Deadly Inheritance

by Jeulia Hesse

  The driver-side window rolled down in the Sheriff’s car, and Christina rolled hers down as well. “You lost?” a man with a friendly set of brown eyes asked, pulling off his sunglasses.

  “Shawn?” Christina asked.

  The policeman frowned back at her for a second before he broke into a wide grin. “Well, what a surprise!” the Sheriff shouted. “I heard you were coming back.”

  “Just pulling in now.” Christina replied.

  Noting Christina’s passenger, Shawn leaned further out the window, “Who’s your friend?”

  Gina smiled tentatively at Shawn, a little taken aback with his overt friendliness. He was so unlike the New Yorkers she routinely interacted with.

  “This is my friend Gina,” Christina replied. “Gina, this is Shawn, an old friend.”

  Gina nodded hello shyly from the car.

  Christina turned back to Shawn, who had shifted his vehicle to begin to pull forward. “Trouble on the mountain?” she asked. She wondered if something was happening at the inn. That was the last thing she needed.

  “Long story,” he replied. “And I’ve gotta get rolling. I don’t like being out of range too long. But I’ll catch up with you later.” He pulled the sheriff cruiser away, waving. “Nice to meet you Ma’am!” he shouted at Gina as the cruiser pulled away.

  “Who was that?” Gina asked with interest. “He was hot!”

  Christina chuckled to herself. Shawn Taylor had turned out nice, but she would never have thought in a million years that he would have ended up on the police force, not with all the outrageous things he had done and claimed to do. Annie used to break up with him regularly over each stupid thing he was planning to do or had admitted to doing.

  Moments later, they pulled down the long driveway to the inn. The late afternoon sun glinted off the windows, making the whole place seem on fire. The trees surrounding the large house were neatly trimmed, along with the shrubs against the front of the building. Spring flowers were in abundance, with the front gardens overflowing with bright colored tulips and daffodils. The inn gleamed in the sun, white and colossal among the trees. Beyond, through the portico area, the wood of the red horse barn was visible, creating a charming pastoral setting.

  Christina sat in the car a moment, taking in her arrival back to this place that had been so significant in her life. Her emotional response, at least initially, was not what she was expecting. She anticipated grief and sorrow had consumed her the last time she had been there. But now, she felt glad to see this place again. She had spent so many happy times here during her summertime visits.

  It had been here that she felt most at home and part of a larger family, in contrast to the silence of her stepfather Victor’s house. After the death of her mother, Victor had done his best. He undeniably loved her, but being suddenly thrust into single parenthood after a lifetime as a bachelor, left him flat footed. They had a stiff, but warm functional relationship. Boarding school and summers here at the inn with her aunt and cousin had been Victor’s plan of action for Christina. But when she had begged him to let her graduate high school with Annie and spend her senior year in Vermont, it had caused strain on their relationship. Luckily, Victor had eventually relented.

  The exterior appearance of the inn was well-kept and appealing, just as she remembered. She waited for grief and guilt to appear, snaking their way into her psyche. After all, that was the way she felt the last time she sat in this driveway. Curiously though, what she felt was delight and excitement to be back here. This was unexpected and a pleasant surprise. Thinking that maybe this would be a tolerable trip, she exited the car.

  “Come on, Gina,” she said to her friend, “Let me show you around.”

  Gina opened the car door, gawking at the stately surroundings. “Damn girl,” she exclaimed, “You didn’t tell me you were rich! This is not at all what I had in mind from your explanation of this place.”

  Gina moved around the car to help Christina hoist their bags from the trunk. “Let me get a picture of this.” Gina took a few shots with her phone and started to send them via text message.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that cell service can be spotty at best up here. I am not sure it’s gotten better since I’ve been here last,” Christina explained to Gina as she made her way to the front door, loaded with her luggage.

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Gina asked comically, holding her phone up in the air searching for a signal. “What kind of hellish place have you brought me to?!”

  Christina felt her anxiety dissipate as she stepped into the foyer of the inn. She was expecting to be assaulted with the feelings she’d pushed aside long ago, since she’d experienced sorrow, fear, and the pervasive guilt last time she stood in this spot. Instead, the lemony scents of furniture polish, ammonia glass cleaner and a distant delicious smell of something baking brought pleasant memories of home back to her senses.

  The two women stood together in the doorway, taking in the scents and the classic New England entryway with the large staircase leading to the upper floors. The wooden banister was gleaming from a recent polishing. To their left was the library. The walls covered in bookshelves, except for the large, front-facing windows and the field stone fireplace. To their right was the main living room with its walls covered in paintings and old photographs of the area. Cushy chairs and a large sofa framed the center of the room. Directly in front of the women was a vintage hotel reception desk with a wall of antique room keys hanging behind it. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the top of the counter and Christina’s name was visible on the note card stuck into the stems.

  A shuffling and mumbling sound was coming from behind the lobby desk. The top of a worn baseball cap covering a snow-white head was just visible over the top of the counter. “Everything has to be perfect,” the figure mumbled unhappily, “always on my tail...”

