“This is amazing, these World War II letters and photos and documents. So that’s what a telegram looks like!” I said, as we paged through albums and folders filled with objects from that period in time. “So you had family in the war, then.”
“Yes. Several. They were all proud to go, and serve our country. Some returned, and some didn’t,” he said thoughtfully.
“So then you had family overseas?”
“Right. Like I mentioned before, our family used to be a lot larger than it is today. The young men lost in the war are only one part of why that is, though.”
“What are some of the other reasons, then?” I asked.
“People started having fewer children, at least my family did. Some didn’t have children at all... some by choice and some not, like my sister.”
“Cynthia never had children? I had no idea,” I said in surprise.
“Yeah… she and her husband would have been good parents, too. The church where Cynthia’s husband was a minister, also helped fund an orphanage in the same town. They worked with the children there, and made a huge impact on their lives. She and Matthew brought good to others through, and in spite of, the sadness they felt at not having children themselves.”
“Did they ever adopt any of the children, and make them their own?”
“Seeing how much good they accomplished in the lives of the children at the orphanage, they made the decision to pour everything they had into all the children, instead of focusing on a few. They labored over the decision, but felt it was the right one for themselves and the children there.”
“Wow. I don’t even know how to say what I’m thinking, your sister was just—really something,” I said.
“Yeah, she was,” Miles smiled softly, lost for a moment in a memory. “She really was.”
“You know… I wouldn’t expect her to be anything other than amazing and selfless,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Considering the kind of guy her big brother is, I wouldn’t expect anything less from your little sister. You haven’t let what happened to you cause you to be bitter. Talk about a disappointment in life! Yours was so cruelly and needlessly cut short, when all you were trying to do was help your brother. You had every excuse to be very bitter. But you aren’t. You watched out for your family over the years, helping others, knowing you’d never get the credit. I don’t even have to ask, to know, that you never retaliated against those so-called friends that believed Sarah’s story and turned on you. Even when you were alone for the past three years, you kept your sense of humor and were ready to help my sister by finding the information that allowed us to find a knowledgeable doctor. Your sister was an amazing woman, and you’re an amazing guy.”
“I guess all of that’s true, but I never thought of it as being amazing. Me, not Cynthia, I mean,” said Miles.
“That’s because you’re humble, another admirable thing about you. Just take my word for it, you’re awesome,” I said.
Miles laughed.
“Well, thanks then, if that’s what you think.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t think, I know.” I held up my finger and pointed at him before he could respond. “And don’t tell me ‘I don’t think you know, either!’”
Miles laughed again.
“Fine then, all I’ll say is thank you.”
I smiled and brought us back to our earlier topic.
“So what else caused your family to grow smaller?”
“Sibling families stopped living here. That began during my lifetime. They branched out and made homes elsewhere, and over the years, lost touch with the family here. We did lose several during both world wars, and eventually it was down to Polly’s husband and son, and when they were gone, Polly’s grandson. And… Alfred Sullivan, I suppose. Although his tie to the family is very distant, indeed. Before Polly’s grandson was injured, he had very little chance of gaining access to the estate as trustee. Now though, it’s anybody’s guess. I really hope Polly’s grandson pulls through.”
“Me too,” I said. “No one who thinks you’re guilty, or wants to capitalize on that lie, has any business being here.”
“My sentiments exactly,” said Miles.
“Polly told me she isn’t against tourism or using the castle as a museum or hotel or something, if that’s what her grandson wants to do, just not the way Alfred is planning,” I said, as I continued to flip through papers and albums and several patches and medals, which I didn’t recognize, that not being one of my fields of expertise.
Miles was thoughtful for a minute.
“This place is huge. You’re seeing that for yourself. Think of how we’ve only scratched the surface, and we’ve been searching for weeks now. There is a lot of family history, and United States history here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to share it. The museum idea is kind of growing on me.”
“Well you’d be a great curator,” I said.
“I don’t know how I’d be able to work the curator part,” he laughed.
“Too bad, because you’d be a good one,” I said.
“Perhaps a resort or hotel could be in one wing of the house, and a museum in the other, with separate entrances and exits. Then the original part of the house would continue to be a private residence for the Bannermans still living here.”
“Maybe Polly’s grandson will do that. I can’t imagine rattling around in this huge place. I mean it’s amazing, and I love it, but I think it would feel sort of lonely with only a few people living here,” I said.
“Yes, it can be,” Miles said seriously. “I appreciate how much time you’re spending trying to clear me. I sure hope you succeed before Polly’s grandson gets the idea to implement that spur of the moment plan we just came up with. Being all alone in the house is one thing, but being surrounded by strangers... not a pleasant thought.”
“Well, we’ll do our best. And I believe we’ll succeed.”
“You make me believe it, too. Thank you for all the work you’re putting into this. These past couple of months getting to know you, and having you to talk to, have been great. Even if we don’t succeed, you’ve done a lot for me.”
“We will succeed,” I said. “And I like hanging out with you too, Miles Bannerman. You’re a pretty cool guy.”
“You’re just pretty cool yourself, Anika Riley,” he smiled.
