Half-Moon Lake, page 6
“Can’t they spray it with something?”
“They tried, but it’s nearly impossible to kill. The risk to other plants and animals is too great for them to go that route, but on the bright side, Cass does her part by using kudzu in as many recipes as she can, making jelly and wine from kudzu blossoms and baskets from the vines. It’s not much of a dent to something that can grow a foot a day during summer’s warm months, but at least it’s something. And speaking of that…the waitress will be back to take our orders in a minute. I’d like to recommend the kudzu quiche…it’s on everyone’s list of favorites.”
I closed my menu and gave him a smile, pushing away my doubts. “What the heck! I’ll try it! I guess it sounds as good as anything else I see here.”
****
It seemed only minutes had passed when our food arrived, but a glance at my watch told me otherwise. Our conversation had flowed comfortably…well, as comfortable as it could be; what with Levi dodging questions about what Cass was afraid of and me steering him away from anything I deemed too probing. He didn’t need to know about my phobias yet. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hide it for long—not with kudzu creeping over and draping nearly everything in sight.
He caught the glance to my wrist and laughed. “That’s right, no dawdling. I don’t want you to have to race in order to make it back to Swan Song by two.” He nodded toward my plate with an encouraging smile. “Enjoy!”
I eyed my plate. A large wedge of quiche was accompanied by a small crystal bowl of mixed fruit—raspberries, blueberries, and chunks of cantaloupe topped with violets, small star-shaped periwinkle blue blossoms and chopped mint. It seemed too pretty to eat—like a rainbow in a bowl. “What are these little blue flowers?”
“Oh, those are borage blossoms. They don’t have a lot of taste, but they’re pretty. Cass adds them for the color.”
“Beautiful!” I cut a small bite of the quiche and brought the fork to my lips. “Here goes nothing.”
The taste was unlike anything I’d ever had before. The crust was made of wild rice and some kind of cheese. The filling was cheesy too; the kudzu was a little like spinach, but there was a hint of something else… “Is that nutmeg?”
“Ah…what discerning taste buds you have, my dear. Very good. I’m impressed.”
I closed my eyes and let the delicious tastes mingle together in my mouth. When I swallowed, I took an extra moment and sipped my tea before giving my verdict. “That…” I pointed at the plate with my fork. “…is quite possibly…” I paused, enjoying the melodramatic moment; drawing it out to keep him guessing. “…the most amazing thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m nearly speechless; which is something that generally doesn’t happen with me.”
He looked relieved. “Fifteen years hasn’t changed anything in regards to your verbosity, Katie. But I must admit, you had me a little worried that maybe living in the Southwest for so many years had geared your tastes for something a little more toward the cilantro and jalapeño end of the spectrum. I’m glad that’s not the case.”
I didn’t answer him. I was too intent on savoring another bite of that wonderful kudzu quiche. Maybe if I ate enough of this, it would cure my fear of vine-y stuff.
****
My return drive to the house gave me time to think about Levi Wolfe. I’d learned he’d gotten a degree in architecture, but as of late, his “new love”—designing furniture—was taking up most of his time. He worked closely with that nearby blacksmith company he’d told me about for many of his pieces. The wood-and-iron combination was a hot commodity right now, and many times he’d get a commission to furnish an entire mountain cabin for a wealthy retiree moving into the area. Word had spread, and at present, clients were clamoring—almost elbowing each other out of the way—to be the next one in line. I hoped the meeting with the attorney wouldn’t last too long. If we could wrap it up pretty quickly, I was planning to meet him back in town so I could see some of his work.
The instant I rounded the last curve and the house came into view, that same winter scene flashed through my mind: bare-branched trees, dull gray sky, and a feeling of foreboding. It was gone as quickly as it came. I didn’t know what its significance might be, but it couldn’t be good if such a quick blip made my hands get this sweaty. What could it mean? I pulled into a parking spot and shifted into park, but before I could turn the car off, I had another mental flash. This one was more disturbing than the first…much more disturbing.