  Abruptly, the figure stood, laying a screwdriver and a greasy rag on the top of the counter. The elderly man stood and looked at the two women, surprised to see them standing there. He smiled kindly at them. “I am so sorry, ladies,” he started to say, coming around the desk toward them. He swept his arms, as if to herd them out the door. “We aren’t opened for guests. I guess I left the door open....”

  “Jim?” Christina questioned, laying her bags at her feet. “Is that you?”

  The older man stopped what he was doing and looked intently at her, frowning, and wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. After a beat, recognition passed over his face and his broad smile deepened. “Well, look at you!” he exclaimed, coming forward to greet her. “I’m sure glad to see your pretty face again.”

  He opened his arms and Christina easily stepped forward and embraced the old man. “Oh Jim!” she said. “It’s great to see you! How have you been?”

  He nodded, smiling, “We’re doing all right. ‘Least that’s what she tells me!”

  Still holding his arm, Christina turned to Gina. “Jim, this is my friend, Gina,” she said, introducing her traveling companion.

  Jim’s eyes glinted as Christina knew he was taking in her friend’s beautiful dark complexion and petite shapely figure. He reached out and shook her hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, Jim.” Gina greeted him smiling.

  “Jim has been working here since I can remember,” Christina explained. “Both he and his wife live here, and care for everything you could imagine. Maude cooks and does housekeeping. Jim takes care of the general maintenance and the gardens, and whatever else needs to be done.”

  “And there is a lot to get done in this old place,” Jim added smiling. He continued to wipe his hands on his pants.

  Christina waved her hands. “Well, it looks great. Looks just as I remember.”

  Jim nodded. “Good,” he replied, “Maude wanted everything to be perfect when we found out you were comin.’ I’ve been working non-stop,” he said, taking off his cap and wiping his broad forehead with his hand. “Course, we can’t do everything all ourselves. ‘Specially sin
ce we’re gettin’ up there,” he said.

  Christina tried to fathom how old they were. She had considered them old when she was a teenager, but that assessment had been relative. Back then, everyone over forty seemed ancient. But Jim did seem a bit more bent in his stature and more weathered since she last saw him.

  “Jeremy has been helping us to keep things straight. God bless that boy.” Jim mused, “After Ada went in the hospital, he’s been keeping things going.”

  Surprised, Christina asked, “you’ve been open? I thought that there haven’t been any guests for years.”

  “Right, right,” Jim replied. “We haven’t been running like regular season or nothin.’ But we do host guests here and there. Mostly for private guests from Jeremy’s firm. He lets us know when they are comin’ and how many, and we take care of things for ‘em.”

  This information puzzled Christina. She was working under the understanding that there had not been any guests for years and that the inn was not functioning. Maude and Jim had remained on the property to caretake only. They provided maintenance and the security of someone living there. There was an arrangement in the estate trust that had provided for these expenses. Much of it came from the reciprocal housing arrangement that had always been part of the agreement with the caretaking pair. Christina mentally filed this information away. She would follow-up with Jeremy the next time they spoke to go over the operations.

  Jim reached down to gather their bags, but each woman took their luggage from him before the elder man could lift them. “Let me take your things upstairs,” he stated. “She’s got your room all made up.” Gesturing to Gina, Jim continued, “We can get you a spot all made up. Let me get her on it.”

  Feeling a bit guilty for having the older couple wait on her, Christina replied, “Gina can take the made-up room, and I’ll make up another.”

  Jim nodded his agreement as the two women headed for the stairs.

  “Come on up, Gina,” said Christina. “Let’s drop off our bags and then I can show you around.”

  Gina nodded, following her up the gleaming wooden stairs. “Something sure smells wonderful. I didn’t realize I was hungry until now. Someone must be baking something delicious!”

  Christina laughed. “Smells like Maude is in the kitchen. It will be wonderful. I bet it’ll be some nice down-home cooking.”

  The women made their way upstairs with Gina marveling at the classic surroundings and Christina at the memories. Christina led Gina down the hall and to a second set of smaller stairs. “I’m sure Maude would have made up my old room. You can take that, and I’ll take the old guest room. The family rooms are up on the third floor.”

  “Don’t you want to sleep in your old room?” Gina asked of her friend, knowing she would defer.

  The third floor had a narrower hallway from the second’s open and airy feel. Christina opened the door to a room facing the back of the house and let Gina step in. An antique four poster bed greeted them. It was covered with a beautiful, floral quilt. The room had a small, attached bath with a tiny modern bathroom and shower. Christina blocked herself from feeling the emotions expected from stepping into her old room, where her summers were spent.

  “It’s beautiful!” Gina exclaimed, walking in and depositing her bag on the floor. She immediately picked up a photograph beside the bed, looking questioningly at her friend. The photo was of a young girl and two adults.

  “That’s me, Victor and my mother,” Christina answered, taking the framed photo from Gina, and looking at it. “Before she died. I think this was taken right before their wedding.”

  “That’s you?” Gina asked. “What a smile!”

  Christina glanced back to the photo. “Yeah, those were happy times. They were so in love.”

