by Janet Eaves
He approached the closed gate and stopped a couple of feet back. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Butler. I’m Thomas Green. I wonder if I might speak with to you for a brief moment?”
Her eyes darted to the driveway then back toward him, though she didn’t look directly at him. Fidgeting, she shook her head. “I just buried my husband today, Mr. Green. Could you come back another day?”
He’d known that would be her answer, but there was no conviction in her voice so he pressed on. “I’m sorry. But actually, that’s why I’ve come on out to speak to you today, instead of waiting until tomorrow, like I originally planned. I realize my timing is inappropriate, but I had already made an appointment to talk to your husband tomorrow about this, and I guess I wondered if now I should just leave; if his passing has changed things.” When she said nothing, he pressed on. “I’ve come a long way, ma’am.”
She frowned, bit her lip, then frowned again, making him think she wasn’t going to buy his bluff and would ask him to leave, but she sighed heavily and leaned against the gate. “What is it you want, Mr. Green?”
Relieved that his banking on southern manners had paid off, he backed a couple of steps hoping the gesture reassured her. “I’m looking for a farm to buy.” Her eyes lit up with interest as her gaze finally met his. For a second he was stunned into silence, mesmerized by her violet eyes. Strangely disconcerted, he continued. “As I’d told your husband on the phone, I don’t want to buy one until I decide it would be a wise move on my part.”
He let the lie sink in and felt a wave of relief that she didn’t question her husband making plans to sell their home without consulting her. Of course he’d never made any such call, had in fact never talked to the man. Figuring her lack of questions had as much to do with the overwhelming events of the day, as well as his job honed skills of deceit, he continued with a little more confidence.
“I do apologize for my timing, and would like to extend condolences as well, but since I’m here…, if you’re open to selling, still, I think maybe we could help each other out. I’d like to rent something close by and maybe help work the farm for you while I see if this is what I really want to do.”
Her mouth opened then closed without a sound which made him realize he was talking too much. She was obviously stunned. And he was being a jerk. He sighed, deciding to back off.
Before he could form an apology, she smiled, transforming her previously almost haggardly features to that of a very young, captivating woman.
“You want to buy the farm?”
It took his breath. Her excitement was as exuberant as it was surprising given the circumstances, but he couldn’t help the responding smile that started at his pounding heart and traveled to his mouth. All he could do was nod like a moron.
“I guess it would be okay to talk. Ummm, I’m afraid the house is a little messy.” She looked suddenly nervous, a little flustered, but she enthusiastically swung the gate open. “Please, Mr. Green, come in.”
Tom entered the gate then followed like an obedient, adoring puppy. He shook himself. Too stunned by his reaction to her to feel shame that he was there under false pretenses, he shook himself again, hoping to knock some sense into a mind that needed to be sharp. Once in the front door, he looked around as she led them into what would have been the parlor when the house was built at the turn of the nineteenth century. There wasn’t anything “messy” about the house. It was ridiculously clean and polished, and looked as if the furnishings were locked into the same time period. Something that fit the woman he’d seen at the funeral, but not so much the one he was looking at now.
With very little effort and a few more pounds, Winifred Butler could be considered beautiful. No… Nothing would make her look more beautiful than she did now. Oh lord! What am I thinking?
“Please sit down. I’ll get us something to drink. Tea? Soda? Water?”
“Water would be great,” Tom said, more so she’d leave him alone in the room for a minute than from thirst. He cleared his throat to remind himself he was a professional and she was a person of interest… He needed to take advantage of the time she was giving him. He glanced around, mentally mapping the room and looking for any indication useful information was close at hand. But the room held nothing but figurines and doilies so he settled his self back in the seat and was studying the painting over the fireplace when she returned.
Winifred carried a clear glass of ice-cold water for him, and a china saucer and steaming cup for herself. She handed him his before sitting down. “I’m interested in hearing what you have to say, but I must tell you that I don’t know when the farm will be released to me. I don’t even know if there is a will.
“According to the lawyer I talked to yesterday, it could take a few months if we don’t find a will, but in the end there shouldn’t be any other claim on the property.” She looked around the room again, then back at him. “Miss Betty, Jack’s previous wife, left him everything. As his only heir, I seem to be entitled to everything that he left behind, unless there is a will and he left it to someone else.”
Tom studied her, but she showed little if any emotion other than exuberance. “Do you think that’s a possibility?”
She shook her head. “No. Not really. Jack didn’t plan to die so he wouldn’t have ever given it a thought.” A slow smile lifted her lips. “But he’d dead now.”
Though there wasn’t exactly joy in the statement, Tom wondered about the complete lack of sorrow. Apparently the marriage wasn’t a happy one. “Can I ask you something personal, Mrs. Butler?”
A quick blink of the eyes. “Yes,” she responded, hesitantly.
Since she was instantly putting up walls, and all he could really think about was her scent with her so close, he changed the question. “What perfume are you wearing?”
She giggled. With relief? He didn’t know, but it tickled him to hear the tinkling laughter coming from such a serious face.
