“Well, we, uh…” Jesse stammered.
“Yes,” Vivian said. “At least, we could tell he was very protective of you. We weren’t positive how you felt.”
“We needed to keep it quiet. Amanda was very fond of Gordon, but she wouldn’t have allowed dating between two employees. When she sent him here, we were afraid she had begun to suspect.”
“She never suspected Mandy and Bobby Don?” Jesse asked in disbelief.
Bethany giggled and nuzzled the scruff of Lady’s neck before looking up with a twinkle in her eyes. “Aren’t they outrageous? But they never even looked at each other when Amanda was around. Besides, it’s not Mandy that Bobby Don stares at when he thinks nobody’s looking. It’s Helen.”
“Helen?” Vivian asked.
Jesse played back a mental tape of the overt sexuality of Mandy Landon against the faded uniform a size too big that Helen Oglethorpe wore. The lack of makeup, the flip-flops with socks, the strands of gray amid the brown versus Mandy’s brunette bouffant teased and sprayed into a helmet you could crack pecans on. Jesse couldn’t see Helen Oglethorpe winning that toss-up, but perhaps Bobby Don viewed them both as his own private harem.
Vivian’s nose crinkled in distaste. “I begin to see Amanda’s point about dating among the staff. What have you heard about Trisha? We were told she had a boyfriend.”
“Really?” Bethany shook her head. “Trish has always been social, but it’s been mainly groups of friends. She’s very serious about her studies. Now, Treena? She’s another story entirely.”
“So Treena has a boyfriend?” Jesse asked.
“Tons of them, but none of them serious, and none of them anything Amanda ever heard about.”
“Human nature,” Vivian said. “When you make the rules too strict, you just encourage people to rebel.” She glanced at her watch. “I suppose we should head down now. Do you know where we’re going?”
“The library.” Bethany took the lead through the doorway and into the hall. “Just stay with me. It’s possible no one will say anything, but if they do, I’ll handle it.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m not quite the milquetoast I probably seemed. Amanda expected her companion to act the part, so I found it was best to maintain a low profile. And she did make me terribly nervous at times.”
“It might be best for you to keep acting that part. At least for a while,” Jesse suggested. “Until we know for sure what happened to Amanda, you’ll be much less threatening as an intimidated companion.”
Bethany hugged the dog in her arms and shivered. “That shouldn’t be too hard, actually. I’ve always felt braver when Gordon’s around. But right now, I’m shaking in my shoes.”
“I’m sorry.” Jesse hated feeling as if she’d just scolded a puppy, but there was nothing she could do about that. They had arrived too late to help Amanda, but Bethany and Lady could still be in danger. “This whole thing is just plain sad.”
“Death is always sad, and murder is even sadder.” Vivian slipped her arms around the waists of the other two women. “Well, ladies, shall we see what comes next?”
She, still in her boots, and Jesse in her socks, marched toward the library with a very pale Bethany in tow.
~~~~~
At the door of the library, they stopped to arrange themselves. Bethany adjusted Lady onto her shoulder. Jesse took the side with the dog and slipped her arm around Bethany’s waist while Vivian took possession of Bethany’s other arm and entwined it with her own. Then, with Vivian and Jesse each opening one of the heavy double doors, they passed into a room of dark wood paneling and somber leather furniture.
Lawrence Hardy looked at home behind a Mission-style desk of quarter sawn oak that Jesse quickly identified as Craftsman era. Captain’s chairs borrowed from the dining room were lined in a row facing the desk, just enough to accommodate the five people expected for the reading of Amanda’s will.
Two young women they had yet to meet, one blonde and one a faded looking red, were seated together facing the far side of the impressive desk. An older woman with fluffy, almost white hair sat in the middle chair. Gordon Pitts sat in the outside chair, leaving the one next to the other women empty.
Bethany ignored the empty chair and led her entourage to the brown leather sofa that faced the room at a right angle from where Gordon sat. When the other women turned to stare at her entry, she said weakly, “I’m not feeling well. So I thought this would be best.”
