Bluebells on the Hill

by Barbara McMahon

  'Landsakes, nothing there worth much. I will need to take the sofa and one bed, but the table and other bed can stay. If you want them, have them,' Cora decided.

  'When can I take possession?' Amanda asked Martin.

  'Well, that depends,' Martin said slowly. 'First we have to get the credit approvals, then the bank does the credit check, appraisal..' He doodled figures on his notepad.

  'Probably a month or so, if all goes well.

  'So long?' Cora whined. 'I want go sooner than that.'

  'I don't need a credit check,' Amanda said quietly, 'I plan to write a check.'

  Two pair of eyes stared at her.

  'Write a check,' Cora repeated.

  'I thought the price we discussed was seventy-five thousand dollars,' Martin said, jogging her memory.

  Cora's eyes widened at the figure mentioned, but she kept quiet.

  'Yes, with furniture. I'd like possession as soon as possible, if the inspection’s all right. Not,' she was firm, 'in a month.'

  Martin was at a loss for words.

  'I can write the check now, and you can call my bank for verification of funds. I have identification.' She was matter-of-fact, assured, taking her check book from her purse. She took a pen from Martin's desk and began to write. Before signing her name, she paused and looked up.

  'I do have another condition, in addition to the furniture. I don't want it to get out how I purchased the house.'

  Cora shook her head, her expression still one of stunned disbelief. Write a check for a house!

  'No, we won't say anything,' Martin added.

  'I'd like to move in as soon as I can,' Amanda said, signing her name with a flourish. 'Do I make it payable to Cora or the real estate firm?'

  'First Title Trust Company. They’ll handle escrow, though I don't think they have ever had a house paid for all at once before,' Martin said, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

  When Amanda had filled in the name she ripped the check from her book and handed it across. Martin took the check and looked at it. Glancing at his watch, he pulled the phone closer and dialed the number of the bank printed on the face of the check.

  Amanda sat calmly watching him as he spoke, the tinted glasses hiding her expression.

  Cora licked her lips. Her eyes darted from the check to Amanda, and back to Martin as he identified himself, asked for verification, and waited for a senior bank official to respond to his questions. While Cora was on edge as the minutes dragged by, Amanda sat serene and quiet. Inside she was almost dancing a jig. Who knew she’d find a perfect solution the first minutes in town. It augured well for the future.

  'Hello, Mr Fairfield, this is Martin Roberts. I'm a real estate broker. I have a check for a house that a Miss Amanda Smith wishes to purchase. I'm calling to verify the funds are in the account. Your teller forwarded my call to you.' He paused while the official on the other end spoke. 'Sure, she's tall and thin, with black hair. It's long.' He peered at Amanda. 'What color are your eyes?' he asked politely.

  With an amused smile, she removed her tinted glasses, revealing beautiful, clear blue eyes, the dark lashes surrounding them needing no artificial aids to enhance their loveliness.

  'Yes, Mr Fairfield, it's her.' He spoke to the phone, but did not take his gaze from Amanda.

  Cora looked at her, a puzzled frown on her face.

  Martin's eyes widened and he looked confused. 'But ... No, that's fine. We just didn't realize. Yes, of course. Thank you.' Slowly he replaced the receiver.

  'Amanda,' he said, still looking at her. 'Amanda.'

  She inclined her head. 'Yes, but I'm traveling, um, incognito as it were for the summer. The last few years have been very hectic. Exciting and fun, you realize, but tiring and a strain. I just want to relax, rest. Maybe write a song or two. Just be myself for a while.' She leaned forward in her chair. 'Please help me get this a small place for myself in Timber, Mr Roberts. I’ll be a good neighbor. Just lend me some support. I want to be just plain Mandy Smith for a while. Not a celebrity, not sought after for what I do, but liked, or disliked, for myself. Just for myself. I want to be an ordinary person again, for a while. For a summer. Can you understand that, Mr Roberts?'

  He nodded. 'Martin,' he said, as if still in a daze.

  ‘Would someone please tell me what is going on?' Cora broke in fretfully. 'Is the check good?'