“It’s called Liberte, Mr. Green. I just bought it yesterday.”
Freedom. A silent statement? “It’s very nice.” Oh lord! That sounded a little too sincere and totally inappropriate.
“Thank you. Now, about the farm, I can’t make any promises as to when it will be available, but at some point it will.”
Perfect! Back to business. Tom relaxed into his seat, determined to stop acting like a love struck fool. “That sounds good to me, Mrs. Butler. It should give me time to decide if I want to live here in Legend, or even have a farm. I can get some real hands-on experience.”
No! Not hands on… what is wrong with me!
She frowned, took a sip of her tea, and then frowned again. “Do you currently live on a farm, Mr. Green? You are a lot more excited to work the land than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Tom, please. And no, not now. Not since I was a boy.”
Winifred looked around the room with distaste. “Then why in the world would you want to?”
The sarcastic comment, coming just as Tom took a sip, caught him off guard, and he inhaled the liquid instead of swallowing it. Coughing gave him a moment to think of his response, but his mind when blank when she rose and moved closer to gently pat him on the back. Once his throat cleared, he sipped a little more, and waved her away. He was relieved when she took her seat.
When he could finally speak he thanked her, with a still hoarse voice… Finally, after much throat clearing, he picked up where he should have left off. “I want the investment. I like living in the country. And I’m financially independent so don’t have to worry about the farm supporting me.”
Tom cleared his throat again, still trying to overcome the scratchy mess it had become, knowing he’d have to get out of the conversation as soon as possible. She had thrown him completely off his game. Something that had never happened before and he didn’t need it happening now. He had been prepared to ask the questions, to make up whatever needed to be made up to get what he needed, but she was making it hard to remember what he’d planned to tell, and what he ne
eded to keep quiet about.
Winifred nodded thoughtfully, oblivious to his dilemma. “That’s probably good. From what I understand it’s hard to make a living farming these days. Jack’s…” She shook her head. “I mean my farm is completely paid for, so all it costs is taxes and utilities. I only know that because of the lawyer. You might want to talk to him. He knows more about all this than I do.”
Of course he already knew the farm was currently debt free, though it wasn’t when Betty’s first husband died. Apparently wife number three hadn’t been informed of that little distinction… or any other, if she was to be believed.
What he’d uncovered in the last few weeks, besides the real possibility of criminal activity, was that the farm was free and clear, where it hadn’t been only months before. Tom was quite certain this was due to crimes committed against the United States by one Jack Butler. Whether she knew about those crimes, or not, was what he was here to find out. And he damned well needed to remember that! “You’re husband must have made a great living. Not having debt these days is a miracle. How did he manage? I’m still paying off student loans.”
Though he expected it, she didn’t take offense at such a personal question. She was truly guileless or a great actress.
Her brows wrinkled. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s strange not to have debt. He told me nothing about anything regarding his finances. But from what I understand, he’d worked the land since marrying his last wife, at least he was always out there doing something. The farm was hers. She was considerably older than him. She died a little over a year ago. But Jack never acted like he had money. At least he never wanted me to know he might.”
Her cheeks flushed before she looked away from him, then back.
Interesting reaction, Tom decided, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he acted surprised by the information she’d shared. “You mean you and Mr. Butler hadn’t been married long? I’m really sorry about your loss, and for dropping in on you today. I feel like a jerk for making you deal with all this now.”
Indecision crossed her features, as if she wanted to say something, but all she said quietly, was, “Thank you. It’s okay.”
Tom stood and so did she. “I guess I should be getting on. I’m going to see if there is a room available at the Bed and Breakfast on Lake Road. If you decide you are interested in taking me up on my offer, give me a call.” He pulled out a bogus business card and handed it to her. “Just call me on my cell phone within the next couple of days if possible. Otherwise I might have to keep looking elsewhere.”
She took the card, bit her bottom lip, and exhaled. “Mr. Green, thank you for coming by today. Your timing was perfect.” Her cheeks flushed. “I think, if you don’t mind my getting our local law enforcement to do a criminal background check, we can do business together.”
Tom smiled. “Perfect.”
Chapter Five
“I am so happy you came, Winifred.”
“Call me Winnie, please.” She blinked in surprise at all those who had gathered in the kitchen at Legend Landing’s Bed & Breakfast, then turned back to her hostess, Suzie Matthews. The woman was known throughout Legend as the best cook in the county. Her weekly Saturday morning classes were gaining so much publicity and had become so popular that her kitchen was too crowded to work in, so today, instead of having everyone participate hands-on, she was going to demonstrate while everyone else took notes. Then they all got to enjoy her homemade pizza with a glass of Merlot.
Normally Winnie felt too shy to socialize at such large gatherings, but she’d been one of Suzie’s first cooking students, and felt she had as much right to be there as any of them. Other than a girl named Macy, and Suzie herself, she was the only one present of the original class that started the Saturday after she’d married Jack. At first she’d thought his signing her up for the class a neat wedding gift, but had soon found out it was another way of controlling her. Only this one thing had backfired on him, because she’d gotten pleasure out of the company and the experience. She’d been careful never to let it show, though, or he’d have taken that away from her, too.
