Your House or Mine?

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Your House or Mine?
Cynthia Thomason


Home is where the heart isThe quirky Victorian may be old and dilapidated, but it's the house at the center of the dreams Meg Hamilton has for herself and her little boy. And it's rightfully hers, thanks to the deed Aunt Amelia signed four years ago. So when Meg arrives in Mount Esther, she's shocked to find it's been soldto the town's very arresting deputy sheriff.Wade Murdock bought Amelia's house fair and square. His wife's tragic death ripped his family apart, and this house is where he hopes they'll build their future.One house, two families. Only one of them can have it.









How long do you plan to stay today, Murdock?


Another hour or so. Then I have to get to work. I have a town to protect.

I know I feel better knowing youve left my house and are out in the community securing our safety.

Wade chuckled and turned back to fixing the window.

Meg smiled as she went into the house. The words shed just spoken were actually the exact opposite of the way she was beginning to feel about Wade. Shed missed seeing his patrol car in the drive yesterday. And shed been relieved to find the car by the barn today. As much as she might try to fight it, she was starting to like the man, a dangerous and unwise reaction to a person who was trying to sabotage her dreams for the future. But, darn it, he was just easy to like.

Keep your mind on your goal, Meggie, she said to herself. Find the deed and protect your rightful ownership of this house. Remember, Wade Murdock has a good job and a secure future. He'll survive the disappointment.


Dear Reader,

This book is about special places. We all have at least one. It could be a place weve visited all our lives or one weve yet to discover, but its out there waiting for us to stumble upon its magic. My special place is a rambling old farmhouse in western Kentucky where my aunt and uncle lived and where I spent some of the happiest moments of my life.

Its gone now, this house, passed to other hands, to hearts that I hope will hold it as closely as I still do. In my mind I will always remember the plank wood floors, the old wooden rockers, the upright piano and every Christmas decoration that turned this home into a wonderland each December.

In these pages you will read about such a house and two very different, wounded people who both long to cherish it forever. But only one of them can have it. I hope you enjoy this journey of a man and woman who find their heart's desire, and perhaps a miracle or two, within the walls of a very special place.

I love to hear from readers. Please visit my Web site, www.cynthiathomason.com, or e-mail me at cynthoma@aol.com. My address is P.O. Box 550068, Fort Lauderdale, Florida 33355.

Sincerely,

Cynthia Thomason




Your House or Mine?

Cynthia Thomason





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my best Buddy,

my husband and cherished traveling companion

for the past twenty-six years. Thanks, Walter, for paying

my admission to all those tours of old houses

and never once complaining.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


MEG HAMILTON REACHED for the telephone with one hand and grabbed a pen and paper with the other. She flinched at the recurring pain in her neck as she once again held the receiver to her ear with her shoulder and said, Colonial Auction House. Meg speaking.

She tried to be patient with the caller. Mrs. Winkler, as I told you yesterday, you dont have to call every afternoon to confirm. You have an appointment for tomorrow. Our buyer will be at your home just as I explained to you a week ago when you first contacted us.

She nodded her head several times in tempo with the nervous womans plaintive voice. Yes, I promise. My brother Jerry will be coming with a truck and a helper. Theyll pick up anything you want to consign to the auction. She blew out a long breath as the caller once again repeated what Meg had just said. Yes, thats right. Until tomorrow then. Goodbye, Mrs. Winkler.

Meg leaned forward to settle the phone into its cradle. Then she put her elbows on the desk and massaged her temples. It was four oclock, the end of an especially grueling day. Time to pick up her son at the neighbors house and go home, if only Jerry would get back from his last call of the day. She was imagining a tall glass of iced tea and her favorite chair when she heard the repetitious beep of the auction house truck as it backed up to the loading door. Thank goodness.

Moments later Jerry poked his smiling face inside the entrance of their building. Hi, sis, has it been busy around here?

Meg could only stare at him. It really was a rhetorical question because he darned well knew the answer. She often thought Jerry got the best of the deal in their business partnership, just as hed gotten off easy growing up as her kid brother. He drove around in the truck all day making house calls and picking up merchandise for their weekly auctions. She was stuck in the building for eight hours answering the phone, handling drop-in customers, and inputting auction debits and credits on a computer spreadsheet, not to mention acting as the auctioneer.

She didnt even try to hide her fatigue and frustration when she said, If I have to answer that phone one more time

Of course it rang.

Get that, will you, Meggie? Jerry said. I want to bring something from the truck to show you.

She groaned once, picked up the phone, and immediately switched to her professional voice. She politely explained to the caller that a ten-year-old sofa which had coexisted with eight cats probably would not sell at Colonial Auction. Shed just ended the call when Jerry clanked and rattled back into the building.

Meg gaped at the rough-hewn piece of lumber in his right hand. It was about ten inches in diameter and nearly as long as he was tall. In his left hand he held an assortment of chains and hooks and other metal fittings she couldnt identify.

Jerry dragged the contraption to the desk and stood grinning down at her. Isnt it great?

It might have been once, she admitted. But now, maybe a hundred years later, I havent the faintest idea what it is.

Youre wrong about the age. Its more than a hundred years old. Jerry stood the end of his worn log on the office carpet and gave the antique a look of reverence. This probably went west with the pioneers a hundred and fifty years ago.

Jerry imagined potential heirlooms in every cast-off piece of flotsam sticking out of a garbage can. And he was usually wrong. Meg liked old things too, pretty ones whose value could be verified in a collectors catalogue.

She scrunched up her nose at the worm-eaten log. You still havent told me its use, she said. If, indeed it has, or had one.

Its a doubletree, he announced, draping the chains over his shoulder and running his palm halfway down the length of the lumber. See how its arched in two places He jerked his hand away and pulled a splinter out of his little finger with his teeth.

Meg automatically opened a drawer to get the antiseptic ointment and tin of bandages she always kept handy.

Thats so the farmer or wagon driver could fit it over the necks of his team of oxen, Jerry explained. Then, of course the chains and hooks enabled him to attach the yoke to the tongue of the wagon. He rattled the chains still dangling from his shoulder. Amazing, isnt it? This things as good as new.

Meg handed him a bandage and pointed to the nearest window. Truly amazing, Jerry. Just this afternoon I was wondering how we were going to bring in our oxen from the south forty along Colonial Boulevard in downtown Orlando. Looks like that problems solved.

He scowled at her. Go ahead and make fun, but this is a real antique. And the guy I bought it from

The hackles stood up on Megs neck. You actually paid money for this?

For something this rare? Of course. A hundred and twenty-five bucksa bargain.

Somehow Meg managed to keep the scream in her head from erupting into what her brother would call another hissy fit. Shed long ago accepted that she was the sensible, mature one, and Jerry, five years her junior, was the charming, unpredictable onethe one shed helped out of too many jams to remember. Now he was the one who was adored by everybody who came to the auction while she was the one they mostly tolerated. But never was this personality difference more difficult to accept than when money was concerned.

She drummed her fingers on the desktop and spoke calmly. Jerry, do you remember me telling you this morning that I didnt know how we were going to pay next months rent? Much less the Yellow Pages ad, workmans comp insurance and a host of other bills.

Sure I remember, but I think the doubletree will bring at least three hundred at the next auction.

Suddenly Meg had a splitting headache. She could practically feel the veins tightening behind her eyes. And worse, the phone rang for the hundredth time. She tried but couldnt find her professional voice. Colonial Auction, she half barked into the phone.

The voice that responded was competent and controlled. Is this Margaret Hamilton?

Yes.

This is Nadine Harkwell, administrator of the Shady Grove Convalescent Center in Mount Esther, Florida.

Convalescent Center? Meg repeated. Is this about my aunt?

Im afraid it is.

Megs stomach plummeted. Her great-aunt Amelia was elderly, ninety-two on her last birthday. And while her mortality was something everyone in the family would have to face, Meg had never wanted to think about it. Aunt Amelia was a treasure. And shed seemed in good health and great spirits when shed traveled by bus to Orlando to spend Christmas with the family. That had only been six months ago.

Whats wrong with my aunt? she asked. Shes not?

No, Ms. Hamilton, Nadine Harkwell said. Amelia hasnt passed away. But she fell in her home on Sunday. Broke her hip and bruised some ribs.

She fell four days ago? Why didnt anyone call me before this? Meg asked.

Amelia didnt want us to call until now. I should tell you, though, that shes confused and disoriented. Its no secret to those of us in town, she added in a conspiratorial whisper, Mrs. Ashford has been suffering from dementia that has worsened considerably in the last few months. Im afraid that because of this fall, shell never be herself again.

Meg talked to her aunt at least every other week. She hadnt noticed the womans mental capacity slipping. But maybe she should have been listening more closely. What can I do? she asked. Can I talk to her?

That wouldnt be practical. Amelia probably wouldnt even recognize your voice. But in one of her lucid moments today she asked for you. She wants you to come to Mount Esther. Something about settling her affairs. I can give you more details when you arrive assuming you are able to come.

Of course Ill come. Ill be there tomorrow.

Something near panic was etched on Jerrys features. Tomorrow? he mouthed, having heard only her part of the conversation. You cant go tomorrow.

Meg silenced him with a warning look. Leaving the auction in Jerrys hands was just one of the problems she would have to address before leaving for Mount Esther. A minor one really when compared to the welfare of her ten-year-old son who still had a week left in the school year before hed be out for the summer. What was she going to do about Spencer? Still, she reconfirmed the plans with Nadine. Tell Aunt Amelia Ill be there tomorrow afternoon. And tell her I love her.

Meg hadnt even hung up the phone when Jerry asked in a voice high-pitched with tension, Youre leaving? How long will you be gone? A day? Two?

The last thing Meg needed right now was her brothers attempt to make her feel guilty. He would just have to manage the auction without her.

How nice of you to ask about our aunt, Jerry, she said, using sarcasm to switch the burden of guilt to him. She fell in her house, suffered a broken hip and other injuries, and isnt coping well mentally. She stood up and removed her purse from the desk drawer. Ill be sure and tell her you send your regards.

Oh, fine. I guess it makes you feel better to make me look like the bad guy. Im not the one leaving town. And of course I care about the old girl, but its no secret that you were always her favorite.

Meg couldnt argue. Her unflagging sense of responsibility had earned her the title of favorite with most of their extended family. Jerry was the one who made everybody laugh. Meg was the one they depended upon.

She walked out of the office and into the section of the auction house where the customers sat. I have to go home and pack. I dont know how long Ill be gone. Hopefully Ill just miss the Saturday auction, but Ill call tomorrow and give you an update. Aunt Amelia wants me to handle her affairs, but at this point I dont know exactly what that means or if I can accomplish anything with the weekend coming up.

