Unexpected Riches (Bellingwood Book 13) (7 page)

"But it's cold in the winter," he said. "I heard you found another dead body last weekend. Anybody from around here?"

"Nah. From New Mexico," Polly replied. "But the last name was Carter. And that’s Beryl’s maiden name."

He rubbed his hands up and down his arms and jumped in place. "Do you think they’re related?"

"We don’t know. It was out on her property." Polly glanced at him. "Why aren't you wearing a heavier coat?"

"Because I wasn't going to come out and talk to anybody, I was just going to let them run and call them back in a few minutes." Doug edged his way back to the door up to his apartment.

"Go," Polly said. "You're freezing."

"I'll be right back." He ran to the door and was gone.

"He's funny," Rebecca said. "Is he ever going to get a girlfriend?"

Polly laughed. "I don't know. He must not be ready for one. Sometimes people take longer than others to decide they want to be in a relationship."

"Oh, I understand that," Rebecca said, her voice full of passion. "Relationships are hard work. He should wait as long as he wants."

"Trouble with Andrew?"

She sighed. "It was so much easier when we were just friends. He wants to sit with me at lunch all the time and the other day, he tried to hold my hand when we were walking home from school. I had stuff in my hands!"

"What did you say to him?"

"That I had stuff in my hands!"

"Maybe you should break up if it's that hard to be in a relationship."

Rebecca pulled away and turned on Polly, crossing her arms in front of her. "I don't want to break up with him," she said. "I like him. I just want him to be normal and not all this lovey dovey stuff. Why doesn't he get that?"

"Maybe he's just as confused as to why you aren't more like him." Polly reached for Rebecca and pulled her back in. She missed the warmth.

"I thought you'd be all against that lovey dovey stuff."

"Holding hands? Sitting beside each other at lunch? That's the fun stuff and it doesn't get you into trouble with me. If you and Andrew are going together, that's part of it. It isn't like I'm naive about being in junior high. I was there once, myself."

"Yeah, but that was decades ago," Rebecca said.

Polly started to protest and realized that at least two decades had passed. "Thanks. Now I feel really old."

"I'm getting cold."

"Obiwan! Han!" Polly called. "You do know that if we move into the Bell House, we'll have a fenced in back yard and can just let them go outside without watching them."

"That would be awesome," Rebecca said. "Obiwan! Han! Come here!"

The two dogs sauntered toward them, Doug's dogs not far behind. Big Jack ran up and nipped at Han's neck, barked and ran away. The two chased off toward the driveway.

"Hey!" Polly yelled.

Rebecca put her hands over her ears. "That was loud."

"Oops. Sorry." Polly stepped away from her out of the garage. "Han. Jack. Come." She clicked her teeth and Han stopped in his tracks. "Come," she said again. Han turned to the bigger dog and walked toward her.

"Sorry about that," Doug said. "I didn't mean to leave you. The phone rang."

"Anybody interesting?" Polly asked. She put her hand down to pat Han's head. "Good boy."

"Nah." He opened the door that led up to his apartment and his dogs shook themselves before going inside.

"You're not telling me what I want to know," Polly said with a grin. She opened the door to Sycamore House and Rebecca stepped inside, waiting for their dogs to follow.

Doug turned around and gave Polly an evil smile. "I guess I'm not."

He stepped inside his doorway and she put her hand out to catch him. "That's not fair," she said.

"Life's not fair." He laughed out loud and pulled the door shut.

Polly shut the garage door and then stepped into the main building. "He's a rotten, horrible person."

"Because you want to know something?"

"Yes. If you ever do that to me, I'll do cruel and despicable things back to you," Polly threatened.

Rebecca opened the door up to their apartment and the dogs ran up in front of them. "Oh I know. I know."

Henry and Heath were in the media room with the television on when they got upstairs.

"You took long enough," Henry said. "We almost had ice cream without you."

"That would have been a dreadful mistake," Polly said. "Heath, any homework?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I did it all at school." When she looked at him, he put his hands up. "I swear. I did it all."

"Okay. Ice cream for you?"

"Yes please."

She looked at the kitchen. "Thanks for cleaning up, guys."

"We set up the bowls. All you have to do is scoop," Henry said.

Sure enough, four bowls were prepared with cake already in them.

"What are we watching?" Polly asked.

"
Shannara Chronicles
is just about on," Heath replied.

Polly grinned. She'd made such a big deal about watching the show when it started in January that they'd all sat down with her. When Heath expressed interest, she took the first book in Terry Brooks' series off the shelf and handed it to him. He found the next books on his own.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Living near a coffee shop was dangerous, but Polly could hardly keep herself away. What made it even worse was that it was just down the street from the elementary school. Dropping Rebecca off on cold days led to temptation and she generally caved in to it.

When she walked in, Polly was surprised to see Lydia at a table by herself.

"Good morning, dear," Lydia said.

"Good morning to you," Polly replied. "What are you doing here so early?"

