Mist on the Meadow (5 page)

From what little she’d seen of him, Marissa
doubted there was much extra fat to be found on Wolf’s body. Angela
was right about one thing, he was easy on the eyes, and they shared
a common heritage. She could almost forgive him for the scratch on
her new car.

Even as she scrawled her parents’ address,
Marissa reminded herself that Wolf was not a stray. Attractive,
yes. Charming? Definitely. She didn’t need to adopt him, the way
she had Hex. No, men were entirely different animals, capable of
much more deception than the innocent kitten she’d adopted.

* * *

He would have eaten the cupcake, in all its
sugary glory. It had smelled like Christmas and memories of
before
.

Marissa’s invitation gave him a good excuse
to avoid Uncle Pete for the holidays. Wolf’s long-suffering aunt
didn’t deserve another holiday ruined by arguments. She had enough
heartache with Uncle Pete and Wolf’s waste-of-space cousin. Things
might be different if they’d found a way to contribute to the
success of Harper Electronics instead of running the company into
the ground.

That conversation would have to wait until
after Christmas. Uncle Pete had to know about the shortages. Why
didn’t he do something about it?

No. Today he would let a pretty woman rescue
him from the stress of his own family gathering. Marissa Maitland
was curvier than most of the women he dated, round in the right
places, but not fat. Then again, the prep school types who chased
after him weren’t as comfortable to be around. Hex wouldn’t have
taken to any of them the way he’d taken to Marissa. Maybe because
she smelled like sugar, and likely just as addictive.

“Good stock,” he said to himself as he
started his car. “Sounds like something Grandma would say.” He
puckered his lips in an imitation of the old woman. “
Gut
Deutschish
stock
.” She would tell Wolf that Marissa was
a “sturdy” girl, not like those “stick women” he liked to hang
around with. His eyes watered. Must be dust in the car’s vents.

Twenty minutes later he walked into the
sterile offices of Harper Electronics. Wolf kept his head down
until he got to his office. If he didn’t make eye contact, maybe
everyone, Uncle Pete especially, would stay out of his way.

The company attorney waited in Wolf’s
office.

“Wolf.” Marshall Stachowycz rose to his
feet.

“Marshall.” Wolf shook his hand.

Marshall pushed the office door closed. “Not
my idea.”

What was Uncle Pete up to now? “What does he
want now?”

“To freeze your grandmother’s interest in the
company. He’s worried you’re going to gain control.”

“At least that way the company would remain
solvent. Did you get the separation agreement drawn up?”

Marshall tented his fingers. “Yeah. When do
you want to present it?”

“I want to approach this carefully. You know
what my grandmother always said about scandal.” Wolf had never
asked the company attorney what he might know about eleven-year-old
scandals. “Were you here when my dad was alive?”

Marshall moistened his lips and shoved his
hands into his pockets. “You’re not going back to the accident
again, are you?”

For eleven years he’d wondered how his father
could have lost control of the car. If Wolf hadn’t been helping his
grandmother change the storm windows that fateful day, he would
have been in the car, too.

“It was an accident, Wolf,” Marshall
said.

“Then what did my grandmother mean when she
said it wasn’t worth a scandal?”

Marshall shrugged. “Because there wasn’t
anything more to it?”

And yet, even after eleven years, there were
more questions than answers. You’d think he’d have outgrown the
guilt of surviving. “Sorry, Marshall. I guess the fraud audit has
me a little on edge. That and my uncle is giving me grief because
he can’t claim his share of the estate until we meet some oddball
codicil in her will.”

“Which is what?”

Wolf narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what a
Kundigerin
is?”

Marshall shook his head. “Do you want me to
look into it for you?”

“You could try. I think it’s German, but when
I pulled out my translation tools, the word didn’t show up. Even an
internet search only returned German pages that I couldn’t read.
Maybe you can do better than I did.
Sprechen nicht
, you
know? And while you’re at it, can you find me a reputable appraisal
company for when we have the estate sale?”

Marshall pointed at him. “On it.”

Wolf
followed him out of the office and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Uncle Pete walked toward him, the picture of friendliness, with a
visitor in tow. He raised a hand to beckon Wolf.