Her fluttering hand indicated the sofa and, with it, the two women who accompanied her. Jesse nodded in silent greeting and did a quick scan of the two younger women. As their attention shifted from Vivian to Bethany to Jesse and back again, hopping from one person to another like nervous fleas, Jesse took the opportunity to study the girls.
The sun-streaked blonde was tanned, pretty, and athletic looking, possibly in her late twenties. Her features resembled a softer, more mature version of the dark-haired Frankie Landon, which led Jesse to identify her as Celeste Landon, landscape gardener and herbalist, who began her training as a child at Amanda’s knee.
The second girl wore no makeup. Her childlike face held a sulky expression and the beginning of frown lines that didn’t belong on someone who was barely in her twenties. In the artificial light of the room, her hair color was the orangey red hue of a washed-out dye job. But her porcelain white skin and almost colorless eyebrows argued that the hair color was natural.
Oddly pretty in spite of her unadorned petulance, the girl was losing her battle with a smile. The corners of her mouth twitched upward in a nervous tic while her eyes seemed eager for what was to come. Jesse hoped her first impression was wrong, but she could find nothing appealing about Treena Oglethorpe, who seemed nothing like her kind, down-to-earth mother.
The older woman, on the other hand, had the apple cheeks and soft white hair of a fairy godmother. A handkerchief was clenched in her hand as she sniffed delicately and dabbed at her pink-rimmed eyes. This kindly looking person would be Nettie Shoemacher, who, according to Bethany, was fearful for her future and possibly grieving, though her attachment to Amanda was yet to be determined.
As for Celeste, her sadness appeared to be genuine. Though not openly tearful, she didn’t seem to be suppressing an urge to do a happy dance the way young Treena was.
Lawrence Hardy shifted in his seat and cleared his throat before saying, “I don’t believe that your companions, Ms. O’Connor, have any interest in these proceedings.”
Gordon was halfway out of his seat by the time Jesse turned to see that Bethany’s eyes were awash in tears and her face had gone so white it was almost blue.
Vivian pointed a finger at Gordon before he could move closer. “Get us a glass of water,” she ordered.
After Gordon left at a trot, Vivian turned her attention to the man behind the desk. “And you, you big buffoon, you need to quit dallying once we get her calmed down again. One more upset, and it will be tomorrow before you have your little meeting, if then.”
Jesse took the dog and thrust her into Vivian’s arms, then pressed Bethany’s head back against the high leather cushion. “You’re not faking, are you?” she whispered.
Bethany’s eyes fluttered and she gave one small shake of her head. “Unfortunately not,” she said in a voice so weak she didn’t need to whisper.
“Thank you,” Vivian said when Gordon reappeared with the water. She handed Lady back across Bethany to Jesse, who admittedly had better rapport with the dog. Then Vivian guided the water glass to Bethany’s lips and helped her drink.
“This would probably do more good if I dumped it on your face,” Vivian admitted, “but we’ll try it this way.”
Cuddling Lady, who had begun to whine, Jesse asked, “Seriously, Bethany, do you think you can do this?”
Bethany nodded and took another drink of the water Vivian was holding.
“In all honesty, we probably need to get this over with,” Gordon said, blocking much of what they
were doing from the onlookers behind him. “Her nerves aren’t going to get any better so long as this is hanging over us. And thank you for being here. I’m practically useless to her at the moment.”
Bethany’s eyes flew open, and she drew in a breath to speak. Gordon silenced her with a shake of his head.
“Don’t say anything,” he murmured. “Let these ladies take care of you.” He leaned closer. “Our time will come later. Right now, I’m just the hired help.” His gaze lowered to the dog, who had worked her way back into Bethany’s arms and was licking her face. “And you have other work to do.”
Gordon returned to his seat, and Vivian set the water glass on the end table next to her. Bethany sat up straighter and hugged Lady to her while the little dog closed her eyes and snuggled. Seated on either side of her, Jesse and Vivian scooted closer just in case she began to wilt again.