  'Oh, yes, Cora. Today’s your lucky day. This check is very good. When you sign over your deed, the place becomes Miss Smith's and you are seventy-five thousand dollars ahead–less my commission of course.'

  Cora sat back. 'I still can't believe anyone can just write a check for that amount.'

  'Anyone probably cannot. This is Amanda. I know you've heard her songs: Riverboat Gambler, Sing the Mountain Down.'

  Cora's head jerked round. 'Is that true? Of course. I thought you looked familiar without the glasses. My granddaughter has some of your CDs. I always thought the photo of you had been touched up, but your eyes are real. You're a right pretty gal, Miss Smith.'

  Amanda smiled. 'Thank you. My hair's different, too,' she volunteered.

  'Yes, I remember it as curly and wavy and sort of flailing around.'

  'This is my disguise, such as it is. Do we have a deal, Mrs. Rosefeld?'

  'We do indeed. We do indeed.' Cora turned a beaming face to Martin. 'There, I knew I could sell it to someone other than Mac!' she said triumphantly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Amanda was awake, luxuriating in the knowledge that she needn't get up now or any time this morning, if she didn't want to. She stretched lazily, rolled over on her side and gazed out the back window. From her pillow she could see some of her hill, and a small section of the bluebells, bright and fresh in the early morning sun. Watching them, she felt a warm sense of contentment.

  It was hard to believe that, even with all the money she’d made over the last years, this was the first piece of property she had owned. Shrewd investments, contributions to charities, money sent home; but not one piece of property until now. She hugged herself with glee, a pleased smile spreading across her face. Now she owned land, and a house, albeit a rather small, run-down one. But it held charm and appeal for her. It now belonged to her and her alone. She’d plan and instigate its resurgence as a desirable residence, use it as a refuge, a haven when the pressures of her chosen field got to be too much. She was beholden to no one. What she chose to do to the property was solely her own decision, and she was excited at the prospect.

  Letting her eyes wander around the room, Amanda reflected on how different it was to wake up in this room compared to the rooms she usually woke in. The others had the modern similarity found in all hotels today. This rustic, shabby room was a study in contrast, with its old curtains, bare floor, shabby furniture. It would be a pleasant place, when she refurnished it, painted and decorated it a little. Until then, it would suffice just as it was.

  Hard to believe that she had arrived in Timber only two days ago. It was a small, almost forgotten little town in the Sierra Nevada range. Its glorious heyday had been generations before, when gold fever prevailed and men spent their time and lives searching for the precious metal in California's Mother Lode. These strong, rugged mountains still held over twice the gold that had ever been taken from them. She smiled again, dreamily. Maybe she'd strike it rich here. It was there, only waiting to be found. First chance she got, she'd try panning in her creek.

  In the meantime, it was pleasant to just lie in bed, no deadlines to meet, no new city to travel to before night, no placating her manager or fractious members of the band. Just peace and quiet and tranquility. She’d recharge, sooth her jangled nerves and try song writing again. She had loved writing music almost more than performing the songs, but had gotten away from it lately with the hectic schedule she’d been following.

  Though, she acknowledged to herself, she also enjoyed the crowds, the applause for a job well done, a favorite song sung for an enthusiastic audience. She would have it again, b
ut not just yet. This summer, at least, would be just for her.

  The sun was well up in the sky before Amanda arose. Cora Rosefeld had left her well situated, leaving a set of linen and a few cooking utensils in addition to the furniture she had included in the deal. Cora had even seen to it that Amanda's refrigerator and cupboards were stocked.

  'Since you don't have a car, it is going to be hard to manage groceries,' Cora had told the younger woman.

  'Yes, I'll have to work something out,' Amanda had replied. Surely not a major problem. Someone must pass on the highway who could give her a lift. If not, a taxi. Though was Timber large enough for such a service? And how would she call for one when there was no phone in the cabin? And no cell service in this part of the mountains.

  Oh, well, time enough to worry about that later. If the worst came to the worst, she’d have to buy a small car.

