Your House or Mine?

by Cynthia Thomason

  “Oh, right. I wish I still had it.”

  Meg smiled. She was certain Jerry didn’t have anything left of the paycheck he got two days ago, much less that windfall from Amelia. “Anyway,” she said, “when Amelia made out her will, I’m sure she was recalling the fun times we all had together when we were kids. I’m not surprised she left something to Gloria.”

  “That’s good news, Meggie,” Jerry said. “If she remembers leaving the contents of the house to Gloria, then she must remember giving you the house.”

  Meg blew out a long breath and started her car. “I was hoping she would, but she didn’t, not yet anyway. But it’s a start.”

  “So the deputy still thinks he’s buying Ashford House?”

  “Yes, he definitely does.”

  “Well, just get a copy of the Quit Claim Deed and shove it in his face. That should convince him.”

  “I would, but I can’t find a copy anywhere in the house.”

  “So look somewhere else. A safety deposit box. Her lawyer’s office. You’ll find it.”

  Imagine. Jerry actually coming up with a positive suggestion. “Of course. I will. Thanks, Jer.”

  “Oh, gotta go. That girl I told you about yesterday—the good-looking one—she just came in the door. I’ll put the sprout on the line.”

  “No, wait! Forget about the girl for a minute. I haven’t asked you about the auction. Are you set up? Did you call in the newspaper ad? Did you clean the furniture so it looks presentable?”

  These jobs were generally Meg’s responsibilities, not that Jerry wasn’t capable of handling them. But, typically, Meg had never insisted that he take charge of day-to-day auction chores. She regretted that now.

  She’d lost him. She knew it when Jerry’s voice sounded distant, as if he were holding the phone far from his ear. “Hi there,” he said. “Be right with you. Hey, Spence, buddy, come take the phone, will you?”

  The next voice Meg heard was her son’s. And the distant charming drawl her brother used when he was trying to impress the heck out of someone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HIS ATTENTION GLUED on the petite blonde who’d just come in the door, Jerry walked briskly up the center aisle of the auction house. He intercepted his visitor near the platform where merchandise for that night’s sale was set up. “Hey, Mary Beth, isn’t it?”

  Of course he darned well knew her name. He’d been singing it in his mind since the day before. But he didn’t want to appear overanxious.

  She rewarded him with a quick smile. “Oh, you remembered.”

  He leaned against the platform. “Sure. There are some names and faces that a guy just can’t forget.” So much for playing it cool.

  She twirled a strand of strawberry-blond hair with her index finger. “You’re sweet.”

  Before he openly drooled, Jerry switched the conversation to a business topic. “Did you bring samples of that merchandise you told me about yesterday?” he asked.

  “Sure did. I’ve got lots of pieces in my van outside. You want to have a look?”

  “You bet. Just a sec.” Jerry shouted into the office, “Hey, Spence, I’m going into the parking lot for a minute. Be right back.”

  As they walked toward the door, Mary Beth looked into the office as well. “What a cute little boy,” she said. “Is he yours?”

  Jerry almost laughed out loud. “Mine? Hell… I mean heck no. I’m just—”

  “I love children,” she interrupted. “Look at those glasses and that curly hair. He’s adorable.”

  “Yeah, he’s adorable all right.” Noticing that Mary Beth’s expression became blissfully maternal, Jerry added, “The kid and I—we’re practically inseparable.”

  “But you’re not related?”

  “Oh, we are. I’m his uncle, but I guess you could say I’m more like a father to him. I’ve been watching him since his mother left…”

  “His mother left him?”

  Mary Beth appeared ready to jump to the aid of two men in distress. Picturing an interesting benefit to Mary Beth’s obvious nurturing instincts, Jerry decided on an evasive explanation that wasn’t exactly a lie. “It’s a long story.”

  Spencer looked over at them and Jerry waved.

  “You must be doing a wonderful job with him. He looks happy.”

  “He is, most of the time,” Jerry said. “It’s not easy assuming the role of a single parent these days.” At least that’s what Meggie tells me.

