by Ritter Ames
"I don't think you even thought of me." She knew her words sounded childish, but the injury had been bottled up too long.
"Of course I did." He ran both hands through his hair. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"No, you said you didn't want to hurt me. But you did. You wounded me, Keith, and what makes the whole thing doubly worse is other people give me information I should have received from my husband. Your mom had no idea I didn't know."
"My mom?"
"Yes, she and your dad are flying in late tonight." Kate poked his chest. "But don't try to change the subject. Why was Sophia necessary for you to interview Wayne Gretzky?"
"She didn't go to the interview. She had business in Manhattan and took me along on the company jet to minimize travel expenses."
"Yes, fueling up a corporate jet is always cheaper than getting a Jet Blue ticket."
"The plan was to make everything expedient. We didn't need to drive into either Burlington or Boston, and go through the security time drain."
"It was so expedient you had to stay overnight before you could return? I called your hotel room and only got voice mail."
Keith's face colored, and Kate bit her lip. Whatever he said next was going to be important to their marriage.
After a long minute, he shook his head. The tension in his body abruptly disappeared and made him seem to wilt before her eyes. "Look, I love you. I'm sorry." His voice held a note of pleading. "Okay, I didn't think. You're right, I never thought about what would happen if you found out and put everything together the wrong way. I really screwed up, babe."
"Oh, no, don't grovel." She dropped into a kitchen chair and put her head on the tabletop.
"Then what do you want?" Steel crept into his voice, and she recognized the question as one she needed to answer for herself, as well as for Keith. She couldn't explain why she held to this argumentative course. But he was her husband, dammit; he should understand.
Kate kept her head down as chair legs scraped and Keith joined her at the table. The wall holding the stress of the past few days buckled and broke, and her tears came quiet and steady. A minute later, her husband's strong, familiar arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled onto his lap. She spoke into his shoulder, "I'm sorry."
His chuckle was deep and reassuring. "You goose. I'm the bad boy here, remember?"
She pulled back and shook her head. "I knew better, but I've had a lot to deal with. I couldn't keep everything in perspective. You walked in the door, and I…I…I think I had to punish you."
"Calm down. We're cool." Keith ran his hands in long strokes down her back. She felt the stress retreating. "Have the police hassled you anymore?"
"No, I haven't heard anything from them, but Amelia's attorney told me I'm cleared as a murder suspect. Well…for the time being anyway." She detailed the discovery of the box.
Keith grasped her shoulders and locked gazes with her. "Why didn't you wake me when you found it?"
"I couldn't see why both of us should lose sleep." She brushed at the tear-stained spot near the collar of his shirt. "I was going to tell you the next morning, but you and the girls left without waking me."
"And you called the radio station and talked to Eileen instead."
"Because you didn't answer your cell. Then I called your hotel last night, and you weren't in your room."
He kissed her forehead. "You've had a rough few days, honey. You were right to want to punish me. Where is it now?"
She frowned. "Meg's safe deposit box."
"Why?"
"We thought getting it out of our house and away from contact with me was a good idea."
"Yeah, makes sense, I guess."
She leaned over and kissed him. "Speaking of Meg, I need to call her. We're requested for a job which will allow us to slip the ebony box back into the mansion. That's why Amelia's lawyer called in the first place. He wants us to inventory the collections for the estate."
Keith's response was a slow whistle. "From what you've said that sounds like quite an undertaking."
"Yes, but I haven't agreed to do the job yet, just to meet everyone today at four." She jumped up and went to the phone. "And I still have to see if Meg can go with me."
"There's no 'if' about it," he warned. "You're not going without her."
"Yes, sir."
Looking around, he asked, "Where are the girls? I've got hockey sticks autographed by Gretzky."
"I'm sure they'll love them. The team won the soccer game, and coach opened up his backyard for a barbecue and weenie roast." She glanced at the oven's digital clock. "In fact, one of us needs to run pick-up duty."
He pulled the Jeep keys from his pocket. "I'll go. You call your partner in crime."