The weather turned cold, and snowflakes gently floated down from the clouds that covered the sky. The ground was probably too warm for them to stick, but maybe not. I’d need to get someone lined up to shovel the drive and walks, before long. I was glad to have on a thick sweater in addition to my heavy coat, and warm boots. I was beginning to wish I’d worn gloves and a scarf, too! The walk from the cabin to the castle wasn’t terribly far, but far enough to get pretty chilled in cold weather.
As I walked up the steps to the front door, a man stepped out of the vestibule. He was in his mid-fifty’s, had an unpleasantly superior demeanor, and was well-dressed in what was probably a very expensive suit. Miles stood in front of the door, arms crossed, watching him.
I motioned for Chip to stay, and stopped where I was.
“Do you need help with something?” I asked.
“To whom am I speaking?” he asked with a superior smirk.
Me, can’t you tell? I felt like responding. I didn’t like the condescending look in this guy’s eyes. The look on Miles’ face told me to be cautious.
“I’m Miss Riley, the property manager. And who are you?”
The snooty jerk looked me up and down with an increasingly condescending sneer. I was being judged for the clothes I was wearing, for being a girl, for not being as superior as he imagined himself to be, there was probably a long list. Miles still stood in front of the door, and missed the look the guy gave me.
I motioned for Chip to heel, and walked up the rest of the stairs. This guy was not going to keep me from my job. Plus, it was really cold outside.
“The name’s Al
fred Sullivan,” he said.
Ah. So this is Alfred Sullivan, distant cousin, and wannabe trustee for the estate. Not to stereotype, but that’s about what I expected him to look like. No wonder Miles was on guard.
“And what brings you here today, Mr. Sullivan, besides your car?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Alfred switched to an ingratiating smile so fast, it was disconcerting. He gestured toward the vastly improved landscaping.
“I’m impressed,” he said. “And I’m not easily impressed.”
I found that hard to believe, he seemed pretty impressed with himself.
“Polly is fortunate to have found such an expert manager,” he said with a broad smile.
I didn’t realize a person could have teeth that large. He’d rival the Dentastix dog.
He looked me over again unpleasantly. I was glad Chip and Miles were there.
“It’s a pity about poor Miles’ condition…” he said, looking at his shiny manicured nails.
I couldn’t imagine Dad or Miles with a manicure. And I didn’t believe Alfred thought it a pity that Second-Miles was in a coma.
“How fortunate, that the house isn’t in greater disrepair than it is,” he said, as he ran his hand down the doorframe, inspecting it. “I’ll need to see the entire property, of course. I shall be assuming responsibility as trustee of the estate, soon.”
“You’re assuming an awful lot,” I retorted. “Without Mrs. Bannerman’s permission, you are not putting one foot inside this house. And in case you haven’t noticed, the heir to the estate is in a coma. He’s not dead.”
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
“This document gives me full access to this property.”
I reached out to take the paper, and as Alfred, aka Mr. Creepy, tried to pull it out of my reach, a flick of Miles’ hand sent the paper straight into mine.
Mr. Creepy was confused by that. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud.
I stepped back, unfolded the paper, and had a look at it. I know legalese can be a foreign language, but this looked to me as though it was intentionally written to confuse. I looked Mr. Creepy in the eye and sized him up.
“You may tour this property when you bring the Sheriff with you to prove the legality of this document,” I said, giving it a thump for good measure.
Mr. Creepy looked sinister, and reached for the paper. Chip stood and growled at his sudden movement toward me, and I whipped the paper out of his reach and held it behind my back. With a wave of Miles’ hand, Mr. Creepy slid several feet backwards, increasing the distance between us and startling Mr. Creepy considerably. I glanced at Miles quickly out of the corner of my eye, and he winked. Mr. Creepy better watch it, or he’d find himself in the fountain, next.
“I’m sure Mrs. Bannerman’s attorney will want to see this,” I said, composing myself.
Mr. Creepy straightened, shaking off the confusion over his sudden move to the other side of the vestibule. Any semblance of congeniality now vanished. A look of evil washed over his face so quickly, it frightened me. Chip’s hackles rose, and he growled menacingly.
Mr. Creepy walked toward me.
“I have worked too long, and too hard, to let a little thing like you get in my way. Give me that paper and unlock this door, you—”
With a wave of Miles’ hand, Mr. Creepy was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs.
There was a mix of anger and satisfaction in Miles’ eyes. I must admit it was very satisfying to see Mr. Creepy sail all the way to the bottom like that. Chip was so impressed, the growl stuck in his throat.
“Get inside,” Miles said firmly.
“Yes sir,” I said under my breath, as I unlocked the door, and Chip and I hurried inside and bolted it. I ran to the parlor window to see what would happen next.
Mr. Creepy slowly got up, and wiped himself off. He took a step forward as if he intended to climb back up the stairs, then thought better of it. Glaring at the house, he walked down the driveway toward what must be his vehicle.
Miles appeared beside me, and whistled for Trixie. A look passed between them, and she vanished.
I turned from the window.
“Well! So that’s Alfred Sullivan,” I said, shaken by the encounter. “Lovely individual.”
