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He came around the barn, pushing the wheelbarrow with ease since it had delivered its cargo. “What is it?” he called to her.
“These boxes. What do you know about them?”
Leaving the cart by the barn door, he came halfway to the house. “They’re all Mrs. Ashford’s,” he said.
“I can see that, but what’s inside them?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Amelia’s been ordering things. I bring her mail up every day, and she gets stacks of catalogues. Since she’s been at Shady Grove I’ve left an accumulation on the wicker table on the front porch. If you look through the mail, I think you might get some answers.”
Meg shook her head. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “She’s filled up the pantry.”
Deputy Murdock laughed. “The pantry? Haven’t you been in the dining room?”
“No.”
He let out a long whistle. “I hope you aren’t planning any dinner parties while you’re here.”
She frowned at him. “Of course not. You’re just full of riddles and surprises, aren’t you, Deputy?”
“No, ma’am. I deal in facts, and you’re about to face some of them right now.”
Meg returned to the kitchen and walked cautiously to the dining room. When she pressed on the hinged door that normally provided easy access between the rooms, she discovered that it allowed only enough room for one person to walk through. And when she did, she couldn’t believe what she saw. Piled on the floor, the table, all ten Chippendale chairs were more boxes. Dozens and dozens of them. All sizes and shapes.
She sidestepped down a narrow path that wound between two columns of cartons until she was in the middle of the room where her aunt had once hosted friends and family and which now resembled a warehouse. She scanned a wall of corrugated cardboard while she ran her hands along the dusty exteriors of the boxes. Then, she absently noted Wade Murdock’s voice coming from the doorway to the kitchen. “It’s a little overwhelming, I guess. I suppose eventually we’ll have to figure out what to do with all this stuff.”
WADE FOLLOWED HER through the dining room to the formal parlor in the front of the house. She hadn’t asked him to. In fact, she probably wasn’t even aware that he was so close. But it was the least he could do, stand guard over her while she faced the evidence of her aunt’s eccentricity. She peered warily around the door frame into the parlor as if she expected to see additional boxes and was steeling herself to deal with even more chaos. She released a long sigh when she saw a mere half-dozen cartons sitting on the desk and an end table. They were the ones he’d carried in today. As long as Meg didn’t look too closely at the details of the parlor that had fallen into disrepair, she would be comforted to find this room at least familiar.
“As far as I know,” he said, “all the boxes are confined to these downstairs rooms. Although I haven’t been on the upper floors since I first saw the house and made an offer on it.”
Startled at the sound of his voice, she spun around and laid her hand across her chest as if she were sending a message to her heart to keep beating. Then she stared at him with wide, vivid blue eyes and shook her head. “How long has it been like this?”
“Roughly since Mrs. Ashford came into some money.”
Her eyes rounded. “What do you mean?”
He had to smile, since he knew the source of the unexpected income. He knew, too, as most everyone in Mount Esther did, that Amelia Ashford had suffered financial difficulties recently. Like many elderly folks, she’d watched her savings dwindle. “It was my money,” he said. “I gave her a deposit on the property when we signed the contract.”
Meg’s eyebrows arched with the unspoken question.
“Twenty thousand dollars,” he told her.
Her gaze darted to the entrance to the dining room and she groaned. “You don’t think…? All that money?” She read the label on a long, narrow box. “This is from a company called Star Search.” She tore the plastic envelope from the top, removed an invoice and read the particulars. As if expecting Wade to validate what she read, she held the paper out to him. “There’s a telescope inside. And it cost five hundred and forty dollars.”
He studied the invoice, adding that Mrs. Ashford had paid with her bank debit card. “For that amount of money, it’s no doubt a fine instrument.”
Meg let out a bark of laughter. “And this one,” she said, reading the label from a box on the end table. “It’s from a toy company called Furry Friends.” She raised the box and shook it, creating a soft, rustling sound. “My aunt bought a stuffed animal?”
Wade shrugged.
“Where did you say you’d put her mail?”
He went out to the porch and returned with the stack of catalogues he’d brought from the mailbox in the last few days. He handed them to Meg, and she sank into the nearest chair and thumbed through them. When she looked up at Wade, her eyes reflected shock and confusion. “Did you know that my aunt was spending all this money?”
“I knew she was receiving deliveries, yes.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the dining room. “It’s a little hard to ignore.”
Meg’s voice rose a notch. “Why didn’t anyone stop her?”
“Stop her? For what reason? There isn’t a law in this state against spending money.”
“But didn’t you find this behavior suspicious?”