Jessa was walking away from the lake—a younger version, yes, but unmistakably her with the sun glinting off her platinum blonde hair. In her arms she carried a little girl in a swimsuit who looked just like pictures I’d seen of myself as a child, but the child wasn’t me. I was certain of that. The burden looked too heavy for Jessa’s slight frame to carry, yet it didn’t seem to faze her as she trudged along the path. The child’s head hung back limply over my stepmother’s arm; jaw slack, face too white. Long, dark hair dripped water, leaving a damp trail along the path behind her. Jessa marched into the sinister, green forest, her expression cold and hard.
To say the vision left me shaken was an understatement of the highest magnitude.
It was like saying the Grand Canyon was the result of a little erosion problem, that skunks have a slightly unpleasant aroma, or maybe that it was a tad nippy in Antarctica. I’d just seen Kenna; I was certain of it. But why now? All these years, all the therapy and tests to try to tap into such things, and nothing had worked. My mind had just blocked it. Now, after seeing what I’d just seen…I understood why, and it had me quaking with terror.
My inner-Kate was even worse, though, hiding under the bed, red, Converse sneakers barely visible under the edge of the dust ruffle. What a chicken! I’d get no help from her!
When I got out of the car, I had to hold onto the door for support. My legs felt as weak as water; as if they were filled with half-melted Jell-O rather than bone and muscle. I was still struggling to stand without wobbling when the hair rose up on the back of my neck and goose bumps covered my arms. Someone was watching me; I could feel it. I shot a startled glance at the house just in time to see a curtain flutter as someone stepped out of sight. It was probably nothing to be alarmed about, but on the heels of that vision, it definitely creeped me out.
Okay, get a grip, Kate. They’re probably all in there waiting for you so they can get this over with. Take a step…not bad. A little shaky, but not bad at all. Now take another one…that’s right…keep going. You’re getting better…almost there. Now the steps…one, two, three, four, five, six…walk across the porch. Hand on the doorknob…take a deep breath, and remember what Pat always said. “Never let ’em see you sweat.” You can do this. You—
The door jerked open before I could finish my little pep talk. I actually felt my feet leave the ground and for a minute, I was afraid that my still-shaky legs might collapse me into a heap when I landed. Luckily, that wasn’t the case. They held me up just fine. Emory swung the door open wide, his face alight with a warm smile.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” he boomed much too loudly. Maybe it was just that I was still in shock, but it seemed he was trying to make everyone within a five-mile radius hear him. “You had us a little worried, Kate. We were beginning to think you’d been spirited away again.”
He grabbed my arm and practically dragged me into a room I hadn’t seen yet. And what a room it was! I had to fight to keep my mouth from falling open. Floor-to-ceiling ornately carved cherry bookcases, completely filled with leather-bound books, lined two entire walls. Chairs were arranged in a dignified semi-circle in front of one of these with a podium facing them. Windows, nearly as tall as the bookcases, took up another wall, with a leather sofa and matching chairs forming a cozy sitting area in front of them. To my left crouched a Buddha-like desk, its massiveness seeming almost a joke. A bank of beveled glass curio cabinets in the same dark wood as the cases took up the rest of the wall. Though these weren’t nearly as ornate as everything else in this room full of wow-factors, they captured my attention and wouldn’t let go.
I was vaguely aware of other people in the room, and was almost positive they were staring at me, but they held no interest at the moment. I had to see what was in those curio cabinets. It was almost as if they had some mysterious magnetic power pulling me across the room. My “creep-out” meter was in the red zone.
If I’d felt amazed when first seeing this room, it was nothing compared to what I felt when I gazed through those thick panes of glass. Apparently, my father had collected meerschaum pipes, and had a collection that would make any museum in the world green with envy and ashamed in comparison. The artistic precision in those intricate carvings was overwhelming…more than I could take in all at once. My eyes traveled from one pipe to another, each one more amazing than the next, and my jaw actually dropped when I realized I remembered those pipes!