She was a digit away from completing Meg's mobile number when Keith returned. "Forgot. I brought you a gift, too."
She accepted the shiny gold bag. Inside was a snow globe of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, the small pewter figurine giving the appearance of hurrying elsewhere, and an oversized pocket watch in his tiny hand. The Carroll novel had always been her favorite, but her stomach lurched at the thought of how life lately seemed a little too close to the through-the-looking-glass variety. She smiled anyway. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
"See, I always think of you."
Tears threatened a repeat performance. She gave a big sniff.
"Don't make me feel guilty again," he warned. She shook her head and moved forward to hug him.
A long kiss later, the Jeep roared out of the cul-de-sac as Meg's cell number rang.
"What's up?" Meg greeted.
Kate outlined the lawyer's phone call, and the prospective job ahead, before asking if she wanted to go along as an associate, Meg laughed. "Try stopping me."
CHAPTER NINE
(Good tip to throw out during presentation)
Hide Your Files
No room for a filing cabinet? Create secret storage by converting an old footlocker into an ottoman. Add wheels, and pad sides and top before covering in a material that coordinates with living room furniture. You'll have a great ottoman, and after placing hanging file folders inside it'll be an "outta-sight" way to store files.
*
"I want to go on the record as saying I'm against this." Sophia's eyebrows made a strong, shapely V, matching the plunging neckline of her black silk jumpsuit.
Kate and Meg felt the rest of the Nethercutt heirs' eyes, including Mrs. Baxter and the pinstripe-suited representatives from two foundations, pivot their way. The estate's silver-topped lawyer, Charles Webster Walker, kept his steely blues trained on the paperwork in front of him. Everyone was gathered in the Nethercutt mansion's expansive dining room, seated around a massive seventeenth century carved table, and benevolently watched over by a shaggy, Alaskan moose head jutting out from the wall behind the attorney. Kate laced her fingers tightly together under the tabletop, and wondered for the hundredth time if there wasn't some less lunatic way to sneak the box back into the house. Meg, on the other hand, grinned like Miss America.
"With all due respect, Sophia," Walker reminded, "that is not your call. As Amelia's designated heirs, it is in everyone's best interest to get an accurate inventory of the estate."
"The bequests of which we still aren't privy to," Bill Nethercutt grumbled. "Mother was signing a new will the day she died, and as a beneficiary, I—"
"In due time, William. In due time," Walker said. "I can't, of course tell, you specifics of the will, either the one in effect or the one she would have signed had her death not preceded the opportunity, but we must follow Amelia's wishes. I can state the new will carried no significant monetary changes. A few small shifts in bequests, nothing much more." He shuffled papers for a moment. "A different timetable was to be implemented, but such will not cause undue hardship to anyone. Under the circumstances the old will must stand."
"All well and good to know." Bill grabbed the water pitcher and refilled his glass. "But when do we hear the terms
of the will and the benefits of its ramifications firsthand for ourselves?"
"The funeral is scheduled for Tuesday afternoon and, per the terms of the will, the reading must take place no sooner than forty-eight hours later." Walker cocked an eyebrow warningly. "To provide a proper period of mourning."
Tension built in Kate's neck and shoulders. Just listening to the stilted speech between everyone was enough to make an already edgy situation worse. She realized her two-day meltdown was part of the problem, too, but she wanted to shout, "Loosen up, people. Hug each other. Your mother just died." Everyone seemed to be playing a character in some secret tableau, and she wondered if her role was to play the fool.
The attorney flipped over the top page of his notes, and Bill and Sophia glared at each other. Danny took a pen from his pocket and wrote something on his left palm. Mrs. Baxter rubbed her temples. Amelia's son, Thomas Lane, scratched an ear and squirmed in his chair, and the two foundation men were visibly uncomfortable.
