Rowena was getting impatient. “Happy birthday, Mr. Nelson.”
“Well, no, it ain’t my birthday today, ma’am. It’s the year I was born.”
Rowena’s head was going to explode. Rowena started to respond, “No, I didn’t mean—oh, never mind. Yes, a co—whatever you called it.”
“Co-inky-dink. When two things happen at the same time. Get it?”
“I do, Mr. Nelson. I’ll send that payment over to you as soon as you send the request.” She was not in the mood for a game of wits, especially with someone who was totally lacking the equipment to play the game. She gave him her e-mail address to send the PayPal invoice.
“Right. I’ll get that info to you A-SAP!” Just before he ended the call Rowena heard him say to his friends, “Gotta run, guys. I’m about to make myself a sweet grand. Drinks on me!” There was cheering, then the line went dead.
Rowena looked up at the weary Arthur. “How do you like me now?”
“Better than I did ten minutes ago.” He walked over to the credenza and poured two triple shots of scotch. He downed half of his before he turned to Rowena. “Here. You earned this.”
It was Arthur’s most expensive scotch. The richness of chocolate-covered oranges, malt, and oak fetched a mere $5,000 a bottle for the Macallan thirty-year-old elixir.
“Yes, I certainly did. Let’s hope it will get us what we want.” She raised her glass in the air. “Cheers!”
Arthur finished his in one more gulp. Such a waste of good scotch. Not the slightest opportunity for the palate to enjoy the smoothness of the blend.
Rowena sipped hers. “I’m going to take a shower. This guy is going to be a while. Although I’ll bet there is a PayPal invoice waiting for me to deal with.” She set the glass down and went back to the computer. “Bingo. And there it is. You think he doesn’t trust us?”
“Do you think we should trust him?” Arthur asked in return.
“It’s a gamble I’m willing to take.” She hesitated but couldn’t resist. “Come on, Arthur, since when did you ever walk away from a sure thing?”
He shot her a vile look. “Don’t start, Rowena. I was close to being in a better mood.”
“Fine. I’m going upstairs. I’ll leave my phone here in case he calls while I’m cleaning up my act.”
“I might want to do the same. I’m not exactly tidy myself.”
Cranberry Lake—Cobblestone Hill
Saturday Night
After dinner was over, everyone helped clear the dishes and wash and dry the pots and pans. The kitchen was spotless by the time they were done.
“Not only haven’t we eaten this well, but I don’t remember the last time the place looked this good.” Clive glanced around the room. “Let’s go sit out on the porch for a bit.”
“I will have to get Max ready for bed,” Colette said.
“All right. Then after he’s tucked in. We have kind of a tradition here. Every night after dinner, Logan and I sit on the back porch and listen to crickets. Not because they sound good, but because there isn’t much else to do up here at night.”
“Oh, but it’s so beautiful. Tranquil,” Colette replied.
“And that’s the point. It’s beautiful, tranquil, and there is absolutely nothing else you can do in the evening except read a book or watch TV. But you can do that anywhere. It’s not often you can simply sit and listen to crickets.” Clive poured himself a glass of port. “Would you like one?”
“Yes, thank you.” Colette felt the weight of the world lifting off her shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
She motioned for Max. “Say good night to Mr. Dunbar and Logan.”
Max put out his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Dunbar. Thank you for inviting us.” He turned to Logan. “And it is very nice to meet you, too.” Such a grown-up. Colette put her hands on his shoulders. She was proud of her little man.
When they went into Max’s guest room, he sat on the bed and eyed the space. It wasn’t a typical cabin. The walls were paneled in wood, as expected, but with a more updated spin. The planks were three inches high and four feet long, alternating colors from light gray to tans, and charcoal. The planks started at the floor and ran halfway up the wall. The effect was a rustic look without the heaviness. The rest of the walls were painted white, with light gray wood beams spanning the ceiling. Max lay down with his hands folded behind his head. “Mom?”
“Yes, Max.”
