Keeping Victoria's Secret

by Melinda Peters

Emerging from the kitchen, grimacing with embarrassment, he sported a ruffled apron tied at the small of his back, with a kitchen towel tucked in behind. He knew he must look ridiculous, like a cross between Julia Child and an Iroquois Indian.

  The cop stared, eyes growing wider as a snicker slipped out. They were all trying hard not to laugh.

  “Excuse me folks,” he said shuffling upstairs clutching the towel against his backside, hoping to hide his nakedness from the three grinning people behind him.

  At the top of the stairs, he turned and passing Vince, headed for his room at the end of the hall. The cop barked out, “Jack!”

  He slowed, turned to Vince, and gestured towards the door next to him. “She’s in there.”

  Holding up a hand, Vince motioned for him to wait as he reached the door, but before he could knock, it swung open.

  The girl was a sight as she swayed; holding tightly to the doorjamb with one hand, in the other she clutched a lamp like a drunk with a gin bottle. Her bun had slipped to one side and clung like a small animal on the side of her head and her clothes hung askew. Purple bruising spread on the side of her face as her glazed eyes took in the police officer first, and then she looked at the others waiting on the stairs. Turning, she studied Jack curiously, and lowered her eyes to just below his waist, blinking several times at his bazaar costume. Then she vomited.

  Chapter 2

  Everyone took a step back to avoid the splatter.

  Doc’s gray haired wife cleared her throat, and making an effort not to smile, started downstairs. “I’ll just wait in the car, dear. No, on second thought, I’ll go on home and start dinner. Call if you need me. Good day gentlemen.” Nodding and smiling she slipped past the others.

  Vince shook his head, still grinning. “Some days, the darnedest things happen. And Jack, I’m not sure your new outfit there is any improvement over the buck naked thing.”

  While Doc tended to a now thoroughly embarrassed and confused Victoria Buonadies, Jack went to his bedroom to get dressed. As he struggled to tuck in his shirt, Vince was in the hallway, calling him.

  “Damn it Vince, hold on a minute. I’ll be right with you.” He came out barefoot in jeans and work shirt. “What do you want?”

  The cop still wore an amused grin. “Yup, like you said, the girl has a nasty bump on her head. Think she’s all right though. Doc’s a good man and he’s taking care of her, but you’ve got a hell of a mess to clean up.”

  “That’s just great,” he looked with disgust at the mess on the floor.

  “Queer thing is she keeps saying that this place belongs to her and asking what you’re doing in her house. How hard did she hit her head anyway? Maybe we’d better take her to the hospital.” Eyeing Jack he added, “She had some crazy idea you were going to rape or murder her. I assured her you’d do no such thing. I’m right about that, aren’t I Jack?”

  “Come on Vince! How desperate do you think I am! Some frumpy nutcase in red panties tries to climb in my shower, and I’m the one you suspect of doing something strange?” Rubbing his face with both hands and pulling at his hair until it stood on end, he stared at Vince in consternation. “This is a nightmare!”

  “Hey man, relax. We’ll figure this out,” he said laying his hand on Jacks shoulder. Then he drew back and shot him a narrow look. “What red panties?”

  * * *

  “Now then, my dear, I really do suggest you let us take you to the emergency room. You were unconscious for some time and you have concussion.”

  Vicky stared at the man who’d introduced himself as Dr. Sweeney. She turned then to glare at the previously naked man, relieved to see that he now wore jeans and a blue denim shirt. He sat in an armchair on the other side of the room glaring back at her.

  “I’m not going to the emergency room or anywhere else. I want to know who he is and what he’s doing in my house.” She stabbed a forefinger in Jack’s direction. Attempting to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed, she clutched her stomach and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god,” she moaned, sinking onto the bed once more.

  Dr. Sweeney was at her side, lifting her legs back onto the bed. “Trust me Miss. I assure you; with concussion you must rest and remain still. You’ve had a bit of a shock. Perhaps we won’t take you to the hospital after all. Jack and I will stay here with you and monitor your condition for today. I’m sure you’ll feel better in a bit, but you should avoid any stressful situations.”

