. His former fiancée was clearly a taboo topic. And Callie couldn't blame him for that. If she were honest, she'd admit the incident the previous summer would never have occurred if she'd been more willing to get along with the woman. So her personality contained a few flaws. Or more than a few flaws. Personality wasn't everything. It would have taken a bit of work, Callie admitted, but she could have found something positive about dear Gail. Julian had. Too bad it required such a struggle to figure out what.
Julian stopped so abruptly Callie almost ran into him. He stared in disbelief at a narrow window situated just above shoulder height. "That's it? That's the window I'm supposed to crawl through?"
"No," she replied, remembering just in time to humor him. "That's the window I'm supposed to crawl through. Even if you could fit through the opening, you've still forgotten one small detail."
"Which is?"
"Brutus is on the other side."
"So?"
So much for humoring him. "I have no doubt Brutus heard every cruel, nasty remark you made while we were standing on the front porch. And even if he didn't, Aunt Maudie told me what happened when you visited last winter. I guarantee, Brutus hasn't forgiven you for that particular incident."
"What are you going on about now?"
She put her hands on her hips and spoke sternly. "The firecrackers you set off last New Year's Eve while I was in Chicago chaperoning our sixth grade field trip. You know how frightened Brutus is of loud noises. He was very upset."
"He was upset? He was upset! Did Maudie tell you what he did to my bed? Did she?"
Color burned her cheeks. "He was asleep on top of it when you set the silly things off. He couldn't help it. It was an accident."
"It was deliberate. You know it and I know it."
"Do I?" She opened her eyes wide. "How could it have been deliberate? A creature with a brain the size of a pea and the intelligence of y
our common everyday fungus committing such a despicable act deliberately?"
He took a deep breath. "How do we get in the house, Callie?"
"You're supposed to lift me up to the window and I'll climb in."
He studied the window, then her, and shook his head. "I don't know. In that dress, it looks chancy." A wicked gleam glittered in his dark eyes. "I don't suppose you'd care to make a small wager about whether you can get in without ripping something, would you?"
"I don't make bets anymore, Julian," she answered primly. "I haven't for ages."
He grinned. "One year does not an age make, sweetheart. Which is how long it's been since our last wager. And the only reason you won't bet is because you always lose. Don't you want to try to get even? Bet you a nickel you can't do it."
She pretended to appear shocked. "I'm surprised at you. I hope you realize this is a very serious character defect on your part. You should have outgrown it long ago. Betting isn't logical. It's not good business. It's not like you. But make it a quarter and you're on."
"Done."
She stood between him and the house, her hands on her hips. "So? What are you waiting for? Do you want to get in, or not? If so, then hoist me up there."
The sun had dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew steadily deeper. The air seemed filled with a chorus of high-pitched chirps and whirs from the many different insects, the deep bass thrumming of a bullfrog setting the beat. An evening breeze blew warm, almost sultry, stirring her chestnut-brown curls about her neck and shoulders.
In the darkness, she could just make out the white glimmer of Julian's smile. "Let me get this window open a little more and then I'll hoist away."
He leaned toward her, and Callie could smell his crisp light cologne. She stared up at him, unable to move, fascinated by the way the first gentle rays of moonlight etched his face into hard uncompromising lines. For some reason, he seemed different.
He braced one arm against the house and lifted the other to nudge the window open a few more inches. She should have moved when she had the chance, she realized, squeezing out of his way and up against the rough clapboard siding of the house.