A Stranger in Wynnedower (14 page)

“The connection is
bad.”

“I know. Not many
–
here.”

She raised her voice.
“Where are you?”

“Rock….”

“What did you say?”

“Remember…girl I told
you…. We
–
”

“What? You what?”

“
–
went and she
had this
–
”

“Jeremy, this
connection is awful. Tell me you’re okay?”

“Great. I’m great.”

Despite the static and
clunking sounds, she heard ‘great’ loud and clear.

“Don’t wor
–
try
–
call again
soon.”

“Jeremy? Wait
–”

But he was gone.

“So?” Jack asked.

She stared at the
phone. “Rock something. He said he was in Rock something, and he said something
about a girl. I don’t know. It was a terrible connection.” She looked at Jack.
“He said he was great. He said he’ll try to call again soon.”

“You’re disappointed.
Your questions didn’t get answered, and you didn’t get your chance to rend and
tear.”

“Rend and tear?”

“Sure. Big sister
stuff.”

“Ridiculous. You are
ridiculous.”

“Hit a nerve?”

“No. I’m glad he’s
okay, and he’ll call again as soon as he can. I’ll get more information then,
but it didn’t sound like he was on his way back.” Deep breath. “I should go
home now.”

They walked back up the
slope together.

He answered, “I guess
you can.”

“That’s that, then.
I’ll print out the inventory when I get home and mail it to you. Maybe you’ll
find a new caretaker who can continue the work, as you said.” She smiled. “I
appreciate you giving me a place to stay. We got off to a rather rough start.”

“An unusual start.” He
rubbed his hands together. “I wonder
…
well, I was thinking. This timing isn’t good for me
…
not to say it’s
all about me, but I’m wondering if I might impose on you. Ask a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“If you could stay
another week or so. Even a few days would be a help.”

She bit the inside of
her cheek to slow her response. Her good excuses for staying were gone. But if
she was doing him a favor…. After all, he’d helped her, hadn’t he?

“If you need me…and, of
course, I’m still hoping for that interview with Martin Ballew.”

“I have a trip coming
up. I was hoping the progress could continue. We have the alarm system now, and
I’ll ask someone to stay over to watch the back, so you’d be safe. How would
you feel about that?”

“Maybe I could hang
around a little longer.”

“Excellent.”

He looked like a cat
who’d found a bowl of melted ice cream. Satisfied. She felt a purr coming on,
too.

Jack said, “I’ll get
the oven heating. Supper at six o’clock?”

“Sounds good. Thanks,
Jack.” She let him go ahead of her, hoping to contain herself until he was out
of sight. No hopping, skipping or jumping in delight, not while in public view,
anyway.

Jeremy, wherever he
was, seemed to be okay, and she could hang around Wynnedower a while longer.
She dialed Daisy who answered at the first ring.

“Hi, Rachel. Everything
okay? You hung up so abruptly.”

“It’s fine. It’s all
good. I heard from Jeremy. Our connection was bad, but I think he’s somewhere
with a girl.
That
girl, I guess.” She sighed. “Like Kilmer said.” Jack
had suggested something similar.

“Somewhere’s a big
place.”

“He sounds good, Daisy,
despite the poor connection. I was all set to pack up and leave for home, but
Jack has asked me to stay for another week or so. To continue with the
inventory.”

No response.

“To keep the progress
going in the house, you know. He has to take a short trip.”

Still no response.

“Am I talking to
myself?”

“I’ve been shaking my
head and waggling my finger at you. Guess you couldn’t hear it, huh? So, he
wants you to stay.”

“To keep on with–”

“Yeah. What you said.
Funny how, now that you’re all ready to leave, he’s got reasons for you to
stay. Reasons that have nothing to do with him, only with his house. Watch out,
Rachel.”

“You’re reading too
much into it.”

“Far be it from me to
interfere.” She broke off, choking.

“Are you laughing at
me?”

“Only a little bit.
Listen to my question, Rachel. Are you safe at Wynnedower?”

She paused before
answering. “Yes.”

“Here’s my advice. Take
it for what it’s worth. This is a pretty sorry vacation, but it may be the only
one you get, so if you’re having any kind of fun and you’re safe, then make the
most of it. Who knows, if you hang around, maybe that museum guy will come
back. You should give his office a call. Stay on their radar.”

“Good idea. I’ll do
that.”

“Rachel, you think too
much. It gets very crowded in that brain of yours. Listen to your heart
occasionally.”

“Bye.” Rachel
disconnected. She’d been asked to stay, and he’d mentioned supper so they were
officially dining together. She looked down at her shorts. Her shirt was
wrinkled. Wouldn’t hurt her a bit to freshen up.

****

She reminded herself it
was no more than a business dinner. Rachel set the table while Jack checked the
casserole baking in the oven.

“A few more minutes,”
he said.

“No rush.” She fixed a
tall glass of ice water and parked herself at the table.

He half-turned. “Will
you be okay here when I’m out of town?”

“You said you’d get
someone to watch the back of the house, right?”

“Mike’s younger
brother. He’s reliable. If you get uneasy, call the police. Don’t do anything
on your own. I want you here for your good judgment, not for physical security.

Her good judgment?
Funny. “When are you going?”

“Thursday.” His eyes
were bright, and his complexion was flushed.

Jack put the casserole
dish on the table. “These are delicious, but I’m getting tired of casseroles.
Maybe salads would help. Do you cook, by any chance?”

