Читать книгу Summer on Kendall Farm - Shirley Hailstock, Shirley Hailstock - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

WINDSOR HEIGHTS WASN’T exactly on the cutting edge of the twenty-first century, though as Jason drove into town he noticed how different the place looked. Because he had often been away for long periods of time with boarding school, college and working, Jace’s trips back to the Kendall made him more able to see the changes as sweeping rather than subtle. First, the number of cars on the street alone could cause a traffic jam. As far as he knew, there had never been a traffic jam in Windsor Heights. There were new stores along Main Street. He saw that the old dress shop had had a facelift. The bookstore was gone, replaced by an office supply store. The bank, however, was in the same place and while it was five years older, it appeared as new as it had been when it was built.

Jace opened its heavy door and walked through. Nothing here was different. The loan office was in the same place and Jace went directly toward it.

“Jason! Jason Kendall.” Someone called his name. “Is that you? I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you in years.”

A man behind a glass wall stood up and came out, his hand outstretched. Jace took it, recognizing him only after he was already pumping his hand.

“Kurt Mallard,” Jace said, grateful to find someone he’d once known. “Who would have thought?”

“Come on in and sit down a minute. Tell me what brings you back to Windsor Heights?”

Jace noticed his door had Kurt Mallard, Loan Officer printed on it in small black letters.

“My home,” he said. Jace took a seat. “I’m here about the Kendall.”

Kurt frowned. “It’s a shame about that.” Then his face cleared and the frown was replaced with a smile.

“But it seems the new owner is working miracles restoring it. Have you met her yet?”

Jace didn’t get to answer.

Kurt continued, “She’s a beauty. Got flaming red hair. When she’s in here and the sun shines through that window...” He pointed to a window outside the office “It’s like fire.”

“I’ve met her,” Jace cut in.

Kurt chuckled and cleared away some papers on his desk.

“So you’re the loan officer,” Jace pointed out.

“Never thought I’d make it, did you?”

Kurt had been the other bad boy of Windsor Heights. While the two of them rarely cut up together, Jace knew of him, his antics and the gang he ran around with. None of them were people Jace cared to be associated with. Kurt was on the school’s football team and many people looked the other way at the things he did for that reason. Jace was the prep school kid, the rich kid, the one who lived in the big house. He wasn’t welcome by even the bullies of the area. After that Jace lost track of Kurt. But now Kurt worked at the bank and Jace’s family no longer owned the big house. That privilege was held by a determined redhead unafraid to get her hands dirty.

“Kurt, I’m here for a loan,” Jace said, opting for the cold, hard truth.

Kurt shifted in his chair. “Okay,” he said. “What’s the loan for?”

“I want to buy the Kendall.”

Kurt smiled warmly. “This is great. I’m glad Ms. Ashton is willing to sell it back to you. After all, the Kendall should be owned by a Kendall.” He laughed a hearty sound.

“Well, there’s a slight issue there.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I only got back into town last night. I have a little money, but I’d need a big mortgage.”

Kurt leaned forward. “So far, that seems like something we might be able to work out.” He reached sideways and pulled a packet of documents out of a vertical file stand.

“The only collateral I have is my name.”

Jace watched him visibly recoil.

“Has Ms. Ashton agreed to allow you to take over the mortgage?”

Jace shook his head.

“Does she even know you’re here?”

Again he shook his head.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to help you, Jason. Besides having no collateral and no agreement from the owner to sell, currently you’re unemployed, I assume. The bank requires at least that you have a job in order for me to approve a loan. I’m afraid even filling out the paperwork will be of no use.” He looked at the packet on his desk.

“I do have a job,” Jace said.

“Where?”

“It’s at the Kendall.”

“You have a job at the Kendall?” The eyebrows went up.

Jace nodded.

“How long have you worked there?”

“I only got back yesterday.”

“So you begin tomorrow?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“That’s not going to be long enough. For a mortgage, which you don’t qualify for, we need several pieces of paperwork, including your last three check stubs. I’m sorry Jace.”

“I have those. I worked in South America.”

