by Kit Morgan
Chapter 5
“Fletcher, my boy! When did you get here?”
Sophie cringed at the older man’s booming voice. She was back in the Vander household, but now the other Vanders were coming home. Only none of them seemed to have noticed her yet.
“I came in on the afternoon stage, Grandfather. Where’s Gran?”
“Upstairs fussing over something with Betsy. Have you seen Betsy yet?”
“Of course – we were here earlier.” He glanced at Sophie with a hint of a smile. “I’d like to introduce you to Miss Baxter.”
“Miss Baxter?” His grandfather looked around the room. “Well, where is she?” He boomed.
Fletcher sighed. “Grandfather, I know you hate having to wear your spectacles, but I suggest you put them on. Are they in your pocket?”
His grandfather patted his jacket, reached in a pocket and pulled out of pair of eyeglasses. “They’re a nuisance, is what they are,” he griped as he put them on. “Oh! Great Scott, there’s someone at the dining room table!”
Fletcher looked at her again, this time trying to keep from laughing. “You’ll have to forgive him – his eyesight is not what it used to be. Or his memory.”
Sophie studied Grandpa Vander, a bear of a man with white hair, blue eyes and a broad chest. And that voice! Fletcher told her on the walk from the jail that it was the main reason he was still mayor – no one could compete with his oratory. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“Well, well, well,” Grandpa said, then winked at Fletcher and grinned. “Tell me, have you set a date? Won’t your granny be surprised! In fact, I’m surprised your father and mother could keep this quiet.”
Fletcher blanched. “Oh no, you don’t understand. Miss Baxter and I aren’t engaged.”
“What?! Not engaged? Then what is she doing here?”
Sophie cringed and sent Fletcher a pleading look.
He caught it. “She’s here as my guest.”
Okay, that wasn’t so bad, she thought.
“I figured this would be the best place for her. Who wants to sleep in a drafty old jail cell?”
That was. Sophie put her face in her hands and groaned.
“Jail cell?” Grandpa Vander said. “What are you talking about, a jail cell?”
She brought her face out of her hands. She might as well say it and get it over with. “He is referring to my arrest.”
Grandpa Vander’s eyes bulged. “Arrest?!”
“Grandpa, don’t get excited,” Fletcher patted his grandfather on the chest a few times. “Think of your blood pressure!”
“Why on earth would anyone arrest you, young lady?” the old man asked, ignoring his grandson’s ministrations.
“That’s what your grandson is trying to figure out, sir,” she said.
Grandpa was about to comment when a petite woman with white hair glided into the room, Betsy the maid on her heels. “Why, Fletcher! Betsy said you were in town. How wonderful! Are you staying long?”
Fletcher bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Gran. How are you feeling these days?”
“Oh well, you know. I creak and crack every time I move, but other than that I’m fine.” She noticed Sophie sitting at the dining room table and smiled. “Oh heavens, who are you?”
“A jailbird,” Grandpa volunteered.
Fletcher’s grandmother stiffened. “Horace dear, don’t make fun of the poor girl. Especially when there’s a murderer running loose. He could be anywhere!”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Such as at our dining room table.”
“Grandfather, please.” Fletcher went to stand next to Sophie. “Miss Baxter’s had a very trying day and I brought her here because I thought she might stay for a few days.”
“Stay?” Grandpa Vander boomed. “We have a perfectly good boarding house in town.”
“I’m quite aware, but I think it would be safer for Miss Baxter if she stayed here.”
Betsy eyed him suspiciously. “Mm-hmm. And why is that, Fletcher?”
He sat next to Sophie. “Sheriff Diamond and I believe someone is trying to frame Miss Baxter for Jasper Munson’s murder.”
Grandma Vander gasped. “There’s been a murder?”
Betsy shook her head in dismay. “Mrs. Vander, I just done explained to you the whole thing upstairs.”
“You did?” She asked, blinking a few times, then knocked on her temple with her fist. “Oh, there it is – yes, you did!”