You cant stay away too long, Jerry pointed out. Spencers got school, doesnt he?

Meg had already come up with a plan for her son. Im not taking him. Ill leave him with Mom.

Jerry shook his head. Not unless you think your ten-year-old kid wants to jump on board a geriatric Greyhound bound for Biloxi for a week of playing the slots. He smiled. Moms Golden-Agers are on the move again, this time with pockets full of quarters.

Meg dropped into the nearest chair. Darn. I forgot.

No problem. Ill keep the sprout.

Meg gasped. You?

Jerry pretended to be offended, maybe actually was a little. Meg, were talking about my favorite nephew here. You know Ill take good care of him. Besides, I am an adult.

Im not sure twenty-seven going on fourteen qualifies. Meg regretted her words the moment theyd slipped out of her mouth. How could Jerry ever live up to her expectations if she didnt expect more from him? Anyway, she said, trying to cover her blunder, Im counting on you to run the business.

His previous doubts about taking charge seemed to have faded, and he gave her a smug look. You manage the whiz kid and the auction, so why shouldnt I? Ill get a couple of my friends to help out temporarily. Look, sis, do you have any other ideas? Jerry added when she hesitated to trust him with her son. Ive got one big advantage over anyone else you might think of to babysit. Im here, and Im offering.

It was a convincing argument. And on short notice, Meg had no other choice. She sighed. Okay, but youll stay at my house, so Spence has all his stuff and hes near the school. And youll drive him there every morning by 7:45 and pick him up at the neighbors every afternoon?

Jerry nodded. Yes, yes, and yes. Ill be there in the morning. Dont worry. My nephew is a chip off the old Hamilton block. He idolizes me.

Thats what worries me. But thanks, Jerry. I really appreciate this.

No problem.

She headed for the door but stopped before going outside. One more thing. No parties. And no poker games or gambling of any kind in the house.

Jerry saluted. Right. Ill make sure the kid knows hed better not negatively influence me.

Despite the rough day and the bad news from Mount Esther, Meg was smiling when she got in her car.

AT 7:30 THE NEXT MORNING Meg double checked Spencers backpack to make certain he had the supplies he would need for the day. Once satisfied that the pack was in order, she took a frozen juice box from the refrigerator and tried to stuff it into his nylon lunch sack.

Her son gave her a look that combined exasperation with sympathy. Mom, will you relax? You already put juice in there.

She looked down and frowned. A brightly colored box was nestled between a baloney sandwich and a bag of chips. So I did. She took the extra one out and tossed it back into the case of twenty-three others shed bought the night before at the wholesale club. Then she hurried to her front window and scanned the street with mounting panic. Where is Uncle Jerry?

Right here, her brother said two seconds after the back door slammed. He entered the living room and announced, My cars in the driveway. I must have missed your radar by coming in fast and low. He ruffled Spencers hair. Ready to go, kid?

Spencer slipped his backpack over his shoulders. Yep, Im ready.

Meg wrapped her son in a huge hug. Theyd never been apart for more than a day or two since Spence had been born. There hadnt even been a problem when Meg divorced Spencers father two years ago. Dave had walked out without a backward glance and without asking for visitation rights. It was as if Dave Groller had never been married and didnt have a son.

In the beginning, when Spence was born, Dave seemed to enjoy being a father. At least hed soaked up the attention he got whenever he took their son to the park or wheeled him in the stroller. But that was when Dave had enjoyed being a husband, too. When Spence had grown older, more demanding perhaps, hed tried every childish trick he could think of to get his fathers attention. And then Dave left, and Spence had to live with the fact that his father didnt care about him.

Meg held her sons face between her hands and studied his features. Unlike Meg, whose complexion was coppery and whose hair had the deep auburn highlights of her mothers side, Spencer had inherited the handsome Hamilton traits of his grandfather and his Uncle Jerryfair, lightly freckled skin, emerald-green eyes, and thick, wheat-colored hair. In appearance, he was a Hamilton through and through, which is one of the reasons Meg reverted to her maiden name when the divorce from Dave was final.

But contrary to his genetic makeup, Spencer had become a bookish sort of boy since his father left them. His beautiful eyes peered through the unbreakable lenses of heavy-duty glasses. And he rarely played outside, even in the near-idyllic sunshine of central Florida. He much preferred his room with its ever-expanding shelves of books and computer games.

Ill call you every day, she said, at last prying her hands away from his cheeks. And Ill have my cell phone on all the time so you can reach me.

Okay.

You mind your Uncle Jerry.

I will.

Jerry put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture while glancing at his watch. Its seven forty-five, sis. Im trying to keep to the schedule you set up, but youre holding us back.

Ill be fine, Mom, dont worry, Spencer said.

I know you will. Go on now.

Meg stood at the door until Jerry backed his car out of the drive. Then she shook off an uncomfortable feeling of emptiness and tried to concentrate on the day ahead. She knew she could trust Jerry to take care of Spencer. He truly loved her son. But the auctionthat was another story. She could only pray she had a business to come back to.

She went into her room to retrieve her suitcase. She had almost a five-hour drive ahead of her, and even though every mile was taking her away from Spence, a familiar feeling of anticipation flowed through her now that she was only minutes away from leaving. After a nearly four-year absence, she was going back to Mount Esther, and in a way, it was like going home.

AT ONE OCLOCK Friday afternoon, Meg exited Interstate 75 onto a two-lane county road about fifteen miles south of the Georgia border. The road twisted and dipped in a westwardly direction over rolling hills. After twenty minutes she had her first glimpse of the Suwannee River through a thickly wooded area of oak and mulberry trees.

She turned off her car air conditioner and rolled down the window. This far north, the humid June heat of Orlando was gone, replaced by a moist cool breeze that rustled the spring blossoms of purple and white trilliums along the side of the road. The rich, pungent smell of damp earth, and the fragrant scent of wildflowers teased the air outside the window.

She rounded a curve that led into an expanse of flat land between the hills and immediately spotted the sign announcing her arrival in Mount Esther. Population 1412, it read. She smiled when she remembered that a member of the town council was appointed every year to change the figure with each birth and death in the close-knit community.

At the traffic light in the center of Mount Esthers business district, she turned right onto a narrow road that led across a single-lane wooden bridge spanning one of the tributaries to the Suwannee. After a mile she reached the turnoff to Aunt Amelias gracious old Victorian homethe home that Amelia had deeded to Meg several years before.

INTENDING TO DROP off her belongings before heading to Shady Grove, Meg drove up the lane to the house. She frowned as she noticed the large potholes in the sparse gravel. This lack of attention to upkeep wasnt like Amelia. Each spring she ordered truckloads of gravel for the drive so it was neat and resistant to flooding during the rainy season. It also looked as though the trees hadnt been trimmed in ages. The magnificent live oaks dripped with spongy gray moss that bristled against Megs windshield and cloaked the road in deep shadows.

But soon she cleared the three-hundred-yard drive and had her first look at the house. The green and cream colors she remembered seemed duller now, faded in the harsh Florida sun, but the structure, with its turret and peaks and wraparound porch was still a remarkable example of Queen Anne Victorian. Meg might have simply stopped for a moment and enjoyed the welcome sight had it not been for one detail that was completely out of place.

A police car was parked midway between the house and the barn.

Her heart pounded. Meg considered that she should approach the parked car with caution. After all, if a crime were being committed at this moment, she shouldnt interfere with police procedures. And she certainly didnt want to become a victim herself. But concern for her aunts home, and basic burning curiosity, got the best of her. She accelerated and pulled alongside the police car.

Mount Esther Sheriffs Department was printed on the drivers door panel. Meg shifted her car into park and peered out the windows to scan the backyard and trail to the barn. Seeing no one, she opened her door and stepped onto the path.

And then she spied a tall man pushing a wheelbarrow out of the barn. There was nothing in his appearance or demeanor to indicate that he was a law enforcement officer. He was dressed in blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and a Yankees baseball cap. He turned the wheelbarrow to guide it around the side of the building.

Realizing that for the moment at least she was the only other person witnessing this activity, Meg hoped shed catch the attention of the police officer who must be elsewhere on the property. This was her aunts homeshe wasnt about to stand by and let someone take something from the barn.

Hey, you there. Stop!

Amazingly the man did what she said. He set down the back supports of the wheelbarrow. Then he stared across the open space at her and said, Okay.

Still looking around for the police, Meg marched up to him. He truly didnt look all that threatening up close though he stood over six feet. He appeared strong but with a lean, solid strength defined by hard work rather than the sculpted tone of weight training. He took a kerchief from his back pocket, removed his cap and wiped his brow. After stuffing the cloth back into his jeans, he said, Do you want something?

Meg put her hands on her hips and tried to make the most of her five feet five inches. What are you doing?

He gave her a look that might have been more appropriate if he were indulging a childs question. Pushing this wheelbarrow around to the back of the property.

She took a step closer. Whats in there?

His mouth lifted at one corner in a cocky sort of smile. You dont want to know, maam.

I asked you, didnt I? She walked near enough to have a look for herself. A healthy whiff of foul air curled up from clumps of damp straw. She wrinkled her nose and hopped back.

The man snickered. Satisfied? Its good old-fashioned horse manure. I figure itll be a lot more welcome down by the Suwannee than up here by the house. The wild ferns by the river bank seem to like it.

Where did you get it? she asked.

He merely raised his eyebrows while his smile widened.

You know what I mean, she amended. There hasnt been a horse here in twenty years.

There is now.

Meg glanced over her shoulder. No one else had appeared, prompting her to assume that she and this man were the only people around. But she was no longer worried. Obviously this man wasnt stealing from the barn. He was cleaning it. And somehow her Aunt Amelia had neglected to tell her that a horse had taken up residence in Uncle Stewies old stable.

She folded her arms over her chest and said, Who are you?

He held out his hand, glanced down at the dirt, or whatever, that had stuck to his palm and dropped it to his side. My names Wade Murdock. Im the deputy sheriff of Mount Esther. Been here five months now.

That explained the patrol car. And whose horse is in the barn? she asked.

My daughters. I promised her a horse when we left Brooklyn.

And that explained the mans distinctive northern accent. Mrs. Ashford allows you to keep the horse in her barn?

We worked out a deal, he said and let his gaze wander over the property from where they stood to the back of the house. For all practical purposes its my barn anyway. I bought this place, lock, stock and barrel from Mrs. Ashford.




CHAPTER TWO


DEPUTY MURDOCK frowned with concern. Are you all right, maam?