“Good. What did you do there?”

“I’m an engineer. I worked on a water pipeline.”

“Do you own any property?”

Jace shook his head.

Kurt frowned. “I can give you the paperwork. It will tell you what we require, but without a willingness to sell from Ms. Ashton, it’s likely a waste of time.”

Jace stood up. “Thanks anyway,” he said. Jace knew it would be a problem getting money, but he had to try. His son’s well-being was at stake. He shook hands with Kurt and left.

Out on the street, Jace went to his car and got in. He didn’t start the engine. He sat thinking, wanting to come up with something he could do to get his house back. Kurt had said he was a Kendall and a Kendall should own the property that had been in his family since the Civil War. With the way he’d been treated, sometimes even he wondered why the house meant so much to him. It shouldn’t. But it did.

When he left years ago, angry at the world and everything in it, he wanted nothing but to get as far from the Kendall as he could. But running away didn’t take the place out of him. He missed it, missed the horses and the riding. He missed the familiarity of it, even the safety. While his father and brother weren’t model parent and sibling, he had enough distractions to ignore their influence on him. And he did what he liked.

Yet when he was in South America he longed for the Kendall. He told himself Ari was the reason for his return and that was the truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Jace had been stumbling around the world, trying to forget, but it was useless. He missed home, wanted to go back. Ari was only the catalyst he used to make the decision.

And now he was here. And everything was different. He was back, but he wasn’t home. He was still the stable boy, trying to win over the new lady of the manor.

* * *

SHELDON PULLED THE door of his beach bungalow closed. He was headed to the dock to complete a day’s work. He squinted at the bright sunshine. Then he heard the laughter. He knew it was in his mind because it was Laura’s laugh, her sound. He thought of the photo of her in a frame next to his bed. Her picture was the only thing he’d kept from the Kendall.

She was gone now. Sheldon wanted to remember her only as she’d been in the photo, smiling, dressed in a beautiful gown and standing on the staircase at the Kendall. Their lives were tangled, twined together like the never-ending root system of the common mangrove tree.

After he and Laura married, Jason took off. Neither he nor Laura spoke of him. It became a silent, wordless rule.

Sheldon always wondered why his father never thought of Jason as a son. Not wanting to risk the old man’s wrath, Sheldon hadn’t asked for a reason. Laura felt it was a sore point with Sheldon, since initially she had come to the Kendall with Jason, and Sheldon, following his father’s lead, had almost nothing to do with him, either. It’s as if he didn’t exist in their world. But that world had disappeared.

Sheldon went back to work. He bent down and scraped. The barnacles fell off the hull and onto the tarp he’d placed on the wharf. He thought of Laura. She’d been the light of his life. Everything he did and thought revolved around her. He’d been a better man with Laura.

After Laura died, Sheldon had no fight left in him. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t concentrate on anything, especially the Kendall. When he came out of his grief enough to notice the farm, things had fallen apart. He didn’t know how much time had gone by exactly. It was too late when he tried to save the place. He knew it wouldn’t work anyway. He wasn’t a good manager. He wasn’t his father. And he no longer had Laura to help him. The farm had been failing for years, but he’d hidden the information from Laura. If he’d told her maybe they could have saved the place, but his life was built on bad decisions.

And treating Jason as if he didn’t belong and wasn’t part of the family was one of them.

“Mr. Kendall,” a familiar voice spoke to him.

Sheldon looked up. “Good morning,” he said. Audrey Thompson stood in front of him. She was a small woman, slightly overweight. He was fifty-one and he estimated she, too, was probably in her early fifties. She spoke to him daily when she walked along the marina. It was part of her exercise program she told him. Audrey was raising her grandson. Her daughter, a single mom, died after her car was struck by a drunk driver when the child was six. He was nine now.

“You’re out in the heat, I see,” Sheldon said.

“The North Carolina sunshine can be unforgiving. The camp bus was a little late, and I had to get to the post office. How are you this morning?”

She asked the same question every day he saw her, which was usually Monday through Friday. “I’m managing,” he answered her as he always did.

