Retreat to Woodhaven (The Hills of Burlington Book 2)

by Jacie Middlemann

  Carrie watched her Mom's silent signal towards Mallie. Understood this was important to her niece and she was to pay attention. Not much changed with her mother. But if she was honest she had to admit, she hadn't seen her mother happier in years. They'd put a couple of her completed pieces on their online store priced at the high end to give them room to negotiate. Every single one had sold within twenty-four hours without a single qualm. The moment it was noticed that Charlie McMuerty was "back" the art world had almost shut down their site just from the sheer volume of hits. They'd been shocked. That had been a wine and pie moment as well. Her mother had taken it in stride. When asked what she was going to do with her share of the funds she had smiled and said nothing. Nothing terrified Carrie more. Not a week later packages began to arrive. Old vintage clothing of all styles. Her mother was in a vintage clothing mood. And Mallie was her model. Turning to her young niece, she wondered if she had the slightest clue as to the value of being her mother's only model. Her face was all over the web. No one had figured out who she was yet. But that was just a matter of time. Her brother and sister-in-law were privately and very quietly proud as peacocks of the paintings and had already claimed dibs on whatever the next one was...sight unseen. But how would they feel when Mallie's name was out there. Like everything else it would or could be only a ten-day wonder and hopefully blow over shortly after that. But some interest would linger. She wondered how her niece would handle it all. For now she seemed clueless and unconcerned. Her mind on other things. She would love dearly to know what her mind was on now.

  "Mallie, sweetie." Charlie was afraid if they didn't get this show on the road her precious granddaughter was going to faint from nerves. "We don't have to wait for the pie to cool." She watched her set it down in the middle of the table on one of the pretty floral hot plate tiles she'd had since her wedding day. "Bring those wine glasses over here and get the wine from the fridge and let's share our good news."

  With Mary and Carrie watching quietly, Mallie brought the wine glasses over and poured the chilled wine into them. "Would you like some pie? I'm sure it's cooled some." She looked at her aunt. "I got some of that ice cream you like with your pie, Aunt Carrie."

  Everything she felt for her niece sharpened as memories of her own deep insecurities at that age now flew to the surface. Carrie took the wine from her and poured it hoping she wasn't going to need it other than to celebrate. She waved her hand in front of her niece's face to get her attention. "Mallie." She waited for her to snap out of the fog that seemed to have sucked the excitement out of her. "Sit," she repeated herself. She saw Mary lean forward, ready to prompt things along if needed. She pushed a glass in front of her niece. "What are we toasting to?"

  "Grandma and I bought the skating rink!" she gushed it out in a single short spurt of air. "And Jake," she added, "Jake bought it with us."

  With three grown children and a husband who closely identified with them more often than not, Mary found little surprised her. But one part of this did. "Why Jake?"

  "Grandma said we needed a man." Mallie rushed to get it all out, get it all said so it could be done. She watched both older women look at her grandmother. All the defenses she didn't have for herself rose full force in defense of her grandmother. "And she was right. We needed a man to help get the best deal. And Jake did that. We got it for...a song." She remembered Jake saying that. "And he set up a partnership agreement that we're all on and everything. We've even got a company name."

  "What is it?" Mary asked quietly, hoping the girl didn't hyperventilate in her unnecessary defense of her grandmother.

  "Three Generations, Inc." Mallie swallowed. Swallowed again to get past the nerves that were rushing up her throat. Hard and fast. "Jake came up with it." She almost blurted out about his loan and stopped herself. Grandma said that was for him to share if he wanted to. "I registered today. And I declared a major." She swallowed again as all heads turned in her direction again. "I'm going to major in business. Jake says I should consider accounting but I'm not sure about that yet. But I know for certain I'm not going to be a lawyer."

  Carrie ducked her head to hide the smile that kicked in from the last comment. She didn't blame her one bit and understood now that had to have been a major bone of contention between Mallie and her father. Her charming brother who knew no way other than his own. She looked sideways at her mother. Needed a man. Please. She'd been brought up by the feminists of all feminists. More likely that her mother decided Jake needed them rather than the other way around. And being that he'd entered willingly into the fray of craziness that was her mother's world it could very well be she just might be right. A skating rink for Pete's sake...but she saw the glint of happiness in Mallie's eyes and knew what Jake had seen. Better him than her. She lifted her glass, "To my niece. The youngest of our family's entrepreneurs."

  "I'll go with that." Mary clinked her glass gently against the others. "And to my wonderful Aunt Charlie who seems to always know us better than we know ourselves."

  Once again the glasses tinkled like bells as another family venture was celebrated.

  

  "So..." Dave looked upward at the aging stairway on the outside of the house he was going to soon call his own. He looked over to where his cousin Jake and the newly found and very distant cousin on his father's side through a shared great-grand-something or other were quietly conferring and studying the structure. "Can it be saved?"

