by J. H. York
Evan opened the gate and entered the floral garden. It was a garden of about ten feet in diameter. Red, orange, yellow and pink roses surrounded a small bench that had been placed in the center of the garden. There was a white picket fence that enclosed the garden that had been built by he and Roger when Evan was only eight years old. It was a special place that held special memories for him. He sat on the bench and sighed. What am I supposed to do, Dad? He wondered as he gazed at the roses.
Faintly behind him he heard the gate open. He glanced back and was surprised to see Lindsey quietly closing the gate behind her. His mouth tightened and he turned his head to look at the roses again. The faint smell of lilac and honeysuckle drifted over to him as she walked to the bench.
“Can I please sit with you Evan?” She asked quietly from behind him.
He turned and stared at her for a second. She was in her black dress and shoes, eyes swollen and red. She held a handkerchief in her hands and was twisting it. She looked so pathetic and sad Evan felt his anger and tenseness loosen. She really looks upset...ease up on her. For today anyway. He motioned with his hand to the bench and nodded.
She quickly sat down, and the floral smell of the garden and the freshness of her mingled in an intoxicating way. Evan turned his head and tried hard not to think about how good she smelled. They sat in silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence surprisingly. Evan glanced over at Lindsey, and he took in the contours of her face. Soft skin, full lips and long eyelashes were framed by soft blond hair. She glanced over at him and tried to smile. It seemed to take every ounce of effort she had to stop from crying.
Turning and looking around the garden she smiled slightly. “This is a nice garden...” She whispered.
Evan nodded. “Yeah... Dad built it for my Mom. I helped with the fence. I was very young...”
They sat in silence again, and Evan wondered if he should say something. Lindsey crossed her legs, and shifted on the bench. Evan looked down at his hands. I should just go back inside...but this is comfortable. He glanced at Lindsey. A slight breeze was blowing her hair and Evan remembered the first time he saw her...standing in the doorway, looking like an angel.
His dad had said a couple of things to him before he had passed. Evan had heard them, but had not been listening. He had been worried, of course, and had been wondering where the helicopter was.
“Evan ... you gotta take care of her. Lindsey. Look after her. Keep her safe.”
As he sat looking at her he wondered, safe from what? Or who? Bethany? Trevor? Most likely he had left her everything, so maybe Evan would have to shield her from the business “sharks” and politicians.
“When did you and dad meet first?” He asked.
Not that he was really that curious, but he felt something should be said.
She looked down at her hands and twisted the handkerchief a little.
“A couple of years ago…” She replied.
Evan felt shock wash over him. His dad had known her that long? He had said that he met her last time he was in Cali...but she's saying that they have known each other for a couple of years... Evan thought of pressing further, but for what? There would be plenty of time to find out about Lindsey and Roger's relationship. Evan started to stand up, and Lindsey looked into his eyes.
“Thank-you Evan... for not being mean to me.”
Evan nodded.
“Not today anyway.” He mumbled.
Starting to walk off he heard her softly say, “Dad...your dad...was very special to me. He said that I could trust you.”
He turned and looked at her. She was looking down, turning the handkerchief around in her delicate hands.
Looking over at him she whispered, “He said you are a good man.”
Evan stood still for a minute, and then started to walk out of the garden.
“Yeah. Well I guess he didn't know me as well as he thought, huh?”
He stepped out of the garden and walked to the house without looking back.
3 CHAPTER THREE
“Well Trevor. Can you please explain to me why we don't know anything more than we did a week ago? How is this possible?”
Bethany was pacing in her living room, drink in hand.
Trevor shifted on his feet and shrugged.
“I mean these things can take time...but the truth is that my guy hasn't been able to...um...get at the files.”
Bethany stopped pacing and turned to stare at him.
“What does that mean? Like, as in he can't get them out of an envelope?”
She took a sip of her drink and shook her head in disgust.
Trevor smiled despite himself. Bethany was a smart, cunning devious woman, but she was lacking in the knowledge of modern techniques and technology.
“No Beth...Um. These things are kept on computer files now...not, you know...paper.” Trevor trailed off under the hot gaze of Bethany.
He could practically see the fire in her eyes as she glared at him.
“Anyway...” he continued as he walked over to the liquor cabinet, “He is working on it as we speak. He said he would contact me as soon as he finds something out.”
Pouring a healthy glass of scotch over ice he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Refill?” He asked.
Nodding she walked to him and handed her glass over. Clearly her wheels were turning as she thought. Trevor handed her the refilled glass and walked over to the couch to sit down.
“What's the worry anyway? I mean if dad left her anything there's nothing we can do.” He said as he sat down.
Bethany was still deep in thought, and stood looking out the window. She sipped from her drink and held the all to familiar stance that Trevor knew when she was trying to mentally work something out.
Turning she started to pace again. Her tone had changed when she spoke.
“Maybe...maybe not.” She mused quietly. She looked at Trevor, but didn't smile. “You see Trevor...if you know somebody's past you can help determine their future. Let us pretend that little miss perfect has some other family. Well...perhaps things could be arranged to put...pressure...on them.”
