by Patricia Fry
“Oh,” Arthur said. “So it was that dirty-creep paparazzi that left the message.”
Savannah took the young man’s arm. “Antonio, our friend, Arthur.”
“Hello,” Antonio said, bowing slightly. He tilted his head and peered at Arthur—staring into his face. Finally, Antonio ran his hands alongside his own face and said, “Burns?”
Arthur nodded and turned away.
Antonio followed him, still staring. “Does it hurt?”
Arthur shook his head. “Not anymore.”
At that, Antonio turned his back to the others and raised his shirt to reveal a large burn scar across his low back.
Savannah gasped. “Oh, Antonio, when did you get that?”
He turned to face the others and said something to Ruth in Spanish. She translated: “He was a child of about ten or eleven playing with other children. They were making a…” she searched for a word to use, “…like firecrackers…and it exploded. One child died. Antonio had burns on his face, but he was fortunate enough to come to America where he had plastic surgery. They were going to do the process on his back and legs, too, but his parents decided to give the remainder of their grant…or gift…to another burn victim who needed help.”
Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. After thumbing through it, he revealed a tattered photograph and showed it to Arthur. He pointed at the photo and then at himself. “It’s me,” he said. He gestured with his hand around his face, indicating the burn scars he’d once had.”
“My gosh,” Arthur said. “You really were burned badly, weren’t you?” He looked up at Antonio and back down at the photograph. “They did a good job,” he said in Spanish. He handed the photo back to the gardener and said with a nod, “Gracias. You have given me hope.”
Antonio thinned his lips and nodded. “You will be fine.” He shook his head. “Not as sever as mine.”
“That’s severe,” Ruth said.
“Severe,” he repeated.
Ruth took Antonio’s hand. “Thank you so much. It is a delight to meet you.”
Antonio smiled and nodded as the others turned and walked away.
“Arthur, do you want to call Craig and tell him about the money?” Savannah asked, as she and Ruth settled back into the deck chairs.
Within a few moments, Arthur brought his phone to Savannah. “He wants to talk to you.”
She walked to the other end of the porch. “Hi Craig.”
“Investigator Savannah, you’re right again,” Craig said. “That was Wilkerson’s fingerprint on the pitcher in Ruth’s home. He evidently went to the hospital that day in some sort of diabetic distress. He’s home now, recuperating, and has agreed to speak to authorities. He confessed that he was hired to hassle Arthur, which he was glad to do because he believed that the boy had ruined his life. He’s thinking a little more clearly now that they have his blood sugar somewhat stabilized, I guess, and he says he’s no longer following the orders from whoever it is giving them. He wouldn’t tell, but I think we can all guess.”
“Well, one of three, probably,” Savannah surmised, “Henrietta, Pearl, or Charles.” She heard Craig let out a long sigh. “Are they going to prosecute Wilkerson?” she asked.
“I guess that depends on whether Ruth wants to sign a complaint.” He hesitated. “The thing is, Savannah, he’s probably being blackmailed. If he doesn’t do what he’s supposed to do for whoever…, there’s probably a consequence, don’t you think? People with something to hide often find and use others who have secrets. So Wilkerson may be damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.”
“Gads, what a way to live,” Savannah said. “I just hope Arthur can remember whatever it is that he’s forgotten before they can get to him.”
“Nothing has surfaced?” Craig asked.
“Not that I know of,” she said. “But I think he’s close.”
After ending the call, Savannah returned to where Ruth sat holding Lily in her lap. She was reading one of her little books to her.
“It is good to read to a baby, even before she can understand,” Ruth said.
“I’ve heard that. I read to her a lot—even when she was an infant.” Savannah picked up a toy off the floor, handing it to the baby. “She looks sleepy—your story is putting her to sleep.” She then said, “Ruth, would you mind putting her down for her nap this morning? I think I’ll take Arthur for a ride. Is that okay with you?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “It would be good for both of you.”