“I think this is the most beautiful room I have ever slept in. In my whole life!” He sat up and bounced a little on the bed.
“I know. It’s a beautiful place.” Colette pulled out a pair of pajamas for him, his little dopp kit, and a pair of sleeper socks, the kind that had the antiskid bottoms. Sometimes they’d get stuck on the sheets, but it was better to have something on your feet when you got out of bed, and kids and slippers don’t usually find each other. The slippers end up having a lonely life under the bed, until a stray sock or another slipper gets abandoned.
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think we could stay here a while longer?” Max rolled over and propped himself on his elbows.
“Oh, sweetie, I think Mr. Dunbar has been a most gracious host. I do not want to overstay our welcome. And I will have to get back to work, and you have to go to school.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I know.” Then he jumped up. “But do you think we could come back and visit?”
Colette appreciated her son’s enthusiasm and didn’t want to ruin his mood. But she had no expectations of a future invitation. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” And she thought to herself, it would be nice. Logan seems like a very nice man. She laughed a little to herself. A girl can dream.
Colette pulled down the neutral-toned comforter. “It’s like a marshmallow.” Max brushed the fine bedcovering.
“OK. Say your prayers.”
Instead of the traditional kneeling on the floor, Max’s routine was to get into bed first, sit up, say his prayers, then fall backward onto his pillow and get a kiss on his forehead from his mother.
Tonight was no different. Except the people, the place, and pretty much everything else.
“Good night, Max,” Colette whispered. There was an en suite bathroom between their bedrooms. Max was comfortable knowing his mother was only a few feet away. She left the door ajar, creating a stream of light on the floor in case he woke up during the night.
Colette went back downstairs and through the great room that served as the living room. To one side was the large dining area. A ten-foot-wide granite-topped island cabinet separated the kitchen from the dining area. A stone fireplace was on the opposite wall. Vaulted ceilings and skylights brought the wonderful natural surroundings inside. It was a grand open-floor plan. She stopped for a moment. Everything had moved so quickly since she arrived that she hadn’t stopped to take it all in. It was no wonder Mr. Randolph had enjoyed his time in this place. She thought about him again. And then her thoughts turned to Arthur and Rowena Millstone. They had treated her terribly. Just as they treated everyone else, for that matter.
She looked beyond the porch as she walked to the gigantic sliding doors that led to the equally gigantic screened porch. From the porch, you stepped outside to a large wood deck that stepped down to several different levels. One was for grilling. One had a bar. Another was for lounging. From the lowest deck, a stone path wound its way to a long dock. At the end of the dock was another large deck area with Adirondack chairs. The late-summer sun was splashing pastel hues of lavender, pink, and orange. “It’s quite wonderful here.”
“It is. I can’t get enough of it. Here. Sit.” Clive handed her a beautiful stemmed glass of port and nodded to the teak sectional sofa with light gray cushions.
Colette smiled. “Again, my gratitude.”
“Please. You drove all the way here to give me something from Randolph. It is I who owe you my gratitude.”
Colette sipped on the port. “Max is quite taken with a
ll of this. I was concerned he would be upset with everything being so frenzied and impulsive.”
“He’s a bright young fellow. He adapts easily,” Clive noted.
Colette smiled. “I’m incredibly lucky. Most children would be a handful after a divorce, then moving without notice, then pulling him out of school to find you.”
“Seems like he has an adventurous soul. Good-natured, too.”
“Yes.” Colette was thoughtful. “I hope I can give him some stability when we get back to Buffalo.”
“Not to worry, dear.” Clive gave her a warm smile. “Once we get this notebook thing sorted out, and I can settle Randolph’s estate, we’ll discuss your future.”
Colette looked surprised. “My future?”
“Yes. And Max’s.” Clive had some important information to share with Colette and was weighing when it would be appropriate to say something to her about it. It could wait. At least a few days.
“I don’t understand.” Colette looked worried.
“Don’t be concerned. I’d like to know what your plans are. Your career ambitions. Your wish list for life.”
