Mist on the Meadow (7 page)

Uncle Balt smiled. “It would be an
interesting world if that were true.”

“And Max? He has red hair, doesn’t he?”

“More blond than red, wouldn’t you say?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“That would be for you to know and not me.”
He settled back against his pillow. “When you were born, when you
grew such beautiful red hair,” he paused to catch his breath. “My
sister told me to watch for you. I was responsible for you. The
spirit that accompanies you will help to control your pain.”

Marissa squeezed her eyes closed. Now she had
a guardian angel? She convinced herself she was only pursuing the
conversation to humor him, certain his mind had slipped into
dementia. “Spirit?” she asked.

“Hexeri.”

And then she laughed. “Hex is a spirit?”

“Hex is your sympathetic spirit.”

Marissa shook her head. What kinds of things
was she expected to know?

Then she remembered the vision she’d had of
Wolf’s parents. It could easily have been a flight of imagination,
and yet she
knew
that if she searched out the answers, she’d
find that the Harpers had driven a blue Buick.

She didn’t want to ask.

* * *

The knock on Wolf’s office door startled him.
Lost in lines of computer code for their client, Conglomerated’s,
new system, he’d been deaf to the world. He raised his head to the
sound of high heels. Bridget, the bookkeeper, walked into his
office with a grimace. More bad news? “What?” Wolf asked.

“Pete is demanding a check.”

“We agreed, no more payments until after the
holidays,” Wolf said.

“Kinda hard to argue with the boss,” the
bookkeeper said.

“I’ll talk to him.”

The bookkeeper scurried away and Wolf
exploded to his feet. Damn his uncle for trying to bleed the
company dry! Wolf slammed his hands on his desk. If he had to, he’d
show Uncle Pete the draft of the auditor’s report today. So much
for a Merry Christmas.

Wolf thundered down the hall and stormed into
his uncle’s office. “Why are you giving Bridget a hard time? You
know we’re holding all checks until the new year.”

Uncle Pete rose from behind his desk. “I run
this company. I’ll do what I please.”

With a tremendous amount of willpower, Wolf
managed to swallow his retort. They owned equal shares in the
company, pending the release of his grandmother’s portion. He
curled his hands into fists. “The auditors advised us to wait. Do
you want to invite them in to take a closer look?” His uncle didn’t
know they already had.

Uncle Pete clenched his jaw. “Are you
threatening me? I can still fire you, Wolfie.”

Respect your elders.
“Bridget can’t
write any checks against the operating account until the new year.
You’ll have to wait.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but if
we don’t complete the Conglomerated order
before
the end of
the year, we won’t have the components we need to complete the
Allied orders.” Uncle Pete glared at him.

The Conglomerated inventory had already
disappeared, and unless they could replace the missing components
quickly, Wolf would lose credibility with one of their bigger
clients. If Wolf allowed his uncle to write even one bogus check,
there wouldn’t be any clients to lose. He’d bankrupt the
company.

Wolf held to his convictions. “Our hands are
tied.” He was one tick away from letting his uncle know exactly
what he could expect the day after Christmas. He took a deep breath
and calmed his voice. “If you insist on pressing this issue, you’ll
have to wait at least until the twenty-sixth.” By then he’d have
the auditor’s final fraud report on his desk and Marshall would
have the signed agreement that rescinded Uncle Pete access to any
company funds. If Uncle Pete refused to sign, Wolf was prepared to
call in the police, scandal or no scandal.

Uncle Pete rolled his eyes and sloughed back
into his chair. “I suppose it can wait a few more days.” He
manufactured a smile. “You’re stopping by Christmas day, aren’t
you? Your Aunt Corrine is making turkey with all the fixings.”

“I have plans. Give Aunt Corrine my regrets.”
Wolf turned on his heel and returned to his office.

He dropped into his chair and gazed at the
ceiling. Two more days. He only had to keep the lid on for two more
days.

When he leveled his eyes on the door, he
watched Marshall approach, walk in and close the door.

What now?

“Been looking into that thing for you,”
Marshall began.
“Kundigerin
. You were right. It’s a German
word and it means knowledgeable one, or expert. As far as where do
you obtain one, that seems like a pretty broad-based question,
requiring an answer to ‘for what?’”

