Читать книгу Your House or Mine? - Cynthia Thomason, Cynthia Thomason - Страница 9

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 he’d been adamant about defending his claim to the property, she had to admit that he had treated her decently, especially considering that she’d accused him of taking advantage of her aunt’s 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 couldn’t be. She had legally owned Ashford House for four years. A man can’t 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. He’d 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 aunt’s 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 Wade’s appearance, which she shouldn’t, 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 Amelia’s 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 aunt’s wing as “continual care.”

When she neared Amelia’s room, Meg heard a distinctive voice coming from a television. “Come on down. You’re 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 aunt’s 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 haven’t, I will. I’ve always wanted some.”

Realizing the futility of asking for further explanation, Meg searched her aunt’s 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, it’s me, Margaret.”

Amelia smiled, though not at Meg. “Oh, look. That woman’s 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 Amelia’s hand, thinking the gesture would divert the woman’s attention from the television. “I’m here, Aunt Amelia,” she said. “Remember me? Margaret.”

Her aunt’s attention to the program didn’t waver. “If you’re 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 don’t like The Joker’s Wild.”

Grateful for the silence, Meg tried to reach her aunt again. “It’s so good to see you, Aunt Amelia,” she said.

Amelia’s head swivelled slowly and she finally gave Meg her attention. “It’s good to see you, too. You told me your name, didn’t 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. “That’s 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. I’m your niece.”

Amelia repeated the words as she wrote Meg’s 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 she’d imagined during her drive to Mount Esther, she’d never expected that her aunt would have totally forgotten her existence. After all, hadn’t Nadine Harkwell said that Amelia had asked for her to come?

As she watched her aunt’s 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, they’d been best friends, not distant strangers. But now, the blank look in her aunt’s eyes was almost too much to bear.

Meg patted Amelia’s 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 Meg’s and threaded their fingers together. “Margaret,” she whispered. “My darling Meggie. You’ve come. I knew you would.”

Meg laughed through a choking sob, leaned over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “That’s right. I’m here. What do you want me to do?”

“We need to talk, Margaret. There is much that needs to be done and I’m afraid there’s too little time.” Amelia’s 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 Amelia’s wrist and checked her pulse.

“Yes,” Meg said. “After a while at least.”

“Good. She has lucid moments, and during those times you’re all she talks about.”

“How is she, really?”

The nurse inhaled deeply, indicating her response was not going to be good news. “She’s 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, it’s as though their systems shut down.” The nurse jotted something on Amelia’s chart and smiled down at her patient. “But she’s a dear old soul. We’re 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 she’d had earlier. “Hello. Did you bring my supper?”

Meg smiled. “No, but I’ll 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 aunt’s forehead, whispered good-night and left the room. Tomorrow she would try again.

NORMALLY MEG DIDN’T 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, she’d only passed two cars in the mile she’d traveled back toward town. She pressed the speed dial to her home phone number.

“Hey, sis,” Jerry said. “How’s it going up there?”

Meg covered her disappointment that Spencer hadn’t answered with a cheerful greeting to her brother. “Hi, Jerry. Truthfully, it’s been quite a day.”

“I’ll bet. How’s Aunt Amelia doing?”

“She’s quite frail. And not thinking all that clearly.” That was an understatement. “How’s Spence? Did you remember to pick him up at the neighbor’s?”

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

Meg sighed, hating herself just a little. Of course Jerry wouldn’t 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. “I’m sorry, Jerry. I never should have suggested that you might forget.”

“No, probably not, but I know you, so the assumption was expected…and forgiven.”

She heard her son’s voice in the background. “Hey, Uncle Jerry, can I have another hot dog?”

“Hot dogs?” Meg said. “You’re having hot dogs for dinner? I left a turkey meat loaf in the refrigerator.”

“No offense, Meggie, but isn’t that an oxymoron using turkey and meat together in the same sentence?”

Meg could picture her brother’s teasing grin.

“Besides, Spence and I are bonding,” he continued. “You need guy food to do that—good 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. He’s probably not much older than I am.”

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

“Why do I bother talking to you?”

“Because I’m the only one you know who talks about nothing of any importance, and it’s a nice change of pace.”

“Maybe you’re right. Anyway, the deputy claims Amelia sold Ashford House to him a few weeks ago.”

“Whoa! No way. The house is yours, isn’t 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. “You’ll 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 else’s problems. “Speaking of boyfriends…”

“Which we weren’t, really.”

“Well, no, but a girl came in today. Real cute. I’d call her definite girlfriend potential for your baby brother.”

“What did she want?”

“She has a business proposition. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. The brainiac is reaching for the phone.”

The words business proposition immediately translated into harebrained scheme in Meg’s mind. “Jerry, don’t you let a pretty face—”

“Hi, Mom!”

Tension ebbed from Meg’s shoulders at the sound of her son’s voice, and she relegated the solving of another problem to tomorrow’s 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 didn’t seem like the most appealing idea. And then she saw two cars parked in the driveway. One of them belonged to Wade Murdock, and Meg’s 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 animal’s neck and stared at Meg’s car.

Meg stepped out of the car and watched the exchange between Wade and the girl. He pointed in Meg’s 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 who’d come to ruin their dreams of home ownership.

Sensing movement to her right, Meg’s 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 I’m 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 she’d 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 father’s. “Hi.”

Still uncertain how she’d 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 horse’s rump. The elderly man extended his free hand and she shook it.

“We’ll 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 don’t know. I’m here to take care of my aunt, Mrs. Ashford. She’s…”

“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 horse’s 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 doesn’t 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. “I’ll 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, how’s 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 wasn’t able to ask her about the house….”

“I wouldn’t expect you to if Mrs. Ashford isn’t 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 deputy’s tone. He didn’t 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 aren’t many supplies in the cupboards. Mrs. Ashford’s maid came in yesterday and took most of the food so it wouldn’t spoil. If I’d known you were coming…”

Was he actually concerned about what she would eat? Funny, she hadn’t thought of food until now, and suddenly she realized that she was starved. “I’ll be fine,” she said without conviction.

He gave her a little smile that said she wasn’t fooling him. “We live in a rental place about a half mile from here. I think we’ve 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 won’t be necessary,” Meg said. “You have to feed your family and I’m sure your wife wouldn’t appreciate—”

“I don’t have a wife,” he said, taking a couple of steps toward the barn. As he went through the opening, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a plate of spaghetti and I’ll be out anyway. I’ll 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.