No, she wasnt all right. Hed just aimed verbal darts at the reality shed always depended upon. She wanted him to take them back. I just bought this place lock, stock and barrel, hed said. That couldnt be.

He held out his hand, cautiously, as if he might have to grab onto her. Apparently she looked as shaken as she felt. Stay there, he ordered. Dont move.

For some reason she obeyed. Maybe she didnt trust her legs to hold her up if she tried to move. Or maybe she stood still because he was a cop. He stepped inside the barn and returned with a galvanized washtub which he upended next to her. Sit down.

She didnt want to sit, but he obviously thought she should.

He slapped at his pockets, searching for something. Do you need medical attention? Wheres my damn cell phone?

As if a 911 call would provide an antidote for what hed just said. No, I dont need medical attention, she assured him. I need answers. You cant have bought this property.

He seemed to relax once she started talking. Why not?

Because its not for sale. Amelia Ashford would never sell this house to anyone.

He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Well, Im sorry, but she did. She sold it to me six weeks ago.

Six weeks ago? Impossible. Meg had spoken to her aunt at least twice during that time frame, and Amelia never mentioned anything about it. She snorted her disbelief and sat on the washtub. This was ridiculous. Ashford House had been promised to her when Amelia prepared a Quit Claim Deed four years ago giving the property to Meg.

She surveyed the house and acres that stretched from the out buildings through groves of stately trees to the river. This land, that beautiful, curious, gingerbread house was her safety net, her last resort, the refuge for her and Spencer if all else failed.

Meg stared at Deputy Wade Murdock, a newcomer to Mount Esther, a man who couldnt possibly understand what Ashford House meant to her. She wanted to believe he was lying to her. Unfortunately he didnt look like the sort who would make up this story. He had a strong, proud face, centered by a nose with a subtle crookedness to it, as if hed defended his principles on more than one occasion. His hair was the deep brown color of a walnut, slightly unkempt and just long enough to be interestingthe outward symbol of a man who avoided fussiness.

And he wasnt likely a con artist or a crook. After all, he was the deputy sheriff of Mount Esther. Surely the man the town appointed to defend the law wouldnt be the one to break it. But there had to be a logical explanation for what he believed to be true and what Meg knew to be fact.

Wade leveled a look at her that was every bit as intense as the one she gave him. Look, he said, theres obviously some mix-up here. Why dont we try to get to the bottom of this. Tell me your name and your connection to this property.

Once she told him who she was, he would have to accept that there had been a terrible mistake and they could work to correct it.

My name is Meg Hamilton, she said. I live in Orlando.

He nodded. Youre the niece, the one whose husband

Yes, Im her niece, she announced, cutting him off. She was acutely aware that while Aunt Amelia may not have told Meg all the details of her life the last few times theyd talked, shed obviously been confiding personal information to this stranger. Did he also know that Dave had left her and Spence without so much as a forwarding address?

I was called here yesterday, she continued, because my aunt fell in her home a few days ago and is convalescing at Shady Grove.

That makes sense, he said.

She asked me to come to Mount Esther to help sort out some things.

So let me get this straight, he said. You didnt know that your aunt sold her house?

Meg stood up and faced him squarely. Frankly, Im not at all convinced there has been a sale.

Do you think Im imagining the contract that she and I both signed and which is right now sitting in my desk drawer?

No, Im not suggesting that you are making up a contract. Clearly something was signed, something that has you believing you own this house. I would like to see the document for myself. Then maybe I can sort this out.

Id be happy to show you my contract, he said. Although your aunt has a copy, and so does Betty Lamb, the real estate agent who handled the transaction. You might feel more comfortable dealing with one of those ladies instead of me.

Ill certainly ask my aunt, she said. As soon as I take my suitcase into the house. She half expected him to contest her right to stay here. To his credit, he didnt. Once shed moved her things in, she would go to Shady Grove and evaluate her aunts medical condition. And if Amelia were in good spirits, Meg would question her about this supposed contract.

Wade pointed to the rear of the house. Go in the back way, he said. I left the door unlocked.

You have a key? An alarming thought occurred to her. Youre not living here, are you?

He smiled. No, not yet. But I have access to the property. With your aunts permission, of course. He swatted his ball cap against his thigh, settled it back on his head, and took a few steps toward the wheelbarrow as if he were dismissing her. Oh, by the way, dont be alarmed by what you see in there. The place may not look exactly as you remember it. Your aunts been a busy lady the last few weeks.

She matched his smug expression with her most skeptical one. What is that supposed to mean?

Youll see when you get inside. He grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow, but before he turned the corner of the barn, he called back over his shoulder. Make yourself at home, Meg. And then he smiled. While youre here I promise to knock before coming in.

BEFORE MEG COULD utter an appropriate comeback, Wade had turned the corner with his Suwannee riverbank fertilizer. Consequently he probably didnt hear when she slammed her car door after retrieving her suitcase and stomped along the old cement patio stones that led to the back door. Maybe Deputy Murdock didnt appreciate the full effect of her frustration, but it made Meg feel better to release it.

His attitude was unnerving. He almost acted as if this dilemma were a laughing matter and that his claim to Ashford House was real. Of course she supposed he believed it was. Meg lugged her bag up three porch steps and twisted the doorknob which was, indeed, unlocked. Shed set Deputy Murdock straight soon enough. Meg knew Ashford House had been deeded to her. Shed seen a copy of the Quit Claim document before it was filed with the attorney. Her name was on it.

This house guards our souls, Margaret, Aunt Amelia had told her one warm, fragrant night many years ago. We two are the only ones who feel its pulse and hear it breathe. Not even your Uncle Stewie understands these old walls like you and I do. We are the destiny of Ashford House.

Through the years Meg had explored every nook and cranny of the mansion. Shed daydreamed at the windows of all six bedrooms. She knew about the secret panels in the library, the removable top to the newel post at the base of the front stairway where Uncle Stewie always hid a bag of silver dollars which he passed out to Meg and Jerry when they visited.

She stepped across the threshold into the kitchen and let out a breath. A sense of overwhelming relief washed over her. This was Hattie Mays kitchen, just as Meg remembered it with its six-burner stove, mammoth refrigerator, and ten-foot pine scrub table. She could almost picture Hattie May washing vegetables at one of the giant sinks as she spun tales about her ancestors who had been brought to America as slaves.

Dont be alarmed, the deputy had said. The place may not look as you remember it. What nonsense, Meg thought. As far as she could tell nothing had changed.

Then she noticed that the pantry door was ajar. Several boxes protruded from the opening, making it impossible to close. Certainly the shelves were not stocked with food as they once used to be. Hattie May passed away a few years after Uncle Stewies death, and Aunt Amelia, with hired help only a few hours a day, prepared most of her own simple meals herself.

Meg crossed to the door, pulled it open the rest of the way and stood face-to-face with a solid wall of cardboard cartons. What is all this? she said to the empty room. The boxes she could see had been opened and resealed. She read a few of the shipping labels and discovered with a feeling of relief that each carton had been shipped to Amelia Ashford. At least the deputy hadnt moved his personal possessions into her house! The postmarks were from the past two months. The return addresses were various companies located throughout the United States.

If this collection of cartons was what the deputy meant by alarming, then perhaps he had a point. Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Meg went out the back door and stood on the service porch. Deputy, she shouted. Deputy Murdock!

He came around the barn, pushing the wheelbarrow with ease since it had delivered its cargo. What is it? he called to her.

These boxes. What do you know about them?

Leaving the cart by the barn door, he came halfway to the house. Theyre all Mrs. Ashfords, he said.

I can see that, but whats inside them?

He shrugged one shoulder. Amelias been ordering things. I bring her mail up every day, and she gets stacks of catalogues. Since shes been at Shady Grove Ive left an accumulation on the wicker table on the front porch. If you look through the mail, I think you might get some answers.

Meg shook her head. I cant believe it, she said. Shes filled up the pantry.

Deputy Murdock laughed. The pantry? Havent you been in the dining room?

No.

He let out a long whistle. I hope you arent planning any dinner parties while youre here.

She frowned at him. Of course not. Youre just full of riddles and surprises, arent you, Deputy?

No, maam. I deal in facts, and youre about to face some of them right now.

Meg returned to the kitchen and walked cautiously to the dining room. When she pressed on the hinged door that normally provided easy access between the rooms, she discovered that it allowed only enough room for one person to walk through. And when she did, she couldnt believe what she saw. Piled on the floor, the table, all ten Chippendale chairs were more boxes. Dozens and dozens of them. All sizes and shapes.

She sidestepped down a narrow path that wound between two columns of cartons until she was in the middle of the room where her aunt had once hosted friends and family and which now resembled a warehouse. She scanned a wall of corrugated cardboard while she ran her hands along the dusty exteriors of the boxes. Then, she absently noted Wade Murdocks voice coming from the doorway to the kitchen. Its a little overwhelming, I guess. I suppose eventually well have to figure out what to do with all this stuff.

WADE FOLLOWED HER through the dining room to the formal parlor in the front of the house. She hadnt asked him to. In fact, she probably wasnt even aware that he was so close. But it was the least he could do, stand guard over her while she faced the evidence of her aunts eccentricity. She peered warily around the door frame into the parlor as if she expected to see additional boxes and was steeling herself to deal with even more chaos. She released a long sigh when she saw a mere half-dozen cartons sitting on the desk and an end table. They were the ones hed carried in today. As long as Meg didnt look too closely at the details of the parlor that had fallen into disrepair, she would be comforted to find this room at least familiar.

As far as I know, he said, all the boxes are confined to these downstairs rooms. Although I havent been on the upper floors since I first saw the house and made an offer on it.

Startled at the sound of his voice, she spun around and laid her hand across her chest as if she were sending a message to her heart to keep beating. Then she stared at him with wide, vivid blue eyes and shook her head. How long has it been like this?

Roughly since Mrs. Ashford came into some money.

Her eyes rounded. What do you mean?

He had to smile, since he knew the source of the unexpected income. He knew, too, as most everyone in Mount Esther did, that Amelia Ashford had suffered financial difficulties recently. Like many elderly folks, shed watched her savings dwindle. It was my money, he said. I gave her a deposit on the property when we signed the contract.

Megs eyebrows arched with the unspoken question.

Twenty thousand dollars, he told her.

Her gaze darted to the entrance to the dining room and she groaned. You dont think? All that money? She read the label on a long, narrow box. This is from a company called Star Search. She tore the plastic envelope from the top, removed an invoice and read the particulars. As if expecting Wade to validate what she read, she held the paper out to him. Theres a telescope inside. And it cost five hundred and forty dollars.