Upon meeting Thomas for the first time, Kate truly understood the term "a study in contrasts." Amelia's only child was a stocky man who still looked like the chunky boy he had likely been thirty years ago. His soft voice alluded to prep school studies and the suit he wore shouted Armani, but his fingernails and demeanor more closely matched the weed-whacker haircut he wore that emphasized early gray. She also wondered over the perplexing fact his surname matched Amelia's maiden name.
"We cannot proceed without proper inventory. It is paramount." Walker sighed. "Unlike the late Mr. Nethercutt's will, Miss Amelia's was anything but straightforward. To each of you, specific collections have been bequeathed, but the pieces are not named individually. We must ascertain what exactly is in the house to determine who gets wh—"
"Like the curio in the entry," Bill Nethercutt broke in, glowering at his sister.
Sophia could have chilled a glacier with her tone. "Father always said those pieces were mine, brother dear."
"See here, Sophia—"
"Then there are the other collections," Walker interrupted the quarrel, "which are bequeathed to charities and museums. As our two esteemed guests are here to represent." He nodded to the ill at ease, pinstriped clones. "Without an accurate inventory, we cannot file correct tax records either."
"But why must we rush and take any cottage-industry organizational…" Sophia fluttered a hand. "…Joanie-come-lately to do this? What does organizing have to do with inventorying? Why can't we itemize everything ourselves?"
"I'd be happy to help," Thomas offered.
Danny raised an eyebrow and then spoke for the first time. "I could probably—"
"Oh, come on." Bill shook his head. "None of us has experience in this. Ms. McKenzie's company can perform the service much faster. The longer we take, the longer we wait until the will is dispersed."
"Exactly what experience does she have?" Sophia turned a laser-like glare in Kate and Meg's direction. "Or should I say, they? Again, as I asked a moment ago—"
"Ms. McKenzie's qualifications are more than adequate, and as both your stepmother's attorney and the executor of her will, I repeat that the decision is not yours to make," Walker broke in with measured tones. "She is already familiar with the collections."
Sophia pursed crimson lips. "How do we know she isn't a thief? Things are missing from all over the house."
"She isn't the one who has already walked off with items of value," Bill Nethercutt snapped.
"She was questioned by the police for the murder," Sophia returned.
"As were the rest of us," Bill said.
The lawyer tried to resume order. "The police have ascertained she is no longer a suspect."
"Unlike the rest of us," Thomas Lane added.
"She is bonded for any mishap or misappropriated item which can be shown to have been in the house at the start of the job," Walker finished. He looked at Kate. "That is correct?"
Kate nodded, swallowing hard before she acknowledged, "Yes, Mr. Walker."
"A puzzle box is already missing. One of Daddy's favorites," Sophia said. "And I certainly didn't take it. The entire collection was intact last week when I followed Mummy into Daddy's upstairs study to search for her reading glasses. It was on the display table, and now there is nothing but bare space to mark its place. You mark my words, I'll find out what's happened to it."
Kate gasped and Meg scooted a Waterford crystal glass closer, saying, "Oh dear, you have those silly hiccups again. Try a little water."
"Thanks." Kate smiled her relief, faking a hiccup as she took a big swallow.
Bill continued on as if no break had occurred. "We don't know if it was stolen, any more than if the other things that seem to be missing are truly gone. Each item could have simply been misplaced in this chaotic depository of a house."
"Mother was complaining last week how several of her ivory fans had disappeared," Thomas said. "And she was saying something about pincushions or thimbles, too."
"It was thimbles, Uncle Thomas," Danny said.
"Precisely the point," Bill continued. "From a tax standpoint Charles is exactly correct. Inventorying everything is crucial to getting the will executed, an obviously massive endeavor, and I believe we should be supportive of Ms. McKenzie and her partner." He smiled their way. Kate would have felt better if the smile had reached his eyes. "Let's not find fault before they even begin."
Sophia stalked over to the sideboard, an immense piece Kate remembered Amelia saying was wrestled out of a German schloss. As the heiress poured herself a cup of coffee from a stainless steel carafe, the viper pounded her point home one more time. "As I've already stated for the record, I'm categorically against this and feel we should search farther afield."