“Let me introduce you to my nephew, Wolf. He
heads up our software department.”

The man, dressed in a suit, had silver hair
and beady eyes. He looked vaguely familiar. A prospective client?
Wolf pasted on a smile and extended his hand. “Wolf Harper.”

“Vernon Blankenship.”

The name added context to the familiar face.
Wolf took a step back and folded his arms. “Senator Blankenship?
What brings you to Harper Electronics?”

Uncle Pete waved Wolf off. “You wouldn’t be
interested.”

“I want to make sure Harper Electronics is
taking advantage of the opportunities government offers to help us
meet your challenges,” the senator said.

“You mean like the tax incentives we’re
getting with the TIF district?” Wolf asked.

“Exactly. Harper Electronics has been an
important cog in Illinois’ economy,” the senator said. “We want to
keep it that way. Maybe you’d like to join us?”

Uncle Pete sniffed at the air. “No need,
Senator. This is executive business. My nephew’s still earning his
stripes. We don’t need to involve him in some little tiff.”

The senator chuckled while Uncle Pete led him
away.

Wolf tightened his hands into fists. It was
his uncle’s brand of ‘executive business’ that had created the
challenges the business faced. Uncle Pete likely had no idea they
were in a TIF, a tax increment financing district, or what it was.
Wolf had been the one to negotiate those benefits. Uncle Pete
probably couldn’t do any damage talking to the senator. He’d be
gone soon enough.

* * *

Uncle Balt remained relatively quiet during
Marissa’s birthday dinner. Too quiet. Yesterday he’d made her
believe the cat wasn’t the only present. And what did he mean about
family secrets?

Marissa’s mother presented the birthday cake,
aglow with too many candles. Her father raised his glass in a
toast. “To my baby girl,” he said. “You’ve reached a quarter
century. Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Everyone took a sip of wine
and her father raised his glass once more. “And to Uncle Balt.
Thank you, not just for the wine, but for holding up the family
traditions that bring us together every Christmas.”

“Here, here.” Max raised his glass.

“My sister would have been very proud of her
family,” Uncle Balt said, “as I am proud you have included me all
these years since her passing. A toast to the memory of my dear
sister, Rosalie, and her husband, Friedrich.”

Again, they all raised their glasses.

“And to my
Liebling.
My Marissa, you
have always had a special place in my heart, since the day you were
born.
Fr
ö
hliche Geburtstag.
”

Here it comes
, Marissa thought,
another Drosselmeyer gift
. But Uncle Balt sat back in his
chair and closed his eyes. Something wasn’t right. And he looked so
much older than his last visit.

Her mother doled out pieces of the marble
cake. Max claimed a corner piece with extra fudge icing.

“When do you go back to college?” Marissa
asked her brother.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” He grinned
at her between bites of cake. “I only just got home.”

She cuffed the back of his head and a fringe
of strawberry blond hair fell into his eyes. “Goof. I thought you
might like to pick up some hours at the café.”

“You could use the extra spending money,
couldn’t you, Max?” her mother asked.

“What’s wrong with Noah?” Max asked.

“I need
more
help,” Marissa said. “Are
you in or not?”

Max shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I’m serious,” Marissa said. “You need to
show up on time and when I schedule you.”

“I said I would,” Max rose from the table
with his empty plate and gathered the others. “And I’ve always been
on time. You don’t need to be like that. Have I ever let you down
before?”

Marissa gave way to a sideways smile. “No.
I’m sorry. It’s the way you said it. I had a part-timer a couple of
months ago who always said, ‘I guess,’ and then didn’t show
up.”

Max gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I may
steal some of the inventory, but I’ll always show up for my
shift.”

“This is how your sister makes her living,”
their father said. “You shouldn’t eat the profits.”

“He’s kidding. Besides,” Marissa patted Max’s
flat stomach as he slipped away, “he could use a few extra
pounds.”

While Max and her mother cleaned up, Marissa
joined her father and Uncle Balt in the living room. She stopped by
the window and pulled back the curtain. “It’s starting to
snow.”