He studied the invoice, adding that Mrs. Ashford had paid with her bank debit card. For that amount of money, its no doubt a fine instrument.

Meg let out a bark of laughter. And this one, she said, reading the label from a box on the end table. Its from a toy company called Furry Friends. She raised the box and shook it, creating a soft, rustling sound. My aunt bought a stuffed animal?

Wade shrugged.

Where did you say youd put her mail?

He went out to the porch and returned with the stack of catalogues hed brought from the mailbox in the last few days. He handed them to Meg, and she sank into the nearest chair and thumbed through them. When she looked up at Wade, her eyes reflected shock and confusion. Did you know that my aunt was spending all this money?

I knew she was receiving deliveries, yes. He glanced over his shoulder toward the dining room. Its a little hard to ignore.

Megs voice rose a notch. Why didnt anyone stop her?

Stop her? For what reason? There isnt a law in this state against spending money.

But didnt you find this behavior suspicious?

Ive only known your aunt a few months. I wasnt qualified to judge her behavior. As I saw it, a ninety-two-year-old woman suddenly had extra cash and she spent it as she wanted to. I knew where the money came from since I gave it to her myself, so there was no need to investigate her windfall and what she did with it. But it might comfort you to know that the bank manager of the Mount Esther Savings and Loan did find your aunts habits suspicious. He strongly suggested that she quit using her credit card when the charges became abnormally high. Thats when she resorted to using her debit card.

Wade hadnt been inside the house in over two weeks since hed been doing repairs on the outside and in the barn. When hed come in today hed been shocked at the accumulation of deliveries.

Meg stared at the glossy catalogues on her lap as if they were written in a foreign language. And then she tossed them to the floor, stood up, and looked at Wade. Why wasnt I called? she asked. You obviously know about me, Deputy. My phone numbers in my aunts address book. Didnt you think I should know my aunt was spending her money so foolishly?

The hairs on his neck bristled. Was this woman actually expecting him to defend himself further? You think I should have called you? Mrs. Ashford told me that she has two nieces. One of them, the one she talks about a lot He jerked his thumb toward a photograph on the wall. It showed Meg in her high school graduation gown. is you I assume since Ive seen your pictures hanging all over this house. And I know you havent been to see your aunt in quite a while. The other one He picked up a photo from a bookshelf. a woman who lives in Chicago, hasnt been to Mount Esther in years.

He leveled his sternest gaze on her. Besides, this really wasnt my business. I simply observed a sweet old woman spending her own money.

Meg scowled. So, you stood by and watched as this sweet old womans mind slowly but certainly failed her without doing anything about it.

What would you have wanted me to do? As I saw it, Amelia Ashford was having the time of her life.

What happened next completely unnerved him. Megs features slowly changed from righteous anger to a sort of chilling understanding. Wait a minute, she said. Perhaps you had something to gain by ignoring my aunts unusual behavior.

He backed up a step. What do you mean by that?

She gestured to the packages. Youll excuse me for saying so, Deputy, but I cant help thinking that this wild spending was a sign of my aunts vulnerability and an open invitation for you to con her out of this house.

Anger flared inside him. Thats ridiculous. I didnt even express an interest in buying this place until after I made the deal to board my daughters horse. And then I only mentioned it as a sort of remote possibility. But Mrs. Ashford was more than willing to get an offer on this old place. She welcomed my interest, encouraged it. And another thingyour aunt didnt start her spending spree until after she sold me her house. I didnt observe her buying so much as a sewing needle before she accepted my offer. So much for your theory about me watching her odd behavior with some sort of sinister intent.

She didnt seem to have a reasonable counterargument, so she sank back down in the chair and stared at the cartons around her. Then she looked up at him, some of the fire back in her eyes. You wont get this house, Deputy, she finally said. You are going to find that the contract you signed with Amelia Ashford is worthless.

I hardly think so.

She leaned forward, fixed him with an unblinking gaze. Youd better be ready to accept disappointment, she stated defiantly. Four years ago, Amelia deeded this house to me.

Okay, shed finally presented an argument that could pose a problem. Had Betty Lamb overlooked something? Still, he couldnt resist pointing out the obvious. Then why didnt that little detail show up when my Realtor did a title search?

I intend to find out, she said. It has always been my aunts wish that I would get Ashford House when she dies, and she prepared the deed to insure that would happen.

For a moment, the cold grip of panic coiled in Wades gut. Hed given Amelia Ashford twenty thousand dollars, every penny hed saved while working fifteen years for the New York City Police Department. There was no way he would stand by and watch the savings hed scrounged from hauling in thugs and criminals squandered on the contents of boxes in an old womans dining room without getting what hed paid for.

He drew a deep breath to steady his nerves and stared hard at Meg. It appears we both have documents we need to inspect, he said.

Thats fine with me. Meg stood up and walked around him toward the kitchen. Im going to take my suitcase upstairs now, and then Im going to see my aunt. Perhaps she can explain whats been going on here.

She disappeared into the dining room and he could visualize her threading her way back through columns of boxes that reached higher than her head. And, strangely, a bout of conscience, or more accurately, pity, washed over him. Meg Hamilton was obviously going to fight for Ashford House just as vehemently as he was.

There was something about this place. Wade had felt its spirit the first time he came in the door. And his connection to the house had grown once hed decided to buy it. Now, it was as if hed been destined to find this old place and make it his. He sensed that after two and a half years of grieving over a senseless tragedy, he could finally put down roots again in this quirky old mansion.




CHAPTER THREE


MEG WAS THINKING about Ashford House as she drove back to Mount Esther, turned at the traffic light, and headed to the Shady Grove Convalescent Center. She also thought about Deputy Wade Murdock. While hed been adamant about defending his claim to the property, she had to admit that he had treated her decently, especially considering that shed accused him of taking advantage of her aunts confused state. Plus, the announcement that Ashford House had been deeded to her must have been a shock. Twenty thousand dollars was a lot of money to invest in property that was never going to be his.

She chewed on the end of one nail as she scanned the side of the road for a sign that identified the drive to the nursing home. She wondered about what sort of contract the deputy had and if it was truly valid. It couldnt be. She had legally owned Ashford House for four years. A man cant just move into town and make a deal on a piece of property that has been given to someone else.

In spite of this controversy, Meg did feel some compassion for the deputy. He was obviously a family man. Hed mentioned his daughter, and Meg supposed he had a wife and perhaps other children who depended on him. And now he would have to disappoint them when he explained about the house. This whole mess really was unfortunate, and certainly not a problem Meg had ever thought she would have to deal with. Just as she never thought she would pull into her aunts drive and find a good-looking lawman carting manure from the barn.

She shook her head to dispel the very clear image of Wade Murdock standing so close behind her in the parlor of Ashford House. When she considered Wades appearance, which she shouldnt, since he obviously had a family, she had to admit that Murdock had a certain appealing quality, in what she imagined was a down-to-earth, working man, New York sort of way.

Shady Grove Convalescent Center, five hundred yards ahead.

Meg slowed when she saw the sign and snapped on her blinker, putting Wade Murdock out of her mind. The gracious, solidly constructed two-story structure sat amid leafy mulberry and flowering sweetbay trees. An expansive green lawn displayed a riot of pink-and-white periwinkles clustered around wrought-iron benches. Shady Grove was a picture of pastoral serenity.

Meg parked in front of the entrance and went inside. A pleasant young woman offered assistance and gave Meg directions to Amelias room. She walked down a long hallway with doors on either side. Each room had a window with the curtains drawn to let in the sunshine. Some patients appeared to have personal belongings in their rooms, a favorite chair, a painting, something that reminded them of home. Most of the occupants seemed confined to bed, confirming what Meg had thought when she saw a sign identifying her aunts wing as continual care.

When she neared Amelias room, Meg heard a distinctive voice coming from a television. Come on down. Youre the next contestant on The Price is Right.

She held a deep breath, stepped inside and looked at the thin, white-haired woman lying in the bed. A smile broke on her face as she recognized the ravaged but still familiar features of her beloved aunt. Amelia seemed to have aged a decade in the last few months.

Meg followed her aunts gaze to the TV screen where a young, dark-haired Bob Barker welcomed his latest participant. She recognized the logo of the Game Show Network in the corner of the screen and realized Amelia was watching a repeat of a previous Price is Right broadcast. She came to the side of the bed and spoke softly, Aunt Amelia?

Her aunt glanced briefly at her with pale gray eyes that seemed to have lost the spark of enchantment that always twinkled in their depths. She pointed at the television. Did I order a set of those?

Meg looked back at the screen where an announcer was describing a set of golf clubs. Taken aback by the ambiguous greeting, she said, Are you asking me if you ordered golf equipment? She thought of all the boxes in the dining room and knew some of them were large enough to hold a set.

If I havent, I will. Ive always wanted some.

Realizing the futility of asking for further explanation, Meg searched her aunts face for some sign that the old woman had recognized her. Her eyes remained cool and remote. Disappointed, Meg gripped the railing of the bed and leaned over the thin form that barely made a ripple beneath the sheets. Aunt Amelia, its me, Margaret.

Amelia smiled, though not at Meg. Oh, look. That womans got to give the price of an electric blender. I should be on that show. I just bought one, and it cost twenty-nine ninety-five.

Bob Barker flipped a card over and revealed a price of fourteen dollars for the blender, probably an accurate amount for an appliance that was sold twenty-some years ago when the show was first taped. Amelia clasped her hands under her chin. See, I told you.

Meg took Amelias hand, thinking the gesture would divert the womans attention from the television. Im here, Aunt Amelia, she said. Remember me? Margaret.

Her aunts attention to the program didnt waver. If youre going to stay, sit down and watch.

Meg obeyed. She sat in an upholstered armchair by the bed and remained silent through the Showcase Showdown. Once a winner was proclaimed, she asked if she could turn off the television.

Go ahead. I dont like The Jokers Wild.

Grateful for the silence, Meg tried to reach her aunt again. Its so good to see you, Aunt Amelia, she said.

Amelias head swivelled slowly and she finally gave Meg her attention. Its good to see you, too. You told me your name, didnt you? I should have written it down. I tend to forget now and then. She leaned over and took a notepad and pencil from her nightstand. Thats why I write things down. She smiled at Meg. Now, what is your name again, dear?

Meg wiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. My name is Margaret Hamilton. Im your niece.

Amelia repeated the words as she wrote Megs name down. She stared intensely at the page before narrowing her eyes and squinting at Meg as if she were trying to pull a distant memory from the faulty recesses of her once sharp mind.