Savannah nodded. “I think so.” She gazed out toward the corral and saw a truck and horse trailer pulling in. “Oh, there’s Bonnie now. She brought Zeke for Arthur to ride.”
****
“What a good idea, Savannah,” Arthur said, once the pair was riding along on the wide part of the trail.
“Yeah, I thought you’d like to get out in the fresh air for a while. Me, too, actually. I’m not enjoying the harassment any more than you are. It’s coming a little too close for my comfort.”
“I’m sure sorry about that,” he said. He glanced over at her and spoke more softly. “I don’t know how I would have gotten along without you, Michael, Detective Sledge, and Lily, of course. You’ve been lifesavers.” He dropped his head. “I’m just so sorry you had to get mixed up in all that darn…”
“No worries, Arthur. Our focus is you right now. In fact, let’s not think about any of that on such a beautiful day.”
“Okay with me,” he said, smiling. After quietly listening to the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the dry ground for a while, Arthur said, “I’ve been thinking about my future.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said. “In what way?”
“I’m thinking about selling the mansion.” He turned toward her a little in the saddle. “I’d be happy to discount it for a youth organization, maybe, or an animal-rescue group. Don’t you think that would be a cool thing to do with that place?”
“Yes, that would be great, Arthur. Good idea.”
“I want to set up scholarships for children who are burn victims and maybe victims of family violence. That would be a worthy charity, wouldn’t it?” he asked.
Savannah nodded. “Sure would. What about all of the businesses? Those are yours, too, aren’t they?”
“I guess so, since my father’s money financed them.” He thought for a moment and said, “I will go through them with my attorney one by one to learn exactly what they produce or what services they offer and determine which ones are in alignment with my values and interests. I’ll figure out what it will take to run those I want to keep, and then sell off the rest.”
“What about you, Arthur? What will you do for you? What kind of lifestyle do you want? You can live anywhere in the world, travel…what do you want to do…to accomplish…to enjoy?”
Arthur shook his head. “I guess I’m not ready to make that decision yet.”
“Yeah, you’re too busy giving,” Savannah said. She smiled at him. “What a good heart you have.”
“I would like a ranch and horses and cats, of course. Maybe Suzette would share it with me someday after I have my scars removed.”
She smiled. “Good for you. Glad to know you do have dreams for yourself.”
“I just hope I get to live those dreams,” he said, quietly.
“This, too, shall pass, Arthur. Since it doesn’t look like Charles Peyton will be brought up on any charges, the paparazzi will probably go away. That accountant, it seems, is now getting medical treatment and may decide to no longer pursue his crazy vendetta against you.”
“Yeah, but there’s still a dark cloud…” Suddenly, Arthur jumped a little. He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket. It’s Ruthie. Hi Ruthie,” he said into the phone.
“Hi Artie, are you having a good ride?”
“Yes, very nice,” he said. “Everything okay?”
“I think so; it’s just that Mr. Peyton’s attorney called and he wants to talk to you as soon as
possible. He’s coming here—to Hammond—and would like to meet with you. He tried to call you and couldn’t get you, so he called me.”
“Oh, I had my phone turned off—just remembered to turn it back on a while ago. Thanks, Ruthie. I’ll call him.”
“Problem?” Savannah asked when Arthur ended the call.
“Not sure. Charles Peyton’s attorney wants to talk to me right away. It’s urgent, I guess.”
Savannah peered at the boy from under the brim of her straw hat. “How about we have a slug of water and then let’s let these steeds show us what they’ve got,” she said in a playful manner.
“You mean canter?”
“Or lope…” she said, laughing. “Depends on if you’re English or Western.” She squinted her eyes and tilted her head. “How about a full-out run? Are you game?”
He smiled with a glint in his eye. “Let’s go.”
Five minutes later, the riders reined their mounts to a gentle trot. Savannah reached down and patted Peaches on the neck as she posted in her stirrups. Arthur pulled up alongside her and said, “Now that was fun! Thanks, Zeke,” he said, leaning forward and rubbing the horse between the ears.
