Unexpected Riches (Bellingwood Book 13) (18 page)

"Don't worry until you know for sure," Lydia said. "Your imagination will create much worse scenarios than reality will deliver. He's trying really hard to be part of your family. Hold on to that."

Polly nodded and sighed.

"Is Henry staying with him tonight?" Sylvie asked. "I thought I saw his truck leave."

"He's in Ames tonight with Nate Mikkels watching Hayden play ball."

Andy's eyes grew wide. "I can't believe you aren't upstairs hovering over him. I would be."

Polly looked around the table and gulped. "Should I be? Am I a terrible mom? Rebecca and Andrew are with him. He took a painkiller before I came downstairs and I figure he'd sleep most of the evening."

"Leave her alone," Lydia said, scowling at Andy. "You're just fine. You aren't the hovering kind of a mama and that's okay. You're close enough to take care of any problem that comes up and we all know that Rebecca adores him and will do any hovering that needs to be done."

"I've felt a little guilty about it," Polly said. "Henry told me not to worry and I really wanted to be here with you tonight."

"You shouldn't worry at all," Lydia said.

Polly relaxed. Lydia was her stabilizing force. Most of the time she felt confident in the decisions she made regarding Rebecca and Heath, but when something fell apart, Polly couldn't help but wonder if she'd missed something and it was really her fault.

"Enough," Beryl said. "This isn't helping her."

"What about you?" Lydia asked. "How was your day?"

"Oh lawd," Beryl said, fanning herself. "I'z plum wore out from all the excitement."

They looked at Tallie, who glanced at the ceiling.

"What happened?" Sylvie asked.

Andy smiled. "I'll bet they got lost."

Tallie burst out laughing.

"That's a yes," Andy said.

"So lost," Tallie agreed. "We were all over the place."

"But that was after we went to Aunt Mildred's house and were treated like twelve-year-old reprobates," Beryl said. "You wouldn't have known that I was a sixty-year-old woman who spent my entire adult life earning my own way. Oh no, she was dreadfully afraid that I might wrinkle one of her precious pages of information. And Tallie wasn't any safer. Because, you know, she's from New Mexico where all of those hippies live."

Tallie laughed. "She isn't wrong."

"But the old biddy insinuated that you all sit around smoking peyote in sweat lodges," Beryl said. She stood up. "I'm opening another bottle. Tell me I'm not drinking alone."

"Did you get any interesting information?" Lydia asked.

"I think so," Beryl said. "We have a lot of family tree charts. She traced as much as possible of all three brothers. Even Tallie's dad is listed." She brought a fresh bottle from the cooler. "We'll have to dig into it. Of course," she said, rolling her eyes, "we need to make copies first. Wouldn't want to damage her precious papers."

Tallie put her hand up. "I can do that after we eat while you look at some of the other things Beryl has."

"I found some interesting things at the library," Andy said. "The Carters claimed a lot of land around the area when they got here in the eighteen-sixties. And this morning I stopped at both of the banks to see which one might have been here the longest."

"It was the County Bank," Beryl said.

Andy looked at her and stuck her tongue out. "Yes it was. It was founded as the Bellingwood National Bank in 1867 by Cyrus Carter, Hiram Bell, Philip Downs, Leonard Adams, Howard Roberts and Caleb Stone." She had ticked them off with her fingers. "Whew, I made myself memorize those names."

"Is it the same building?" Beryl asked.

Andy shook her head. "No. Don't you remember back when we were kids? The bank was on the corner downtown and then they put up this new building so it would be more modern. They put that drive-through in, too."

Beryl poured another glass of wine. "Don't mind me. I'm not paying attention."

"Don't you get too messed up," Polly said. "We have a lot of work ahead of us tonight and I'm not going to do your work for you while you're sprawled across the papers all passed out and stuff."

"Can I at least drink until I'm finished complaining about nasty Aunt Mildred?" Beryl asked.