  He should have stopped right there, but the sympathetic interest in Mary Beth’s violet eyes was irresistible. “I think the kid misses a woman’s touch, though,” he said. “I’m the rough and tumble type. I play football, go to baseball games, eat cheeseburgers for breakfast. Those kinds of activities are okay for my nephew I guess, but I’m learning to look deep into my emotional side, for his sake.”

  Mary Beth gave him an approving smile. “Not many men would do that. I admire you.”

  “Thanks. I suppose I’m just naturally a caring type of guy.” He took her elbow and led her to the door before Spencer could get off the phone and begin repeating everything his mother had just said. “Okay, then, let’s have a look at what you brought.”

  They went outside to a van marked Good Samaritan Charity. Mary Beth unlocked the loading door in back and stepped aside so Jerry could see the cargo.

  He stared at sealed cartons of household appliances, electronics and computer equipment. “Wow. This is some great stuff.” He gave her a casual sort of grin. “It’s not hot, is it?”

  “Oh, no,” she quickly assured him. “Our charity would never accept merchandise like that. It’s mostly just returned items.”

  “Is any of it damaged?”

  “None of it. The man who gave it to us said they get factory overruns, close-outs, and, like I said, unopened customer returns. He just wants to make a little money for his time and effort, so he asked us if we’d consider consigning the merchandise to a local auction for a fifty-fifty split. We get a lot of stuff donated, and this deal sounded fair.”

  As he unloaded boxes onto the blacktop so he could see farther into the van, Jerry was mentally adding up what each item might bring at auction. The amount was pleasantly staggering. “What would our deal be?” he asked Mary Beth.

  “I don’t know what you consider fair, but I think if Good Samaritan Charity gets half, we should split that amount with you for selling it. In other words, Colonial Auction Company would get twenty-five percent, and we’d take twenty-five.” She looked up at Jerry with long-lashed, trusting eyes. “What do you think?”

  “Ah…sure. I think that’s okay. Is there any more where this came from?”

  “A ton,” she said. “Mr. Horton, who brought me this first load, said that depending on how well these items did, he’d bring me as much as I can handle.”

  Good clean merchandise week after week without worrying about scrounging for things to sell… It was a dream come true, especially with his sister out of town for an indeterminate time. Jerry jumped at the opportunity to impress Meg with his business sense and to put Colonial Auction in the black by simply unloading a van once or twice a week. “Your contact will be satisfied,” he said. “And I’ll handle all of this you can bring me.”

  “Great. Let’s take it inside.”

  They spent the next half hour carrying boxes into the auction hall. When the van was empty, Jerry set Spencer down with a notepad and pencil and had him catalogue the items on an auction consignment form as each one was unpacked and set on the platform. This delegation of authority served two purposes. It kept Spence busy so he wouldn’t talk about the phone call from his mother, and it insured that the list would be spelled correctly.

  “That’s it,” Jerry said when the job was finished. He’d set up five complete computer systems, six game consoles that made Spencer’s mouth water, several microwave ovens, three thirty-two inch televisions, two dozen expensive watches, and over thirty name-brand kitchen appliances and electronic organizers. Easily several
thousand dollars’ worth of goodies, even by auction standards.

  Jerry was darned proud of himself. He’d show Meg that she could leave the auction in his hands without worrying. And when he looked at Mary Beth Watson, he felt even better.

  “I guess that’s it then,” she said as she dusted her hands on floral pants. “What time does the auction start tonight?”

  “Six-thirty,” he told her.

  “I’ll be here.” She sat down beside Spencer. “Thanks for all your help. Will you be here tonight?”

  A second pair of Hamilton eyes looked at Mary Beth with adoration. “I don’t know what else Uncle Jerry’s going to do with me, so I suppose I will,” he said.

  “Good. See you later.” She picked up her purse and headed for the door. Jerry sat next to Spencer and both men watched out the window until Mary Beth had climbed into the van.

  “She’s pretty,” Spencer said.