Fletcher looked at Sophie and shrugged, as if to say, family, what can you do? She nodded in understanding and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. She was nervous. What did these people think of her? Did she really want to stay there? But then, what choice did she have?
“Do you get arrested often, my dear?” Grandma Vander asked.
Sophie gasped. “What?”
“Gran!” Fletcher said, his face crimson. He turned to Sophie. “You’ll have to excuse her – in addition to her bad memory, she says things … out of turn now and then.”
“I understand.” She tried not to smile. Despite the circumstances, the old woman’s quip was sort of funny. “To answer your question Mrs. Vander, no. I’m not in the habit of being arrested.”
“Oh, too bad,” she said, disappointed. “I always wondered what it would be like to be arrested.”
“Take it from me,” Sophie said. “It’s not much fun. Especially when people arrest you for no reason.”
“Are you saying someone’s running around out there telling everyone you murdered Jasper Munson?” Betsy asked.
“I believe someone is trying to frame Miss Baxter,” Fletcher said. “And I plan on finding out whom, and seeing justice served.”
“But Fletcher,” his grandmother said. “How are you going to do that? Don’t you have to get back to Portland?”
“Well … no, not exactly,” he said sheepishly.
“Mm-hmm. And what is that supposed to mean?” Betsy asked.
“Now, Betsy, don’t you start …”
“Too late – now it’s time for you to finish. Out with it. What happened?”
Fletcher took a deep breath, then said in a rush, “I’m able to represent Miss Baxter in this matter due to being let go by the firm of Woolley, Holmes & Shunk a few days ago.”
“What?!” his grandparents cried. So did Sophie, with the same amount of shock. Did she really want a lawyer helping her who’d just been fired? Fired for what? Of course, there was the matter of her being unable to afford a lawyer herself …
“Why, that’s preposterous!” His grandfather barked. “They can’t fire you! Why you’re … you’re … my grandson!”
“I informed them of that, Grandfather. It failed to sway them.”
“Oh, you poor, poor dear,” his grandmother said. “Betsy …”
“I’ll go get a plate of cookies and some lemonade.” She headed for the kitchen.
“Fletcher’s always liked his cookies and lemonade when something terrible has happened,” his grandmother informed Sophie. “But don’t you worry dear, after he has some he’ll be right as rain.”
“Gran, I’m fine now. In fact, I’d been thinking of leaving anyway. But that’s not important. What is important is taking care of Miss Baxter. Can she stay?”
“I suppose so, dear,” his grandmother said. “Horace?”
His grandfather grumbled to himself a few moments then nodded. “Oh all right, but no funny business!”
“Funny business?” Fletcher said. “Grandfather, what do you mean by ‘funny business’?”
“No climbing up the lattice to her window at night, young man. I’ll have none of that in this house. You want to court the girl, you’ll do it properly.”
Fletcher covered his face with his hand and groaned. He smiled at Sophie. She smiled back. “Grandfather, I am not courting Miss Baxter – I’m representing her.”
Grandpa Vander looked between the two, his mouth half open. He snapped it shut, growled, then boomed, “Well, why aren’t you courting
her? There’s nothing wrong with her, is there?”
Fletcher’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. He looked at Sophie again, and it made her heart warm, as if the idea had merit. But no, she had to be imagining things. What man would even think about courting her given the mess she was in?
“You’re courting?” His grandmother said. “Why, Fletcher, how wonderful! When’s the wedding?”
Sophie couldn’t help but giggle.
Fletcher whimpered. “Gran, we’re not engaged. We are not courting. I am her attorney.”
“Oh well, that’s too bad. The Fourth of July celebration is coming up and I think that would be a lovely time for a wedding! Martha and Maude will be so disappointed we won’t be able to work one in.”
“I think they’ll live,” Fletcher muttered, then turned back to Sophie. “There’s a guest room at the top of the stairs. I’ll have Betsy get it ready for you.”