  It only took a day and a half for Cora Rosefeld to get the structural inspection completed, sign over her house, pack her things and leave for Phoenix. Keeping her part of the deal struck in Gold Country Properties, she had not told her friends or neighbors who had purchased her house, nor the terms of the deal.

  Amanda moved in on the afternoon of Cora's departure, immediately plunging into washing windows, sweeping and dusting the cabin from one end to the other. She dropped into bed when darkness fell, tired, but pleased with her accomplishments. The cabin was clean and tidy, ready for the redecoration project when she decided to get started. But not right away. First she'd relax. She slept soundly, not at all disturbed by it being her first night alone in an unfamiliar place. Now she was up and ready for her first day as a home-owner.

  Amanda showered and dressed in an old misshapen T-shirt and jeans, no bra or shoes. Padding into the kitchen barefoot, she prepared herself a cup of coffee and some toast.

  Breakfast ready, she carried it out to the deck. Pulling one of the tattered plastic folding chairs to the railing, she sat gingerly down, putting her feet on the railing, tilting back. The chair held.

  The Ponderosa pines towered over her, rising thirty, forty feet or more into the clear blue of the California sky. She looked up at the dark green branches, silhouetted against the pale blue background, swaying gently in a breeze not felt at ground level. A strong peace invaded Amanda. She drew another deep breath of contentment, of her joy in the day, and sipped her coffee.

  Idly she wondered if the track to her place branched from the main drive to the infamous Mac's house.

  How far away was this neighbor, the man who owned all the land surrounding her? She had not noticed any lights last night. The countryside had been particularly dark to a girl more used to city street lights, lots of buildings, traffic until the wee hours. It had been a long time since she had been so far from the bustle of cities. The silence was awe inspiring.

  Another day maybe I'll follow the drive and find out. But not today. Today is just to sit around and relax and enjoy the trees, she told herself. She smiled again. If her friends could see her, they would be amazed. To sit around and gaze at trees was not their idea of fun.

  Amanda munched her toast, eyes roaming here and there, constantly discovering new pleasures in the scene before her. Through the trees, opposite the main drive, she thought she glimpsed another small meadow. Later she'd explore it. She could differentiate between several of the different types of trees, pine, cedar, madrone, but not all. A book on plants would be something to invest in, to learn more about the flora on her property.

  The sun shifted, moving from behind some of the trees, shining its rays directly on the deck now, raising the temperature dramatically. As she took another sip of her coffee, Amanda realized her legs were beginning to feel the intense heat of the sun as the dark denims drew the hot rays. Maybe she'd change into shorts. Sunbathe, maybe take a nap. Good grief, getting up so late and now a nap! It was wonderful!

  The hum of a motor penetrated the stillness. At first she was unable to determine from whence it came, then pinpointed it. From further up the driveway. She remained seated, she would change later. If someone from Mac's place were going to drive by, she wanted to see them. She wiggled bare toes in the sun, waiting.

  A battered, faded silver pick-up truck pulled into view but, instead of continuing on to the highway, turned into her track, bouncing on the ruts, driving almost up to the cabin steps. Amanda was fascinated. She hadn’t seen such a dilapidated truck in many years. It had once been a silvery gray, but was now faded, dented and rusted. It was difficult to assign a color to it. Piled in the back was a partial bale of hay and a tangle of baling wire. She wondered how it could hold together enough to carry the limited cargo. Maybe the wire was for repairs.

  It ground to a stop, the air suddenly silent.

  A tall, powerfully built man climbed out, cowboy hat pulled low on his face, jeans low on his hips. He glanced at the cabin, contemptuously dismissing Amanda after one glimpse, now looking towards the door expectantly as he climbed the steps.

  Wow! was Amanda's first impression, followed almost immediately by, you arrogant male. He moved smoothly, swiftly up the stairs, an air of definite purpose about him. At least six feet tall, well-built with broad shoulders, muscular arms, chest straining at the buttons of his checked shirt.

  As he reached the deck, she brought her feet down, stood up. Time to make this visitor aware of her.

  'Can I help you?' she asked, turning towards him.

  'No.' His eyes raked her, dismissed her.