  "More like, does it want to be saved?" Jake drawled. Privately he was thrilled Dave was taking an interest in it. For that matter that he was taking an interest in anything. But this was heading towards over the top.

  Court Gordon walked over to stand next to the staircase that at its best looked like it could tumble into a heap of wood when the next strong storm came through. He'd already walked through the house and could see it with a vision of salvaging the lessons of the past to survive in today's often harsh world. And while much...most of the interior of the house was in good condition considering its age and neglectful treatment by residents far less concerned about the historical value of the house than its ability to serve their purpose, and from what he'd seen a disgustingly insanitary purpose of some sort, this exterior piece of history had been lost to time long before this day. And he knew its new owner wasn't going to be happy about it. They'd only met the night before when Mary had invited him over for a late dinner and to meet her brother. Beyond a family connection he'd found he and Dave had numerous other things in common including a love of sports, history, and reading. Specifically reading the relatively new genre of books that took history and rewrote it. Alternative history. Too bad you couldn't fix things like that in real life he thought to himself wryly. Like this staircase. But that wasn't going to happen. And he knew as he turned to answer Dave's question that it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

  "We actually have two options." He broached the subject carefully. He had picked up pretty easily last night over the course of their long and diverse conversation that Dave Elden wasn't just relocating to Burlington to go his own way but more importantly to make his own way. It didn't take a bright light to see a huge part of that was tied up with this house. And like his sister he had an enormous appreciation for history. These steps weren't just wood and metal, they were historical artifacts. "The first is to remove this staircase and rebuild a new one that won't collapse when used." He heard the barely muted laughter coming from Jake's direction and avoided glancing in his direction to avoid getting caught up in the same.

  "What's the other alternative?" Dave made no attempt to disguise his disappointment.

  "We remove this staircase. Use any salvageable wood from it for a platform around the bottom of the new staircase as well as the wood walkway we put down from here to the front of the house." He avoided looking at either of the other men, waited in the silence for Dave to understand saving this stairway simply wasn't plausible. Not without risking someone's good health. Or life. It had long ago seen better days and whenever
the doorway into the building at the top had been blocked off all efforts to maintain the stairway had ceased. He ran his hand over the old wood railing. It was old. Built before they began using the more reliable iron stairways that fared far better in Burlington's harsh weather extremes. The elements were unforgiving on wood after a time.

  "What kind of platform are you thinking of?" With a heavy sigh Dave accepted the inevitable. "Can you make it a covered platform, not closed, just covered?"

  "Yeah." Court took the small spiral pad from his shirt pocket. He carried it everywhere because you never knew when you needed to jot down notes or sketch something out like he was doing now. Or, he thought with no little amount of self humor, ideas of how to twist history. Which was pretty much exactly what he was doing here at the base of this dilapidated staircase. Just in a different way. With quick movements of his pencil he drew a rough sketch of his vision of the platform and added a roof similar to that of the house. He sensed his new client and newly discovered distant cousin shifting to get a look at what he was drawing. "This will give folks a firm foundation at the bottom of the stairway instead of mud, snow, weeds, or whatever the season brings. The wood walkway," he sketched a short portion of a walkway to give him an idea of what he was thinking in that direction. "It should be patterned from those that you would have seen when the house was built. You'll still see some of them in the older parts of the downtown area and down by the river along the southern side." He glanced over to where the river flowed. "You might even find some down your hill."

  Dave looked at the drawing. It wasn't what he'd originally wanted but it would fit in better than anything else he could think of. "Okay."

  Jake slapped his cousin on the back. "Now that that's settled let's go look at the inside again and you can explain to me how you're going to live here and hang up your lawyer's shingle outside the door at the same time."

  "Yeah, well the first thing I need to do is to hire someone to go through and clear out all the garbage," Dave said dryly as they stepped through the front door.

  "I see what you mean." Jake was rendered almost speechless once again by the sheer volume of garbage all over the floors even though he'd already seen it on their first walk through.

  "There's some great oak flooring under here." Court commented as he moved what looked like decayed TV dinner trays to one side along with some banana peels. "Overall they might just need a good cleaning and waxing if it's all in this good a shape."

  "Who would have known there was a wood floor under all this crap." Jake kicked stuff out of his way as he went.

  "It's not quite as bad upstairs." Dave stood in the entryway that was easily the size of a regular room. "I want this to be the reception area." He pointed to the open doorways. "I want some type of doors in the doorways so they can be closed and locked. If you can do pocket doors that would be great but if not some nice French style doors with glass." He made his way to a door that opened up into the space under the stairs. "I want to make this into a storage space for files and anything else my office manager would need."

  "Office manager?" Court asked, eyebrows raised.

  "Whoever I get will have to do it all. Receptionist, filing, setting appointments, billing, typing, and if dreams really come true I'll find someone who has some law experience and can maybe do some research for me. Since they get to do all that they get to be an Office Manager."

