Home on Apple Blossom Road (Life in Icicle Falls)

by Sheila Roberts

  “You’re not about to start crying on me, are you?” Beth demanded. “I just put my contacts in, and if I start crying again they’re going to get glued to my eyeballs.”

  Mia wiped at the corners of her eyes and smiled. “Not me.”

  “We’re all going to miss her, but she wouldn’t want us being unhappy.”

  “It’s hard not to be. Without you and Grandma, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  “Oh, you’d have managed,” Beth said with a knowing nod. “Grandma was very proud of your success. We all are.”

  Career success—the merit badge she’d worked so hard for. Once upon a time, it had been a means to an end. Now it was important, because it had become her identity. The only identity she had these days.

  She took the last bite of her scone, savoring the combination of flavors and textures. “These are so good.”

  Aunt Beth beamed at the compliment. “My latest creation.”

  Aunt Beth truly was a domestic goddess.

  Spending time in the kitchen with her and Grandma Justine had always been an experience that combined culinary artistry and female bonding. The Wright women took what happened in the kitchen seriously. “We’re not simply feeding the body when we make a meal,” Grandma Justine liked to say, “we’re feeding the soul, as well. So many important conversations take place around the dinner table. So much love is shared.”

  A lot of love had been shared teaching Mia how to cook. She remembered a particular Saturday afternoon when her mom was still alive. The three women had gathered in Grandma Justine’s kitchen and were making apple pies to put in the freezer. She’d been five, but Grandma Justine had given her the rolling pin and leftover pie dough to roll out. She’d been wearing the apron Aunt Beth had made especially for her—red fabric with a teacup print. It was both her Wright family uniform and her magic cape that turned her into a grown-up, doing grown-up things.

  “Never overwork your pie crust,” Grandma Justine had told her. “That makes it tough. Roll from the middle out.” She’d put her hands over Mia’s and helped her get a feel for it, wrinkled hands with veins that stood up like miniature blue mountain ridges covering small, smooth hands. Practiced hands guiding a beginner into a new world of taste and texture and camaraderie.

  Mia still liked to play around in the kitchen when she had time. Maybe that was because it brought back such good feelings.

  Beth glanced at the rooster clock hanging on the kitchen wall. “We’d better get going. Dylan wants us all present and accounted for by ten.”

  They put their dishes in the dishwasher, then walked down the street and around the corner to the old Victorian that housed the offices of Dylan Wright, attorney at law, specializing in elder law and wills. He was the attorney of record, and Aunt Beth was the executrix of Justine Wright’s will.

  Uncle Mark wasn’t mentioned in the will, and he had his sand and gravel company to run, so the only ones present were Beth, Dylan, Mia and, yep, here came the awkwardness. Colin. The look he gave Mia as Dylan’s secretary showed them into the conference room said, “What are you doing here?” She was asking herself the same question, but she raised her chin and reminded herself that Grandma Justine had wanted her here and that was all that mattered.

  A long wooden table occupied the center of the room, which had originally been a dining room. A couple of plants took away the severity of the space, and the view outside the window showed them a well-maintained yard with plenty of shrubs and flowers and, beyond that, the mountains that held Icicle Falls in their craggy hands.

  Dylan had set out water bottles, and they all took a seat, Colin slouching in one to his father’s left and Aunt Beth opposite them, with Mia settling in next to her. Right across from Colin. Mia focused on her water bottle.

  “For the most part, this is a pretty straightforward will,” Dylan said. “So.” He adjusted his reading glasses, shuffled the official-looking papers in his hands and then began to read. “I, Justine Wright, being of sound mind...”

  It was pretty straightforward. Tesla stock to Dylan and a hundred shares of Apple to Aunt Beth. The money in savings to be divided equally between the two siblings...

  * * *

  When did Gram get together enough money for stocks and savings? Colin was under the assumption that all she had was her house and her social security. She’d always lived so frugally.

  Dad read on, “The house at 23 Pine Street is to be sold and the profits from said sale divided equally between my children, Elizabeth Ann Mallow and Dylan Hartman Wright.”

  Okay, so what else was there? Why was he here? And why on earth was Mia here?

  The contents of the house were also to be equally divided with the exception of Justine’s jewelry...

  Ah, she’d probably left a necklace or something for Mia. Maybe she had some old ring of Gramps’s for Colin.

  The jewelry went to Aunt Beth.

  “I still don’t get why we’re here,” he grumbled.

  “Because your grandmother has left an unusual bequest to you and Mia jointly,” his father told him.

  “Jointly?” Colin echoed.

  “Jointly?” Mia said faintly.

  Dad sighed. “Yes, and it gets more...interesting.” Dad’s euphemism for weird.

  It sure did. As Dad read, it quickly became clear that Gram expected the two of them to go searching for their inheritance.

  “Searching?” Like in some goofy movie?

  His father pinched the bridge of his nose, and Aunt Beth grinned like a kid about to go on a neighborhood scavenger hunt.

  “I don’t get it,” Colin muttered.

  “Oh, come on now. This is just the sort of thing you kids loved to do at Easter,” said Aunt Beth. “You remember those Easter basket hunts Grandma and I made up for you.”