  Gina clucked her tongue, taking the photo and setting it back on the bedside table. “Look at all these pictures,” she said, pointing to a bulletin board hanging over a small desk.

  Christina openly winced. Noting her reaction, her friend took her hand. “You going to be all right? You want to stay in this room?”

  “Surprisingly, I’m ok,” she replied, reassuring her friend. “But that class picture...” She pulled a small classic school photo from the corner of the bulletin board. The small photo was of Christina in her early teenage years. Her face was spotted with blemishes and her smile was accented by a mouth chock full of braces.

  Gina took the picture from her hands, shaking her head. “Oh honey,” she laughed, “we all have one of these...”

  Christina laughed. “Gina, I can’t believe you would have a picture like that,” she said leaving the room. “I am going to put my stuff down. Meet you downstairs in a few? Make yourself at home.”

  Gina laughed, taking out her cell phone again to snap a picture of the photo. Christina shook her head, laughing. The cell service was so bad here that she was not worried that those pictures would be shared anytime soon. That gave her a chance to get them deleted from Gina’s phone before Gina sent them to their other co-workers at the hotel. She laughed to herself.

  Heading down the hallway, she found the guest room where her mother and countless other family guests had stayed. It was a neutral location for her to spend the next two weeks. It didn’t have any personal items or many memories, so it would suit her needs. She located clean sheets and blankets and set to making the bed.

  She heard Gina’s steps on the stairs and knew she had headed down for some exploring. She was not shy and would find things to entertain herself, Christina reflected of her friend. This made her a great choice for this trip, as she offered some distraction, but also didn’t require planned entertainment for every minute.

  After settling in the guest room, Christina started to head downstairs, and then changed course. So far, she had not been besieged by the sorrow she expected by coming back to this place. Perhaps since Ada was no longer in residence, making it clear that something had changed, she didn’t long for the past. Or maybe because of the length of time of her absence, the hurt had healed over a bit. Christina felt heartened this visit would not be as emotionally challenging as she expected.

  She opened the door to Ada’s room. The mattress was missing from the large bed, but the room was largely as she remembered. She closed the door to Ada’s room, and then placed her hand on the next room’s doorknob. Directly across from Ada’s room and down the hall from her old room was Annie’s bedroom. Christina steeled herself and opened the door.

  The room had been recently cleaned, because the smell of furniture polish hung in the air, but the space was remarkedly familiar. It was like stepping into her teenage years again. Posters and pictures hung from the walls and Annie’s favorite bright yellow bedspread gleamed in the midafternoon light from the tall windows. It looked like she could have walked back in time. She could imagine coming into her cousin’s bedroom as her 17-year-old self, and Annie would come out of the bathroom with her hair in a towel.

  Ada had left the room just as Annie had it the day she disappeared. It seemed nothing was changed or out of place, except it was a bit cleaner of course, without all the teenage girl clothes and general debris of life. The police had been through here, and she knew Ada had spent weeks sobbing in this room, waiting, and hoping for her only child to come home or make contact in some way. Christina knew her own sorrow was benign in comparison to what Ada had experienced with the disappearance of her only child. The depths of her despair were unfathomable.

  Christina walked slowly around the room, taking in the objects left behind by the missing girl. There were pictures on the bulletin board of happy high school days, including a bunch from the photo booth at the fair and several of Annie in prom gowns. She had been asked to a prom each year, ever since she was a freshman in high school. She was a beautiful girl in the sparkling dresses, smiling in each photo with several different boys, until the more recent ones kept featuring Shawn by her side. Christina smiled to herself. Annie had said that the guys had all asked her as a friend or s
imply as someone who would make it a fun night, instead of one besieged by teenage love dramas. Christina had not been around for these events. She was either staying in the city with her stepfather or away at boarding school, but she heard about the details from Annie directly in their frequent calls.

  One picture caught her eye. It was a shot of them both together, hugging each other tightly posing for the camera. They were probably sixteen at the time, and Ada had snapped the picture of the two laughing girls. Christina smiled, remembering the time before tragedy pulled them apart. It was a happy memory. She tucked the picture back into its place, noting to herself to save this photo and perhaps some of the others before she put the inn on the market. Preserving the good times was desirable.

  Christina came down the front stairs, finding Jim back behind the lobby desk. “Find everything you need all right?” He was crouching behind the desk with tools in his hands. “I hope it’s all right with you, but Maude picked up some of Ada’s things. Don’t like to leave medicine and such layin’ around the place. I think they both were on the same shots anyway, so Maude’s using them. Those shots for the sugar. Ya know what I mean?

  “Insulin? I didn’t know Maude was taking that. And of course, it’s totally fine. Why let it go to waste.” She approached the desk and leaned over its top to see what Jim was working on. “What are you doing back there anyway?” she asked.

  “Oh, I am trying to get this darn drawer to open. She insists that I need to fix everything in this place – make it all work, just like it did two hundred years ago.” Jim stood up from behind the desk, wiping his greasy hands on a cloth. “But yeah, she had to go on the shots last year. The sugar pills weren’t workin’ anymore, I guess. Ada showed her how to do it, and there was really nothin’ to it. Ada made it look real easy anyway.”