Savannah and Arthur were still upbeat when they arrived home. Before they could remove the saddles and wash down the horses, Ruth greeted them at the corral, carrying Lily in her arms.
“Did you have a good nap?” Savannah asked the baby.
Lily was more interested in the horses. She reached her hand toward Peaches. When Ruth walked closer to the mare, however, the baby pulled her hand back and hid her face in Ruth’s shoulder. Then she reached her hand out toward the horse again. When Savannah removed the mare’s bridle, Peaches shook her head vigorously and Lily laughed. The baby then shook her head back and forth and laughed again.
“You silly girl,” Savannah said. “Are you mimicking Peaches?”
“It was a good ride, huh?” Ruth asked.
“Great!” Arthur said. “Just great! You should have seen us galloping at full speed through the meadows.” He looked up into the sky. “Exhilarating!”
Savannah laughed. “Yes, it was a blast. Refreshing.”
“Speaking of refreshing, I’ll bet you two are hungry. I made us some chicken salad for sandwiches. Sound good?”
“Delicious. Thank you, Ruth,” Savannah said, giving her and Lily a one-armed hug before leading Peaches to her corral. “I’ll call Bonnie to come get Zeke,” she said.
Once they’d washed the horses and watered them, Arthur and Savannah washed up and joined Ruth for lunch.
“Did you call Mr. Harmonson?” Ruth asked Arthur.
“Yes, but it was a bad connection, so I need to call him back. He wants to meet this afternoon somewhere in town.” He looked at Savannah. “Any suggestions?”
“How about the diner? Remember we went there for breakfast one day?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Craig’s wife works there.”
She nodded. “…and Arthur, I’m thinking you might want Craig with you in the meeting—or at least close at hand. What do you think?”
“That would be great…yes. Do you think he’d do it?”
“Sure he would. Why don’t you call him first and find out his schedule, then try to fit it in with the attorney’s.”
“Good idea.” He picked up his phone, then glanced at the two women and said, “I think I’ll finish my lunch first. Sure is good, Ruthie.”
“There’s some of Savannah’s peach pie left for dessert,” she said.
“Yum!” He looked at Savannah. “I’m glad you use those big pie pans. I can eat a whole one of those small pies all by myself.”
****
After lunch and then a shower to wash off the trail dust, Arthur rode with Craig to meet the attorney.
“Why don’t you go in alone,” Craig suggested. “I’ll come in a minute and slip into a booth nearby. I’ll be there if you need me. Okay?”
Arthur nodded.
The attorney was waiting for the boy when he arrived. “How are you doing, young man?” he asked.
Arthur shook the man’s hand. “I’m well.”
“You’re looking good—can I get you a cup of coffee? Milk?”
“Iced tea,” Arthur said.
“Sure.” The attorney waved one hand in the air toward Iris, saying, “Ma’am, an iced tea and a coffee here, please.”
“Hi Arthur,” Iris said when she delivered the beverages. She glanced at the attorney and back at Arthur. “Everything okay?”
“Sure,” he said. “Nice to see you, Ms. Iris”
She nodded, took one more look at the stranger, and walked away.
Alan Harmonson didn’t waste any time getting down to business. “Now, as you know, you are about to come into a very large sum of money and holdings.”
Arthur nodded.
“You’re in good shape financially. All of the business holdings are doing well. The investments are paying off…” he paused “…quite nicely. Mr. Peyton has done a bang-up job with the estate’s money and that’s why I want to talk to you. Arthur, you have zero—no experience with money at all, let alone such a large sum and investments and businesses. You don’t know anything about the world of finance. So here’s my suggestion. I strongly recommend that you hire Charles Peyton to guide you through the financial jungle you’re facing.” Harmonson took a sip of coffee and then opened a folder across the middle of the table so it faced Arthur. He pointed. “Here are the figures—the overall portfolio has increased from this figure—to this one in the last seven years; most recently, the increase is more like twenty to forty percent. Now Arthur, if you knew anything about money matters, you’d understand that this is unheard of in this economy. Most investments are earning maybe as much as eight to ten percent, but Charles Peyton has more than doubled that because of his business mastery—he has a lot of international businesses and he knows how to generate a profit—well, obviously,” he said, turning a palm up in a gesture and leaning back in the booth.