Wolf rubbed a hand across his chin. “I wish I
knew. Fine time for one of my grandmother’s games.” He let out a
tired breath. “You have the agreement drawn up, right? Because my
uncle is trying to cut checks.

“We’re good to go.”

“I’m not sure how desperate he is. He’s been
strong-arming Bridget.”

Marshall gave him a sly smile. “There’s a
hold on the bank accounts. Even if he’s brave enough to go one step
further, the safeguards are in place. Now that we’ve found the
holes, we’re plugging them.”

“I hope it’s not too late.” Wolf stared at
the computer code on his screen, angry that he had to do the work
personally in order to save the account, and wondered if he’d have
the components to load the software onto. He rubbed his eyes.
“Thanks, Marshall.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Wolf nodded while Marshall left. The phone on
his desk rang.

“Mr. Harper, this is Ethan Wilder. Did you
want me to arrange for the appraisers to stop by your grandmother’s
estate?”

One more leech he didn’t want to deal with.
“No, thank you. I have another avenue I can pursue.”

“Fine. Let me know if there’s anything you
require my services for.”

Wolf gazed to the ceiling again. “Can you
find me this
Kundigerin
?”

Ethan laughed. “I wish I could. Mrs. Harper
specifically told me you’d have to do that on your own. She did say
if you hadn’t found one within three months that we could proceed
with disposition, but until that time, the codicil remains
sealed.”

Of course
. “Thanks for calling,” Wolf
said. “I’ll be in touch.” He hung up the phone and reached into his
briefcase for the slip of paper with Marissa Maitland’s address or,
more accurately, her parents’ address.

No, she wasn’t his type, but any port in a
storm, right? She and her gregarious great-uncle seemed pleasant
enough. Wolf wanted to be around a normal family, even if it was
only for a day.

Marissa drove to her mother’s house in
neighboring Blue Lake, anxious to take advantage of the extra
family time—and the last time Uncle Balt would come for a
visit.

She unpacked the extra litterbox and carried
Hex inside. When she set him down, Hex curled around her mother’s
legs. His persistent purring brought a smile to her mother’s
face.

“Welcome home.” Her mother gave Marissa a
quick hug. “Uncle Balt is in the family room if you want to say
hello.”

“How’s he doing?”

Her mother shrugged. “He’s not one to
complain. It’s hard to know.”

But Marissa knew. So far, this
knowing
thing didn’t offer any benefits. She didn’t particularly want
inside information on the things that had presented themselves. If
she didn’t want to know, chances were good other people probably
wouldn’t want to, either.

In the family room, Uncle Balt rested in the
recliner. The oxygen tube in his nose curled over his ears. Marissa
sat beside him and took hold of his hand.

“
Liebling
,” he said in a scratchy
voice. “
Du, du, liegst mir am Herzen
,” he sang, and then he
began to cough.

“
Du, du, liegst mir im Sinn
,” she
finished the stanza. A tear slid down her cheek and he reached up
to wipe it away.

“I am an old man,
meine Liebling
. I’ve
lived longer than I probably should have out of stubbornness to
complete my task. Now you are twenty-five. Now I can leave
you.”

Marissa shook her head. “No. You’re supposed
to tell me everything, isn’t that what you said?”

“I’ve told you what I know. The rest is up to
you. You will know more than me.”

“Be stubborn a little longer,” she said.

Uncle Balt smiled and pulled their clasped
hands to his heart. “I’m old and I’m tired. And I’m so proud of
you, my Marissa. Don’t be sad for me. Be happy for all the
wonderful times we’ve shared, and let me be at peace. I will always
be with you, in the quiet moments.”

Marissa needed one of those moments right
now. In the dimly lit family room with no lights other than the
twinkling Christmas tree, she embraced the warmth of memories from
all the Christmases they’d celebrated in this room.

Every one of those memories included Uncle
Balt. This would be the last one.

Marissa wiped her face and set her jaw while
she sniffled. “So what am I supposed to do with my newfound
superpower?”

Uncle Balt started to laugh and coughed
instead. “Whatever you want,
Liebling
.”