  Amanda was suddenly very aware of her apparel, of her lack of bra, of bare feet. She culd use the extra inches her boots gave her. Then anger coursed through her at his look. Who did he think she was? She could dress however she chose in her own home.

  Indolently, Amanda studied him. He banged on the door. She lifted her head and stepped closer. It was the last thing she wanted to do. She'd rather run to the back, out to the yard, anywhere to avoid this man altogether.

  'I'm here to see Cora.' he said, rapping on the door again.

  'She's not here.' Amanda did not expand on the statement, facing him defiantly.

  'When will she be back?' he asked, fully turning his attention to her. His voice was low and hard as he faced her. Amanda had heard of people with green eyes, but never actually met anyone with them before. His were a clear green like an emerald or cool mountain pond, gazing down at her with contempt. She tilted her head considering. If he didn't have a constant frown of disapproval, causing the deep furrows between his eyes and along his mouth, he'd be absolutely gorgeous.

  She took a breath and looked up into his face. She'd been wrong about his size, he must be four inches or more over six feet. She herself was tall, yet had to look up a long way. She wished she had on her boots, or even high-heels.

  'She won't be back. She moved to Arizona.'

  'Moved!' He was startled. Narrowing his eyes he regarded her as if she were something distasteful. 'When?'

  'She left yesterday.'

  Suddenly Amanda knew. It had to be, and she didn't blame Cora at all. This man asked to have people against him.

  'You must be Mac,' she said, anticipating how angry he'd be upon learning Cora had sold out, and not to him. Served him right.

  'Yes. Who are you?'

  'Mandy Smith. I'm living here now.'

  'Timber's own resident layabout hippie?' he said, glancing again along the length of her, his eyes resting a second longer than necessary on her breasts, outlined by the thin cotton T-shirt, moving, ending with her bare feet.

  It was Amanda's turn to be startled and then amused. Is that how he saw her? A hippie? Just because she had on old clothes, with bare feet and her hair in a braid? She couldn't help smiling. If Mr High-and-Mighty only knew. She was not a layabout. She had worked very hard to be where she was. Of course, he might not think she had come so far, worn clothes, run-down cabin. She shrugged.

  'Cora's gone,' she repeated. Why had he come?

  'To Julie's, I suppose.'

  Was that the name
she had heard? 'Yes, I think so.'

  'Leaving you here until she can sell? Or does she plan to plague me with a stream of undesirable tenants to jack up the price? If she thinks that technique will work, she has another think coming. Damn it!' He spun around without waiting for an answer, pausing only for a moment by the truck for a final, disparaging look at Amanda standing at the top of the steps. He opened the door, climbed in and drove off, gravel spinning beneath his wheels.

  Amanda could follow the truck's progress towards the highway until the motor faded from the air. For several moments she continued staring down the drive, reviewing in her mind her meeting with the infamous Mac, What an unpleasant man, for all he absolutely radiated sex appeal. Briefly she toyed with the picture of a different meeting. Her own part vastly changed, the cabin all repaired and decorated, charming and attractive; herself in a fashionable dress, make-up flawless ... She gave a short laugh. His part she could not envisage differently.

  'Oh, well.' She shrugged, turning back to the house. Shed met the infamous Mac and survived. Even experienced a small degree of smugness that he’d so quickly jump to an erroneous conclusion, just on her appearance. Now what could she do to justify his opinion? Ideas crowded her head, a small joy at the thought of leading him on.

  As she went to change, Amanda dwelt less on the visit than on the man himself. He was extremely good-looking in a rugged sort of way. Skin the color of teak, eyes startling in his brown face. She remembered how his jaw tightened when he heard Cora had gone, his cheeks slightly hollow, cheekbones high. She wondered if his hair was dark or not. She had not noticed it because of his hat. His body was trim and fit, evidence of hard work and temperate living. What did he do for a living, she wondered. Probably a rancher. Timber lay in the heart of mountain ranch land. If he owned all the land surrounding her place, it followed his profession was probably tied up in it. His attitude needed improvement, though. His constant frown would be wearing. She didn't envy his wife, having to live with his constant disapproval. Of course, he likely didn't disapprove of her.