  Did she think he was still twelve? He frowned. “I’m not a kid anymore, Aunt Beth.”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t be hunting for Easter baskets,” she assured him. “This is on a slightly grander scale.”

  “Grander scale,” Colin repeated dubiously.

  “A treasure hunt,” Aunt Beth said.

  Colin envisioned himself and Mia running around Icicle Falls dressed like pirates, searching for buried treasure. All they needed was Johnny Depp. “Okay, this is seriously whacked out. And what’s left that’s worth searching for?”

  “I promise you, there is something of value at the end of your search,” Aunt Beth told him.

  Dad frowned at her. “If I can continue?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  Dad looked sternly at her over his bifocals, rustled his papers and then said basically the same thing. “There’s another stipulation. Both parties must still be single with no serious commitments. If either is married or engaged at the time, then the bequest goes to whichever one is single to do with as he or she sees fit.” He stopped and asked Mia, “Are you engaged?”

  Her cheeks turned rosy. “No.”

  Dad asked Colin the same question, even though he knew Colin was nowhere near popping the question. Gram had known it, too.

  “No,” Colin said firmly. In a way, he would’ve loved to say yes, just to see Mia’s reaction.

  Dad nodded and continued. “If one of the beneficiaries refuses to participate for reasons other than the aforementioned, then the other is free to search alone and will become the sole beneficiary.”

  That worked for Colin. “You probably have to get back to Chicago,” he said to Mia.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” she said. “But maybe you’d like to return to Seattle and...whoever.”

  As if on cue, his cell phone pinged. He checked the screen. He had a text message from Lorelei.

  Mia raised her eyebrows as he put the phone in his pocket. “Are you sur
e you’re not with someone?”

  “Being with someone isn’t the same as being engaged,” he fired back. “And how do we know you’re not with someone?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not,” she said almost bitterly.

  No way was Colin letting her push him out of the picture. “Me, neither, so I’m in.”

  “Me, too.”

  Dad continued, still looking as if he’d been forced to suck on a bushel full of lemons. “There is one more condition. Neither participant may bring in outside help. That means if either of you brings in another person and goes looking with that person, then you disqualify yourself from continuing the search. It must be done by both of you—together.”

  What the hell was Gram up to? “Together, as in...”

  “If you don’t want to do this,” Mia began.

  “You are not making off with my inheritance,” Colin snapped.

  “Our inheritance,” she corrected him.

  “Let’s try and focus here,” Dad said, returning their attention to the will. “Once you two find your inheritance, it’ll be up to you to decide what to do with it. As executrix, your aunt will be able to guide you when the time comes, and I’ll handle the necessary legal matters.”

  What the heck did that mean? Who knew? All Colin knew was that he wasn’t going to back out and leave whatever his grandma had left for Mia to make off with.

  “So, do you both accept the conditions laid out in the will?” his father asked.

  “Yes,” said Mia.

  “Yes,” said Colin.

  “Then I need you to sign this.” Dad pushed a piece of paper loaded with legal gobbledygook Colin’s way.

  He scrawled his name and returned it. “You sure you don’t have to get back to Chicago?” he asked Mia. “You’re something big and important now, right?” At least according to Aunt Beth.

  “I’m not leaving,” she said as Dad passed the paper to her. “Anyway, I can’t think of a better place for a minivacation than Icicle Falls,” she said, smiling at Aunt Beth. “I’ll check into the Icicle Creek Lodge.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Aunt Beth told her. “You’ll stay with us.”

  And Colin would stay with Dad. Just like the old days, when everything he ever wanted was here in Icicle Falls, when life consisted of neighborhood baseball games, playing hide-and-seek in his grandparents’ old apple orchard and snarfing down Gram’s apple crisp loaded with whipped cream. He’d ridden his bike around the corner and down the street to his aunt’s place to hang out with Mia and Gram’s various foster kids about a million times when they were growing up. They’d both logged in a lot of holiday meals and Sunday suppers at Gram’s. Hanging out had been simpler when they were kids.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked his dad.

  “I’m to give you this,” Dad said, producing a long pink envelope. “We’ll leave you two to read it. Take your time. Come on, Beth,” he said, and they left the room.

  Colin tapped the envelope. “Whatever this is, it can’t be much. Seriously, if you want to get back, I can find whatever Gram hid and buy you out.” That would be so much easier than traipsing around together, stumbling over the past.

  Mia frowned. “That’s not how she set this up. And besides, I don’t care what it is. It’s from Grandma Justine, and that makes whatever she’s left is valuable to me. I loved her, too, you know,” she added softly, and he could see tears in her eyes.

  Colin suddenly felt about two inches tall. “Okay.”

  He opened the envelope and took out what looked like a letter. Mia walked around the table and took the chair next to him to read over his shoulder. She was wearing a black T-shirt and a little white sweater, and white shorts that showed off just enough leg to tempt him to run a hand up her thigh. He got an up-close whiff of her perfume—something spicy that whispered, “Sex.”