She took a sip of her drink and Trevor felt a chill shoot up his back.
Frowning he asked, “What kind of pressure?
Bethany strolled over to the window and turned the rod controlling the blinds. The room went darker as she closed the blinds.
“Oh I don't know Trevor...we will need to know who we are dealing with before we can make that determination.”
She sipped her drink and Trevor shook his head.
“Now hold on a goddamn minute Beth...I mean the things you are eluding too are...” he started, but his phone rang cutting him off. Pulling his cell out of his pocket Trevor looked at it. “It's him.” He said and stood up.
Bethany walked from the window and over to Trevor.
“Yes.” Trevor spoke into his phone. He listened for a minute and frowned, his eyes squinting slightly as his brow furrowed. “I see. Any determination as to who did that?” Listening some more his face registered surprise. “Say again?” He whispered.
Bethany was looking at Trevor with curiosity. She mouthed the words, “What is he saying?”
Trevor held up his finger in a wait a second motion. “Alright. Well...that's odd to say the least.” He nodded and then replied. “Yes. Please do. Later.”
Trevor frowned and hung up the phone.
Bethany was staring at him inquisitively. “Well?” she demanded.
He looked at her and shook his head. “He still can't get into the files...they've been sealed.”
Bethany's head recoiled slightly in a non-understanding motion. “Sealed? Did he say why?”
Shaking his head “no” Trevor picked up his drink. “Well then who on earth would seal her records? And why?” She questioned with growing agitation.
Trevor sipped and shrugged. “He doesn't know why...but he knows who.”
Sipping his drink again he looked at Bethany.
“Who?” she asked, but she knew before Trevor answered.
Frowning tight lipped he looked steadily at her. “Dad did...”
******
Lindsey walked down from her room and slowly sauntered into the kitchen. The ticking of the clock in the hall was the only sound in the mansion. The sneakers on her feet silently propelled her toward the kitchen. Her tight jeans and “Giants” baseball tee-shirt were a stark contrast to the clothing normally worn by members of the family. Moving toward the kitchen she caught the aromatics of Rita's cooking.
Opening the great door to the kitchen she was met with the full array of smells coming from the oven and stove. Peppers, onions, beef and bread smells were blended together in a fragrant bouquet that made her stomach grumble loudly. She hadn't had much of an appetite lately, but smelling the food made her realize she was famished. She moved slowly through the kitchen looking around. It was empty at the moment, even though the oven and range were both on, clearly the culprits of the food as it cooked. Lindsey sat down on a stool at an island next to the oven.
The walk-in fridge opened and Rita came out carrying a head of lettuce, a tomato and some carrots. She was in her Chief's attire, and was humming to herself. A woman of about fifty, she carried a little extra weight. Black hair and dark brown eyes highlighted a kind and genuine face. Smiling when she saw Lindsey, Rita came over to the island and set down the produce.
“Oh good! You came down. I was beginning to worry about you Ms. Lindsey.” Rita said with the tiniest hint of an accent.
Lindsey smiled and nodded. “Yes...thank-you for looking in on me. This smells delicious...” She continued as she looked over at the stove.
Rita moved over to the stove and stirred the pot on the range. Grabbing the pan that was steaming and spattering she quickly gave it a couple of expert tosses. Smiling she looked back at Lindsey. “Fajitas...you like them?”
Smiling Lindsey nodded. “I'm from Cali...love Latin cuisine.”
Absentmindedly Lindsey reached over and grabbed the tomato. Standing up she reached under the island, pulled out a cutting board and grabbed a knife from the rack.
Rita held up her hand in protest. “Oh you don't have to do that Ms.”
She began but Lindsey waved her off.
“I want to...” She said.
Running the sharp knife through the tomato, she began to dice. Working quickly and with techniques learned in a kitchen she made quick work of the tomato. Rita was looking on with curiosity.
She moved past Lindsey to get a couple of small dishes to hold the garnishes that were being chopped. “Good knife work...Where did you learn those?” Rita asked as she set the dishes down on the counter of the island.
Scooping up the tomato with the knife Lindsey deposited it into one of the bowls. “I worked when I was in Cali.” She said with a hint of pride. “I don't come from money. My mom worked until the day she died...” Grabbing the head of lettuce she split it in half with one deft chop.
The door opened and one of the security guards, Arturo, came in. He halted a bit as he saw Lindsey chopping the lettuce. Smiling he continued. A handsome man of 38, he had tan skin, dark hair and dark eyes. His white teeth contrasted nicely with his skin and his dark blue uniform, which was crisply pressed.
“Hello Ms. Lindsey.” He smiled. Turning to Rita he grinned and said, “Hola querido. Almuerzo huele genial! ¿Ya está trabajando el pequeño?” ("Hello dear. Lunch smells great! Is the little one already working?").
Rita cast a quick glance a Lindsey. Lindsey was still chopping but looked at Arturo.
Smiling she said “Hello Arturo.”
She finished chopping the lettuce and deposited it into the larger bowl on the counter. She reached down and grabbed the carrots and a peeler and moved over to the sink to clean them.