“No. I usually eat in
restaurants. It’s not much fun to cook for one, and after working all day it’s
easier to grab a meal on the way home. I’m sure May can cook other things. Have
you asked her?”

He laughed. “Sure. Ask
her yourself if you’re in the mood for a thirty minute lecture on why
casseroles make more sense with her not living on the premises.”

“I guess she’d rather
live right here.”

Jack paused with his
fork suspended mid-air. “You’re probably right about that.”

“Where does May come
from? How does she get here?”

“She walks. She lives
in a house down the back path.”

“Really?”

“There’s an old service
road that leads to Wynnedower from the back. The house is on that road. It’s
part of the estate. It’s small and definitely inconvenient to the rest of the
world, but she likes it.”

The idea of May in the
retainer’s cottage disturbed Rachel. A little picture bloomed in her head of
May sitting in her small house waiting for her next appearance at Wynnedower.
Waiting and planning between visits to Wynnedower. Everything for Wynnedower
and the Wynne family.

“You look troubled.”

“Just thinking about
May.”

“Don’t worry about her.
She’s content with ruling this house. What about you? Feeling better about your
brother?”

“Yes, but I have
questions.” She spooned the casserole onto her plate. “What’s this?”

“It’s the sausage,
linguini and marinara sauce combo.”

“Why didn’t Jeremy tell
me he was going somewhere so remote that he couldn’t get a decent cell signal?
How could he take off without notice, leaving this house and his responsibility
here?”

“It’s worked out, and
it’s not your worry. You aren’t responsible for an adult sibling.” He added,
“It’s the curse of the firstborn.”

“I guess you know about
that. It’s probably not much different with a sister.” It sounded sharp, and
Rachel regretted saying it, thinking about that instead of the fact that she’d
mentioned his sister. The silence fell around them. That got her attention.

“Where did you hear
about my sister?”

His conversational,
chummy tone had dropped off like an ill-fitting costume. She was reminded of
quicksand.

“I believe May
mentioned you had a sister.”

He didn’t speak. She
saw disbelief in his eyes. She couldn’t say ‘Kilmer told me.’ How could she
bring him up now without seeming deceitful?

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t
supposed to mention her. I didn’t know…that I shouldn’t. Please don’t be angry
with May. The subject came up naturally when we were talking about my brother.
It flowed from there. She said something about enjoying cooking for you when
you were children. Plural. I should’ve let it go and minded my own business.”
She’d figure out a way to tell Jack about Kilmer later, if she had to. If
Kilmer came back, she was going to tell him to go away, stay away and leave her
alone.

Jack resumed eating,
and she thought the awkward moment had passed. In the midst of the silence, he
suddenly nodded and said, “She’s very special, and I’m protective of her.”

“Protective? I guess I
know how that feels.” She laughed softly. “Does she ever come here? I mean, if
you don’t mind me asking.”

He gave her an odd look
and shook his head. “Sometimes.”

“I’m sorry I won’t get
the chance to meet her.”

Jack nodded, then
suddenly his mood lightened. “Never mind. I have something to show you.”

Jack wanted her to ask,
expected her to be curious, but she said nothing. He watched as she scraped the
casserole remains from her plate into the trash, and then set the plate and
utensils on the counter while she ran the water, holding her fingers in the
stream, waiting for it to get hot. She was taking her time on purpose. He knew
it.

“It’s obvious you’re
the firstborn.”

She looked back over
her shoulder. “You said that a few minutes ago. The curse of the firstborn? I
don’t feel cursed.”

“Not exactly how I
meant it.”

“Bring your plate over.
We’ll get this done in a jiffy.” She held out her wet, sudsy hand. “So, why is
it obvious?”

“Because you give
orders, not take them.”

She fixed those amazing
eyes on him. “And you don’t?”

“Proves my point. Just
rinse and stack the dishes.” He understood the need to respond on one’s own
terms. He could respect that even if it annoyed him. He saw the potential in
her. She was different from the people who depended on him. She could be
irritating; she could also help him, but to do that she needed to know the
truth. At least, part of the truth.

She squirted the dish
detergent into the sink, then slid the plates into the suds.

“Okay, that’s enough.”
He reached across and turned off the faucet.

“Enough for what?”

He tried to soften his
impatience with a smile. “Come with me. This way.”

At the dining room
doors, he paused. He pulled the keys from his pocket. The skeleton key
contrasted oddly with the modern keys. When he opened the doors, he reached in
and hit the light switch. The chandelier sprang to life. Light from the dining
room spilled out. This was the moment that gripped him each time. It was a
feeling he couldn’t put into words. He motioned for Rachel to enter.

The room stretched out
long, and the end was rounded. The windows showcased a lavender sky with a
setting sun. He waited as her eyes caught on the easel and a table, no more
than a small island in the middle of an almost empty room.

A canvas tarp covered
the floor beneath the easel and painting cart. Stacks of stretched canvases
leaned against the side wall, turned to face the wall. A large cardboard box
sat beside them filled with junky stuff.

“You’re an artist? Like
your great-grandfather?”

“Like my
great-grandfather? I hope not.”

As she approached the
easel, he said, “Be honest.”

He was apprehensive.
Foolishly so. It didn’t matter if she appreciated art, or in particular, his
art. That wasn’t the point at all.

It was a landscape, a
garden view as seen through the window. The viewpoint included the back half of
the wing where his quarters were located on the opposite side. Far from
finished, dabs of green and brown peppered the garden expanse, but large areas
were unformed and untouched.