  No, no! No thinking of sex, not when he had a girlfriend in Seattle, and not with Mia. Especially not with Mia. He forced himself to focus on the spidery writing on the pink notepaper.

  Dear Ones,

  You are both very special to me, so I’m leaving you something equally special, which I hope you will appreciate. I have fond memories of those treasure hunts your Aunt Beth and I sent you on when you were children. And I won’t mention a certain little boy being afraid to go in the henhouse.

  “I remember that,” Mia said.

  Or a certain little girl running so fast that she tripped and fell in a mud puddle one rainy Easter.

  “And I remember that,” Colin retorted, pointing to the sentence in case Mia had conveniently missed it.

  I also remember two happy children working together to figure out clues, swapping jelly beans after they’d found their baskets and posing for pictures with their arms around each other.

  This made Colin squirm.

  You two were so close. I’m sorry that, for some reason known only to the two of you, things changed when you got to college. But I hope you work well together on this final hunt your aunt and I designed for you. I love you both and want you to find that valuable treasure you deserve. I wish the best for each of you. And now, let reminiscence lead you to your first clue.

  Much love,

  Grandma

  Colin frowned. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

  Mia tapped her chin. “Reminiscence. Remembering. Memories.” She cocked her head and looked at Colin. “Where do you find memories?”

  He shrugged. “A scrapbook? Photo album?”

  “Grandma had a ton. I say we walk over to her house and go through them.”

  Colin nodded. “Good idea. Aunt Beth has a key.”

  Aunt Beth had been hanging out in Dad’s office, waiting for them. “Is there something you want?” she asked, with a teasing smile.

  “As if you don’t know,” Colin retorted. “The key to Gram’s house, please.”

  She dangled a beaded key chain holding a single key. “You said the magic word. Good luck, you two.”

  They both reached for it, but Colin was faster and snatched it. Mia frowned and followed him out of the room, muttering, “Grabby.”

  Okay, maybe that was kind of immature, but he wasn’t ready to admit it. “Does it matter who takes the key?” he said irritably.

  “Obviously, it does. Are you just going to take over this whole hunt? Really?”

  “Are you?” he retorted.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m lucky I get to tag along,” she said, baiting him.

  He clamped his lips shut and hoped this would only take a couple of hours. The sooner he was away from Mia and her perfume, the happier he’d be.

  * * *

  Beth and Dylan watched as the two squabbled their way out the door.

  He shook his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have questioned Mom’s testamentary capacity.”

  “Ah, but you do know better, brother dear,” Beth said with a smile.

  “You should never have encouraged her.” He rolled his eyes. “You and those Vanessa Valentine novels. This is ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s sweet.”

  “Harebrained.”

  “Clever.”

  “Doomed to fail, if you ask me.”

  “Fortunately, nobody did,” Beth said. And with that, she kissed him on the cheek and left him to sit in his office and stew in his superior lawyerly juices.

  He’d tried to talk their mother out of her idea, but Beth was glad he hadn’t succeeded. The will had been updated less than a month before Mom passed. She hadn’t been feeling well, and she’d had a premonition that her time was coming to a close.

  “I suppose you think I’m being silly,” she’d said to Beth the morning they’d first hatched the plan. They’d been sitting at Beth’s kitchen table enjoying
the morning sun streaming in through the window and the lattes Beth had made them using her new frothing machine.

  With the morbid turn the conversation had taken, Beth had found herself pushing away her mug. “Believing that you’re going to die? Yes.”

  “We’re all going to die, dear, and I’m afraid my time is almost here.”

  “Mom, please don’t talk like that.”

  Mom had only shaken her head. “It’s not a bad thing to accept when it’s your time to go. I’m ready. Last night I was drifting off to sleep and I saw your father. That’s how I knew.”

  Maybe she had known, Beth thought now. Her mother seemed to have a sixth sense about a lot of things.

  Dylan, the more practical—translation: cynical—of the two siblings didn’t believe in Mom’s premonition, and he certainly hadn’t been on board with this latest idea of hers. For all his education and smarts, Dylan could be very obtuse. Mom had been determined to have her way, though, and there was nothing he could do but follow her wishes.

  Beth smiled, remembering how much she’d enjoyed helping Mom with this last treasure hunt for the kids. And while Beth, and a couple of times even Mark, had been her legs, hiding some of the clues, Mom had planned each one and taken care of several herself. And she’d loved every minute of it.

  This would be an opportunity for Colin and Mia to resolve their differences and inherit something special to boot. Dylan might have known about wills and legal documents, but Mom knew about hearts and what people really needed. And Beth was sure the kids would find what they needed right here in Icicle Falls.

  December 29, 1987

  Dear Mother,

  Happy New Year! I’m sorry you weren’t able to make it out for Christmas, but I understand your not wanting to travel alone. This first Christmas without Daddy had to be very hard for you. Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s gone! Anyway, I’m glad you could spend the day with Emmaline and Joey. I’ll fly out for your birthday next month and we’ll have a belated Christmas then. I’m so looking forward to that. As for moving in with them, I think it’s an excellent idea. You know we would happily have had you live with us, but I understand your wanting to stay where your friends are.