Polly laughed. "How old is that woman anyway?"

"The old biddy is close to ninety. I can't believe she's still hanging on. This one is too mean to die." Beryl snickered and then laughed because she'd snorted. "If God's waiting for her to get nice before she shows up at the pearly gates, it's a good thing he has eternity. Knowing her, she'll bounce back and forth between heaven and hell, because I think she's meaner than the devil."

"Beryl," Lydia said, using her best mother-voice.

"You don't know her. I think even you would want to trip her as she walked past you."

"She's your family."

"Yeah. Like we all don't have family members that we'd rather not claim. Don't give me that. She's a mean, dried-up old bitch who hasn't had the sense to just die."

"Beryl Watson!" Lydia said. "Stop it."

"But I'm not ready to stop it. I had to voluntarily spend time with that old witch today. I put on my best smile and my nicest, kindest face and walked into her lair. If she'd been a dragon, I'd be dragon kibble by now. Trust me." Beryl looked at Tallie. "Help me out, here. You met the woman. She's awful, right?"

"She was pretty acerbic," Tallie said.

"See. Asher. Asker. Asser. Oh whatever the hell word she used," Beryl said. "Aunt Mildred is mean. So there."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Happy to clean up, Lydia and Sylvie insisted that the others dig into the boxes while they worked. Tallie offered to take the papers from Beryl's Aunt Mildred into the office and make copies, assuring Polly that she was familiar with the machine.

"Before we start," Andy said, "we should make a plan."

"Here she goes," Beryl moaned. "I haven't even lifted the top off the first box and she's ready to put labels on it. Tell me you didn't bring your label maker. That would just be embarrassing." Beryl huffed. "I'd be embarrassed for you."

Andy grinned at her friend. "You can get all huffy if you like, but these papers and pictures are too important to leave unorganized. I have felt tip pens, file folders and blank labels. We might as well make some sense of things now. Remember, only touch things once if you want to be efficient."

Beryl tapped the top of the box three times and smirked. "I'm going to need more wine for this."

"It seems to me," Andy said loudly as Beryl walked to the cooler, "that we should set up stations for different decades. If there is really over a hundred years’ worth of information, we could be overwhelmed by data from the mid-twentieth century. We don't need that tonight, but it might be important another time." She opened the plastic carryall tote she'd brought in and took out a stack of three-by-five cards and a roll of tape. “I've already written out the decades on these. If you don't mind, I'll tape them up around the room. We can sort to that level first."

Beryl waggled her hand at Andy. "Do whatever you want. I'm digging for gold."

"Where do
you
want to begin?" Polly asked Beryl.

"I have absolutely no idea," Beryl whispered. "I'm so overwhelmed by this, I want to cry. If Andy weren't here to take care of me, I'd just pitch it all in the trash bin."

"Top box it is, then," Polly said, choking back laughter.

"What?" Andy asked from across the room.

"We're just trying to figure out if the boxes have any order to them. I remember my granddad and Aunt Evaline packing these boxes up," Beryl said. "I was young, but they were trying to organize their memories. Uncle Jessup had died. Yeah," she said. "It was right after his funeral. They didn't want any more memories to escape, so they sat down and wrote names on pictures and put notes in books and things. Poor Melvin. He's the oldest. Granddad sat him down and told him that he would have to take care of these things; they'd be important someday."

She scowled. "I don't know if Melvin ever moved the boxes, though. They were stuck in the back of Mom and Dad's closet. After they moved into town and he took their home, he probably never looked at them again. His poor stupid kids don't know what kind of heritage they have because he never talked about it."

"You mean a bank robber and gambler?" Tallie asked as she came over to the table.

Beryl chuckled. "Well, yeah."

"Look at this," Tallie said and put a slip of paper down in front of Beryl.

"What is it?"

"It wasn't there earlier today when your Aunt Mildred packed up these boxes."

