Yawning, he stared out the window. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his eyes open; he must be more tired than he realized. Struggling to stay awake, he watched a black sedan roll to a halt just behind the plane. Dykes strolled up to the driver's window, leaned inside for a few moments, then retraced his steps. A few moments later, two men got out of the car and walked forward. The last thing his mind registered before he fell asleep was a scraping noise, followed by the cabin door swinging open.
32
What a terrible day for a funeral, Mary thought sadly as she watched Father Mackeldown and the three other mourners leave the gravesite and hurry to safety of their cars.
"We better be going, Mary. The rain's worsening," Jack urged in a hushed voice.
She nodded and tossed the single rose she carried onto Elizavon's casket. "Goodbye, Aunt Elizavon," she murmured in a sad voice. "I hope your new life is better than your old one. Rest in peace."
Bolts of thunder boomed overhead and zigzag streaks of lightning flashed across the sky as she and Jack hurried to the rental car parked nearby. "Where to now?" he asked, navigating the rain-flooded road to the main highway. "Do you want to go back to DeeDee's, or get something to eat?"
"Lunch, I think," Mary suggested. "I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee." She shook her head sadly. "I still can't believe that only three other people came to Aunt Elizavon's funeral. That's disgraceful."
"Mary, your aunt wasn't a very nice woman. Why would anybody want to go to the funeral of somebody who'd only been rude or mean to them? From what I've heard about your aunt, she's lucky three other people showed up. Your own sister wouldn't even go."
"I know, but I just hate that things turned out the way they did," Mary said. "First the bad weather, then nobody showing up except the attorney, butler, and maid. It's a terrible way to be buried, Jack. It's...so sad."
He reached over and patted her hand. "But she wasn't alone at the end, Mary. You were there when she died, and you were at the funeral. Elizavon did have somebody there who cared for her, so that ought to count for something."
She squeezed his fingers. "Thanks, Jack. You're such a good person. I'm so glad I found you."
"Yeah, well, that's enough of that. What about lunch?" he asked, switching the conversation to a lighter topic.
"Sounds good. I could go for something to eat."
"What about the South End? The paper said there's a couple new restaurants that are supposed to have outstanding food."
She shook her head. "I don't know. They're probably crowded."
"Reason enough. You need a crowd to cheer you up. Besides, Elizavon's attorney isn't far from there. What time do we have to be in his office?"
"Three." She stared out the window. "I still don't feel right about this, Jack. I mean, after all, we just put her in the ground. Meeting with her lawyer the same day is kind of cold and calculating."
He switched the wipers to high as the thunderstorm intensified. "Look, Mary. It's your call. If you feel uncomfortable meeting with him, that's okay with me. We can reschedule the appointment for another day."
She sighed deeply. "I don't know what to do. Maybe we ought to get it over with so we can go home. I only have a few days left of vacation, and I'd like to spend them in my own house."
"It's up to you, baby. Whatever you want to do is okay. If you don't want to meet with Charles, then don't."
"I still can't figure out why he wants to meet with us," she said in a puzzled tone. "I'll bet Aunt Elizavon left everything she had to her favorite charities. She didn't believe in leaving money to relatives; said it made them useless members of society that preyed off of other people's hard work. If I've heard that statement once, I've heard it a hundred times." She gazed out the window, thinking about her sister DeeDee, and how her sister's outlook on life had changed since their parents' death.
"You know, I hate to say it, but in a way, Aunt Elizavon might have been right. Look at my sister, DeeDee. I love her dearly, but ever since she got her half of Mom and Dad's insurance money, all she's done is squander it on lavish vacations and parties. She only works when she absolutely has to, and because of that her landscape company's starting to get a bad reputation. I couldn't believe it when she told me she'd gone through forty thousand dollars in less than three years. She doesn't have a single thing to show for it, either. What's she going to do when the money runs out? By then, she won't have a viable business to fall back on. How will she live?"