“I’m ready to proceed,” Bethany announced in a voice that must have taken all her strength. “I know we’re all eager to get this done.”
Without arguing further, Lawrence Hardy began to read the Last Will and Testament of Amanda Oglethorpe Carmichael and the attached codicils that outlined exactly what she had arranged for everyone who worked for her and depended on her.
What followed was a long, convoluted recitation that had Jesse struggling to stay awake. When indignant murmurings immediately followed a shocked gasp, she perked up and began to listen to the droning voice of Lawrence Hardy confirm what Bethany had predicted. All of Amanda Carmichael’s fortune was tied up in a trust for her beloved pet, Lady Jane Grey, and Bethany O’Connor would continue in her role as companion and caretaker to the animal for the remainder of Lady Jane Grey’s life.
The muttering became openly mutinous when it was further stated that upon the death of her beloved pet, the entirety of the remaining trust would go to charity. Before everyone could faint dead away in their chairs, Mr. Hardy moved on to what had to have been a fairly recent addendum which offered the home and property, known as Drake’s Rest, located on Annalise Island in the San Juan Islands of Washington State, to any of her employees, who were then listed by name, should these individuals choose to take up permanent residence for the purpose of operating a bed and breakfast on the estate of Drake’s Rest.
Those individuals so choosing would share equally in ownership, responsibility and any profits that were made. And the first year of operation would be funded by the sale of the home and surrounding land owned by Amanda Carmichael in the state of Oklahoma.
When he was done, Bethany wasn’t the only one in a state of near collapse. Jesse and Vivian stared at each other with round eyes and open mouths. Some others, unfortunately, were not speechless.
“That can’t be! The dog?! She can’t do that!” Treena Oglethorpe was on her feet, near tears, and completely outraged. “And what’s this crap about a bed and breakfast? Do I look like an innkeeper?!”
Nettie Shoemacher now battled a smile while still sniffling into her handkerchief.
Celeste Landon looked perplexed and uncertain how to react. “I…” She looked around as if seeking guidance. “We would be the owners? That’s…that would be good. Wouldn’t it?”
Gordon and Bethany stared at each other, not saying anything, seeming afraid to move.
“I won’t have it!” Treena cried. She stomped her foot, not very effectively considering the flip-flops she wore. “My grandmother is on her way here, and you’ll see! She’ll take care of this!”
“Wasn’t expecting that,” Vivian said softly, ignoring the angry woman as completely as everyone else was doing.
“No,” Jesse agreed, “didn’t see it coming at all.”
“But it’s good, right?” Bethany whispered. “Giving us this house to run as a business?”
“It’s certainly different,” Vivian said.
“I think it’s good,” Jesse agreed. She couldn’t wait to get out of the room and away from the others to discuss all they had heard. “Amanda must have had a lot of imagination.”
“Who knew?” Vivian asked. “I wonder how long she was planning this.”
Gordon stood. “Are we done here?” he asked the attorney, who was returning his paperwork to his briefcase.
“For now,” Hardy answered. “Later tonight the executor should be arriving. He had to check into Customs on San Juan Island, so we will meet with him either tonight or tomorrow, depending on how late he’s getting here. He’ll discuss the details with you.”
Treena suddenly screamed, very much like a child throwing a tantrum. Arms stiff at her sides, she stalked from the room, flip-flops slapping as she went. The heavy library door slammed behind her.
Celeste shifted in her seat and looked over her shoulder with wide, almost panicked eyes. “Well, I think it’s good. I don’t care what anyone else says.” Her voice warbled, and her chin trembled, but she stayed in her chair.
Nodding in what looked like agreement, Nettie broke into loud sobs, interspersed with a smile between each round of tears.
Gordon turned to Bethany. “I think you need to go to your room now. You and that dog need to stay out of sight until things get worked out. If you knew that’s what Amanda was doing, why didn’t you warn me?”