Meg swallowed, trying to ease the burning in her throat. Of all the receptions shed imagined during her drive to Mount Esther, shed never expected that her aunt would have totally forgotten her existence. After all, hadnt Nadine Harkwell said that Amelia had asked for her to come?

As she watched her aunts face, hoping for a spark of recognition, Meg longed for the chance to go back just a few years, back to when she and Amelia sat on the front porch swing talking for hours about things that mattered to girls, young and old. Back then, theyd been best friends, not distant strangers. But now, the blank look in her aunts eyes was almost too much to bear.

Meg patted Amelias hand and started to rise. And then a small miracle made her believe that somewhere beneath the muddled thinking, a vibrant, mischievous Amelia Ashford still thrived. Amelia turned her hand over in Megs and threaded their fingers together. Margaret, she whispered. My darling Meggie. Youve come. I knew you would.

Meg laughed through a choking sob, leaned over and kissed her aunts cheek. Thats right. Im here. What do you want me to do?

We need to talk, Margaret. There is much that needs to be done and Im afraid theres too little time. Amelias eyes fluttered and closed. But I must rest now. Just a wee nap.

She was sound asleep when the nurse came in to check her. Meg introduced herself. Did she recognize you? the nurse asked as she held two fingers against Amelias wrist and checked her pulse.

Yes, Meg said. After a while at least.

Good. She has lucid moments, and during those times youre all she talks about.

How is she, really?

The nurse inhaled deeply, indicating her response was not going to be good news. Shes like many elderly people. They are able to maintain their mental capacity as long as their health is strong. But once they suffer a physical injury, its as though their systems shut down. The nurse jotted something on Amelias chart and smiled down at her patient. But shes a dear old soul. Were all quite fond of her.

How long will she sleep? Meg asked.

Not long. She catnaps all day.

The nurse was right. After a few minutes, Amelia wakened. She looked around the room and reached for the television remote on a cord dangling from the bed. Before she turned the set on, she regarded Meg with the same distant look shed had earlier. Hello. Did you bring my supper?

Meg smiled. No, but Ill see that you get it soon.

Thank you. Amelia turned on the set and tuned Meg out. Meg smoothed her palm along the wisps of snow-white hair on her aunts forehead, whispered good-night and left the room. Tomorrow she would try again.

NORMALLY MEG DIDNT talk on her cell phone while she was operating a car, but when she left Shady Grove, her desire to connect with her son was greater than her code of responsible driving. Besides, shed only passed two cars in the mile shed traveled back toward town. She pressed the speed dial to her home phone number.

Hey, sis, Jerry said. Hows it going up there?

Meg covered her disappointment that Spencer hadnt answered with a cheerful greeting to her brother. Hi, Jerry. Truthfully, its been quite a day.

Ill bet. Hows Aunt Amelia doing?

Shes quite frail. And not thinking all that clearly. That was an understatement. Hows Spence? Did you remember to pick him up at the neighbors?

Nope. Completely forgot. Good thing the kid stole a car and drove himself home.

Meg sighed, hating herself just a little. Of course Jerry wouldnt forget to pick up Spence. She was going to have to quit treating her brother as if he were the ten-year-old and show more confidence in him. Im sorry, Jerry. I never should have suggested that you might forget.

No, probably not, but I know you, so the assumption was expectedand forgiven.

She heard her sons voice in the background. Hey, Uncle Jerry, can I have another hot dog?

Hot dogs? Meg said. Youre having hot dogs for dinner? I left a turkey meat loaf in the refrigerator.

No offense, Meggie, but isnt that an oxymoron using turkey and meat together in the same sentence?

Meg could picture her brothers teasing grin.

Besides, Spence and I are bonding, he continued. You need guy food to do thatgood old-fashioned frankfurters. Before Meg could respond, Jerry said, Hey, kid, back off on the Easy Cheese.

She rolled her eyes and decided it was best to adopt the philosophy that a short-term lack of nutrition probably never killed anyone.

So you had a bad day? Jerry said.

Not the best. A few surprises, not the least of which was the presence of a man at the house when I got there.

Jerry hooted. Aunt Amelia has a boyfriend?

No, you idiot. This was a much younger man, the deputy sheriff of Mount Esther by the way. Hes probably not much older than I am.

Jerry laughed again. So you found a boyfriend? Fast work, and its about time. Two years is long enough to go dateless.

Why do I bother talking to you?

Because Im the only one you know who talks about nothing of any importance, and its a nice change of pace.

Maybe youre right. Anyway, the deputy claims Amelia sold Ashford House to him a few weeks ago.

Whoa! No way. The house is yours, isnt it?

Yes, at least I think so. She hated the edge of doubt in her answer and quickly amended her statement. Of course it is. This is obviously just a big mistake. All I have to do is find the deed, and

Right, Jerry said. Youll straighten it out, I know you will. Typical of Jerry, he changed the subject before he might actually be called upon to give advice or listen to someone elses problems. Speaking of boyfriends

Which we werent, really.

Well, no, but a girl came in today. Real cute. Id call her definite girlfriend potential for your baby brother.

What did she want?

She has a business proposition. Ill tell you about it tomorrow. The brainiac is reaching for the phone.

The words business proposition immediately translated into harebrained scheme in Megs mind. Jerry, dont you let a pretty face

Hi, Mom!

Tension ebbed from Megs shoulders at the sound of her sons voice, and she relegated the solving of another problem to tomorrows already crowded list. Hi, honey, how are you? she asked. Tell me all about school today.

MEG BLEW A KISS into the phone and disconnected the call as she drove up the path to Ashford House. The sun was setting, sculpting the old home in rose-gold shadows that transformed the faded paint with a renewed glow. In contrast, the skeletal shadows cast by the tallest tree branches swayed across the roof peaks and porch eaves. Meg had never spent even one night alone in the house, and suddenly that didnt seem like the most appealing idea. And then she saw two cars parked in the driveway. One of them belonged to Wade Murdock, and Megs apprehension eased.

She pulled to the back and parked. The deputy acknowledged her arrival with a brief wave and returned to tightening the girth on the saddle of a chestnut horse. A young girl walked under the animals neck and stared at Megs car.

Meg stepped out of the car and watched the exchange between Wade and the girl. He pointed in Megs direction and appeared to be explaining her presence. The girl chewed on her bottom lip and nodded a couple of times. Meg wondered if the deputy was describing her to his child as the wicked witch whod come to ruin their dreams of home ownership.

Sensing movement to her right, Megs attention was captured by an elderly man who stood up from the washtub where she had sat earlier. He approached the two by the horse. If this was a delegation of Murdocks intent on challenging her right to be at Ashford House, then Meg was sorely outnumbered.

She walked to the threesome prepared to defend her position. You still here? she said unnecessarily to Wade.

Actually Im back, he answered. I left for a while to check the traffic out on the highway and just returned so my daughter could ride while we still have some daylight. Noticing that the girl had her foot in the stirrup and was staring at him expectantly, he hoisted her into the saddle. Jenny, this is Miss Hamilton, he said once shed wiggled into position on the horse.

The girl swept her long black hair over one shoulder and peered down at Meg with eyes that Meg now noticed were as dark and haunting as her fathers. Hi.

Still uncertain how shed been portrayed to the Murdock family, Meg said simply, Nice to meet you.

And this is my father, Roone Murdock, Wade said, indicating the man who stood with his back slightly bent and one elbow on the horses rump. The elderly man extended his free hand and she shook it.

Well be out of your hair in a half hour or so, Wade said. Just as soon as Jenny has a quick ride and we get Lady Jay put back in her stall for the night.

Jenny stared hard at Meg and then shot a glance at the house. How long you planning to stay? she asked.

Sensing that Jenny was fishing for a response of only a few days, Meg shook her head. I dont know. Im here to take care of my aunt, Mrs. Ashford. Shes

Yeah, I know all about her, the girl said. I know that you

Wade distracted his daughter by handing her the reins. Go on now, Jen. Just down to the river and back and into the side yard. Roone moved aside and Wade patted the horses backside sending the animal off at a slow walk. Nothing too fast or too fancy, you hear me? When horse and rider had moved away, he said to Meg, She doesnt know the whole story, just an abbreviated one.

Meg frowned. I guess that makes two of us.

He smiled, showing a line of mostly even white teeth with a slightly crooked one in front which gave him an air of comfortable imperfection. Yeah, I suppose there are a few details missing at this point.

Roone Murdock headed toward the corner of the barn. Ill keep my eye on her, he said to his son.

Thanks, Pop. He bent to retrieve a curry brush from the ground and addressed Meg when he stood again. So, hows Mrs. Ashford today?

Confused about things, but okay, I guess.

Did she know you?

After a while but only for a minute or two. I wasnt able to ask her about the house.

I wouldnt expect you to if Mrs. Ashford isnt in a state to handle a lot of questions. From what I can tell, she has her lucid moments, and you can talk to her then.

Meg tried to analyze the deputys tone. He didnt seem worried about what she would discover when she was finally able to ask Amelia about the supposed sale of the house. In fact, he was almost confident.

I was in the kitchen a few minutes ago, he continued. There arent many supplies in the cupboards. Mrs. Ashfords maid came in yesterday and took most of the food so it wouldnt spoil. If Id known you were coming

Was he actually concerned about what she would eat? Funny, she hadnt thought of food until now, and suddenly she realized that she was starved. Ill be fine, she said without conviction.

He gave her a little smile that said she wasnt fooling him. We live in a rental place about a half mile from here. I think weve got a pot of spaghetti on the stove. I have to go out on patrol later and I could drop off a plate.

No, that wont be necessary, Meg said. You have to feed your family and Im sure your wife wouldnt appreciate

I dont have a wife, he said, taking a couple of steps toward the barn. As he went through the opening, he called over his shoulder. Its just a plate of spaghetti and Ill be out anyway. Ill bring it by.

He disappeared into the barn and Meg stared at the shadows that had swallowed him up. Well, thanks, then, she hollered back and headed toward the house and all its uninhabited twelve rooms. Not only did she not have any answers, now she had even more questions.




CHAPTER FOUR


WADE TOOK HIS beige uniform shirt out of the dryer, examined it for wrinkles, and slipped his arms into the sleeves. He was buttoning the front as he came from the garage into the kitchen.

Roone looked up from the sink where he was standing a clean plate in the dish drainer. How late you gonna be tonight? he asked.

Midnight or so I imagine, assuming there are no emergencies. Ill sweep the businesses along Center Street a couple of times and probably nab a few speeders on the county road. He caught his daughters eye as she dried a plate and stacked it in the cupboard. If its like every other Friday night, the high school boys will try to turn Route 21 into a drag strip.