Now she was free of him and she refused to restrain her pleasure any longer. Even though it took her out of her comfort zone, she was going to start enjoying life a little. She smiled at Suzie, obviously startling the woman. “Do you need me to do anything?”
Suzie’s wide, friendly smile radiated her delight. “Of course, Winnie. I’ll need you to help with the dough.”
Winnie followed her through the throng of people to the empty space behind the counter and awaited Suzie’s instructions. She felt honored that Suzie chose her to assist. It was usually her close friend Lilly Hood’s job. But Lilly had given birth the week before and wouldn’t be available for several weeks. By then, maybe Suzie would need both of them.
“Okay, Winnie, you start on the dough and I’ll start on the sauce. You’ll need…”
The sound of Suzie’s voice dissolved into nothingness when Tom Green entered the room. Though he stood behind many of those present, his height allowed him to stand above the others, and for the moment, he was all she could see. He smiled at her, and before she was even aware of it, she smiled back.
“Winnie?”
She turned to Suzie. “Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
Suzie slid a glance towards Tom then back to her, making her cheeks heat. She’d only buried Jack two weeks earlier and didn’t want anyone thinking she was interested in another man so soon. If any of them really knew her, they would know she’d most likely never be interested in an intimate relationship with any man ever again, not even if he was as handsome as Tom Green.
Apparently she hadn’t been herself when she’d last talked to Tom, as she didn’t remember his slightly shaggy sand and blond streaked hair, his friendly hazel eyes, or the fact that he was about as physically beautiful as any man she’d ever seen. Not that she’d seen all that many over the last decade. She hadn’t even made it out of Legend until Jack.
“You’ll need to take that measuring cup with the water in it and pour it into the bowl of premeasured flour. Add the salt, sugar, Crisco lard, and kneed it until it is completely mixed, then cover it with that cheese cloth for forty-five minutes.”
Winnie followed the instructions, all the while purposely avoiding looking at Tom. He’d been gone for the last two weeks while she waited for the Sheriff’s report to come back, and he’d cleared up whatever it was he’d needed to do to prepare to make the move. She knew he was to have arrived at the B&B the night before, but hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to him, or to let him know the arrangements she’d decided on. She’d received a clean background report on him and was going to make him an offer she prayed he wouldn’t refuse.
Since it made more sense than to rent one house and run to the farm every day, she doubted Tom would object to living on site–at least she hoped not. He would stay in the bedroom she’d once shared with Jack, and in exchange for room and board would take over the running of the farm. If Randy Rudd decided to stick around and continue working, which she had no choice but to allow for the moment, he would have to report to Tom. She had no intention of being caught alone with him ever again.
Since Jack’s burial she’d avoided answering the door or giving any indication she was at home the few times Randy came calling. The fear that he might have some or all of the explicitly sexual pictures of her and Jack meant she had to keep him somewhat close, but she feared him as much as she’d learned to fear Jack.
With so many acres, most of which stayed hidden behind the stand of trees at the back and sides of the yard, she had no idea if Randy was still working the farm. The day before Jack died he and Randy sat at the kitchen table making preparations to harvest the corn, soybeans, and then the tobacco. She hoped he just left everything alone for Tom to handle, but she wasn’t walking across the farm to find out. If Randy caught her out alone, she had no idea what she’d do. Or what he’d try to do to her.
In the past two we
eks, she’d only gone to the barn once, when the local butcher, Gary Mercer, came and loaded up and took away all the pigs. That way she hadn’t been obligated to go to the barn and feed them. She’d opened the chicken pens and left them that way, as she’d had no interest in them or their eggs, and no desire to be that far from the locked house unless it was to leave in her locked car. With the chickens finding their own feed, and the cattle taking care of themselves out in the fields, she’d felt ready to wait out Tom’s return.
When she’d first accepted Jack’s marriage proposal she’d done so out of a need to take her life back. The ten years of caring for her endlessly-dying father had consumed her youth, and at twenty-seven she’d felt old and worn out, and was certain she’d missed the boat on romance and a family of her own. Jack hadn’t been the best looking guy, but he’d shown up at her dad’s funeral, told her he understood her loss as he’d just buried a beloved wife, but that he wasn’t getting any younger and wanted a woman interested in starting a family immediately.
Mostly, he’d courted her like a gentleman. Always taking her out of town to Pigeon Forge or Gatlinburg to dine, catch a movie, and finally propose. She’d overlook his weight problem, as she’d had one of her own–no matter what she ate, she never gained a pound. And she’d ignored the fact that he hadn’t taken her to meet any family or friends. Something she now knew was a red flag. In retrospect, there were many she missed.
The reality of what he was started the night she married him, and was a horror she’d lived every day, and especially the nights until his death. Randy’s spending so much time with them at the house, and his actions in the front yard the day of Jack’s funeral, confirmed that he was no different than the monster she’d buried. So the land and barn were off limits until she could go outside feeling safe.