Jack squeezed her hand. "That's DeeDee's problem, not yours. She's a big girl and will probably land on her feet. People like DeeDee always do. They're survivors. She'll manage, believe me." He patted her arm in sympathy. "I know you've been through the ringer these past couple of days, but I want you to try and forget about what's happened. Elizavon was an old woman. Nothing you or anybody else could have done would have changed the outcome of her illness. It was her time to go. I hate to say this, but she's the one who's dead--not you. There's no sense moping about her being gone. It might sound cruel, but life does go on, with or without your aunt."
"You're right." She took a deep breath. "It's just that everything seems so dismal right now. I really thought she'd pull through. I'm sorry I've been such a wet blanket."
"Don't worry about it, baby. The main thing is that you're okay. I want you to promise me that you'll concentrate on enjoying lunch. After all, it isn't every day we get time to ourselves, and I can't remember the last time we went to a decent restaurant. Okay?"
She smiled. "Okay. I'll try." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
"Don't try, Mary. Just do it. I know you can."
She grinned and placed the palms and fingertips of her hands together. "Yes, master. Whatever you say, master."
The dimple in his cheek widened. "That's more like it. You know, I think I like you as the obedient little wife. Now, if I could only get to you to obey my every command."
"Fat chance," she giggled as he pulled the car into a nearby parking spot.
"Oh well, it was worth a shot." Holding the umbrella aloft, he came around to her side of the car and escorted her across the busy street.
"Your best table, please. Something romantic, with a view worthy of my beautiful companion," Jack muttered in his most dramatic gigolo voice as the waitress approached them.
"Sure, whatever you say, lover boy," the waitress responded in a disinterested tone. "One secluded table with a view, coming right up," she continued in an utterly bored voice. Motioning them forward, she started across the room.
Unable to keep a straight face, Mary burst out laughing. "You know, I'm feeling better already," she announced as they weaved their way through the maze of tables.
Jack flashed her a look of pure mischief. "That, my dear, was the whole idea," he announced in a voice that perfectly mimicked their waitress.
Some two hours later, they presented themselves at the attorney's office. Mary wasn't quite sure what kind of office she'd expected Charles to have since he had worked exclusively for her aunt, but it was obvious that he didn't believe in excessive displays of wealth. The reception area was tastefully decorated, but not unduly so. It was, in fact, quite pleasing to the eye, with richly paneled walls and warm, earth-toned furniture, but certainly not up to Elizavon's scale of grandeur.
They didn't have to wait long. Some five minutes after they arrived, Charles appeared and escorted them into his private office.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," he urged. "This won't take long."
"Why are we here, Mr. Charles?" Mary asked, perching on the edge of her chair. "And why so soon after my aunt's funeral?"
He stared at Mary for a moment, then cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "Yes, well, your aunt left specific instructions for me to give you some papers the same day as her funeral," he announced in an embarrassed tone. "Believe me, it wasn't my idea. She was most insistent about this meeting being held within six hours of her burial."
"Why?
What's the hurry?" Mary asked, puzzled. "She didn't leave anything to me, so why force this meeting?"
He shrugged his shoulders and thumbed through the stack of papers on his desk. "Yes, well, you're not entirely correct, Mary. Actually, she did leave something to you--her half of the plantation."
Mary felt her jaw drop. "What? She left me her half of the plantation?" She eyed the attorney, who shifted uneasily in his chair. "What's the catch?" she asked, noticing his discomfort. "There's bound to be one. Aunt Elizavon never did anything for the sake of being nice. I learned that one the hard way last year."
He ran a finger around the inside of his collar. "It's only a small stipulation. In return for her half of the plantation, she wanted you to take care of the disposition of her paintings and houses. The paintings are to be sent to auction, with the proceeds going to the Home for Unwed Mothers that her trust is setting up."
Mary snorted derisively. "And how am I supposed to do that when I work full-time?"