"We have an emergency."

Polly chuckled. "An emergency that requires coffee?"

Lydia looked back toward the bakery. "No. Muffins. I'm waiting for the next batch to come out."

"What's the emergency?" Polly waved at Camille behind the counter. She and a new employee were waiting on several customers. Polly was in no hurry.

"Beryl called in a complete panic an hour ago," Lydia said. "I didn't have time to bake, so Sylvie is taking care of us."

"What's wrong with Beryl?"

Lydia smiled. "Her brothers are at her house." She looked at her watch. "Just about now."

Polly sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Beryl Watson's brothers showed up at her house early in the morning. When did they tell her they were coming?"

"The poor girl got an email from Melvin. He and Harold needed to speak with her."

"At nine o'clock in the morning. It couldn't wait until later in the day," Polly said.

Lydia nodded. "The worst thing is that the email arrived at six o'clock this morning."

"At least they didn't show up on her doorstep with no notice."

"They knew what they were doing," Lydia said through gritted teeth. "Those boys have no respect for their sister."

Beryl rarely talked about her family and Polly had never met her brothers. It was hard to imagine that they didn't have anything to do with her. No, once Polly thought about it, that wasn't hard to imagine at all. Most people in Bellingwood didn't have much to do with Beryl. She was her own person and lived her own life, seemingly oblivious to what others thought.

"What are they like?" Polly blurted out.

"Melvin is just like his father. When he was younger, he drove a propane truck. Good honest work. He has two daughters who married men a lot like their daddy. I don't know what they do. Harold worked as a welder down in Boone until he had to stop. Then he went to work for the county roads department. I think he retired a couple of years ago. He and Pat had six kids and between them, they have at least twenty grandkids and there might even be a couple of great-grandkids by now."

"And Beryl isn't involved in any of their lives? None of them want to be associated with a famous artist?"

Lydia smiled a sad smile. "She tried when her nieces and nephews were young. She'd go to Christmas parties and attempted to go to their school events, but I think she embarrassed her brothers because she wasn't bland like they were." Lydia sniffed. "She even dressed down for them, but the poor woman doesn't own plain navy blue or brown anything. Then one day she realized that nobody had told her when school events were happening. She was invited to their weddings, but the kids didn't know her any longer. She'd never been allowed to be part of their lives once they were through elementary school. Beryl sent gifts - she still does. She goes to weddings and if there is a public event like a baptism at church or a graduation, she's always there."

"Wow," Polly said. "She's better than me. I've never attempted to get involved in Uncle Will's kids' lives."

"He's not your brother, though," Lydia replied. "It was his responsibility to be involved in your life. Not only was he not involved, but he blatantly told your father that he wanted nothing to do with you. It's a little different."

"I suppose. But this has to be hard on Beryl."

"It is. And the thing that just raises my ire is that those damned brothers of hers still think that after all of that, they have a right to disrespect her." Lydia pulled her right hand into a fist and shook it. "If she'd just let me at 'em one time. I'd give those boys a piece of my mind."

Polly chuckled. "Beryl always gives people a piece of her mind. I can't believe she doesn't say anything to her brothers."

"Isn't it funny," Lydia said. "After all these years, she's afraid that they'll cut her off completely from their families." She snarled. "Like they haven't already. But at least it's still amicable and Beryl desperately wants it to stay that way. She'll put up with anything from them."

Camille came over to the table with a box and a cup. "I went ahead and made your regular, Polly," she said. "Is that what you wanted?"

Polly took the cup from her and held it against her chest. "It's exactly what I wanted. Thank you."

"Sylvie says she didn't put any poison in the muffins." Camille put the box down in front of Lydia.

"Rats," Lydia said. "Just a little to make them feel sick to their stomachs?"

Camille laughed. "Not this week."

"Tell her thank you." Lydia pressed some bills into Camille's hand. "Thank you very much."

"This isn't necessary," Camille said. "You've already paid us."

"I just paid for Polly's coffee and a little extra. You took care of me today and I appreciate it."

Polly smiled up at Camille and shrugged. "You try to fight with her. It's a losing battle."

"Then I'll say thank you." Camille patted Polly's shoulder and walked away, picking up mugs from a table whose occupants had just left.

Lydia looked down at the box in front of her. "It's time to enter the fray. I can think of a thousand things I'd rather do with Beryl today." She looked at Polly, pleading in her eyes. "Do you want to come with me?"

Polly took a slow sip from her cup. "What's in it for me?" she asked.

"My undying love and one of Sylvie's muffins?"

"You already love me and I know the baker," Polly said.

Lydia put her hand over her mouth and coughed. "I'm coming down with something and I should send you over with this food."

"Why don't you want to do this?"

"Were you not listening?" Lydia scowled at Polly. "Beryl has insensitive brothers who are mean to her."

"It can't be that bad. But of course I'll go with you. I don't have anything important to do this morning. The research on Bell House can wait."