"Why? So you can hire your own crew and pay them off for hiding the fact you've been pilfering treasures?" Bill accused.
"I never—"
"Don't give me that—"
"Well, we wouldn't be in such a hurry, Bill, if you weren't in desperate need of funds."
"I have no power over the speed with which—"
"Everyone, please!" Walker slammed his file folder on the table, successfully gaining the group's attention. He continued, "If we haven't yet scared off Ms. McKenzie, she will be doing the job. Unless anyone has any other relevant business, this meeting is adjourned. We should all tour the house and discuss fees with Ms. McKenzie and Ms. Berman."
Kate found herself following Mrs. Baxter and Sophia, the men trailing behind. Time to extend the olive branch. "Sophia, I can't tell you how exciting it was for Keith to get the opportunity to interview Wayne Gretzky yesterday. I wanted to—"
"Keith?" Sophia revolved on her stiletto heel. Mrs. Baxter paused in the hall. "Ah, yes. McKenzie. You're married to Keith McKenzie." Sophia pursed her lips. "It's often quite surprising to find who men choose as their mates."
"Miss Sophia!" Mrs. Baxter brought a hand to her shocked face.
Kate willed her own expression to stay blank. "You must hear that often about your own marriage."
Anger darkened Sophia's ivory complexion. She pivoted and stalked away. Kate heard chortles from the group behind her, the laughter increasing to full volume at the thunderous slam of the front door.
"Way to go, Kate." Danny patted her shoulder. "Wish I'd known that was the easiest way to get her to leave."
Kate stumbled a little on weak knees.
Meg smiled at her. "I'm proud of you. You're learning, Katie. You're really learning."
"May we continue?" Walker asked, the only person not exhibiting or trying to hide a smile. It was unclear whether he was afraid to show his feelings about a woman whose business affected his own, or if he simply had no sense of humor.
The tour left Kate exhausted and Meg wide-eyed. The adventure began in the library crowded with medieval weapons and nineteenth century medical equipment. The group worked its way through guest bedrooms that housed such disparate furnishings as board games and train paraphernalia, past a sewing room storing geological spe
cimens, and a computer room doubling as an antique Venetian mask cache. On and on they walked, finally arriving in the conservatory/wildlife sanctuary near the entrance to the greenhouse.
"We don't need an inventory of the plants, but I believe the rest of the rooms will more than keep you busy," Walker remarked as everyone formed a semi-circle in the conservatory. A brilliant assortment of tropical birds, housed in a Victorian-styled aviary, screeched their displeasure at having company. "Perhaps we could retire to the parlor."
"Good idea, Charles," Bill replied.
Kate found Danny at her side and decided to try striking another task off her list. "I'd seen the greenhouse, of course, but didn't realize Amelia had birds. Who'll take care of them?"
"The fowl will go to the zoo in Boston most likely." He scowled over his shoulder. "No one liked the damn things except Gramma. I hope I get the orchids, though."
"Amelia grew orchids?" Kate prodded.
"No, I did. But she paid for fitting out their area of the greenhouse," Danny explained. "They're very fragile. The plants need special heaters and meticulous care."
"You helped with all the plants?"
"Me and Uncle Thomas."
They passed a tall vase of tiger lilies on a table in the hall and Kate asked, "Did you grow those?"
"Yeah, sure." Danny stopped and ran his left index finger along one of the orange blooms. Kate saw "Natalie 2K" scrawled in blue ink on his palm, then turned her attention back to catch the wistful expression on his face. He said, "Gramma liked forcing bulbs to keep flowers in the house year round."
With a clear view through the doorway, she noticed nearly everyone had taken seats in the parlor, the same place she'd last spent with Amelia. White roses graced the coffee table. "Is someone still picking flowers for the house?"
Danny nodded. "Uncle Thomas. He's kind of a creature of habit, and it was his job to keep fresh flowers throughout the place. He's done it for years. Goes around, checks which bouquets need changed, brings in newly cut ones."