Beryl picked the paper up, turned it upside down and then back up, flipped it around and pursed her lips. "This notepaper is from my desk, but it's not my handwriting. How did it get in there?"

"I don't know," Tallie said with a shrug. "I have no idea what those numbers mean either."

Polly chuckled. "A series of numbers. Television investigators would tell us that if it isn't a phone number it's probably latitude and longitude."

"Ah ha," Beryl said. "The secret location of the gold treasure."

Tallie produced a sheaf of papers. "Or it could be page numbers. Your aunt numbered each page in her chart and that note was tucked inside the cover."

Beryl gave her a sideways look. "You're a party pooper. Okay. Let's look through these pages and see what we can find." Then she slapped her hand down on the table. "But who in the heck went through this..." She stopped. "Ohhh. Well, damn it all to hell."

"What?" Lydia asked.

"Nothing," Beryl said. Her hands curled into fists, crumpling the paper between her fingers. She took a deep breath, looked at what she had done and slowly unclenched her fingers, dropping the paper back onto the table. With deliberate movements, she smoothed it out and handed it to Polly. "Why don't you go through these. I need to step out and regain my composure. I'll be back." Beryl grabbed up her purse and walked out to the garage.

"What was that all about?" Sylvie asked.

Polly shook her head. "Why don't you all start on the boxes and I'll sort through these pages."

"I'm going back to the copy machine," Tallie said. She chuckled. "Aunt Mildred didn't know about all of these boxes of history. She would have been apoplectic if she thought Beryl was holding out on her."

"Are you composed?" Andy asked.

Polly looked up to see Beryl stalk back in, her face red and frustration washing across her.

"What's up?" Polly asked.

"My composure has left the building," Beryl said.

"Literally?"

"Literally. No answer." She looked at her watch. "It's not even nine o'clock." Beryl's eyes grew big. "The kittens!"

Andy shook her head. "What about the kittens? They're fine. You leave them alone all the time."

"Not when it's the first week after they had surgery." Beryl stamped around the prep table. "I can't believe this. What is going on in my world? I'm a good person."

Polly put the papers down on the table and stood up. She took Beryl's arm and led her out of the kitchen. "We'll be right back," she said over her shoulder.

She opened the door to the auditorium and flipped a light on. "What's going on?"

"That man was supposed to watch the kittens tonight for me. He's not answering his cell or the house phone. And Polly, he's the only person other than me who had access to the things I brought back from Aunt Mildred's house. He's involved in all of this. I just know it." Beryl kicked at the wall. "I'm an idiot."

"Who is he?" Polly asked.

"I'm so embarrassed I don't want to tell you. I should have known he was up to something. Nobody that nice just drops into my life." She sagged against the wall that she'd just kicked. "After all of these years, I just wanted somebody to treat me like family. That's all. Just one person."

"Oh honey," Polly said. She reached over and took Beryl's hand. "Tell me what happened."

"I don't know where to begin."

"Do you really not want to tell Lydia and Andy about this?"

Beryl snarled. "They already think I'm a pathetic old fool. They have their perfect lives with their kids and grandkids. They will never understand what it's like to be on the outside looking in and wondering why nobody loves you."

Polly couldn't help it as tears filled her eyes. "Oh Beryl, but the thing is, we love you so much."

"It doesn't matter to me most of the time," Beryl said, "But sometimes it's hard to accept that my own family doesn't have time for me unless I'm doing something for them. And even then, as soon as they get what they want from me, they're off and running away."

"Beryl?"

They turned around to see Lydia standing in the doorway.

"Don't come in here," Beryl said. "I don't want you to hear all of this."

"I'm going to hear all of this whether you tell me now or you tell me later," Lydia said. "Let's just get it out now."

"You'll use this against me someday when you think I'm not doing what I should be doing."

"Come on, Beryl. You know that isn't true."

"No I don't," Beryl said with a pout.

Lydia closed the distance and pulled Beryl into a tight hug. The older woman sobbed and sobbed on Lydia's shoulder.

