16 Lighthouse Road (22 page)

“Is Seth Gunderson aware of the…proposal?”

That was the mystery of the hour. “I wish I knew.”

“Are you worried?” Jack asked.

“Damn straight,” she said grimly.

Jack threw his arm around her shoulder. “Everything's going to work out, just wait and see.”

Olivia tried to think positive thoughts, but she wondered if Jack was referring to her situation, or his own.

C
harlotte believed with all her heart that Tom Harding had entrusted her with his most precious keepsakes for a reason. She was to find an heir or, failing that, make sure these things were properly displayed in a museum. It was a task she took seriously. Seriously enough to flirt with breaking the law.

For days she mulled over what to do. Because Tom had been a ward of the state, her biggest fear was that the saddle, guns, poster and television scripts would be confiscated and sold at auction in order to recoup the money spent on his care. According to Washington State law, Tom was only allowed two-thousand dollars' worth of property. At least, that was how Olivia had explained it.

“Can the state take all this away?” she'd asked her daughter the day of their discovery.

“Well…”

Charlotte knew what that “well” signified and, despite the
risk, took action behind her daughter's back. And the state's… If it meant she was about to be hauled off to the clinker, then so be it.

Since then, Olivia had been preoccupied with court issues, but Charlotte's innate honesty made it impossible not to tell her daughter what she'd done. She decided to pay a visit to the judge's chambers one Monday at noon. It wasn't likely that Olivia would have her own mother arrested.

Charlotte peeked inside and was instantly welcomed by the smell of old books and lemon oil. Looking up from her desk, Olivia frowned. “Hello, Mother.”

“Do you have a minute?”

Deep in thought, Olivia took a moment to focus before answering.

“In case another time would be better, I want you to know I've been back to Tom's storage unit and have taken some of his things. I couldn't put it off any longer. Janet wanted that key.”

“Mother,” Olivia cried, covering her ears. Her daughter always did have a certain dramatic flair. “Don't
tell
me that.”

“I have them in my safekeeping. We both know what'll happen once Social Service discovers Tom had anything of value.” Charlotte simply couldn't allow that to happen.

Olivia stood, stared at her, then promptly sat down. She sighed. “Well…there's a case, weak though it is, for claiming that the items weren't of any real value until after his death.”

That sounded like an argument an attorney would make, but still…an excellent justification, Charlotte thought with a satisfied nod. Anyway, it wasn't as though Charlotte had cleared out the storage unit. She'd left the furniture, shabby and worn but still usable. She'd taken only what she felt Tom
wanted her to save from obscurity. Only the things that should go to his family—if she could find anyone.

“Don't worry,” Charlotte said. “I have everything under control.” It worried her that Olivia had so little to say. Perhaps there were more legal ramifications than she understood, whole laws she didn't even know she'd broken.

“Your having control is what frightens me,” Olivia said acerbically. Charlotte let that pass. “Have you tracked down any family members?”

“No…not yet, but I will. I—”

“Oh, Mother, this is a huge responsibility.”

As though Charlotte needed reminding. “I feel it's my duty.” Straightening, she decided she might as well confess everything. “I want you to know I've hired Roy McAfee to search out any heirs Tom might have.”

“You did what?”

Olivia didn't have a problem with her hearing, so Charlotte left the question unanswered.

Olivia sighed again. “What did Roy tell you?”

Charlotte's fingers tightened around her purse, which was balanced on her knees. “I haven't actually spoken to him yet. When I phoned for the appointment, Corrie and I spoke. I explained why I need Roy's help. I'm seeing him this afternoon.”

“Mother,
please
don't tell anyone else what you've done.”

“Oh, not to worry. I won't mention how you went with me that first time, either.”

Olivia groaned. “That would be appreciated.”

“Do you want me to let you know what Roy finds out?” She had the impression Olivia would rather not be kept informed. The way her mind was all caught up with legalities, that was
probably for the best. Charlotte often felt astonished by how frequently the courts abandoned common sense. “Never mind,” Charlotte said, getting to her feet. “I'll fill you in later.”