“You have been truly kind to me.”
“Randolph was very fond of you. He once told me that you were more respectful and caring than his son and that shrew, Rowena. Sorry. I shouldn’t call people names.”
Colette had a devilish look in her eye. “I can tell you something. The staff used to sing the song from One Hundred and One Dalmatians.” Colette sang the first line. “Rowena-de-Vil, Rowena-de-Vil . . .”
Clive burst out laughing. “Now, that is funny. Wait until I tell Logan. Better yet, you can tell him.”
“Where is he?”
“Trying to figure out how to get an Internet connection. He’s a little less comfortable than I am without it. At least for a day or so. People need to unplug once in a while.”
“Yes, I remember Mr. Randolph said before his heart condition got worse that he wouldn’t allow any business to be conducted in the home. I don’t know how he was able to build such an incredible business without working around the clock.”
“Well, that’s just it,” Clive went on to explain. “When Randolph was younger, his father badgered him about taking over the family business. Which, by the way, was nowhere near as huge as it is today. Don’t misunderstand. Millstone Enterprises was worth several million dollars when Randolph was in his early twenties, but he went on to prove himself to his father and expanded the company into what it is today.”
“I still don’t understand.” Colette looked perplexed.
“The first forty years of his marriage he was a workaholic. Back then, there was no Internet. No digital communications. He had to spend most of his time at the office, traveling, or on the telephone. In 1969, when Arthur was twelve, his mother developed a serious drinking and drug issue, unbeknownst to most. The drinking was obvious, but her addiction to valium and amphetamines resulted in a horrendous death.”
“Valium and amphetamines?” Colette looked shocked and surprised.
“Yes. Amphetamines to get her out of bed after a night of drinking and barbiturates. She was a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Oh my goodness. I had no idea. No one ever spoke of it.”
“Probably because everyone felt responsible. It wasn’t a secret, but no one had the courage to speak up. People looked the other way, even when she would pass out in a chair during a dinner party. But it all came together in a horrendous climax when Gloria died of an overdose. It was a long time ago. As I said, Arthur was only twelve.”
Colette was still in a state of disbelief.
“Everyone felt guilty. Except for Arthur. He was more peeved that his mother wasn’t around to dote on him. I don’t think he ever really mourned her, and he would have temper tantrums. People thought he was just ‘acting out,’ but he had always been a brat if you ask me. So, after Gloria died, Randolph decided that family was more important, and he would make it his mission to be home for dinner every night. No phone calls. No business. He wanted to focus on Arthur.”
Colette murmured a hum.
“Yes. It boggles the mind. Randolph put the brakes on his business to concentrate on his son, who was always getting into one kind of trouble or another. Small things in his teens. He wrecked a few expensive sports cars and dropped out of college three years in a row. Randolph gave him a job at the company hoping he’d be able to teach Arthur something about responsibility. But then Arthur would go to Randolph and ask for an advance, a loan. Nothing major in their world of money. A few thousand here, a few thousand there. Randolph hoped against hope that Arthur would get his act together.”
Clive paused, then gave a wry smile. “One evening after Randolph had bailed Arthur out of his gambling debt, he told me he thought maybe they had switched babies in the hospital, and he was given some hooligan’s son instead of his own.”
“Mr. Randolph must have been devastated.” Colette shook her head in shock. “When did Arthur marry Sylvia?” Colette asked.
“Arthur met Sylvia when he was thirty. Nice woman. Randolph hoped that Arthur would settle down. Have a family. Be accountable. They tried to have children, but it wasn’t in the cards, as they say. Things were relatively calm. Almost normal until a few years ago.”
“Is that when he met Rowena?” Colette was putting the timeline together.
“Rowena and his gambling debt were like the perfect storm. They both hit Arthur within a year of each other. Arthur had joined a club the year before and got into serious debt. He had a penchant for poker. Unfortunately, he and the cards were not in a mutually admiring relationship. He was on a serious losing streak, to the tune of $100,000. Randolph had to bail him out for fear Arthur would end up in a wheelchair, or possibly a grave. The people to whom he owed the money do not mess around.