  "Sounds like loads of fun," Jake drawled.

  "You need to meet my aunt," Court said seriously.

  "Really?" Dave turned to him from his study of the space under the stairs. "Would she be interested?"

  "Maybe." Court thought about it. "Retirement hasn't been what she thought it would be."

  "Won't pay much." He tilted his head. "And I haven't even looked into whether I can afford insurance for myself let alone someone else."

  "I don't think that would be an issue." He made a note at the top of the page he'd been writing on. "I'll call her and get back to you."

  "I'll be here for another couple of days." He moved to the bottom of the stairs. "Let me show you what I want to do up here." He tripped over a huge pile of trash. "Know anyone who could be paid just to clean the stuff out of here?"

  "Actually, I've got a nephew who wants to go into the business. But he'll also do just about anything for money." He rolled his eyes. "He's sort of dating Mallie. And in the process finding out that taking a woman out to dinner means a little more than the drive through at McDonalds."

  The laughter flowed freely as the three men made their way up the stairway.

  

  Casey carefully balanced the plate of cookies along with the two glasses of wine as she walked from the kitchen into the cozy TV room. Then she heard the sounds of a skirmish. Without thinking about it one way or another she easily diverted to the small window at the back of the room to check to see if it was a normal kind of kid skirmish or a someone needs to deal with it event. It wasn't difficult to interpret that she was witnessing the two youngest kids arguing over who got the swing next. They were dumping each other out of it in an effort to stake their own claim. Even in kid land possession was nine-tenths of the law. She felt more than heard Pete walk up from behind her.

  "Sometimes I really think they just enjoy the fun of the battle."

  Casey understood that. Growing up as the youngest and the only girl, she knew battles. Had even won a few of them. "Do you think we should make them wear helmets when they play?" She was only just barely joking. And felt a twinge of pride when the youngest once again dumped her older brother in the dirt and climbed back on to the swing. Either giving up or realizing there was an audience and he'd be better served playing to them than to his sister the brother in question walked away giving her the win this time.

  "Well," Pete took his glass from Casey's hand then led them both back into the room that allowed them to listen for the younger kids out back. They could also keep tabs on his oldest as she meandered through the stammering and stuttering conversation on the front porch with the boy she used to play in the sand box with. He wasn't certain he was up to anything and everything that came after they figured out how to talk without stuttering, stammering, and those long lulls in the conversation that probably seemed even longer to them than to him.

  "You've had an eventful week." Casey smiled, she knew Pete's mind was like a calculator when it came to work. "Fruitful."

  "Very. Between your boss's new acquisition..."

  "Former boss." She corrected.

  "Regardless, they purchased a wonderful home with a view."

  "A very pricey view." And she knew that as much as they paid for it, it was probably not even half of what Terry had sold her condo for. Her condo, that like hers, she'd paid off somewhere along the line.

  Nodding in agreement, Pete worked around to where he was heading. "I also got a nice little thank-you from the commercial realtor I sent your brother and former boss to."

  "Considering how easy the deal went through even with all the issues surrounding its ownership I would hope it was a hefty little thank-you." She took a sip of her own wine and snuggled in. She loved these after dinner talks. The house would be quiet, the kids outside playing off their meal and hopefully wearing themselves down for bedtime.

  "It was...shall we say, considerable." He twirled a lock of her hair around one of the fingers of his free hand. "Did you know your cousin Dave bought a place down on South Third today?" And could tell with her sudden shifting he had surprised her with that one.

  "Dave did?" Casey sat up straighter, turned from gazing out the window to catching his eyes and holding them there steady.

  "Sounds like he plans on practicing law here. Can't have too many lawyers." He took a sip as he watched that one settle in.

  "That's certainly the mantra in our family," she muttered. Thinking. "Where on South Third?"

  "Down where it gets a little hilly. He can practice out of it and live there as well. That was one of his requirements. Fact is it wa
s one of the first things out of his mouth when he called me. He wanted a place that he could have his law office in, hang out his shingle so to speak without any sort of commute." He watched her absorb that piece of news as well. "He'll be closing pretty quickly. Maybe tomorrow. He wants it taken care of before he heads back to do whatever he has to do before moving here."

  "I wonder what Mary thinks."

  "I talked with her briefly about something else and she sounded thrilled with it."

  "Something else..." she studied him, knew his moods almost as well as her own. Knew the look. "Good grief! Is she buying another house?" At his expression she knew she'd hit it on the first try. "What in the world does she need another house for...no, no, don't tell me. I don't want any preconceived notions when I talk with her about it." She took a breath. Not her business. Really not her business. If her cousin wanted to collect houses that was her deal. She could even understand it in some offbeat way. With the business...businesses she corrected herself, taking off like a shot as they were, they might need more space. For all she knew that's what Mary was thinking of. Lord knew, she was always at least half a dozen steps ahead of the rest of them.