"It's not that bad," Charles interrupted. "Her will stipulates that we can hire your company and Jack's to do the inventory, but you and Jack must do the actual work. Additionally, you are to accompany the paintings to auction in New York. Your aunt didn't trust the courier services."
"I see," Mary said, rising from her chair. "Is that it?"
"Er, not quite. Please, have a seat. The rest won't take long, I promise."
Sighing, Mary resumed her perch on the edge of the chair while Charles rifled through the papers on his desk. She glanced toward Jack, who shook his head and held up one hand, indicating they'd discuss matters once they left the attorney's office.
"Ah, here we are," Charles said in a satisfied tone as he removed two envelopes from the pile. "She left these for you, Mary." He pushed the sealed envelopes across the desk and watched quietly as she examined them.
"Any idea what's in here?" she asked finally. "Are...are these the letters Aunt Elizavon mentioned at the hospital?"
He nodded. "I believe they are; although I have no idea what's in them. Mrs. Phelps gave them to me just the way you see them, and told me to hold on to them until she died. If for some reason you refused to take them, they were to be destroyed unopened. Sorry, but that's all I know."
Mary rubbed her chin with her free hand. "Well, this certainly wasn't what I expected. I'll need to get back in touch with you in a few days, if that's all right."
He nodded. "That's fine, Mary. I figured this would come as a shock and you'd need a couple of days to get everything sorted out. Why don't you call me in, say, three or four days, and we'll take it from there." He glanced at Jack, who'd remained silent the entire time. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."
"Same here," Jack replied, shaking the attorney's outstretched hand. "If you're ever in our area, we'd be happy to put you up at the plantation. You'd be surprised how well it's turned out."
Charles grinned. "So I hear. Evidently you two did quite a job restoring it. Mrs. Phelps was quite impressed." He studied Jack's face for a moment. "I take it she didn't bother to mention that to either of you?"
"No, she didn't," Jack said, his smile taking the sting out of his words. "Well, I'm sure you're busy, so unless there's anything else, we'd better be on our way. Thanks for everything. We'll call you in a few days to sort out all the details." Waving to the attorney, he placed one hand under Mary's arm and guided her out of the room.
"Are you okay?" he asked when they returned to the car.
Mary nodded. "Yeah. I'm just surprised my aunt left us her interest in the plantation. That was the last thing I expected."
"Yeah, well, that kinda surprised me, too. Maybe I was wrong about her." He glanced at the two envelopes Mary clutched in her left hand. "You gonna open them?"
She turned the letters over, stared at the spidery scrawl on the front. "I don't know. I've been asking myself that same question."
"They must be important; otherwise Elizavon wouldn't have stipulated that you were the only one to get them."
She shook her head. "Maybe. Maybe not. What if they contain something I'd be better off not knowing? Something about my mother or father that's better left unsaid? Knowing the way my aunt hated my dad, I wouldn't put it past her to relish telling me all the gory details of some so-called indiscretion he committed."
"Was your aunt really that bad?" he asked.
"When it came to my dad--yes. She absolutely despised my father and refused to allow any mention of his name. When he and my mother died, she actually spit in his face at the funeral. It was awful." She shook her head. "Now maybe you can understand why I'm not sure if I'd be better off burning these letters without opening them."
Jack scratched the back of his head. "I hate to mention this, but what if they hold some clue about why you can see things. If you burn them, you'll never know."
"I've already thought of that. Just before my aunt died, she mentioned that I'd always been able to see things, even when I was little." She shivered as goose bumps raced up and down her spine. "The question I keep asking myself is: Was she telling the truth, or just making sure I'd read these letters?"
An uneasy silence fell between them as she tapped an index finger against one of the envelopes. "You know, there's another possibility that we haven't discussed. What...what if these letters tell me something about my so-called gift that's absolutely terrible? My own mother didn't want me to know about it, so something awful must have happened. What if Elizavon discloses something that adversely affects the rest of our lives? Do we really want to risk that?"