"Bell House?" Lydia asked. She stood up and took her coat up from the back of her chair.

"I haven't had a chance to tell you yet," Polly said. "We found an old title to the house. The original title. The son of one of Bellingwood's founders originally built the Springer House as an inn. It's one hundred years old this year."

Lydia smiled. "Are you going to celebrate that with the sesquicentennial?"

"Maybe," Polly said. "It all depends on whether or not Henry can find time in his schedule to do the renovation work. We'll do something this summer but I'm not sure what it will be."

She waved goodbye to Camille as they walked out the front door.

"I'll see you there," Lydia said. "And don't you dare drive off and leave me. I'm counting on you now, you know."

"Got it. Straight to Beryl's house and no detours." Polly climbed in her truck, took her phone out of her pocket, and dialed.

"You have a better offer, don't you?" Jeff Lindsay asked.

She was perplexed. "What?"

"You aren't coming into the office this morning. I know you, you're a slacker."

"Why, yes I am," she said with a laugh. "I did think to call and let you know, though."

"Spending the morning at the Springer House?"

"Bell House," she corrected. "No. I'm going over to Beryl's for a while. If you need me, though, call."

"I'll let Stephanie know," Jeff said. "I'll be out most of the day. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." Polly backed out of the parking space and drove the few blocks to Beryl's house.

Two pickup trucks were parked in Beryl's driveway, so Polly pulled in behind Lydia's Jeep in front of the house. She was immediately transported back to the days when they'd rebuilt Beryl's studio. Neighbors were upset at the extra traffic. She inadvertently turned around and glanced back at Larry Storey's house. He'd made sure that Polly knew how offensive the extra vehicles were around Beryl's house.

There he was, peeking out of his front window. He'd pulled the curtain back to see the activity.

Polly got out and walked around the back of her truck, looked up again and waved at him before going to the front door. The poor man waved back, then left the window altogether.

She put her hand up to knock, but Lydia was right there and opened the door. "Polly Giller," Lydia said. "It's good to see you. What brings you out today?"

"Ummm..." Polly was at a loss.

"That's wonderful," Lydia said. "I'm sure Beryl would like you to meet her brothers. Come on in."

Polly followed Lydia into the living room and hugged Beryl when the woman jumped out of her seat and rushed over to her. "How are you this morning?" Polly asked.

Beryl nodded. "I'm fine. Let me introduce you to my brothers. Melvin, this is Polly Giller. She owns Sycamore House and the Sycamore Inn."

The older of the two men stood up. He'd lost most all of his hair. What was left was white and thin. He was a big man, mostly in the belly. His well-worn blue jeans barely stayed up. Polly knew she shouldn't notice that he had no butt to hold them in place, but she did and he didn't.

He'd stood to shake her hand. "This is our brother, Harold."

Harold looked a lot like his brother. Not quite as big, but still a large man. He wore a flannel shirt over a t-shirt that was tucked into his jeans. The hat on the table had to have been his because there was still a crease in the little bit of hair he had left on his head.

Because there wasn't much room beside his brother, he didn't stand and Polly reached over to shake his hand.

"It's nice to meet you both," she said.

One little grey cat was alert on the chair Beryl had just left. "Where's the other one?" Polly asked.

"I'll pick her up this morning after we're finished," Beryl said. "Hem came home with me last night." She gestured to the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?"

Polly looked at the mugs on the table and glanced at Lydia who gave her a surreptitious nod. "I'd love some. But I can get it."

Beryl looked at her brothers. "I'll be right back. Help yourself to the muffins. They're made by the best baker in town." She pushed Polly ahead of her, scooting her toward the kitchen. Once they crested the threshold, she whispered. "I'm so glad you two are here."

"What's going on?" Polly asked.

"They're asking me questions about that young man that was killed. I told them to call the sheriff, but they want to hear it from me. I don't know what to tell them. I've been so busy that I haven't called my aunt about the genealogy and I don't have any answers. Aaron hasn't told me anything new. What am I supposed to say?"

"Say that," Lydia said. "What do they want from you?"

"Answers. They're upset that I didn't call anyone on Saturday when it happened. How was I to know that they required a phone call from me? Am I a mind-reader?"

Lydia patted Beryl's arm. "Calm down. If you don't have information for them, then that's all there is to it. They made a trip for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Beryl said. "You brought muffins. They got a free breakfast."

"Those two men are your brothers?" Polly asked.

Beryl cackled. "I love you, Polly Giller. You know the best things to say." She took down two mugs and poured coffee into them. Then she opened the lower cupboard and pulled out a brown bottle. "Want some Irish cream in there?"

"No," Lydia said. "I'm not starting my day out by getting drunk."

"You're no fun." Beryl stuck her tongue out and put the bottle back into the cupboard. She handed the mugs to Lydia and Polly. "Shall we?"

They followed her back to the living room and sat down in chairs opposite the sofa.

"Muffin?" Beryl asked Polly, reaching for the bakery box.