  “Jack?” she asked. “Okay, I give up. Who’s Jack and why is he here in this house? Yes, I’m stressed out and it’s all his fault,” she spat out pointing across the room. “This Jack or whoever he is, appears out of nowhere stark naked, scaring me to death. Of course I’m stressed.”

  Jack shot back angrily, “I beg your sublimely idiotic pardon, but I was taking a shower in my own bathroom and didn’t jump out at you from nowhere. I’m here because I live here and it’s my house not yours. How did you get in here anyhow?” He turned to Dr. Sweeny, “She’s a nut!”

  “I’m not a nut! I heard what you said out there to that policeman and I am not a frump either!” Sniffling, she began looking for her purse, but didn’t see it anywhere. “I got in with my key to the front door. You’re the idiot; it’s my house. Where’s my bag?”

  The doctor retrieved it from atop a blanket chest at the foot of the bed, smiling at her deferentially. He handed the purse to her. “Here you go young lady; I put it aside for you and I discovered your cell phone under the dresser. Just try to remain calm and quiet for a bit. It’s the best thing.”

  She rummaged around the large leather bag until she located her cell phone. Squinting at it, she noticed there was a missed call. Recognizing the number as that of the lawyer, Mr. Douglas, she saw the answer to her dilemma. Jabbing her finger at the phone’s buttons, she returned his call. As she listened to the ringing, she and Jack continued to glare at each other.

  When he answered she said, “Mr. Douglas, I’m at the house, and wondering what happened to you. There’s a problem here.” She listened for a moment as the two men watched her. “Yes, I see. Okay. Very good, see you in a few.” Closing the cell phone, with a satisfied smirk on her face, she returned Jack's stare.

  “You’ll see who in a few?” growled Jack.

  “Mr. Douglas. He was my grandmother’s lawyer and he’s going to explain to you that this property belongs to me because I inherited it from Nanna when she passed away two months ago. Then you, Mr. Jack, whoever you are, will have to leave.”

  Jack looked at Doc Sweeney, who simply shrugged and said, “Douglas is a good man. You know Fred Douglas I’m sure, lawyer in town?”

  Jack stood, with his arms folded across his chest glaring down at her and said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The doctor rose, sighed heavily, and said, “My advice is that we all try and remain calm. Let’s all just take a deep breath and relax, shall we? I’m certain that this will be sorted out in due course. I’m going down to the kitchen and make us all a nice cup of tea. How does that sound?”

  "Thank you Doctor Sweeney, that sounds wonderful," Vicky said.

  Jack just grunted and returned to his chair.

  Chapter 3

  Fred Douglas and Doc Sweeney were old friends. They greeted each other at the front door and made their way chatting upstairs to the bedroom where Victoria sat propped against a pile of pillows. Jack sat stony-faced with a can of beer in one brawny fist. After introducing the lawyer, Doc handed Vicky a large mug of tea and joined the others in seats ranged around her bed. A minute or two of silence ensued, everyone sipping speculatively.

  Cradling her steaming mug of tea in both hands, she watched them apprehensively. This is the weirdest thing that ever happened to me. I really hope Mr. Douglas can straighten out this mess.

  Fred cleared his throat and spoke. “I represent the estate of Victoria Baxter. I am the executor handling her will. Mrs. Baxter has left this home and the property surrounding it, commonly known as th
e Willet Farm, to her granddaughter, Victoria Buonadies.” He nodded toward her. Mr. Conner I’m curious, how did you come to believe that you could claim ownership of the Willet farm?”

  “Are you nuts?” Jack looked from the lawyer to the doctor and back. “My uncle left this farm to me in his will when he died. He promised it to me for years.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you, your Uncle Charley never owned this property,” said the lawyer. I have the deed, which is in her grandmother’s name. It was recorded in 1946.

  “He lived here all his life! You know he did. What do you mean he didn’t own it?” Now Jack was becoming agitated.

  “That is correct, he did live here.” Fred Douglas stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment, and then sipped his tea before continuing. “Your Uncle Charley had a reputation in this town, Jack. He wasn’t known for his honesty.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack’s face grew pale.