“It seemed that as soon as that crisis was averted, in blows the Rowena tornado. Randolph thought Arthur was going through a second midlife crisis. In retrospect, it’s been a whole-life crisis with Arthur.”
“So how did Rowena become a Millstone?” Colette was curious as to the means the obvious parasite had used to worm her way into the Millstone family.
Clive let out a guffaw. “Among other things, Arthur was a scoundrel when it came to women. He would go to his club, where a few of his buddies would meet up with”—he cleared his throat—“ladies of the evening.”
“You mean prostitutes.” Colette wasn’t a prude, nor was she naïve.
Clive cleared his throat again. “Well, yes, I suppose.”
“So was Rowena one of those ‘ladies of the evening’?” Colette made air quotes.
“Not according to Arthur. She was a business colleague of one of his poker pals. Or so he said.”
“But how did she get him to marry her?”
Clive smirked and tilted his head. “You mean aside from giving him genital herpes?” Clive couldn’t resist punctuating Arthur’s lack of decency with the incurable socially transmitted disease. Plus, Colette was a big girl.
Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What?” She was incredulous.
“Yes. It’s true. When she told Arthur, he had to tell Sylvia, which is one of the reasons she divorced him.”
“I see.” Colette was zooming in on the picture Clive was painting for her. It wasn’t pretty.
“Once the divorce was final, Arthur decided if he ever wanted to have sex again, he’d have to marry Rowena. That is, if he didn’t want to be a total snake and not tell his sexual partners. Apparently, he hadn’t been practicing safe sex. Why start?” he asked sarcastically.
“For the other person’s safety?” Colette was both amused and horrified. “Wow. I often wondered why there was so much animosity between Rowena and Mr. Randolph.”
“Randolph believed Rowena did it on purpose. She had a loaded pistol and waited for a good target. It was criminal if you ask me,” Clive added.
“So Arthur went along with it because he felt he had no other choice.”
Colette made it a statement, not a question.
“Correct. Listen, I don’t feel one iota of pity for him. He made that bed. No pun intended.”
Colette chuckled. “This has been a highly informative conversation, sir. It explains a lot of things. There was always tension between Rowena and Arthur. A feeling of resentment. Often hostility. Now it all makes sense.”
“I always felt that was the reason for Randolph’s heart condition. It was one disappointment or bailout after another.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Arthur never showed any remorse for being a bounder; nor did he show any appreciation of his father. He acted as if bailing him out of his messes was what Randolph was supposed to do. Save his arse. Each and every time.
“A sad, pathetic story. I always felt bad for Randolph. He lost his wife and blamed himself. He changed his life to focus on his family, which was the absolute right thing to do. But then he pampered Arthur to the point where Arthur acted like he was invincible. Spoiled rotten, if you ask me. Instead of being grateful and wanting to make his father proud, it was as if Arthur’s mission was to take advantage of every situation.”
“This is so much to absorb.” Colette finished her port and proceeded to get up. “I don’t know if I am going to be able to sleep tonight.” She smirked.
Clive stood. “Colette, I cannot tell you how much your courage means to me. You were quite brave to come here.”
“I had to do it for Mr. Randolph.” Her eyes began to mist.
Logan came bounding into the room. “Got some Internet service back. I wouldn’t push it, though.”
“What do you mean?” Clive looked up.
“Don’t download any movies, music, big files. It’s like trying to thread a needle with a sausage.”
Colette chortled. “That could be very messy.”
Logan snorted. He thought she was charming, and there was a lot more to learn about this attractive, enigmatic woman who had appeared on their doorstep a few hours earlier. He had heard her name mentioned in passing but never had the opportunity to meet her. And she was far from ordinary-looking. Logan surmised she was also very bright. She had to be if she had been working for the Millstones. Either that or she was a total idiot and liked to be bossed around. He was certain it was the former.
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