  “You’re right about that,” Jerry said. “I’m just glad she’s too old for you.”

  Spencer tapped his sneakers on the cement floor and appeared thoughtful. “Maybe now, but in fifteen or twenty years…”

  “Heck with that,” Jerry said. “In fifteen years I plan to have had three kids with that woman and season tickets to Disney World.” He turned in his chair and gave his nephew an earnest stare. “But in order to facilitate this marriage proposal I’m planning to make, there’s one little thing you’ve got to know about your condition.”

  Spence pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “My condition? What are you talking about?”

  “Mary Beth sort of thinks your mother ran out on you, and I’m raising you for the time being. I think it’s in my best interest to let her believe that for just a little while.”

  “So you’re lying to her.”

  “I haven’t lied. I’m just taking advantage of a potentially beneficial misunderstanding. I’ll set her straight once she’s nuts about me. All you’ve got to do is act like you’re kind of sad, but eternally grateful to me. Can you do that?”

  Spencer was silent for several seconds, prompting Jerry to think the kid might actually turn down his request. “Okay,” Spence said at last. “I can do that. Besides, sometimes I am sad, so that won’t be acting.”

  Jerry, you stupid jerk. The poor kid was depressed too much of the time and had been since his worthless father walked out on him without sending so much as a birthday card since. He ruffled Spencer’s hair and smiled at him. “Thanks a lot, Spence. I promise to make it up to you.” And Jerry meant it. A ten-year-old kid ought to be happy, not mooning his life away over a name-only father who didn’t deserve a second thought or worrying about a mother who was scared to take a chance on life again.

  DURING THE RIDE BACK to Ashford House, Meg thought about Colonial Auction and the mess her brother might get them in. Once she arrived at the house, though, she didn’t have time to think about anything but sorting through the boxes taking up a good portion of Amelia’s first floor. Once the cartons were unpacked, she could begin seriously setting up for the auction of her aunt’s belongings.

  Five minutes into the job, she discovered that Wade Murdock’s warning was true. The large majority of Amelia’s purchases had been in her possession too long to be returned for a refund. Meg resigned herself to selling these new items along with the old things in Amelia’s house, and giving the proceeds to Gloria.

  As she opened each carton, Meg used a kitchen knife to tear down the boxes and stack the folded cardboard in one expanding heap in a corner of the room. She decided not to open some of the boxes—the ones that contained many small parts. She would sell the deluxe barbecue grill unopened as well as the ten-speed bicycle and nine foot pre-lit Christmas tree. As she unwrapped the more manageable items, she set them on the dining room table, and with each unveiling, she became more and more amazed at the directions her aunt’s thinking must have taken in the weeks after she acquired Wade’s money.

  She was dismantling a box which contained a mink hat from Asia when she heard someone at the back door.

  “Hi! Is anyone home?”

  She recognized the young voice and hurried into the kitchen. “Hello, Jenny,” she said to Wade’s daughter. “What can I do for you?”

  The girl’s face reflected misery. “I have to use the bathroom.”

  Meg held the screen door open and Jenny came inside. “There’s one by the library, but you can’t get into the hallway from the dining room. You have to go through the parlor…”

  “I know where it is.” The girl ran by Meg and disappeared through the kitchen door. A few minutes later she returned. “Whew. I should have gone at home, but Gramps was in a big hurry to drop me off and get to the grocery.” She took a set of keys from her jeans pocket and jangled them in the air. “Usually I let myself in, but I sort of forgot about you being here until I saw the back door open.”

  How many keys to Ashford House are floating around this community? Meg wondered. “Are you here by yourself then?” she asked the girl.

  “Yeah, but my dad’s meeting me here with the sheriff’s department pickup truck and horse trailer. We’re supposed to be taking Lady Jay to the equestrian park today.” She frowned. “If he doesn’t take too long fixing your window.”

  Meg opened the refrigerator and offered Jenny one of the sodas she’d bought on the way back from Shady Grove. The girl took it, popped the tab and sat at the table.