  There was a brief silence in the room before Dr. Sweeney added, “Let’s not mince words, Fred. There’s no two ways about it. Fact is, and I’m sure young Jack will agree, Charley Conner was an unscrupulous ornery old son-of-a-bitch, that nobody liked or trusted. Pardon me Miss.” This last was directed at Vicky.

  She looked from the lawyer to the doctor as they spoke, growing curious about Jack’s situation. Who was this Uncle Charley they were talking about?

  The lawyer studied Jack as though trying to gage his reaction to Doc’s words, but the younger man just sat glowering at the floor. Fred said, “Don’t hold back Doc; tell us how you really feel about him.”

  Doc spoke up, “I treated Charley for all his various ailments as he got on in years. I can tell you Fred and you too Jack, it was not an enjoyable experience. Not to mention the fact, that I have a drawer full of unpaid bills. Charley was tight as two coats of paint. He liked to hold onto his money.”

  Jack took a long pull from his beer and looked down at the floor once again. Angrily he said, “I know all that. I’m well aware that Uncle Charley wasn’t exactly Abe Lincoln. He paid me peanuts to work this farm after he wasn’t able to do it himself. In return, he promised he’d leave the place to me. He told me that for the last eight or nine years, right up until he died. I have a copy of his will, and the county probate office has the original, so what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is the farm belonged to my grandmother! Right, Mr. Douglas?” she asked, looking hopeful. “The property must have belonged to Nanna. Her maiden name was Willet.”

  Fred Douglas sighed deeply. He put down his empty cup and leaned back in his chair. “I suppose I should start from the beginning. This is a rather long story, so bear with me. There are things…,” he paused considering, looking back and forth between the two young people. “There are some things which you both need to know and now is as good a time as any to discuss them. What do you say, Doc?”

  Dr. Sweeney shrugged and said, “You know more of the details than I do, Fred. Go ahead.”

  The lawyer began, “Well now, Jack, your Uncle Charley enlisted in the army during World War II. Before he left, he was an unpleasant sort who had more than once been in minor trouble with the law. When he came back from the war his nature wasn’t improved any. Even the army couldn’t knock the cussedness out of Charley, and couldn’t seem to knock a sense of decency into him either.”

  Mr. Douglas continued. “Vicky, your grandmother’s family had owned this farm for generations when her daddy, your great-grandfather, was nearly killed in an accident. They needed someone to work the place, and Charley came along and took the job. After a few months, Charley took a fancy to your grandmother. Could be he was more interested in the farm than he was in the farmer’s daughter. I’m only speculating. Long story short, they got married all in a rush. Marry in haste, repent at your leisure they say.” He looked at Jack.

  “Young Victoria Willet, this Victoria’s grandmother,” he motioned toward her, “realized too late that she’d made a terrible mistake. She was only eighteen or nineteen at the time. I know all this because my father told me the story. If you remember Doc, my father was her family's attorney before I joined the law firm. All this happened way back, just after the war, before I was even born.”

  Jack looked up, startled. “I never knew Uncle Charley was married!”

  “No doubt that’s because you didn’t grow up here in Pippen’s Grove. Most folks that did know about it probably have forgotten by now.”

  "What?" she interjected pointing an accusing finger across the room at Jack. “My grandmother was married to his uncle? I never knew Nanna was married before she married Grandpa Joe!”

  “She was. It was a brief union however, and a most unfortunate one apparently. They divorced after only a year or two. Back then divorce wasn’t quite as common as it is today, and frowned upon, I might add. This young lady’s grandmother left town after the divorce. My father was the attorney that drew up the divorce papers and the financial arrangement entered into by the two of them.”

  “What financial arrangement?” she asked the lawyer.

  “That was the interesting part of the breakup,” said Fred. “Victoria’s grandmother didn’t want to stay in town. She just wanted out. I’m not sure of all the details. She owned the farm free and clear, but didn’t want to sell the property. Of course, she couldn’t work the farm herself.”

  “What exactly was the deal?” asked Doc.