Olivia seemed decidedly relieved. “Okay, thanks.”

The course of her action already determined, Charlotte walked out of the courthouse. Troy Davis nodded at her, and Charlotte quickly looked away, certain the sheriff would guess she was a felon on the run. Thankfully he didn't and merely strolled past. Really, it was a wonder that guilty people didn't give themselves away.

Later that same afternoon, Charlotte arrived at Roy McAfee's office a full thirty minutes before her scheduled appointment. She had her knitting with her and sat in his waiting room, her needles clicking at a furious pace. Illegal activities were one thing, but confessing them to a former policeman—well, that
really
tried her nerves.

Corrie was busy on the phone and apologized when she'd finished. “Roy won't be back for another twenty minutes.”

“Oh, that's fine. I'm early,” Charlotte returned. Olivia would protect her from the long arm of the law—or so she assumed—but she had no such guarantee with Roy. Well, so be it. Her resolve bolstered her spirits, although she didn't exactly savor the possibility of jail.

“Fiddlesticks,” Charlotte muttered. It was a chance she had to take.

Corrie glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing,” Charlotte said with a sigh. Roy arrived five minutes before her appointment time, and by then Charlotte had worked herself into a frenzy of worry. Corrie was aware of
the reason for the visit, but Charlotte eluded her questions, preferring to speak to Roy alone.

Perhaps a minute later, Corrie announced that he was ready to see her. Stuffing her knitting needles and yarn back into her quilted bag, Charlotte stood up.

Roy sat behind a large oak desk littered with files. His computer was off to one side, and what files weren't on his desk were stacked around him on the floor. Charlotte had no idea a private investigator would have this much business, especially in a town the size of Cedar Cove.

“What can I do for you?” Roy asked in a crisp, professional tone.

Now that she was here, Charlotte wasn't sure where to start—probably
not
by confessing she'd recently committed a felony, if indeed that was what she'd done. “Did you ever watch Saturday cowboy shows as a boy?”

Roy grinned. “You bet.” He held up his index finger and blew on it as though it were a smoking gun barrel.

“Do you remember Tom Houston?” she asked next.

“The Yodeling Cowboy?”

Charlotte brightened. “Yes. Well, you're going to be surprised to learn that until his death last month, Tom lived right here in Cedar Cove.”

Roy leaned forward and his eyes widened. “You're joking.”

“It's true,” she said, beaming with pride that she knew this fact before anyone else. “We were good friends.”

“You and Tom Houston?” Roy looked impressed.

“Well…” She released a deep sigh. “I didn't know he was Tom Houston at the time. He went by the name of Tom Harding.” She explained the circumstances that had led up to
their meeting and everything that had happened since his death. Including her raid on the storage unit.

“You have all the memorabilia at your home now?”

“I do.” She'd avoided mentioning Olivia's name, but she could see that Roy had several questions. “I realize that what I did is flirting with civil disobedience,” she began.

“Not quite.”

Charlotte had trouble remembering all those fancy legal terms. “But…” Then she decided that if
he
wasn't worrying about the illegality of her activities, she wouldn't, either.

“What would you like me to do?” Roy asked.

Charlotte had thought that should be obvious. “I need to find out if Tom has any living heirs. Can you do that for me?”

Roy didn't hesitate. “I'm sure I can. Did you see anything in Tom's things that gave his Social Security number?”

“No, but I can get it.” Janet Lester was sure to have it in the accumulated paperwork she had for Tom. She frowned, wondering exactly how to ask. As much as she liked and trusted the social worker, Charlotte hadn't told Janet any of this, including the fact that she'd taken things from the storage unit. No sense dragging her friends to jail with her, if it came to that.

“Does anyone else know Tom's true identity?”

“Only Olivia.”

Roy nodded approvingly. “Keep it that way until you hear from me.”

It hadn't been easy staying quiet about all this, but Charlotte feared that once the story became public, long-lost relatives would be popping out of the woodwork, all eager to claim their inheritance.

“How long will it take?” Charlotte asked. Now that she'd officially hired Roy, she was ready for results.