Jenny spun around and glared at him. Oh, great. I can just see my popularity soaring in this podunk town. Under her breath she added, Everybody already hates me as it is.

Wade tucked the shirt into his trousers and buckled his belt. I dont think anybody hates you, and besides youre only thirteen. Youre not even in high school yet. Quietly, he said, Thank God.

She took the next plate from the drainer. So what am I supposed to do tonight?

How about homework?

She rolled her eyes. Dad, its Friday.

Having expected that reaction, he chuckled. Maybe Gramps will take you to the Video Market to rent a movie. He gave his father a pleading look.

Sure, why not? Roone said. I think theres a Rambo flick I havent seen yet.

Jenny groaned and Wade winked at his father. Too bad, Pop. I think youre stuck with Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise.

Puh-leeze, Jenny moaned. Theyre so old!

Sorry, pumpkin. I guess I missed a couple of issues of Teen Idol, Wade said and then checked the snap on his holster. While hed never have considered patrolling the streets of Manhattan without a weapon, he hated carrying one in Mount Esther. He thought the image of deadly force was inappropriate in the quiet community, but the sheriff had told him that first day on the job that small towns werent exempt from crime. He emphasized his motto that a smart cop was a prepared cop. So Wade sported a Smith and Wesson 40 caliber automatic, though in six months, hed never had the safety off unless it was to test the weapon at a firing range.

Ready to go, Wade picked up a plate of spaghetti from the table. Okay you guys, behave yourselves. And Jen, tomorrow well take Lady Jay to the equestrian park. Sound good?

Yeah, I guess so She never finished her sentence because she burst into a fit of laughter which was obviously aimed at her father. Are you sure you want to go out like that, Dad?

Like what?

She circled around him and pulled something off the back of his shirt trailing a crackle of static electricity. When he turned around, he saw a tank top in her hands that didnt look like it would fit a Barbie doll. It was a postage-stamp-sized piece of white jersey with shoulder straps the size of pencils. Across the front was the image of Lady Liberty with sparkling paint on her torch. Tell me thats a costume for one of your dolls, he said.

She gave him one of those looks teenagers use when they are talking to clueless antiquarians. Geez, Dad. We donated my dolls to that kids charity in Brooklyn, remember? I dont play with dolls anymore.

Mores the pity, he said and then hesitated as he tried to erase an image from his mind that would make any fathers blood flow cold. Thenyou actually wear that thing yourself?

She stretched the top against her chest where her small breasts barely made an impression in the jersey. Still, the fabric was flimsy enough to interest an adolescent boys imagination. Of course I wear it, she said. Just not around you or Gramps. She sighed dramatically. I guess I goofed when I put it in the washer with your uniform.

Oh, yeah. Youre busted.

Dad

Tomorrow, Jen. Make some time for me to take a tour of your closet.

She put a fist on her hip and gave him a pinched-lip, how-dare-you look of a woman filled with righteous indignation. You can be so ridiculous.

So Ive been told. But heck, youre stuck with me. He went to the door. When another disturbing thought occurred to him, he stopped, looked at the spaghetti, and then narrowed his eyes at his father. You didnt put any Tabasco in Megs sauce, did you?

Roone hung the dish rag over the sink divider and stared at his son. No, but I thought about it. I still dont know why youre being so neighborly to a woman whos determined to pull our house out from under us.

Wade thought theyd put this discussion to bed earlier, but he should have known better. Feisty old Irishmen live to hold a grudge. For one thing, Im not jumping to any conclusions about Meg Hamiltons motives or her plans. He stared down at the plate in his hand. For another, I ate your spaghetti myself tonight, and I think serving her up a plateful ought to send enough of a message that shes in for the fight of her life.

Youre a funny man, Murdock, his father called as Wade made his escape out the door. But you ask her to show you that deed. Until we see that document in black and white, everything she says is just her blowing smoke.

Wade waved toward the back door where his dad was silhouetted against the kitchen lights. Will do, Pop. He set the plate on the floor of his patrol car, backed out of the drive and headed toward Ashford House. His dad was ornery, but he was also right.

MEG LOOKED DOWN at the mess shed created in the middle of the parlor and released a long groan of frustration. Shed opened every drawer in every end table, desk, and cabinet and pulled out a mountain of paperwork chronicling her aunts life. Shed scrutinized each scrap and found receipts dating back to the 1940s, warranties from companies that had long since gone out of business, and phone numbers that consisted of only four numbers on note paper that had yellowed with age. But she hadnt found the deed prepared just four years ago.

She stepped carefully among the debris of her aunts past, hoping that maybe this time shed see the legal document shed missed on first inspection. There has to be a copy here somewhere.

Disappointed, she sat heavily in a frayed old wing chair and grimaced at the chaos of paper that marked a fitting end to a demoralizing day. Besides the fruitless result of her investigation, shed discovered after a brief tour through the rooms, that Ashford House was in need of numerous repairs. The wainscoting was rotted and mildewed. The wallpaper was dry and peeling. And the windowsMeg decided that nothing short of a miracle kept the cracked and scratched panes in the frames.

At least the frantic search for the deed during the last two hours had kept her from reflecting on the fragile state of the homes security and the fact that she was completely alone in the rambling old house. She tried to push the creaks and moans of the ancient framework to a far corner of her mind, but realized that the eerie sounds would probably translate to a sleepless night.

Damn. Where is that deed? she said, and why didnt I request a final copy for my own records when it was prepared? She had a copy of the original document somewhere in her house in Orlando, but it was an unsigned facsimile Amelia had sent to her so she could check the wording for accuracy. Without Amelias signature, it was worthless.

In spite of the run-down state of Ashford House, Meg wanted it now more than ever. This place was like a member of her family, one she could count on when others had disappointed her. She couldnt give up on it or toss it aside just because its hair had turned gray or its old bones were brittle.

She stood up and went to a front window. Beyond the limited sphere of the porch light, the yard and surrounding acreage were fading into the bleakness of a moonless night. The trees already seemed like ghostly specters in the descending darkness. Meg told herself that in time Ashford House would feel like home again.

She started to turn away from the window when she noticed headlights twinkling through the shrubbery lining the driveway. Someone was approaching the house. Moments later, the Mount Esther patrol car pulled in front of the house and Wade Murdock got out. He had a plate in his hand.

Megs stomach tightened into a knot as she stared at the litter on the parlor floor. Shed become so involved in the search for the deed that shed forgotten the deputy had promised to bring her supper. She certainly couldnt let him see that shed been rummaging through the house like the desperate woman she was. Absolutely not. She had to show that she had the same strength of conviction as he did. She raced to the front entrance as he rapped lightly. Opening the door just a crack, she said, Oh, hi.

He held the plate out to her. I told you Id bring some spaghetti.

She nodded, took the plate, and set it on a foyer table. Yes, yes, you did.

You might want to nuke it a little in the microwave. I think Mrs. Ashford has one.

Oh, she has one, all right. The control pad looks like the instrument panel of a 747.

I guess thats one of the things she bought in the last few weeks, Wade said.

No doubt. Well, thanks for the spaghetti. Ill give you the plate back tomorrow. She started to close the door.

Youre welcome, Wade said. Instead of leaving, he raised up on his toes and peered over her shoulder.

Is something wrong? Meg asked.

No. I was just wondering if youd gone through any of the boxes.

Meg maintained a narrow opening in the doorway. Not yet, but Ive seen evidence of Aunt Amelias shopping all over the house. Shes decorated one of the bedrooms upstairs in a jungle motif complete with a fake fur Zebra-striped comforter on the mattress. Somehow it doesnt seem like her taste, but I suppose theres a lot about my aunt that I dont know anymore.

As if determined to chat, Wade leaned against the jamb preventing Meg from shutting the door. I suppose youve noticed that the house needs a little fixing up, he said.

Wade Murdock was an expert at understatement.

I promised to do some of that work for Mrs. Ashford, he continued. But lately Ive been concentrating my efforts on the barn. It needs a lot of attention, too.

I havent been inside the barn, Meg admitted. She shifted from one foot to the other. Did Wade intend to chat half the night away? If he did, Meg wasnt sure how she felt about that. She definitely didnt want him to see the clutter in the parlor, but it was kind of nice having a lawman on the property to offset some of her fears. Still, Meg couldnt forget that she and this particular lawman had a huge, three-story Queen Anne obstacle sitting between them.

After a few moments of silence, Wade finally said, I guess Ill be going then.

Okay. Thanks again.

He stepped down from the veranda and walked away. Meg was about to close the door at last, but suddenly the subtle creaks of Ashford House were snuffed out by a tremendous crash originating somewhere in an upstairs room.

Meg flung the door wide, ran onto the porch, and screamed, Deputy Murdock!

He was already tearing back to the house. He rushed by Meg and burst through the open door. Stay here, he ordered as he took the stairs two at a time.

Meg watched him until he disappeared upstairs. Then, her heart pounding, she clutched her arms under her breasts and tried to obey the deputys instructions. It was no use. She chose the more appealing protection of Wades presence over the blackness of the landscape around the house. She darted inside and followed him up the stairs.

He snapped his attention to her while his back was flattened against the wall outside the bedroom where Meg had slept as a child and where shed put her suitcase earlier. The room still had a comfortable, cozy appearance, but that was before Wade stood outside the threshold with a weapon in his hand.

Wade waved her back with the barrel of his pistol. She interpreted the look he gave her to mean he wasnt pleased that shed ignored his orders. Her breath coming in short gasps, she crouched down in the door frame of an adjoining room and watched as Wade slowly slid along the wall toward the open door. Oddly, a beam of light sliced across the threshold and into the hallway.

Pivoting with one giant step into the open doorway, Wade pointed his weapon with two hands and announced his presence. Police, he said with a resounding and authoritative tone. And then he dropped the weapon to his side and expelled a long breath.

Meg scurried up behind him and tried to see over his shoulder. What is it?

The lamp fell from the nightstand, he said. Im afraid its shattered.

That explained the strange spear of light. It must have been the wind, Meg said, remembering that shed opened the window a few hours ago.

Wade secured his weapon in his holster as he moved into the room. Maybe. But unfortunately the lamp isnt the only casualty.

Meg understood what he meant as she followed him inside. She covered her mouth with her hand and whispered, Oh, no.

Wade scooped up a lifeless bird from the floor. And then he poked his fist through the corner of the window screen revealing how the bird had gotten inside.

The poor thing, Meg said. I didnt notice that tear earlier when I opened the window.

Wade looked around the room and then down at the bird. Just as I thought, he said. This is definitely the work of Mr. Cuddles.