Uncle Balt settled into the recliner and
nodded. “Perfect.” He leaned back and extended the footrest before
he closed his eyes. Within minutes, his mouth hung open to let out
muted snores.

Marissa’s father took her hand, and raised an
eyebrow. “He’s getting old,” he whispered.

“It’s like he fell asleep mid conversation,”
she whispered. “Is something wrong with him?”

“We can’t expect him to live forever.”

Marissa turned on her father. “Okay, first he
says something about mortality, and now you. Are you keeping
something from me? Is Uncle Balt sick?”

“He’s slowing down. He probably shouldn’t be
traveling anymore.”

The bus that transported him south from
Milwaukee took an hour and a half, not so far. Marissa shrugged.
“He could find a place here, closer to us.”

Her father shot a glance at Uncle Balt. “As
much as I think he’d like that, I think he senses something. You
know how he is. Tonight is the third time he’s mentioned my mother
since he arrived yesterday.”

Uncle Balt had been the grandfather Marissa
no longer had. Her heart constricted at the thought of losing him.
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

The recliner creaked as Uncle Balt kicked
upright. He pushed himself to his feet. “Did you say it was
snowing?”

Marissa nodded.

“Then we should take a walk. What do you
think? Catch snowflakes on our tongues?”

Marissa gave her father another worried
look.

“Enjoy the time you have with him.” Her
father pushed her toward Uncle Balt.

She pulled on her coat while Uncle Balt
turned down the ear flaps on his shearling hat. He hooked his arm
through hers and they stepped into the brisk winter air.

The snowflakes were fat and fluffy and stuck
to Marissa’s eyelashes. She smiled and turned her face toward the
gray sky.

“At last you are twenty-five,” Uncle Balt
said. “And now you are a
Kundigerin,
like your
grandmother.”

“Someone who knows things. Isn’t that what
you said before?”

Uncle Balt shook a finger at her. “See. You
know something already.”

“But what does that mean?”

“It is your gift, but not mine to give,”
Uncle Balt said.

They stopped at the end of the block and
Marissa gazed above the line of motionless evergreens at the
steadily falling snow. The moment caught her by surprise. Uncle
Balt was beside her, and she’d experienced a quiet moment only
yesterday to herald his arrival. The blanket of white muffled any
sounds that dared to stir the stillness. The only thing missing was
the stag.

Was Uncle Balt the stag?

Time seemed to stop and there was an eerie
glow around Uncle Balt.

His voice was deeper, stronger and his face
seemed less wrinkled. “Your gift comes with a nasty side-effect,”
he said. “If you speak of it, you will experience great pain. Now
that you are of age, I can finally tell you all you need to know
without suffering this same pain.”

Marissa swallowed hard. This was the
Drosselmeyer
moment she’d dreaded. “Then you’re a
Kundigerin
, too?”

Uncle Balt stroked the snow from her hair.
“No. The gift is handed down to those children born with red hair,
to the daughters. Your grandmother was the last
Kundigerin.
With every
Kundigerin
, there is a
Hüter des
Geheimnisses
to guide her until she comes of age. That gift is
passed to the sons.”

Marissa took a step back, but she was still
encapsulated in the quiet moment. “Hooter? You’ll have to
translate. I’m having enough trouble keeping up in English.”

“Keeper of the secret,” he said. “I was the
son, and you are a red-headed daughter. You were a long time
coming,
meine Liebling
. There is little time left.”

Her voice crackled as she struggled to speak.
“I don’t understand.”

“It isn’t an easy secret to keep,” he said.
“Even still, I’m waiting for the pain to strike me, though I know
I’m free to speak with you now that you are of age.”

Surely his mind had finally broken. “Are you
ill?” Marissa asked.

“My time is short,” he said. “But you will
still find me in the quiet moments. Trust in those things that you
see. Believe them. You’ve been given a great gift, Marissa, and
although we live in enlightened times, it still comes with great
danger. This is the reason there is pain for betraying the
secret.”

Tears snaked down Marissa’s cheeks. His words
didn’t make sense. “You’re scaring me.”