"That happens a lot to you, doesn't it," Polly said.

"What does, dear?"

"People cry on you."

"She has that mama-effect," Beryl said, snorting back tears.

Lydia stepped back. "We're your best friends in the world. Come in and tell us what's been going on."

Polly nodded. "It's time to tell the whole story, don't you think?"

"You know?" Lydia asked.

"No," Polly said. "I'm just starting to make some assumptions. It's her story to tell."

Beryl let Lydia lead her back into the kitchen. Sylvie and Andy looked up from stacks of things they held in their hands as they walked around the room.

"What's going on?" Andy asked. She put her pile down and stopped Beryl before she could get past. "Are you okay, honey?" Andy reached up and brushed tears from Beryl's cheeks. "Who made you cry? You aren't mad at me for organizing. You know I can't help myself."

Beryl smiled and took Andy's fingers into her own. "No. I'm so grateful for what you do, even though I insist on teasing you about it."

"That's what I thought," Andy said. "Now, who's making you cry?"

"Come on over and bring more wine," Beryl said. "I need to tell you what's been going on in my life the last few months."

"Is it a man?" Sylvie asked.

Beryl nodded and then held her glass out so Polly could refill it. "Yes, it's a man, but it isn't what you think."

"Damn," Polly muttered.

"What does that mean?" Beryl asked with a smile.

"Well, he's gorgeous and speaks with a British accent and he ..." Polly stopped and looked into Beryl's eyes. "Whoops."

"Yes. Whoops," Beryl said. "Exactly."

"What?" Andy asked.

"I need to go backwards to last spring," Beryl said. She lifted her hands and rotated them in small circles. "Have we all taken the trip?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Go on."

"Last spring, out of the blue, I got a phone call from a man in England. He was looking for a half-sister of his. Me."

Andy sat back. "You have a half-brother?"

Beryl pointed her long finger at Andy. "Be quiet while I'm telling this story or I'll lose my nerve."

"Okay." Andy looked properly chagrined.

"He told me that my father had been there on business." Beryl looked around. "Yes, my father traveled a lot in the sixties. It makes sense that he was there." She stopped. "Crap. It just hit me that he went back there to spend time with..." She shook her head. "That's beside the point. Apparently he and Mom worked out whatever it was. Anyway, Dad met a young woman who worked at the office where he spent a great deal of time when he was in London. And they had an affair. And she had a son. And Dad was in his life when he was a child, but then she met someone and Dad just quit being around. But even though that other man adopted him, Darien always knew that his biological father lived in the middle of the United States.

"His mother died last winter and as he was going through her things, he found notes about Dad and there were a few newspaper articles about me and my artwork. So he called me."

"How did you react?" Lydia asked.

"Honestly?" Beryl said. "My first thought was that he was trying to come up with a way for his life to be my responsibility and was going to ask for money. I was polite, but when I got off the phone, I figured it was a hoax and I'd never hear from him again. I hadn't said much. I didn't want to say very much."

Sylvie quietly asked. "What did that make you think of your Dad?"

"He's been gone long enough that, though I was shocked, what could I do? I couldn't yell at him and he was really good to Mom after this affair ended. I don't think she ever knew anything." Beryl shook her head. "Who am I kidding? It took about three weeks for me to calm down about the whole thing, but that feels like it was forever ago now. I dealt with it."

"Did he call again?" Andy asked.

"About a month later. He apologized for hitting me with all of that information and asked if we could chat online. He had some pictures he wanted to show me that would prove Dad had been around and he wondered if I had any fun pictures I could share with him. He told me how much he loved his father, but wanted to know more about his heritage. That went on for a few months." Beryl smiled, a sad smile. "It was so much fun. As we talked, it felt like I had another brother. One that wanted to hear about my life, who wanted to be proud of what I'd done. He always complimented my artwork. He was interested in the things I was working on and the places I traveled. And it wasn't threatening at all. It was wonderful."