She nodded. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all your help.”
He took her hand in his, and a tingle went up her spine at the contact. “I’m glad I can be of service.” He let go, and she smiled at him and moved her fingers. The touch was brief, yet the sudden absence of his hand was surprisingly acute. How odd.
“Gran, when is supper?” Fletcher asked. “Miss Baxter and I have had a very long afternoon.”
“We’re waiting on your parents. In fact, they’re late”
Betsy entered the dining room, a plate of cookies and a glass of lemonade in her hand. “I probably shouldn’t be giving you this. Supper’s almost ready.”
He took a cookie and reached for the lemonade. “I’ll have room, don’t worry.” He offered Sophie the plate.
Betsy frowned. “Don’t spoil the poor woman’s appetite, Fletcher.”
“It’s fine.” Sophie reached for a cookie. “I normally wouldn’t, but I am quite hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Planning a wedding will do that to you,” Fletcher’s grandmother said.
Fletcher gave Sophie a wide smile. “Have as many as you like.”
She returned his look with a firmed lipped smile of her own. “Don’t mind if I do.” She took another. She had to admit, his grandparents were adorable. For a moment, she let herself imagine that she and Mr. Vander were engaged. She was here to be married. And an outdoor wedding during a Fourth of July celebration in a quaint little town full of good people would be like a dream come true.
Sophie sighed and bit into her cookie. Unfortunately for her, this quaint little town had a murder on its hands, and she, through no fault of her own, was wound up in the middle of it. She was tempted to just devour the entire plate.
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” Fletcher’s mother Ammy asked. She was a pretty woman, her dark hair lightly streaked with gray. Fletcher’s father was handsome, with green eyes and dark blond hair. Fletcher was the perfect combination of the two.
“Your son has been most kind,” Sophie told them. “As have your parents, Mr. Vander.” She glanced around the table. “Thank you all very much for taking me in.”
Ammy smiled. “We’re happy to help. If anyone knows about being falsely accused of a crime, it would be us.”
“For that matter,” Fletcher’s father Garrett added, “Cecil was falsely accused of a crime years ago and lost his business.”
“Oh no,” Sophie said. “That’s terrible.”
“Yes and no,” said Garrett. He reached over and placed a hand over his wife’s. “Truth is, if Cecil hadn’t lost his business, I never would’ve met Ammy.”
Sophie smiled. “Really?”
“I was a mail-order bride, just like you,” Ammy explained. “Only I came to Independence to get married so that I wouldn’t be forced to marry another. But that’s another story.” She turned to her son. “Fletch, what are you going to do?”
“Sheriff Diamond and I will begin our investigation tomorrow.” He glanced at Sophie. “I plan on taking Miss Baxter with us.”
“You do?” Sophie asked in shock.
“You aren’t opposed to the idea, are you?”
“No, not at all. I just didn’t think you’d want me along, being a suspect and all.”
“Well, I want you to take another look at those letters, a really good look. Maybe they’ll give us a clue.”
“I don’t know … the one you showed me looked very much like my handwriting. But it most definitely wasn’t.”
“We’ll start first thing tomorrow by searching Jasper’s room,” he said. “Jace – Sheriff Diamond – mentioned that he planned to talk to Mrs. Bee and make sure she kept it locked and unrented until he gave it a thorough going-over.”
Sophie’s eyes darted around the table to see his family’s reaction. His parents both nodded, looking serious. His grandparents, on the other hand, were busy with their chocolate pudding, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. She did her best not to smile and glanced at her own dessert, untouched. “I’ll be ready,” she said.
“Wonderful. I think we’d best check the livery stable too. Any place Jasper might have frequented.”
“I didn’t know the man,” his father said. “Neither did your mother. “
“Julian Smythe had a few dealings with him,” Ammy said. “His wife Ellie told me just the other day that he had Jasper work on their funeral wagon.”