I eyed the paper I still held in my hand.
Miles moved to face the window, watching to ensure that Alfred really left. He turned suddenly, and smiled.
“Yeah, the guy’s a real jerk. He visited a few times over the years. I can’t say I ever cared for him.”
The discrepancy between the smile on Miles’ face and the subject matter confused me, until Trixie walked back in the room.
She had a triumphant gleam in her eye, and the bedraggled seat of a very expensive pair of pants grasped between her teeth.
Trixie and Chip began a spirited game of tug with the pants.
Miles and I both laughed. Maybe Alfred would think twice before coming around again!
“Thank you, Miles,” I said sincerely. “I would have been scared to death if you weren’t there with your superpowers.”
Miles looked at me softly, and suddenly I knew what it meant to go weak in the knees.
“Any time,” he said.
I pulled myself together.
“I need to get this to Polly’s lawyer,” I said, waving the document in the air. “I better get home, and borrow Mom’s car.”
“You aren’t walking home by yourself,” Miles replied.
He and Trixie walked us the whole way home so I could borrow the car, and get Alfred’s “document” to Polly’s lawyer right away.
I gave myself a talking to on the drive there.
My life is now, his was in the past. The fact that he’s painfully cute, the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m melting, he’s fun to talk to, he is the nicest guy ever, he just rescued me from a creep and insisted on walking me home, doesn’t change that. I have got to get a grip. We are friends, and I can’t think of him in any other way, I just can’t.
Having firmly slapped some sense into myself, I arrived at the office of Polly’s attorney.
Polly must be a very important client, because when I identified myself, I was ushered right in.
Polly’s attorney was a trim, middle-aged fellow. He looked sharp, as in mentally sharp, I was glad to see. I explained why I was there. After examining the document, he tossed it in a folder.
“Absolutely fake. A person can print anything these days with the kind of software that’s available. Thank you for bringing this by, it’s going to come back and bite Mr. Sullivan on the posterior.”
Oh, sir. If you only knew, that’s already been done once today. I pushed aside the image of Trixie with Mr. Creepy’s pants so I could keep a straight face, thanked him, and left.
I drove back to the estate. The day was still young, it wasn’t even lunch time yet. It was getting colder though, so I was glad to have Mom’s okay to keep the car and drive it back in the evening.
I pulled into the long curving driveway and parked near the front stairs.
Trixie appeared as I hurried up the steps. The temperature was dropping fast.
“I’m sorry Trixie, Chip didn’t come with me this time. I’ll bring him tomorrow though,” I said, stopping to pet her before going inside.
“Hi, again,” I said to Miles, as I closed the door against the cold.
“Hi back, again,” he smiled.
“Polly’s lawyer now has the paper you so kindly commandeered from Mr. Creepy,” I said.
“That’s a good name for him,” said Miles. “It fits.”
“Yeah, a lot of people end up with nicknames. Of course they seldom ever hear them. Mainly I use them when I’m thinking,” I said.
“I see,” Miles said, pondering that as I took off my coat, and lay it on the entryway table. “Do I have a nickname?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact you do,” I replied.
He waited for me to tell
him what it was.
“My friend. That’s your nickname. You’re my friend. When I think of you, that’s what I think.”
“I like that. I thought it would be semi-transparent guy.”
“No… that’s just something about you. It isn’t who you are,” I said.
The look in Miles’ eyes gave me that weak-kneed feeling again.
This was one superpower of his I would not be pointing out to him!
I looked away, and pretended to be very busy making sure both my gloves were in the pockets of my coat, while I ordered my knees to cut it out, and tried to compose myself. I really needed to get a grip! If he didn’t stop looking at me that way, it was going to make it very hard to stick to my resolve and only see him as a friend. Just a friend. That’s all.
Rather than search yet another storage room, which neither of us felt like doing, we went to Mission Control. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace, casting a friendly flickering glow about the room. Snowflakes gently made their way past the window panes, and we spent the rest of the day talking. I told Miles what the lawyer said, including the part about the document coming back to bite Mr. Creepy. We both had a very good laugh over that. Trixie did, too.
The afternoon flew by. When it grew dark outside, I thought clouds must be covering the sun. But no, the sun was dropping behind the mountains.
Miles and I said our goodbyes, and I drove back to the cabin.
Mom was setting the table for dinner when I walked in the door, rubbing my arms and hands to try and increase circulation, as I stomped snow off my feet.
“It is really cold out there,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll have to dress warmer, I think.”
“So tell me what happened today,” Mom said, turning back to the kitchen. “You needed to drive into Cedar Oaks to see Polly’s lawyer. What was that all about?”
“Sorry I was in such a hurry earlier, Mom. I appreciate you letting me wait to explain. Polly’s grandson’s distant cousin, Alfred Sullivan, do you remember her talking about him?”
“Right, he wants to take over as trustee?”
“That’s the one. He was at the estate when I got there this morning. He wanted me to let him in the house to look around, he claimed he would be assuming responsibility as the trustee soon, and claimed a paper he had with him gave him the right to go anywhere he wanted on the property,” I said.
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