She waved then and kept walking. Sheldon watched her go. He was impressed with how she doted on her grandson. She was patient and caring. Sheldon had often seen them along the water. Audrey mentioned she was a schoolteacher and had the summer off, so she had the days to tell the boy about the sky, the clouds, the sea, sea creatures, the sand. Sheldon even heard her explaining how glass was made from sand. He was surprised to learn the process himself.

It was amazing the things he didn’t know and had never been interested in before. But what was more amazing was watching the way she treated her grandson with kindness and love. His father had never treated either him or Jason with the sort of care Audrey bestowed on her grandson. Sheldon had been cloistered in his father’s narrow-minded world. Sheldon was glad to see how other people lived and how they looked after one another.

When noon came, Sheldon knocked off for lunch and headed home. Along the beach were a series of cheap but cheerful bungalows that could barely be called houses, but that’s what they were for some of the lower-income families in the community. Sheldon lived in one of these cottages that he rented from a man in town. The summer was sweltering, but this past winter, when he’d arrived in Meadesville, and taken the cottage, the winds had blown in off the Atlantic and swirled around the estuary freezing his fingers and feet. He longed for his warm bed back in Maryland. But that was no longer his and would never be again. Sheldon didn’t want to see the place where he had been born and raised go to strangers. He wondered what it was like now. When he’d left the Kendall, the main house was no longer the pristine white color with black shutters it had been before his father died. When Sheldon was locked out the grass was overgrown, the paint was peeling and there were several leaks needing repair. The barn was empty and Sheldon owed thousands of dollars for feed, repairs and services. He had every cent he owned—$208.76—in his pocket when he was evicted.

That hadn’t taken him far and he found himself doing things only Jason would do. He hated Jason more then. Irrationally, he knew his predicament wasn’t Jason’s fault, but Jason would think nothing of hitchhiking, digging ditches, working on road crews or taking refuge at a homeless shelter. It was beneath Sheldon. He thought he would never do anything like that.

But he had.

He’d done that and more. When he couldn’t find a soup kitchen, when he was too far from anyplace, when he had no more money, he scoured trash cans, looking for anything to eat to stay alive. Now he had a job and a place to live. His pay was a little more than minimum wage. He had no savings and usually cooked and ate his own meals—simple ones, nothing fancy. His bathroom had no mirror in it, so he didn’t always know what he looked like, but the last time he saw a reflection in a store window, he seemed identical to his father if his father was a fiftysomething vagrant. He had a beard and unkempt hair. He’d lost at least forty pounds and wore thrift-store finds.

He no longer resented Jason. Jason was a survivor. He would adapt, do what was necessary to get back on his feet. Sheldon used his brother, no longer thinking of him as a half brother, as an inspiration. Every time he wanted to quit the menial job, he considered what Jason would do. Jason would stick it out. He’d perform the tasks at an exemplary level until he raised enough money to move on. Then he’d go to the next job. Sheldon was a Kendall, and while Jason was also a Kendall, his half brother had a tougher bloodline on his mother’s side. It had made him strong. Surely Sheldon could at least do half of what Jason would do.

Again, he stopped to look over the marina and speculate where Jason might be. Had leaving the farm destroyed any love he had for the Kendall? Would he ever return? Sheldon was hardly in a place to know. He didn’t ever expect to see the Kendall again himself. Knowing it was no longer in his family, yet being nearby, would be too much for him. He’d disappointed his father and the generations of Kendalls that had come before him.

He would not go back.

In his bungalow, Sheldon set a small pot in which he’d dumped a can of soup on the burner and waited for it to heat. Even though the temperature outside was nearing the century mark, he lunched on soup and bread, saving his dinner for the larger meal of the day. Tonight he was having canned chili with rice.

Sheldon ate leisurely and alone. When he finished, he cleaned his dishes, set them in the drainer for use later and took a quick shower. He changed clothes and headed back to the cabin cruiser he was working on.

“Whatcha doing?” Christian Mitchell, Audrey’s grandson asked.