“Excellent,” Fletcher said. “We’ll pay a visit to the Smythes as well.” He smiled in satisfaction and started to dig into his pudding.
His parents exchanged a quick look. “Um, perhaps this isn’t the best time to bring this up …,” his father began.
Fletcher, his spoon halfway to his mouth, stopped and stared at him. “What?”
“About your position at Woolley, Holmes & Shunk – that is to say, your former position.” His father cleared his throat. “You’ll be looking for other work soon, I presume?”
Fletcher took a bite before answering. “Of course. But my current client comes first.” He glanced at Sophie and smiled.
Unable to help herself, she smiled shyly back. Really, she’d found it hard not to smile at him throughout the meal. There was something so reassuring and confident about him. It made her feel confident too.
“There isn’t much call for lawyers around here, you know,” his father reminded him.
“Unless the town lawyer retires,” Fletcher said with a grin.
“This town lawyer still has a few good years left in him. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Sophie tried not to grin at the remark. Fletcher had explained earlier that his father was the only lawyer Independence had had for years. Before that, a Mr. Clarkson held the only practice, and handed it off to Garrett Vander when he was fresh out of college. Given time, he’d catch up with his own father’s years as mayor. She suddenly realized what an interesting family Fletcher Vander had and wished she’d met them under different circumstances. These were people she genuinely would like to get to know.
Then she thought of something she hadn’t before. “Mr. Vander, how long do you think it will take us to find what it is you’re looking for?”
“You mean who’s really behind this? Who tried to frame you?” He shrugged. “As long as it takes. Who knows?”
She glanced around the table again. “Though I appreciate all your help, I also don’t want to cause you any distress.”
“Distress? What sort of distress?”
“I believe she’s referring to your current state of unemployment.” Garrett winked at Sophie.
She blushed. “I don’t want to be a bother is all.”
“A bother?” Fletcher said, affronted. “Miss Baxter, you don’t seem to realize the seriousness of your situation.”
“My situation?”
His father agreed. “He does have a point, Miss Baxter.”
“The point is, they should be married!” Grandpa Vander boomed over his pudding.
Fletcher’s father rolled his eyes and shook his head. “The wedding�
��s next Tuesday,” he quipped dryly.
“It is? Excellent!” Grandpa Vander returned to his dessert.
Fletcher’s parents both sighed. “You’re also welcome to stay with us,” Ammy offered.
“Thank you, Mrs. Vander,” Sophie said. “But I’m not sure it would be proper to stay in the same house with your son. Especially if he’s acting as my lawyer.” She noticed his parents exchange a quick look with his grandparents – what was that about?
Fletcher dabbed his mouth with a napkin and set it on the table. “Gran, tell Betsy that was excellent as always.”
“Cecil made the pudding,” she told him. She looked at Sophie and smiled. “Since you’ll be staying with us awhile, Miss Baxter, perhaps you’d like to volunteer to help with our Fourth of July celebration?”
“Really, Mother, I’m sure Miss Baxter has more important things on her mind than being on one of your committees,” Garrett said. He turned to Sophie. “She’s been heading up the celebration for as long as I can remember.”
Sophie’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the petite woman with the birdlike voice. How could she organize anything? From what she’d observed so far, the poor thing was liable to forget what room she was in.
Fletcher saw the look on her face and chuckled. “Don’t let what you’ve seen fool you. Sure, they forget things now and then, but it’s amazing what they can remember when they really have to.”
She arched an eyebrow at that and glanced at his grandparents. Both were staring into their empty pudding dishes. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“Sometimes we think they’re faking it,” Garrett whispered. “But we don’t mind.”
Sophie put a hand to her mouth and tried not to giggle. Fletcher’s family was growing on her and she’d only spent an hour with them. She let her eyes wander around the dining room for a moment and tried to picture having a house such as this with a husband and children. She’d dreamt of nothing else the entire journey west, but her arrival had turned into a nightmare. She sighed and folded her hands on the table.