Harmonson continued, “He loves you, boy; he cares about you. He’s all you have now that your mother is…confined. If he’d known you were alive all these years, he would have been the father she didn’t allow him to be. Your mother took that right away from him; why, is anyone’s guess. But he is ready and willing to be a father to you now and to guide you through the roughest challenge in your life—the estate you’ve been bequeathed. Shall I tell Mr. Peyton—your stepfather—that you want him to be your financial advisor?”
Harmonson cleared his throat. “Now, he would not be taking over the accountant’s job. He would merely hire on to advise you in business decisions related to the corporations.”
Arthur stared down at the papers in front of him, then glanced over at Craig, who was drinking a cup of coffee across the diner. He then looked Harmonson in the eyes and said, “I don’t think so, Mr. Harmonson, but tell him thanks for offering.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” the attorney asked, creasing his brow. “You’re just a kid. Chances are, you’ll squander all of that hard-earned money. Charles Peyton knows how to grow it.”
“No, Mr. Harmonson, I do not want to do business with Mr. Peyton, and that is final.”
In a pleading tone, the attorney said, “Good God, son, do you even have a clue as to what a burden this estate can be? What will you do with all that money?”
Arthur peered keenly at the attorney before saying, “As much good as I can.” He then muttered, as he began to scoot out of the booth, “I have a lot to make up for and a lot of living to do.” He spoke more directly again, “My father handed the money down to me for a reason, and I plan to make him proud.”
“Okay, Arthur, if that’s how you want it. We’ll see you in court.”
Arthur stopped and stared across at Harmonson. “In court? Mr. Peyton plans to contest the will? Is he out of his mind?”
The attorney peered at the boy for a moment, then stood and said, “
I hope you realize the mistake you’re making. Goodbye, Arthur.”
****
“You’re quiet,” Craig said, as he drove Arthur back to the Iveys’ home. “Want to talk?”
“Well, I’m just confused. Can they really go to court and get the will changed?”
“You study law—what do you think?” Craig said. When Arthur didn’t respond, he explained, “That’s probably an idle threat, don’t you think? They’re trying to rattle you—wear you down—make you do things their way. Charles Peyton, it seems, will do anything to keep his hands on that money.”
Arthur nodded. “I’d better talk to my attorney. I need to be prepared for whatever they’re bringing my way.”
Craig nodded. “Good idea.” He sat with his own thoughts for several minutes, then said, “I wonder if you’ll ever have any peace.” He glanced at Arthur. “It can’t be easy being heir to such a large fortune.”
“I don’t even care about the money. I feel it’s more a responsibility than a privilege—a responsibility to my father.”
Craig chuckled. “That’s because you’ve never had to think about money—how to get it, what it’s like to be without it, what it can buy, what it can do…”
“All I know about it so far is that it can sure cause a lot of evil-doing. I don’t think that’s what my father had in mind when he left it to me.”
Craig’s tone softened. “Do you remember him at all? How old were you when he died?”
“About five. I don’t remember much about him, except that he played with us a lot—me and Karen. He was a fun dad. I remember laughing a lot and getting a lot of attention from him. Him and Ruthie. After his accident, I missed him terribly. I’d cry myself to sleep most every night.”
“What kind of an accident was it, Arthur?”
“A car accident. He drove off a cliff.”
“Was he drinking?”
“I think I heard that he was, although, I don’t ever remember him taking drinks. I was pretty young, so I could be remembering that wrong—you know, kids miss a lot.”
“Was there an investigation?”
“I suppose.” Arthur looked at Craig. “Why?”