“I’ve only known your aunt a few months. I wasn’t qualified to judge her behavior. As I saw it, a ninety-two-year-old woman suddenly had extra cash and she spent it as she wanted to. I knew where the money came from since I gave it to her myself, so there was no need to investigate her windfall and what she did with it. But it might comfort you to know that the bank manager of the Mount Esther Savings and Loan did find your aunt’s habits suspicious. He strongly suggested that she quit using her credit card when the charges became abnormally high. That’s when she resorted to using her debit card.”
Wade hadn’t been inside the house in over two weeks since he’d been doing repairs on the outside and in the barn. When he’d come in today he’d been shocked at the accumulation of deliveries.
Meg stared at the glossy catalogues on her lap as if they were written in a foreign language. And then she tossed them to the floor, stood up, and looked at Wade. “Why wasn’t I called?” she asked. “You obviously know about me, Deputy. My phone number’s in my aunt’s address book. Didn’t you think I should know my aunt was spending her money so foolishly?”
The hairs on his neck bristled. Was this woman actually expecting him to defend himself further? “You think I should have called you? Mrs. Ashford told me that she has two nieces. One of them, the one she talks about a lot…” He jerked his thumb toward a photograph on the wall. It showed Meg in her high school graduation gown. “…is you I assume since I’ve seen your pictures hanging all over this house. And I know you haven’t been to see your aunt in quite a while. The other one…” He picked up a photo from a bookshelf. “…a woman who lives in Chicago, hasn’t been to Mount Esther in years.”
He leveled his sternest gaze on her. “Besides, this really wasn’t my business. I simply observed a sweet old woman spending her own money.”
Meg scowled. “So, you stood by and watched as this sweet old woman’s mind slowly but certainly failed her without doing anything about it.”
“What would you have wanted me to do? As I saw it, Amelia Ashford was having the time of her life.”
What happened next completely unnerved him. Meg’s features slowly changed from righteous anger to a sort of chilling understanding. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Perhaps you had something to gain by ignoring my aunt’s unusual behavior.”
He backed up a step. “What do you mean by that?”
She gestured to the packages. “You’ll excuse me for saying so, Deputy, but I can’t help thinking that this wild spending was a sign of my aunt’s vulnerability and an open invitation for you to con her out of this house.”
Anger flared inside him. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t even express an interest in buying this place until after I made the deal to board my daughter’s horse. And then I only mentioned it as a sort of remote possibility. But Mrs. Ashford was more than willing to get an offer on this old place. She welcomed my interest, encouraged it. And another thing…your aunt didn’t start her spending spree until after she sold me her house. I didn’t observe her buying so much as a sewing needle before she accepted my offer. So much for your theory about me watching her odd behavior with some sort of sinister intent.”
She didn’t seem to have a reasonable counterargument, so she sank back down in the chair and stared at the cartons around her. Then she looked up at him, some of the fire back in her eyes. “You won’t get this house, Deputy,” she finally said. “You are going to find that the contract you signed with Amelia Ashford is worthless.”
“I hardly think so.”
She leaned forward, fixed him with an unblinking gaze. “You’d better be ready to accept disappointment,” she stated defiantly. “Four years ago, Amelia deeded this house to me.”
Okay, she’d finally presented an argument that could pose a problem. Had Betty Lamb overlooked something? Still, he couldn’t resist pointing out the obvious. “Then why didn’t that little detail show up when my Realtor did a title search?”
“I intend to find out,” she said. “It has always been my aunt’s wish that I would get Ashford House when she dies, and she prepared the deed to insure that would happen.”
For a moment, the cold grip of panic coiled in Wade’s gut. He’d given Amelia Ashford twenty thousand dollars, every penny he’d saved while working fifteen years for the New York City Police Department. There was no way he would stand by and watch the savings he’d scrounged from hauling in thugs and criminals squandered on the contents of boxes in an old woman’s dining room without getting what he’d paid for.
He drew a deep breath to steady his nerves and stared hard at Meg. “It appears we both have documents we need to inspect,” he said.
“That’s fine with me.” Meg stood up and walked around him toward the kitchen. “I’m going to take my suitcase upstairs now, and then I’m going to see my aunt. Perhaps she can explain what’s been going on here.”
She disappeared into the dining room and he could visualize her threading her way back through columns of boxes that reached higher than her head. And, strangely, a bout of conscience, or more accurately, pity, washed over him. Meg Hamilton was obviously going to fight for Ashford House just as vehemently as he was.