“No, you have to tell me. Because so far, I’m
not seeing any good use for this so-called gift. Do I get to do
anything besides
know
things? Can I influence things? Change
things?”
Make you live forever?

“Hmmm.” Uncle Balt scratched his chin. “This
is something you can probably answer for yourself. Me? I don’t
know. Rosalie, your grandmother, told me stories of
Kundigerinen
who cast spells, but that may be little more
than folklore, stories created to inspire fear or respect. For
myself, I would say no. I do not believe you can alter the course
of events, although you can explain them to people who cannot see.
I have met
Kundigerinen
today who help the police to find
missing people or stolen goods. There are people who tell fortunes
at the carnivals. Not all of those people are true
Kundigerinen
.”

“But you said there’s pain.” Marissa rubbed
her stomach in remembered sympathy to the cramps she’d experienced.
“Why would people intentionally invite that?”

“There is relief in the quiet moments. Look
for them. And when you hold Hex, he will take your pain away.”

“What if the moments don’t come?”

“Be patient. They will find you.”

Max bounded into the room. “Is this a private
party or can anyone join?” He plopped on the floor in front of the
tree and checked presents for tags with his name, which he promptly
shook before he set the box down again.

Hexeri leapt onto Uncle Balt’s lap and
kneaded with his paws before he circled and settled into a round
gray ball.

“Hex will help you,” Uncle Balt whispered and
then he winked.

“Help you what?” Max asked.

“Open presents,” Marissa answered. “But not
until tomorrow night. Now put those back and stop trying to ruin
your Christmas!”

Max stuck out his tongue. “You think I don’t
know what you bought me? You’re so predictable, Rissa.
Honestly.”

Marissa shivered. Did he know? Could he see
things the way she could? A few short days ago, she hadn’t known
about any of this—before her twenty-fifth birthday. Max was four
years younger. Hadn’t Uncle Balt said the men didn’t possess the
knowledge, only the women?

“So many questions,” she said to Uncle
Balt.

He patted her hand. “You will find the
answers.”

“It’s called being resourceful,” Max said.
“Isn’t that what you always said, Uncle Balt?”

“Yes, it is,” he replied.

“It helps if you’re a . . .” Marissa began
and then doubled over in a cramp.

Uncle Balt waved a finger. “I told you.”

“A what?” Max asked.

Marissa leaned over her clenched muscles. “Go
away, you little pest.”

Max laughed. “Not so little anymore.” He rose
to his full height, six-foot-four.

“Tall in stature, but I’m not sure you’ll
ever grow up.” She reached over to take hold of Hex. If Max would
go away, she could ask Uncle Balt more questions.

As she stroked the cat, she envisioned Wolf
in her mind’s eye—and enjoyed the view. Her lips were suddenly too
dry and as she ran her tongue over them, she closed her eyes. The
invitation to Christmas stemmed from more than human kindness.
Marissa wanted to see more of Wolf Harper.

Her stomach protested, but with Hex in her
arms, the cramp was mild compared to what she’d experienced when
she’d tried to tell Max she was a
Kundigerin
. As if he’d
even understand. Marissa possessed something her brother didn’t.
He’d never
know
things the way she did, but she sensed he
might be like Uncle Balt.

Hex’s purring rumbled beneath her open palm
and eased the discomfort.

* * *

Ralph had gone to spend Christmas with his
family. Wolf was alone in the big, empty house, without even a
troublesome cat to keep him company. Might as well get used to it.
Ralph would only be back for a couple more days, long enough to
pick up his things and move to his next assignment. Uncle Pete
didn’t need to know Wolf had given Ralph a few tokens of
appreciation to take with him.

Christmas. Alone. He’d already sent his
regrets to Aunt Corinne via Uncle Pete. She’d understand. He picked
up the paper with the Maitland’s address one more time.

Spending Christmas with someone he didn’t
know was stupid. He wouldn’t go.

The three-foot artificial Christmas tree on
the table in the corner looked bare without any gifts. If Ralph
hadn’t insisted, the tree probably wouldn’t even be there. Grandma
had tried to get Wolf to set up all the trappings, the eight-foot
tree, the garland around the fireplace, the music boxes on the
mantel, but she couldn’t leave her bed. So he’d told her he’d
decorated the house, even though he hadn’t.