Sheldon looked down to find the nine-year-old standing next to him. He wore gray shorts and a white shirt with an anchor on the breast pocket. His feet were in deck shoes and no socks. Sheldon had met the boy several times and he always came to talk to him. While Sheldon wasn’t used to small children, he thought Christian missed male company.

“Cleaning the bottom of the boat,” Sheldon told him.

“How’d it get dirty?” he asked.

“These things are in the water and they see the boat and they want to make it their home.”

“So?”

“They slow the boat down when it’s sailing and you know how much we all like speed.”

Christian smiled. He’d seen Christian on his bicycle and knew if his grandmother found him riding in places this far from their home, she’d ban any use of the two-wheeler.

“If we don’t get the barnacles off, they’ll eat right through and then the boat will leak. We can’t have that happening.”

Christian was shaking his head slowly from left to right. “Then the boat would sink. And it they couldn’t swim, they could drown,” the child said.

“That’s right.”

“Can you sail?” Christian asked.

“No,” Sheldon told him. As far as his work was concerned, he hoisted the boat out of the water and worked on it while it was either in dry dock or he’d swing it over the wharf and work on it there. He was doing that today.

“How come you work on boats then?” Christian asked.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he said.

“You eat these?” The child’s face squinched up as he peered at the barnacles on the tarp and his expression was that of horror.

“No, I don’t eat these,” Sheldon mimicked with a laugh.

The child looked relieved. “They’re ugly,” he said.

“That they are,” he agreed. He glanced farther down the marina and then by the row of houses leading away from the area. He didn’t see Audrey. “Does your grandmother know you’re here?”

Christian stared at the ground, but didn’t say anything at first. “I told her I was going to play video games.”

“Here, by the water?”

He nodded, but Sheldon could see there was little belief in the gesture.

“And what did she say?”

“She told me to be home in time to eat.”

“And that’s all she said?”

He nodded.

Sheldon stopped working and stooped down to Christian’s level. “I know you like the boats, Christian,” he said. “I know you like coming here, but your grandmother could be very worried if she can’t find you where you’re supposed to be. Do you understand?”

He nodded again, but still refused to make eye contact with Sheldon.

“Tell you what.”

The boy looked up as if he was about to get a reprieve.

“Why don’t you go tell her where you are. And if she says it’s all right, you can come back.”

Christian smiled. He ran off, calling his grandmother.

Sheldon watched him go. He smiled after the boy, his gangly legs trying to keep up with his growing body. At least there was one person who liked Sheldon for who he was. Christian didn’t mind being around him. He didn’t look at Sheldon’s clothes, his beard or where he lived and judge him as someone unworthy of his attention.

Suddenly Sheldon remembered Jason. He was about Christian’s age when he came to live with them. Had Jason been as innocent and in need of love and acceptance as Christian when he came to the Kendall?

* * *

HOW HAD ALL this happened, Jace asked himself. How could Sheldon let the house and the horses go? He knew his brother loved the Kendall. Had the years changed him? Jace needed to know. He needed to understand what motivated Sheldon to give up and walk away, leaving everything he owned behind.

Why hadn’t Sheldon tried to contact him? Of course, Jace had left angry over Laura, but when things had gotten so bad that Sheldon needed money, why didn’t he at least call him? Sheldon could have tracked him down. Yet, just as his brother ignored him when he was present, he also cut him out of what he might have been able to provide to keep the farm in the family. As distant as Sheldon thought Jace was, the two still shared a bloodline and a heritage.

Questions, Jace thought. Since he’d arrived at the Kendall that rainy night all he had were questions and no answers. He was going to have to face facts and find his brother. Sheldon held the key to whatever was going on.

Jace wasn’t even sure if Sheldon was still alive. His search for his brother, who was older than Jace by more than two decades, would have to start at square one. It wouldn’t be easy. Yet someone had to know what had happened to him. Kelly said she thought he’d left the state. Why would he do that? He’d lived his entire life in Maryland. At the Kendall. Obviously, he had friends, business acquaintances elsewhere, maybe he’d gone to one of them? Jace wished he’d known his brother better, it would give him a clue now as to where to look.