There was something about this place. Wade had felt its spirit the first time he came in the door. And his connection to the house had grown once he’d decided to buy it. Now, it was as if he’d been destined to find this old place and make it his. He sensed that after two and a half years of grieving over a senseless tragedy, he could finally put down roots again in this quirky old mansion.
CHAPTER THREE
MEG WAS THINKING about Ashford House as she drove back to Mount Esther, turned at the traffic light, and headed to the Shady Grove Convalescent Center. She also thought about Deputy Wade Murdock. While he’d been adamant about defending his claim to the property, she had to admit that he had treated her decently, especially considering that she’d accused him of taking advantage of her aunt’s confused state. Plus, the announcement that Ashford House had been deeded to her must have been a shock. Twenty thousand dollars was a lot of money to invest in property that was never going to be his.
She chewed on the end of one nail as she scanned the side of the road for a sign that identified the drive to the nursing home. She wondered about what sort of contract the deputy had and if it was truly valid. It couldn’t be. She had legally owned Ashford House for four years. A man can’t just move into town and make a deal on a piece of property that has been given to someone else.
In spite of this controversy, Meg did feel some compassion for the deputy. He was obviously a family man. He’d mentioned his daughter, and Meg supposed he had a wife and perhaps other children who depended on him. And now he would have to disappoint them when he explained about the house. This whole mess really was unfortunate, and certainly not a problem Meg had ever thought she would have to deal with. Just as she never thought she would pull into her aunt’s drive and find a good-looking lawman carting manure from the barn.
She shook her head to dispel the very clear image of Wade Murdock standing so close behind her in the parlor of Ashford House. When she considered Wade’s appearance, which she shouldn’t, since he obviously had a family, she had to admit that Murdock had a certain appealing quality, in what she imagined was a down-to-earth, working man, New York sort of way.
Shady Grove Convalescent Center, five hundred yards ahead.
Meg slowed when she saw the sign and snapped on her blinker, putting Wade Murdock out of her mind. The gracious, solidly constructed two-story structure sat amid leafy mulberry and flowering sweetbay trees. An expansive green lawn displayed a riot of pink-and-white periwinkles clustered around wrought-iron benches. Shady Grove was a picture of pastoral serenity.
Meg parked in front of the entrance and went inside. A pleasant young woman offered assistance and gave Meg directions to Amelia’s room. She walked down a long hallway with doors on either side. Each room had a window with the curtains drawn to let in the sunshine. Some patients appeared to have personal belongings in their rooms, a favorite chair, a painting, something that reminded them of home. Most of the occupants seemed confined to bed, confirming what Meg had thought when she saw a sign identifying her aunt’s wing as “continual care.”
When she neared Amelia’s room, Meg heard a distinctive voice coming from a television. “Come on down. You’re the next contestant on The Price is Right.”
She held a deep breath, stepped inside and looked at the thin, white-haired woman lying in the bed. A smile broke on her face as she recognized the ravaged but still familiar features of her beloved aunt. Amelia seemed to have aged a decade in the last few months.
Meg followed her aunt’s gaze to the TV screen where a young, dark-haired Bob Barker welcomed his latest participant. She recognized the logo of the Game Show Network in the corner of the screen and realized Amelia was watching a repeat of a previous Price is Right broadcast. She came to the side of the bed and spoke softly, “Aunt Amelia?”
Her aunt glanced briefly at her with pale gray eyes that seemed to have lost the spark of enchantment that always twinkled in their depths. She pointed at the television. “Did I order a set of those?”
Meg looked back at the screen where an announcer was describing a set of golf clubs. Taken aback by the ambiguous greeting, she said, “Are you asking me if you ordered golf equipment?” She thought of all the boxes in the dining room and knew some of them were large enough to hold a set.
“If I haven’t, I will. I’ve always wanted some.”
Realizing the futility of asking for further explanation, Meg searched her aunt’s face for some sign that the old woman had recognized her. Her eyes remained cool and remote. Disappointed, Meg gripped the railing of the bed and leaned over the thin form that barely made a ripple beneath the sheets. “Aunt Amelia, it’s me, Margaret.”
Amelia smiled, though not at Meg. “Oh, look. That woman’s got to give the price of an electric blender. I should be on that show. I just bought one, and it cost twenty-nine ninety-five.”
Bob Barker flipped a card over and revealed a price of fourteen dollars for the blender, probably an accurate amount for an appliance that was sold twenty-some years ago when the show was first taped. Amelia clasped her hands under her chin. “See, I told you.”
Meg took Amelia’s hand, thinking the gesture would divert the woman’s attention from the television. “I’m here, Aunt Amelia,” she said. “Remember me? Margaret.”