“I can't promise you a definite time line,” Roy told her. “If you'd like to make an appointment for two weeks from now, I'll give you a progress report.”

“Can't you just look it up on the computer?” she asked, waving her hand in the direction of his monitor.

“I'll start there.”

Charlotte had taken a basic computer class last summer. Using Olivia's old computer, she'd typed up her columns for Jack—because he'd insisted on it. But the best part about a computer was playing games such as solitaire, although the contraption made it impossible to cheat. What fun was that?

She planned to buy a new computer soon, with the money she'd earned from her contributions to the Seniors' Page. She had all kinds of ideas for future columns; once this was all settled, she might even write about meeting Tom….

“Two weeks, then?” Roy asked.

“I'll look forward to it,” she told him.

As Charlotte walked out, she felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

 

Cathy laughed at Cecilia's caricature of a ditzy hairdresser. Cecilia was going to help her add do-it-yourself highlights to her hair on this rainy Wednesday afternoon. Since that first video-and-popcorn evening they'd found reasons to get together often. Neither one could afford much, so they took turns having each other over for various kinds of low-budget fun—like movies or dinner. Gradually Cathy had drawn Cecilia into a circle of other Navy wives. On the night of her
wedding anniversary, the whole group had shown up at The Captain's Galley. Last weekend, Cecilia had met Carol Greendale, another Navy wife who'd had a baby girl the same month as Allison. She'd found it hard—more than hard—to see Carol with her daughter. She'd made excuses to leave, but despite her vague protests and paper-thin excuses, Cathy had patiently convinced her to stay. In the end, Cecilia was glad she had.

Cathy headed for the bathroom to wash her hair while Cecilia read through the package directions. “Did you bring a crochet hook?” she asked when Cathy reappeared with a bathroom towel wrapped around her head.

“No. Do we need one?”

Cecilia wasn't sure the small plastic hook included in the kit would work as well. “Never mind, we'll manage with this.”

“Should I make a run over to Kmart? I could pick up another package to do your hair, too.”

“Not this time, okay?” Cecilia shook her head. “Look—I have to draw strands of hair through the holes in this plastic cap….” She frowned as she studied the paraphernalia that had come with the kit.

“Have you heard from Ian lately?”

Cecilia shook her head. It'd been almost three weeks since their anniversary, and she hadn't thanked him for the flowers, hadn't even acknowledged getting them. She hadn't contacted him in any way. Ian hadn't written her, either. Apparently her message had been received and understood.

“Andrew says they're putting into port soon.”

“Australia?”

Cathy gave an exaggerated sigh and propped her chin on one knee. “I've always wanted to visit the South Pacific.”

“Me, too.”

“In his last letter, Andrew wrote about the night sky,” Cathy said in a soft voice.

Cecilia stopped rereading the directions to listen. Ian loved the stars and was actually quite knowledgeable about the planets and constellations. She remembered the clear summer night he'd pointed out Cassiopeia and recounted the ancient Greek legend about its formation. Cecilia had been enthralled—and she'd learned something new about her husband.

“Andrew said there are a billion stars out at night,” Cathy was saying. “At first he was disappointed because there seemed to be a thin cloud cover that obscured his view.” She paused and laughed softly. “Then Ian told him the cloud cover he was complaining about was actually the Milky Way.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “Andrew said he'd never seen anything like it.”

Cecilia looked at her friend and was surprised to find tears in her eyes. “You miss him, don't you?”

Cathy bit her lip and nodded. “Cecilia,” she whispered and reached for her hand, gripping it hard. “I'm pregnant again.”

The
again
was what threw Cecilia. Andrew and Cathy didn't have children.

“I miscarried the first two pregnancies,” Cathy explained in a voice that trembled with emotion. “I… don't know if I can go through that agony a third time.”

Cecilia glanced toward her bedroom and the single photograph she had of Allison. It was a dreadful photo taken shortly after her daughter's birth. Allison had been so small, her skin so pallid. The hospital had stuck a tiny pink bow in
her hair and someone had snapped the shot. It proved to be the only one she would ever have, and Cecilia treasured it.