As I stared at the collection, ranging in colors from milky white to almost caramel colored, I could almost hear Kenna giggling, see her mimicking the facial expressions of the comical ones, recalled being terrified of the evil ones that looked like satanic figures or skulls, and embarrassed, trying not to look, but gawking anyway at the ones of nude men and women…my sister’s voice whispering excitedly, “Look, Katie—they’re nekked!”
I remembered!
After all this time, forgotten childhood memories were finally cracking open the door of the room where they’d been locked away. Was being here, in the place where it all started, the key? Did I really want to remember now? The bits and pieces that had trickled through so far were enough to scare the living daylights out of me. It made me want to slam the door shut before anything else escaped, but I was afraid it was too late for that now. The door had been nudged open; there was no way to shut it again. From what I’d seen so far, life didn’t give chances for “do-overs,” and there was usually no going back.
The sound of someone clearing his throat brought me back to the present. There were a few rustlings and murmurs as the group settled into their chairs, leaving a single empty one that I hurriedly claimed as my own. As soon as everyone was seated, a somber-faced man, wearing a ridiculous baby-blue striped bowtie and round-framed glasses, making him look like a cross between a deep-South congressman and Harry Potter, stepped up to the podium. After placing a thin sheaf of papers in front of himself, and carefully adjusting his glasses, he looked up. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Mr. Eubanks’ attorney, Gregory Alexander. Since everyone appears to be here, I think we’ll get started…”
Chapter Four
“I, Patrick Theodore Eubanks, residing at Swan Song, Half-Moon Lake, North Carolina, declare this to be my will and I revoke any and all wills and codicils previously made…”
After the attorney’s first few droning words, I sort of glazed over, retreating to another level of consciousness. None of this concerned me anyway. I didn’t really understand why I even needed to be here. Patrick Eubanks had been my biological father, yes, but that was it. He’d known where I’d been all these years and hadn’t contacted me. Why start now? Any “paternal” airs he tried putting on at this stage of the game were pointless. It was a little late for that. As far as I was concerned, Pat had been right. I’d had no father—not really. Maybe the attorney’s request for my presence was just a legal thing. Maybe all living relatives had to be at the reading of the will or maybe I’d been left some little trinket and that’s why I had to be there. At any rate, I’d sit through it until it was over; spend a little more time getting reacquainted with Levi, then head back to Arizona as fast a jet would take me.
A chilling silence broke through my daydreaming, jerking me back to present.
Had I missed something important?
My inner-Kate raised her head, blinking sleepily and wiping drool from the edge of her mouth as discreetly as possible. It wouldn’t do any good to ask her.
A quick glance around the room was all it took to confirm that I had, indeed, missed something important. My stepmother’s face had gone stark white while Emory’s was an angry magenta; growing darker at an alarming rate. A variety of expressions were visible on the estate’s employees—from smug to shocked.
I was sure my own expression told the attorney that I hadn’t been paying attention, and was therefore, clueless. Mr. Bowtie-and-glasses pursed his lips, obviously annoyed that I hadn’t been hanging onto every word issuing forth from his mouth. “Do you need me to restate that last section, Miss Eubanks?”
I winced, but gave him a tiny, single nod and sat up straighter, readying myself to listen for what had caused the apparent ruckus.
“In order for everyone…” He pursed his thin lips again in disapproval and gave me a pointed look. “…to be clear, I’ll re-read the last couple of paragraphs.” After a pretentious show of clearing his throat, he continued. “I give all my tangible personal property and all policies of insurance covering such property to my daughter, Katelyn Elizabeth Eubanks. If she does not survive me, said property is to be put into a trust for my wife, Jessamine Elaine Eubanks, to be disbursed in one thousand dollars monthly increments.
“I give my residence and all policies and proceeds of insurance covering such property to my daughter, Katelyn, with the provision that she live in residence for the period of one year. If she cannot or will not remain in said residence for the specified time or if she does not survive me, she forfeits all claims to said property and I give that property to the town of Half-Moon Lake to be used as a museum.
“I give my residuary estate to my daughter, Katelyn. If she does not survive me, I give said property to the staff of Swan Song to be sold and divided in equal shares evenly among them.”