“You are from California?” Arturo asked. His accent was thicker than Rita's.
Nodding Lindsey began quickly peeling the carrots. “Yeah...Oakland area.” Arturo raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Rita.
“La delicada flor es de Oakland? No sabía que tenían ricos manchas en el capó ...” He grinned. (The delicate flower is from Oakland? I didn't know they had rich spots in the hood.)
Rita swatted at Arturo with a kitchen towel. “¡Se bueno! Ella es dulce. Me preocupo por ella con la señora Bethany. Creo que la Sra. Bethany va a hacer algo malo con ella ...” (Be nice! She is sweet. I worry for her with Ms. Bethany. I think Ms. Bethany is going to do something mean to her...)
Lindsey had finished the carrots and had walked back to the island. She began quickly chopping the carrots.
Arturo raised his eyebrows and whistled softly through his teeth. He turned back to Rita and grinned, “Tal vez deberíamos mantener los cuchillos lejos cuando la Sra. Bethany venga ... la delicada flor tiene manos rápidas ... ¿sí?” (Maybe we should keep the knives away when Ms. Bethany comes over...the delicate flower has quick hands...yes?)
Rita had begun dishing up lunch. She nodded at Arturo's remarks. “Sí.” she said as she placed a couple of tortillas on a side plate.
She handed the plate to Lindsey who had tossed some garnish onto her plate of steaming beef, onions, and peppers. Smiling she picked up both plates.
“Thank-you Rita... Arturo. I think I'm going to eat in the garden if you don't mind.”
Nodding Rita smiled. “Of course.”
Lindsey started toward the door, carrying her plates.
She stopped and turned to Rita and Arturo, smiling. “By the way...No te preocupes por la delicada flor. Una rosa es hermosa de mirar pero está protegida por las espinas ... ¿Sí?” (Don't worry about the delicate flower. A rose is beautiful to look at but is protected by thorns... Yes?)
Lindsey walked out with her food leaving Rita and Arturo with stunned looks on their faces.
4 CHAPTER FOUR
It was a warm day, and Evan felt a dip in the Estate's pool would be refreshing. He thought about getting one on his own property, but hadn't yet. Now that dad had died, and the will reading was tomorrow, he figured to wait and see. More than likely Lindsey would get most everything, but Evan wondered if dad would give her the Estate.
Getting out of his car he grabbed his towel. As he walked to the pool area he waived at “Ronnie” the landscaper. “Ronnie” was from Japan, and had made a special section on the estate of exotic Japanese plants. Banzai trees, and assorted beautiful flowers adorned the section. Ronnie's real name was traditional Japanese, but he had always insisted on the American rendition. After waiving Ronnie went back to his plants.
There was a nice path leading to the pool, and a white 6 foot high fence surrounding the pool and deck. Many a barbeque had been held behind that fence, and Evan smiled as he thought back on some of them. Opening the gate he walked into the pool area. The sun was shining off of the clear water, and there was an instant glare in his eyes.
Through the glare as he squinted behind his sunglasses he realized that Lindsey was laying on one of the chairs. He turned and closed the gate, debating on whether or not to stay. Sighing he turned around and walked toward her. She was laying on her back with sunglasses and headphones on. Her black bikini was conservative as far as bikini's are concerned. Evan looked over her body as he approached. He noticed a couple of small scars, one on her tight stomach, and the other on her left shoulder. The scars were both about an inch long, and straight across.
Tossing his towel down on the chair next to hers, Evan smiled sarcastically. Lindsey looked up at him and removed her headphones.
“I figure it would look bad if I chose a chair on the other side of the pool...wouldn't it?” Evan asked and took off his shirt.
Lindsey shrugged as he sat down on the chair. “I wouldn't blame you Evan... and I also wouldn't lose any sleep.” She said as she looked at him from behind her dark sunglasses.
She didn't remind him of the angel that he had first laid eyes on when his dad had held the family meeting. There seemed to be a maturity now,
and she wore it well.
Laying back onto the chair she said, “I know that I'm an outsider to the family...and that maybe you and Trevor are willing to give me a shot...but I gotta earn your trust. I'm okay with it.” She looked at him and smiled slightly, “But so do you.”
Evan nodded. “Fair enough.”
Sitting back into the chair he raised the back so he was sitting up, but at an angle.
He began to apply sunscreen and mused aloud. “You don't think Beth is gonna give you a shot?” Grinning he looked over at her.
Turning her head she lowered her glasses revealing her blue eyes. Grinning back she joked, “I think she is more apt to shoot me than give me a shot. Don't you?”
Evan noticed Lindsey's eyes flick over his body as she raised her glasses back up to cover her eyes. I saw that... Grinning Evan nodded. “Yeah...she's a tough cookie.” He set down the lotion bottle and sat back in the chair. “Probably will be even tougher tomorrow at the reading of the will...”
Nodding Lindsey sighed. “Yeah...I don't think that is going to be a pleasant situation for any of us.”
They sat in silence for a minute.
Evan leaned over and nonchalantly asked, “But maybe you've been a tough cookie also...or should I call you a ‘chica’ instead?”