  “The agreement was Charley could have lifetime use of the farm and retain any profits he made from the orchards. In exchange, he was to pay his former wife a monthly rent for living and working here. He was also responsible for maintaining the property and paying the taxes, which he actually did faithfully each year. If at any time, he failed to pay her or the taxes, the agreement would be void and the farm would revert entirely to his ex-wife.” Fred sipped his tea and sighed. “This young lady's grandmother left town and never looked back. To his credit, Charley sent that check every month to our firm and we transferred the money into his former wife's account. There was, of course, the stipulation that if he defaulted, he’d lose all rights to live and work on the place.”

  Jack looked as though he were about to explode. He crushed the empty beer can in his hand and blurted, “Are you telling me her grandmother was always the owner, not my Uncle Charley?”

  Mr. Douglas nodded soberly.

  Jack turned to his friend, Dr. Sweeney, who also nodded. The silence was broken only by the crumple crinkle sound of the beer can under pressure in Jack’s fist. After a minute of silence he spoke, in a low voice. “I’m not leaving. I put my heart and soul, and a lot of sweat into this farm over the last nine years and I’m not giving it up without a fight. I’ll get my own damn lawyer and take this to court or do whatever it takes. I want Miss Bunny Eyes, or whatever her name is, off this property. She can’t just come waltzing in here and steal everything I’ve worked so hard for all these years.”

  After another minute of painful silence she spoke up, sounding equally determined. “The name is Buonadies, stupid! Victoria Buonadies! This house belonged to my Nanna. It’s not my fault your nasty old uncle lied to you all those years. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you.”

  Once more Doc Sweeney interceded. Rising to his feet, he held palms out towards the two, like a traffic cop. “Calm down. I'm sure there is some amicable agreement you can come to at least temporarily. We don’t want poor Jack thrown out onto the street, and certainly, Miss Victoria, you’re in no condition to go anywhere. I must insist you remain here and rest.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Doc. I have an idea. There is a way we can work this out if these nice young people are agreeable,” said Fred. They all looked in his direction.

  Before continuing, the attorney cleared his throat. “Now then, here’s the way I see it. Jack has been the unfortunate dupe, played false by his Uncle. The only silver lining in that cloud is that Jack will be the last person Charley’s cheated in this life. I suppose Jack’s owed something on that
account. On the other hand, Jack, what you don’t know is that this young lady has made her own sacrifices. She probably wouldn’t tell you herself, but for the last ten years or so, Victoria has devoted her life to caring for her grandmother who suffered with dementia. I know it wasn’t easy for her. She gave up a good part of her life to be caregiver for her grandmother.”

  He pointed out the window at blue sky and acres of pink apple blossoms. “Look out there,” he said. Three heads swiveled to look out the window at the apple orchards. “In four months all those lovely blossoms will be apples that need harvesting. There is no end to the work on a farm. Buildings need to be maintained and there’s a pest control regime that continues throughout the season. I imagine Jack has a few acres of sweet corn, pumpkins, and other things planted. Fact is Vicky; you need someone to run this place. You can’t let all that just rot and wither on the vine. Oh, you could hire seasonal workers I’m sure, but no one knows this farm and the apple business around here like Jack. You need him.”

  “And Jack, you need Vicky. I know you want to continue working the farm. I believe we can come to some agreement, a financial arrangement that will be satisfactory to you both. Perhaps a division of the profits. I certainly can draw up an agreement. What do you say?”

  She scowled at Jack, and his dark brown eyes bored into hers. He’d apparently dressed in a hurry, and she saw that he was barefoot, hair still tousled and uncombed. His shirt was fastened one button off, the collar all askew. He does have a handsome face, very tan and rugged. It’s too bad that Jack’s unscrupulous uncle lied to him, but the farm was Nanna's and now it’s mine. The inheritance was entirely unexpected, but here she was, her Nanna's only grandchild with a new home and property.

  Doc Sweeney was the first to break the silence. “That sounds to me like a very good deal for both of you. Vicky would have someone to work the place without worrying about the details and Jack would still have a job, and probably be making more money than he did with old tightwad Charley. God knows it isn’t easy to find a new job around here these days. Otherwise, Jack would be out on the street like a homeless person. Why don’t you nice young folks give this some serious consideration?”