“She didn’t tell me about her bed-and-breakfast idea. She just told me what she planned for Lady, to make sure I would stay on as her caretaker. And I couldn’t be sure Amanda wouldn’t change her mind.”
“Gordon might be right, Bethany,” Jesse said. “And you need to rest anyway. Tomorrow won’t be any better than today.”
Jesse stood and Vivian followed. Together, they got Bethany to her feet, Lady still cradled in her arms. Gordon fell into step with them.
“I think Amanda’s created some trouble here,” he said quietly.
“Well, Treena’s certainly not happy,” Jesse answered, “but the others seem okay. At least for the moment, they don’t seem opposed.”
“They haven’t had a chance for it to soak in yet. What was intended as a bequest might seem like a prison sentence once they have time to think,” he warned. “You’ve already seen Treena’s reaction.”
“They don’t have to accept it,” Vivian pointed out.
“Accept it or make their way on their own. Amanda created expectations, and now she leaves them with all these strings attached.” Gordon shook his head. “If someone did kill Amanda expecting to inherit, you have to wonder what they’re going to do now.”
An unexpected shiver raced up Jesse’s spine and across her shoulders. She looked up to see Lady watching her over Bethany’s shoulder with what looked like a smile on her face. Cinnamon brown eyes stared back at her from a sweet, happy face filled with innocent trust, and Jesse realized that she was hooked.
Vivian could fight for justice for Amanda. Jesse would fight to keep fuzzy-wuzzy safe. If anyone deserved a world filled with kindness and love, Lady Jane Grey certainly did, and Jesse would do battle with whatever dragons came her way to make sure that happened.
Chapter Sixteen
Jesse and Vivian located the wineglasses in the dining room china hutch, found an interesting merlot in the kitchen’s wine fridge, and made themselves at home in two comfy chairs tucked into the farthest corner of the front parlor. From there, they could see anyone coming or going from the central staircase and the entry hall while maintaining relative isolation for themselves.
“Do you suppose the police have gone?” Vivian asked. “It’s getting awfully late for them to still be poking about.”
“Other than seeing their boats when we arrived, I haven’t heard a peep out of them.” Jesse took a sip of the wine and wished they had confiscated some cheese from the industrial-sized doublewide refrigerator in the kitchen. “So, what do you think about the will?”
“I think that explains this house and that enormous refrigerator. And while it might seem high-handed of Amanda, I think she was genuinely trying to do the right thing.”
“Oh, definitely,” Jesse agreed. “They had a
ll come to her seeking her help. And while I’m sure they expected a bequest of money, she’s giving them an opportunity to share in a business of their own and become independent. They just have to get it running and keep it running.”
“So now we will see how many of them have the heart for it.”
“From initial reactions, I would say that Treena wants no part of it. And Celeste and Nettie Shoemacher seem bewildered but not unwilling.”
“I wonder what the others will think.” Vivian said. “If Mr. Hardy already met with them before he came here, then they know the terms of the will. Do you suppose your mother should make another trip out there to talk to them?”
“It would have to be tomorrow.” Jesse checked her watch, which showed a respectable 8:15 pm. “They’re two hours ahead of our time here. My heavens, did we just leave yesterday?”
“Seems long ago and far away, doesn’t it?” Vivian said. “So, what do you think of Amanda’s idea? As someone who started a similar partnership, do you think this place could work as a bed and breakfast?”
“Don’t you think so?” Jesse asked. “There are plenty of rooms, a six-burner stove, double ovens, giant refrigerator, separate freezer, and lots of public rooms for gathering. There’s a sandy beach, though the water’s probably too cold for swimming. And there’s a boat with a captain for fishing and excursions. Lord knows, there are plenty of housekeepers, gardeners and house staff among the new owners.”
“But could they make a living?” Vivian asked. “This island isn’t exactly on the beaten path.”
“From what I understand, this whole area is a sailor’s paradise. And as long as Gordon and that boat are here, remoteness isn’t a problem. Wasn’t there somebody who wanted to go to culinary school? A good chef could really put this place on the map.”
Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3) Page 12