When he was finished, Mr. Alexander looked up to make sure I’d listened that time. I’m sure I looked as stunned as I felt, and he nodded in satisfaction. He proceeded to drone the rest of the will’s contents, but I tuned him out again. All that was left was just wrapping things up anyway. Taxes, something called fiduciaries and self-proving affidavits…all the technical mumbo-jumbo that lawyers come up with to make mere mortals pay big bucks for them to translate it into plain English so said mortals could understand it. My mind was too busy mulling over what I’d just heard to pay any attention to all the legalese jargon. The implications of what he’d just read were enormous, more than I could fully absorb at the moment.
I was afraid to look at Emory.
Unless I’d missed something else, my stepbrother’s name wasn’t mentioned at all. My father hadn’t left him anything, and although Jessa’s name was mentioned, for all practical purposes she’d been ignored too. Why? What had they done that was so terrible he’d strip them from any inheritance? It was as if he’d slapped them in the face from the grave.
It was obvious that they hadn’t seen it coming. A blind person could see that. Jessa’s ashen face had taken on a hard look, making it seem more like carved alabaster, than flesh and blood, her eyes shooting dagger-like sparks around the room. And Emory—I took a chance and peered at him through my lashes, too shaken to try staring directly at him—well, the deep red had turned a decidedly purplish shade, one that didn’t work well with his blond hair and dark eyes. I could even see a vein pulsing at his temple, and his jaw was tightly clenched. I could feel his anger roiling beneath his thin veneer of control.
But it was more than just anger. He was surprised, no…more like blown out of the water! Before the attorney had begun this meeting, Emory’s demeanor had been confident—almost cocky. For whatever reason, he’d been convinced that he’d make off with the lion’s share of everything. Why was that? What would’ve given him that assurance? It was almost as if he’d been expecting a different version of the will. Was there a different version? Had he seen it? Was that why he’d been so certain before, and so angry when he learned he was wrong? If that was the case, his blood pressure was probably approaching the stroke level. But why—
Something else the attorney had said threw me completely off that track.
Hold on! Had that lawyer really said I’d have to live here a year if I wanted my inheritance? Seriously? My eyes narrowed and my lips pressed into a straight line in an effort to keep from erupting. If I dared to open my mouth, some very colorful adjectives describing dear ol’ Dad would spew out. If I said what I was thinking right now, I’d probably regret it later, but ohhhh…it was hard to keep from exploding! Just who did Patrick Eubanks think he was…God or something? He had no right trying to control people like this! No right trying to control me! As far as I was concerned, he’d given up any parental rights he might’ve had, when he decided not to be a part of my life. But it wasn’t just me. No one in this room was a chess piece for him to govern from the grave. This was my life…their lives…not a game! Was this even legal?
Maybe I’d just forfeit my claim to everything, head back to Arizona, and let the devil take the consequences. I’d lived most of my life without all this; I could continue to do so. That way, I could save a bundle by not having to buy all the stress medication I’d need if I went along with his crazy stipulations.
My inner-Kate was nowhere to be seen. She was probably in a taxi, on her way to the airport by now.
Why would my father do something like this? Was it just that he was a control freak, or did he have a legitimate reason, some hidden motive behind his requirement? If that was the case, how could I know? He was a stranger to me, and that put me at a definite disadvantage.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm down so I could think more clearly. That was better…at least a little bit.
Now…could my father be using his will to send me some sort of message? Was that it? Was I supposed to use the required year to try and figure out what he was trying to say?
A few curious murmurs broke the silence, growing in volume until the room was humming. The noise dragged me out of my contemplations. The meeting was adjourned. Emory bolted from his seat and was gone in a flash. His chair teetered precariously, almost toppling to the floor, but was caught and steadied by a rough, calloused hand. My gaze darted to the hand’s owner and I met a pair of faded gray eyes, barely visible under shaggy eyebrows. He had thinning, slicked-back hair and clutched a floppy hat in his other hand. It was the old man I’d seen working in the garden that morning. I hadn’t recognized him without his wide-brimmed hat.