Meg gaped at him. The bird hashada name?

Not the bird. The cat.

Cat? What cat?

Wade pointed over Megs bed to the floor on the other side of the room. There, peering up at both of them with piercing golden eyes was a long-haired champagne-colored feline, whose insolent expression clearly indicated that he was not happy about two humans invading his space.

My aunt never had a cat, Meg said.

She does now. I forgot to tell you. She bought Mr. Cuddles from a private breeder over in Lake City a few weeks ago.

Meg closed her eyes and counted to ten. Dont tell mewith your money?

I suppose so. Hes a purebred Persian. Anyway, either the maid or I have been feeding Cuddles since Mrs. Ashfords accident, but with all the commotion earlier, I forgot, so the ingenious fellow went into the trees to do a little grocery shopping. He regarded the casualty of Mr. Cuddless appetite still in his hand. This poor bird was intended as supper. I guess Cuddles misjudged his entrance into the bedroom and knocked the lamp over which in turn scared the sparrow right out of his jaws.

Meg had never been a cat lover and was even less so now that she realized she would have Killer Cuddles to take care of until arrangements could be made for his adoption. Her sympathy definitely lay with the poor mangled sparrow. She glared at the cat. I hope youll eat spaghetti, Cuddles, because youre not getting so much as one bite of this poor bird.

She caught Wades smile out of the corner of her eye. He folded his long fingers over the bird and headed for the door. Ill show you where the cat food is, he said, and then Ill do something with the victim.

Thanks. Meg started to follow him out the door but Cuddles strutted in front of her, his head high and the end of his tail twitching with an arrogant indifference to her presence. She trailed the cat down the rear staircase and into the kitchen.

Meg didnt know what Wade would do with the dead bird once he went out the back door. But she was glad she had the job of feeding Mr. Cuddles to occupy her mind. The cat attacked his bowl of food with relish, including the special cat treats she spread on the floor next to his bowl. If she had to endure days in the house with only this sullen cat for company, she was determined to do her best to make friends with him.

After a few minutes Wade returned. He pulled out a chair for Meg and said, Now you. Sit. Ill go get the spaghetti.

He came back with the plate, set it in the microwave, and deftly pressed a few buttons on the control pad. When he set the food in front of her, Meg realized her mouth was watering. She twirled a few strands around her fork and took a healthy bite. This is good.

Ill tell Pop you said so. Wade stood watching her for a few moments as if he was uncertain if he should stay or go. Finally he opened a drawer, withdrew some masking tape and said, Ill fix that screen upstairs tomorrow. For tonight you might want to patch up the hole with this.

She took the roll of tape. Okay, thanks. But, under the circumstances, if you dont want to fix the screen, Ill understand.

His mouth twitched upward in a strange sort of grin. What circumstances are you talking about?

Was he pretending ignorance of their obvious dilemma? She felt her face flush. Well, Im sure youve been repairing things around here because you thought the house was yours

He shrugged a shoulder. I still do believe it. I bought this house.

A spark of anger flared inside her. Look, Deputy Murdock

Wade.

Fine, Wade. I told you. My aunt gave the house to me. I plan to live here someday, and any repairs that need to be done are my responsibility. I dont want you to put any more effort into a property that will one day be mine.

Ill take my chances, he said. Besides, fixing this old place has sort of become a hobby. A labor of love you might say.

But youre wasting your timeand money.

I dont see it that way. He leaned back against the counter and appraised her with cool, confident eyes. And if you dont mind an honest observation, I dont think youre that sure of your claim.

She dropped her spaghetti-laden fork. What? Ive been sure of my claim to Ashford House for years, Deputy.

Wade.

Whatever. Why would you think such a thing?

Because I just went through the parlor to pick up the plate of spaghetti.

And?

And I saw that mess on the floor. Youve been looking for something, Meg. Rather frantically, it seems to me.

What Ive been doing is none of your business.

You didnt find it, did you?

Find what?

The deed.

She picked up her fork and began twirling spaghetti as if her life depended on curling the strands into a concise, compact roll. I dont want to talk about this with you. I dont think we should talk about it.

Thats funny. When Ive got twenty thousand dollars invested in something, I dont consider it a taboo subject.

She raised the fork and peered at him over the top of the pasta that had immediately begun to unravel. Dont you have some crimes to solve? Arent there cats to get out of trees?

Thats the fire department. Besides, Ive already had one cat caper tonight. But, yeah, Ive got to go. He crossed the kitchen and pressed one hand on the swinging door to the dining room. Just one more thing

She whirled around in her chair. What now?

When I went through the parlor, I noticed you did find the contract of sale.

Right. The contract had been in the lap drawer of Amelias desk. Youre quite a snoop, arent you?

Training. When youre part of a two-man law enforcement team in a hotbed of crime like Mount Esther, you dont leave any stone unturned. He smiled as he pushed the door as far as it would go. And it helped that you left the contract on top of everything else on the desklike maybe youd been reading it.

She crossed her legs and began pumping the right one up and down. Okay, I may have looked it over, and Im glad I did

Me, too.

because its only a lease-option agreement. You havent actually bought the house.

He took a step back into the kitchen and let the door close. Its a binding contract, Meg. Ive paid Mrs. Ashford a down payment and Ive been giving her rent on the barn. Its a done deal.

Meg didnt know enough about real estate contracts to rebut his argument, but she did know that four years ago, Amelia had prepared a clear deed with her name on itif only she could find it. I wouldnt be so sure, Deputy, she blustered.

Well see, he said. Anyway, youve seen mine. Now its time for me to see yours. Then maybe well figure out what to do about this mess.

She listened to his footsteps recede through the house. Ill find the deed, Deputy, she called out. And Ill be only too happy to show it to you.

His voice carried from the parlor. Its Wade, Meg, for the third time. And you know where to find me.




CHAPTER FIVE


A RINGING TELEPHONE jolted Wade from a dream of an auburn-haired woman, her full lips tugging down into a frown, sitting in Mrs. Ashfords parlor in the middle of a pile of papers. He turned over in bed and opened one eye to see the digital clock on his nightstand. 6:36. Great. Hed had a whopping five hours sleep and lost the end to a fantasy whose possibilities were far more exciting than his reality.

In the darkness, he fumbled for the portable, grabbed it off its cradle, and croaked, Deputy Murdock. If this is anything short of murder, call back in two hours.

The voice that answered was familiar, and irritating. Wade, this is Harvey Crockett at the Quick Mart. Youd better get over here right away. Newton Bonner just ran out on his gas bill and left me holding a twenty-dollar tab.

Oh, geez, Harvey, Wade grumbled. Cant it wait till the suns up? Newton isnt going anywhere.

How do you know that? He peeled away from the pump like a bat outta hell. He could be halfway to the county line by nowon my tank of gas.

Wade pictured eighty-eight-year-old Newton Bonner and doubted the man could peel a banana, but it didnt pay to argue with a citizen he was hired to protect. He swung his feet to the floor and arched his back to stretch his muscles into service. Ill drive on over to Newtons place and check it out, Harvey. Call you when I know something.

Im gonna have to make folks pay before they pump from now on, Wade. I dont give credit here, and I cant cover the cash drawer myself

Wade held the phone away from his ear and stood up. Harvey, do you want to keep me on the phone listening to you, or do you want me to go after Newton?

You get that old buzzard, Wade. He cant get away with this.

Wade pressed the disconnect button and returned the phone to his nightstand. He was thankful tomorrow was Sheriff Hollingers day to answer the calls.

A DOZEN PEACOCKS and three times that many chickens scattered in advance of the patrol car as Wade pulled onto Newton Bonners property. Wade didnt know much about peacocks, but hed heard that old Newton had made a living for more than fifty years selling their colorful quills to novelty shops and the birds to petting zoos. Now that he was retired, Newton still kept a few birds around his place because he claimed they were good company. Since the old guy had never married, Wade supposed that a family of fowl would be preferable at this point in the mans life to living, breathing, arguing people. The birds appeared content as well, Wade observed. The property wasnt even fenced, and Wade had never been called out on a rampaging peacock emergency.

Newton emerged from a shed and began scattering pellets of feed on the ground. The birds forgot about Wade and, with their colorful tail feathers spread, beat an awkward path to the goodies. When he saw Wade, Newton and his entourage crossed the yard to meet him.

Morning, Deputy, Newton said. What brings you out here?

Mindful of his clean uniform, Wade swatted a couple of curious hens away from his pants leg. You know why Im here, Newton, he said. Youre not so old that you forgot what you did not more than half an hour ago.

Newton ground the stub of an unfiltered cigarette into the dirt. That damn Harvey Crockett. Did he call you out this early in the morning to run me down?

Yes, he did, and he had a right to. You stole twenty dollars worth of gasoline.

Newton removed a wide-brimmed felt hat and ran long, gnarled fingers through white hair that hadnt seen a barber in quite a long time. I woulda gone back there in a day or two to pay up, he said.

Thats not the way it works, Newton, and you know it.

I left my wallet at home. I remembered it when I was already halfway to the feed store. What was I supposed to do? If Id a passed on by the Quick Mart, Id a run out of gas before I hit the county road.

You forgot your wallet? Wade repeated.

Obviously thinking hed brought Wade over to his way of thinking, Newton nodded his head vigorously. Thats right. Left it on the kitchen table.

Wade scowled at the old man. Then you were driving without your license, too?

A spiderweb of veins turned pink under Newtons thin skin. Hell, no, Wade, the man lied. He patted his shirt pocket. I always put my license right here, and I had it with me.

So where do you keep your twenty-dollar bills? Wade asked him. You bring me one now and maybe Ill overlook a charge of petty larceny this time.

Newton grinned with the half dozen teeth still in his mouth and trotted off to his house. He returned a minute later with a crisp twenty-dollar bill, one of the newly minted ones. Wade bet that the sly old fella had a trunk full of them hidden away somewhere.

Youre a fair man, Deputy, Newton said.

Wade tucked the bill into his pocket. Maybe, but Im also a man whos running out of patience. The next time you do this, Im writing you up.

Newton bent over and scooped a fat hen from the ground at his feet. Here, take this home for dinner. Its my treat.

Imagining Jennys reaction at witnessing the decapitation of what would later appear on her plate, Wade politely refused. Some other time, Newton.

The old man walked Wade back to his patrol car. So hows everything going with the Ashford place? he asked. Are you thinking that you bit off more than you can chew?

Wade shook his head. Nope. Not yet. Im pleased as I can be with that house. Working on it has brought me and my dad closer than weve been in years. He scanned the clear blue sky above him. And this climate has done wonders for his pleurisy. I think another winter in New York might have killed him. Now I believe hell go on forever.