  “I’m sure he’ll be able to fix the window quickly,” Meg said, noticing that Jenny hadn’t said thank you for either bathroom privileges or the soda. “Besides it wouldn’t matter to me if he didn’t fix it until you came back from the park.”

  Jenny snorted. “You don’t know Dad. If he says he’s gonna do something, he does it. And he’s always fixing stuff around here. It’s like he’s suddenly become that guy on TV.”

  Meg thought a moment. “Bob Vila?”

  “Yep, him.”

  Meg could easily picture Wade on television describing the joys of home improvement. “I suppose he likes the work.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Jenny looked around the kitchen with a disapproving gaze. “If you want my opinion, this place gives me the creeps. You can have it back.”

  Back? I haven’t given it up yet. Meg sat opposite the girl at the long table. “Why do you say that? What’s so creepy about Ashford House?”

  “All these musty old rooms. And everything creaks. The power goes out all the time. The plumbing is awful. I had to flush twice.” She took a big swallow of her Coke. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the house is haunted with the ghost of that Stewart guy.”

  Meg smiled. “I don’t think the house is haunted. And even if it were, if the ghost were my Uncle Stewie, we’d only have a lot more fun around here.”

  “Right. It would be a riot.” Jenny placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward to give Meg an intense stare. “Do you think there are secret passageways in the house or locked rooms that haven’t been discovered yet? That might be sort of cool.”

  “No, I don’t think so. When I was your age, I explored every inch of this house. I did find a secret cubbyhole or two, but that’s about it.”

  “Really? I’ll have to look for them when we finally move in this place for good.”

  Meg didn’t want to think about that possibility and was glad when Jenny brought up another topic.

  “So how’s Mrs. Ashford today?” the girl asked.

  “All right I guess.”

  “Did she tell you she sold this place to my dad?”

  “No. It never came up.”

  “Sheesh. If it weren’t for Lady Jay, I’d have made my dad move into one of those model homes in Esther Landings out of town. They have high-speed computer hookups even in the kitchen.”

  Somehow Meg couldn’t picture Wade Murdock giving in to a teenager’s demand on which house to buy. Not when he professed to be so much in love with this one. “I can see that you really like your horse,” she said to keep the conversation goi
ng.

  “Lady Jay’s the greatest. I told my dad that I’d be depressed for sure if he hadn’t gotten her for me.”

  Meg had studied a bit about childhood depression, and she knew it was a serious problem. But she figured if Jenny Murdock were threatening to become depressed, then she was actually far from it. She suspected the girl had an arsenal of complaints that she used as weapons against her father.

  “Hey, there. What are you girls up to?”

  Jenny and Meg stared at the back door. Wade stood on the steps, his fist raised to knock. For emphasis, and probably because he’d promised, he tapped lightly on the door frame.

  “You don’t have to knock when I can plainly see you,” Meg said.

  He came inside with a roll of screen tucked under his arm and a small tool box swinging from his hand. Mr. Cuddles padded in behind him and went to his bowl which Meg now kept filled all the time. Wade strode to Jenny and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to go, cowgirl?”

  She gave him a look of exasperation. “I don’t ride Western, Dad. It’s English, remember?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I remember. Just pulling your ultrasensitive chain.”

  “Like you always do.”

  He switched his gaze to Meg while he spoke to his daughter. “Jen, you don’t mind if we put off going to the park for just a few minutes, do you? I promised Miss Hamilton…”

  “It’s first names, Wade,” Meg said smartly. “I thought we decided that, so we might as well extend the privilege to your daughter.”

  “Okay. I told Meg that I’d…”

  Jenny sighed dramatically. “…fix her screen, I know.”

  “Right. You wait here and finish your soda. I’ll be quick.”

  Jenny slumped down in her chair as if she fully expected to spend the next five hours waiting for her father. Mr. Cuddles abandoned his bowl, jumped up on the table and strutted in front of her. When Jenny actually petted the arrogant cat, Meg held back from swatting him off the place she ate her meals. Sometimes the wisest move is to let two stubborn creatures face off in their own way.