Her aunt’s attention to the program didn’t waver. “If you’re going to stay, sit down and watch.”
Meg obeyed. She sat in an upholstered armchair by the bed and remained silent through the Showcase Showdown. Once a winner was proclaimed, she asked if she could turn off the television.
“Go ahead. I don’t like The Joker’s Wild.”
Grateful for the silence, Meg tried to reach her aunt again. “It’s so good to see you, Aunt Amelia,” she said.
Amelia’s head swivelled slowly and she finally gave Meg her attention. “It’s good to see you, too. You told me your name, didn’t you? I should have written it down. I tend to forget now and then.” She leaned over and took a notepad and pencil from her nightstand. “That’s why I write things down.” She smiled at Meg. “Now, what is your name again, dear?”
Meg wiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. “My name is Margaret Hamilton. I’m your niece.”
Amelia repeated the words as she wrote Meg’s name down. She stared intensely at the page before narrowing her eyes and squinting at Meg as if she were trying to pull a distant memory from the faulty recesses of her once sharp mind.
Meg swallowed, trying to ease the burning in her throat. Of all the receptions she’d imagined during her drive to Mount Esther, she’d never expected that her aunt would have totally forgotten her existence. After all, hadn’t Nadine Harkwell said that Amelia had asked for her to come?
As she watched her aunt’s face, hoping for a spark of recognition, Meg longed for the chance to go back just a few years, back to when she and Amelia sat on the front porch swing talking for hours about things that mattered to girls, young and old. Back then, they’d been best friends, not distant strangers. But now, the blank look in her aunt’s eyes was almost too much to bear.
Meg patted Amelia’s hand and started to rise. And then a small miracle made her believe that somewhere beneath the muddled thinking, a vibrant, mischievous Amelia Ashford still thrived. Amelia turned her hand over in Meg’s and threaded their fingers together. “Margaret,” she whispered. “My darling Meggie. You’ve come. I knew you would.”
Meg laughed through a choking sob, leaned over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “That’s right. I’m here. What do you want me to do?”
“We need to talk, Margaret. There is much that needs to be done and I’m afraid there’s too little time.” Amelia’s eyes fluttered and closed. “But I must rest now. Just a wee nap.”
She was sound asleep when the nurse came in to check her. Meg introduced herself. “Did she recognize you?” the nurse asked as she held two fingers against Amelia’s wrist and checked her pulse.
“Yes,” Meg said. “After a while at least.”
“Good. She has lucid moments, and during those times you’re all she talks about.”
“How is she, really?”
The nurse inhaled deeply, indicating her response was not going to be good news. “She’s like many elderly people. They are able to maintain their mental capacity as long as their health is strong. But once they suffer a physical injury, it’s as though their systems shut down.” The nurse jotted something on Amelia’s chart and smiled down at her patient. “But she’s a dear old soul. We’re all quite fond of her.”
“How long will she sleep?” Meg asked.
“Not long. She catnaps all day.”
The nurse was right. After a few minutes, Amelia wakened. She looked around the room and reached for the television remote on a cord dangling from the bed. Before she turned the set on, she regarded Meg with the same distant look she’d had earlier. “Hello. Did you bring my supper?”
Meg smiled. “No, but I’ll see that you get it soon.”
“Thank you.” Amelia turned on the set and tuned Meg out. Meg smoothed her palm along the wisps of snow-white hair on her aunt’s forehead, whispered good-night and left the room. Tomorrow she would try again.
NORMALLY MEG DIDN’T talk on her cell phone while she was operating a car, but when she left Shady Grove, her desire to connect with her son was greater than her code of responsible driving. Besides, she’d only passed two cars in the mile she’d traveled back toward town. She pressed the speed dial to her home phone number.
“Hey, sis,” Jerry said. “How’s it going up there?”
Meg covered her disappointment that Spencer hadn’t answered with a cheerful greeting to her brother. “Hi, Jerry. Truthfully, it’s been quite a day.”
“I’ll bet. How’s Aunt Amelia doing?”
“She’s quite frail. And not thinking all that clearly.” That was an understatement. “How’s Spence? Did you remember to pick him up at the neighbor’s?”
“Nope. Completely forgot. Good thing the kid stole a car and drove himself home.”
Meg sighed, hating herself just a little. Of course Jerry wouldn’t forget to pick up Spence. She was going to have to quit treating her brother as if he were the ten-year-old and show more confidence in him. “I’m sorry, Jerry. I never should have suggested that you might forget.”
“No, probably not, but I know you, so the assumption was expected…and forgiven.”