You started working up in the attic yet?

No. Thatll be the last job I tackle, Wade said.

You been up there, though, havent you?

Sure. When I bought the place from Mrs. Ashford I took a quick look around the third floor. All I saw was some worn-out furniture, a mess of cobwebs and a couple of critters. Its a small space, so

Newton cackled. A small space, you say?

Yeah. Besides the turret which opens onto all three floors, the actual attic cant be more than twelve feet square.

Theyd reached the patrol car, but Newton was obviously not done talking. Guess you didnt see the mural then.

Wade thought back to that day several weeks ago. Hed seen some ratty old picture frames leaning against a wall, but nothing the size of a mural. I didnt see anything as big as that.

You missed the best part then. I remember when Stewie Ashford built that place and hired a guy to paint a picture the size of a church door in the attic. There were some high times up there once that mural was finished. Why, a fella could stand in the turret and see a car pull into the drive all the way from the county road. I was there once when I was just a youngster, not more than seventeen, Id say. Stewie let me come up there anyways. He didnt pay any mind to county laws.

Wade crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the hood of his car. What are you talking about, Newton?

A wide grin creased the old mans face. Guess Ive said too much already. You go on back up there, Wade, and look for the mural. Thats all Im saying. I wont be the one to blacken a dead mans memory, or for that matter, start up rumors thatd vex his sweet widow.

Wade had heard other such vague references to Stewart Ashfords reputation, all from the few old-timers who still remembered the towns most famous patriarch. He didnt know exactly what shenanigans Stewart participated in way back when, but hed surmised that maybe the guy stood a little to the left of the law. Well, more power to him. The old days were long gone. The house would soon belong to Wade, if Meg Hamilton didnt pose a stumbling block. What did Wade care if Stewart Ashford operated a shell game more than half a century ago.

He walked around to the drivers side door and raised a finger at Newton before getting inside the car. You pay your bills from now on, Newton. I mean it.

The old fella stroked the back of the hen whose life had been spared. You betcha, Deputy.

Wade headed back toward the Quick Mart to pay Newtons debt. But he wasnt thinking a whole lot about what he would say to appease Harvey Crockett. Mostly he was thinking about the idea of a mural existing in that tiny little attic room of Ashford House.

AT EIGHT OCLOCK Saturday morning, Meg was already on her way to Shady Grove. She was determined to meet with her aunt when Amelia might be most alert. Besides, the antics of Mr. Cuddles and the heart-thumping police work of Wade Murdock had kept her tossing and turning most of the night. She wasnt sorry to be leaving last nights escapades behind her to deal with todays problems.

Giving herself time for a second cup of coffee, Meg pulled into the parking lot of the Quick Mart and headed straight for the brewing machine. Shed just stirred sugar and cream into her cup when the door to the convenience store opened. Oh, great, she said under her breath when she realized who had entered. Just who I need to see this morning.

Wade stopped at the counter and slid a sum of money toward the clerk. The two men maintained an animated conversation until Wade finally threw his hands in the air and accused the clerk of being unreasonable. Hes an old man, Harvey, Wade said.

Hes slippery as an eel, the clerk responded, and Im holding you responsible if theres any more trouble.

Wade strode away from the counter. Fine. Hows the coffee this morning? Still taste like motor oil? When he saw Meg, he tossed a final comment over his shoulder. Dont answer that, Harvey. Theres someone here wholl give me an honest opinion. He set a paper cup under the dispenser. So, Miss Meg Hamilton, what do you think?

She leaned against the condiment counter and nodded toward a case with clear plastic doors. The coffees fine, but since youre a policeman, I figure you wont be satisfied until you grab one of those donuts.

Ahanother misconception that you civilians have about us cops. He dumped three envelopes of sugar into his coffee and stirred vigorously. Then, despite his statement, he opened a door, took out a chocolate-covered Bavarian Cream and took a huge bite which he followed with a smug grin. But, heck, who am I to destroy a legend?

Meg shook her head.

So hows Mr. Cuddles this morning? Wade asked after sucking a dab of filling from his index finger. It was a gesture Meg found oddly disturbing.

Hes like all males, I guess, she said. He left the house early to find a poor creature in the yard that he could lord his authority over.

Wade raised that finger to make a point. Yeah, but he made you notice him, and thats what counts. He wiped his hands with a napkin and tossed the paper into the trash bin. By the way, Ill be at the house later after I do rounds. Ill fix the window screen before I get started in the barn.

If you want to, Meg said with an aloofness that disguised her very strong desire to have the window secure.

Oh, I do, Wade said. If for no other reason than I need to establish my superiority over Mr. Cuddles.

Meg headed for the cash register to pay for her coffee. I guess Ill see you later then.

Wade tossed a couple of bills on the counter and followed her outside. Say, Meg, before you go, can you answer a question for me?

Depends on the question.

Its about your Uncle Stewart.

Megs interest was immediately piqued. Even though hed died when she was only twelve, she remembered her Uncle Stewie vividly. He was so handsome sitting astride his prized Arabian mare and cantering gracefully around the property. And he was completely unpredictable in his antics. Like her brother Jerry, he made everyone laugh. What about him? she said.

What did he do for a living?

He was an entrepreneur.

Wades lips twitched as if he were trying to hide a smile. Thats a little vague, isnt it?

Meg had never thought so. Even when she hadnt understood what the word meant, shed always believed that it described her uncle perfectly. Maybe, but thats what Aunt Amelia always called him.

So thats how he made all his money, as an entrepreneur?

I suppose so. Plus his parents had a little money. His father was a cattleman on Floridas west coast. Stewie dabbled in land development in this area, and I heard that he got in on the ground floor of a couple of profitable local businesses. She shrugged. I think my uncle was lucky to be in the right places at the right times.

Lucky, eh? I wonder if any of that Ashford luck rubbed off on you.

What do you mean?

He lowered his sunglasses and peered at her with those interesting dark brown eyes. Did you find the deed?

Were back to that again. You seem awfully worried about that document, Wade, and you should be. Ill definitely find it because it definitely exists. She got in her car. And when I do, youll be the first to know. She shut the door but rolled down her window. But since you brought up our little predicament, Ill tell you about an idea I had.

Im listening.

Im going to go through the boxes this afternoon with the idea of returning everything to the catalogue companies. My intention is to give you back the twenty thousand dollars.

He twirled the sunglasses while giving her a bland stare. I dont want it back.

But thats the perfect solution.

Not to me it isnt.

As if there werent a hundred houses to buy within a thirty-mile radius of hers! And to think Wade had called the store clerk unreasonable. Look, Wade, I read the entire lease-option contract last night.

Good.

You only promised to pay a pittance of what the house and property are worth.

You call ninety-eight thousand dollars a pittance?

I certainly do. In Orlando

He tapped the insignia on his shirt sleeve. This is Mount Esther. Thats what I like about this little town. The cost of living is quite reasonable, especially to a transplant whos used to New York prices.

But even in Mount Esther a twelve-room house, a six-stall barn, and all that land

in good condition would be worth about one hundred and fifty thousand, he interrupted. He put on his glasses and folded his arms across his chest. Ive already put a couple of thousand into the house, borrowed from the Mount Esther Savings and Loan, and you can see that a complete renovation will cost much more.

Hed borrowed money against her house? Meg gripped the steering wheel to control her temper. If Ashford House is costing you so dearly, why not cut your losses, take the twenty thousand and go buy something thats livable right now?

Dont want to. Ashford House is perfect for my family. Its a dream we can work on together.

Its my dream, too, damn it, Meg thought. My dream first.

And besides, he continued, I dont think youll get more than a small percentage of the twenty thousand back. Most of the items have been unpacked and put to use in the house. And Ive read some of the labels on the boxes. They say a full refund is available within seven days. That time limit has elapsed. And since most of the purchases were made without the security of a credit card

Enough. Meg rolled her window up and jerked the gearshift into reverse.

Wade waved at her as she backed out of the parking space. See you later, Meg, he hollered.

She veered onto the road but resisted the urge to stomp on the gas pedal. With her luck, Murdock would race after her, lights flashing and siren blaring, just for the pleasure of giving her a ticket.

AS SHE APPROACHED the door to Amelias room in Shady Grove, Meg was immediately aware of a change in the environment. It was quiet. Yesterday shed heard her aunts television well in advance of reaching her door. Today she heard nothing. At the threshold she looked down upon an empty bed, stripped of sheets.

Meg stood rooted in the doorway. Oh, my God, no

A worker came up behind her, touched her lightly on her shoulder. Can I help you, maam?

Meg whirled around and stared into the young womans face. My aunt. Shes gone. What happened?

The woman held up a stack of linens. Its not what you think. Im just changing the sheets. Miz Ashfords down the hall in the gathering room.

Meg felt limp with relief. She held on to the arm of a chair until she caught her breath. Of course. I shouldnt have jumped to conclusions.

The woman set the sheets on a dresser, took the top one and flipped it open over the bed. The scent of bleach trailed in the wake of the fluttering cotton. Five doors down, she said. Youll find Miz Ashford.

Thank you. As she walked down the hall, Meg was able to think logically again. Of course Amelia wouldnt spend every waking hour in bed. The staff would encourage her to mingle with other patients, at the same time giving the employees opportunity to keep the rooms maintained.

At the door to the gathering room, Meg recognized the voice of Gene Rayburn coming from a big-screen television. Amelia was seated in a wheelchair several feet from the set. She was propped up with pillows and a thick floral throw covered her knees. She was, as yesterday, enraptured by the television show.

Meg looked at the screen and watched celebrities give answers on Match Game. She pulled a chair close to her aunt and sat down. Good morning, Aunt Amelia, she said.

Amelia glanced over and smiled. Margaret, youve come back. I told them you would.




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Your House or Mine? Cynthia Thomason
Your House or Mine?
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Cynthia Thomason

Тип: электронная книга

Жанр: Современные любовные романы

Язык: на английском языке

Издательство: HarperCollins

Дата публикации: 16.04.2024

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О книге: Home is where the heart is…The quirky Victorian may be old and dilapidated, but it′s the house at the center of the dreams Meg Hamilton has for herself and her little boy. And it′s rightfully hers, thanks to the deed Aunt Amelia signed four years ago. So when Meg arrives in Mount Esther, she′s shocked to find it′s been sold–to the town′s very arresting deputy sheriff.Wade Murdock bought Amelia′s house fair and square. His wife′s tragic death ripped his family apart, and this house is where he hopes they′ll build their future.One house, two families. Only one of them can have it.

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