"I don't know, baby."
She laughed derisively. "Welcome to the club. I don't know either. When it comes to these letters, I'm damned if I do, or damned if I don't. I just wish I knew which one is the lesser of the two evils."
33
The gentle buzz of the intercom interrupted Jack's concentration on the novel he was reading. Sighing, he marked his spot with a piece of paper, then reached for the receiver.
"We'll be landing in about forty minutes," Dykes announced in a crisp tone. "Unfortunately, before we do, we have to pass through a storm front, and it could get a little rough. You might want to get buckled in."
"Got it, thanks." Jack said, placing the receiver back into its carved niche.
"What did Dykes want?" Mary asked, lazily stretching her arms overhead.
"We're heading into a storm front. He wants us to make sure we're buckled in."
She paused mid-stretch. "Anything we should be worried about?"
"Nah. He didn't sound worried, so I'm not."
"You know, I think I like traveling on commercial airlines better," she said, nervously peering out the window in search of storm clouds. "The planes are about three times bigger; you don't feel every little bump and air pocket like you do in this one."
Jack's glance circled the cabin. "Not me. I like being in the lap of luxury." He rubbed his feet in the thick carpet, slipped into his shoes, then eased back into his seat with a sigh of contentment. "I'll say one thing about your dear departed aunt. She certainly knew how to travel in style. After riding in this puppy, I'm not sure if I'll ever enjoy traveling with the masses again."
"Well, don't get too used to it, sweetie. Her attorney only gave us the use of this plane until we're finished the inventories," Mary pointed out. "After that, it's back to the commercial airlines."
His eyes twinkled. "Yeah, but there's no law that says I can't enjoy it while I've got it."
"You're terrible, do you know that?"
A dimple in his cheek flashed in and out. "I know."
She tossed her pillow at him, then proceeded to buckle her seatbelt as a clap of thunder momentarily melded with the sound of the engines. Brilliant streaks of lightning flashed through the sky, illuminating the dark clouds. "I thought you said this was a small storm front," she complained when turbulence hit suddenly.
"Think of it as a bump in the road," he soothed, glancing out the window.
"Hey, I can see a few rays of sunlight," he announced in a cheerful voice. "We must be almost out of the storm."
She leaned forward, arching her neck to peer out the window. "Where?"
"Over there, to the left of that big cloud," he said, pointing. "See? I told you there was nothing to worry about. Dykes' a good pilot. Your aunt wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't."
"Yeah, right. I'll just be glad when we're on solid ground."
"Why are you so nervous? It's not like you to be afraid of flying."
She shook her head. "I wouldn't say that I was...afraid, Jack. It's just that being in a small plane makes me nervous."
"Yeah, but you've flown in this plane before."
"I know it's silly," she sighed. "Maybe I'm just tired. Don't pay any attention to me. I'll be fine once we're back at the plantation and I've had a good night's sleep."
He patted her arm. "You'll be fine once you relax for a few days."
"Want a piece of gum?" she asked, rifling through her purse. As she dug through the contents, her two unopened envelopes fell to the carpet.
"Er, no, thanks. You dropped something," he noted in a careful voice.
Her glance fell to the two letters. "Oh." Reaching down, she picked them up and shoved them back inside her handbag.
"Have you decided what you're going to do?"
"No. I thought I'd give them to Sadie, to see if maybe she can sense anything in them first."
His eyebrows rose. "You sure you want to do that? She's not the most reliable source."
"I know. But I don't really have any other option. Sure, she's a little odd, and sometimes scares the crap out of me with all her portents for disaster, but maybe, just maybe, she can sense if what's in here is the truth or a lie. I figure it's worth a shot."
"I see. Well, it might work. Have you thought about what you're going to do if she can't sense anything?"
Mary shook her head. "No, and I don't want to think about it, either. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
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