In the House On Lakeside Drive (5 page)

“You know how that trust works. Says he only collects in his own right when he's thirty. Last I looked, he ain't thirty.” A loud thud resounded from the floor as a high-backed chair toppled over.

“I do know how that trust works, sir. I also know that your parents—Remy's grandparents---disowned you and completely wrote you out of the will. You have no claim to any part of that money.”

“Seems a shame, then, that my poor brother and his wife up and died so suddenly,” Cooper snarled. He stood nearly over six feet, towering over the top the lawyer. “Kid has to live with a relative to handle the money, and I'm all there is left.”

“Your nephew is of age, Cooper. He can live anywhere he wants.”

“Not if he wants the money.”

“Now, see, that's where I must be mistaken,” James spat, a dark cloud forming over his round face. “Remy seems to think he's getting a check from the government. While he certainly qualifies for one given his disabilities, he's never filed a claim. Why is that?”

“Fucked if I know. You're so smart…why not,?”

“I think you told him the quarterly stipend from his trust fund
was
his government check. I think you don't want him or anyone else figuring out he's actually a substantially wealthy young man. In fact, I'm almost certain that you doled out just enough of that stipend money to Remy to make it look like he gets a government check each month, and squandered or hid the rest. I'm positive that you're trying to shortchange your nephew and hoard most of the money. I think that when the time comes—not today or tomorrow, but at some point in the future—you'll have hidden a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for you to collect once the trust either goes to Remy outright or is reverted to charity should something happen to him.”

“Prove it.”

The lawyer sighed. “I can—and have—spoken with the administrators of the trust, and they have agreed to name me as Remy's financial guardian. As of this moment, not one more dime of that money will be sent to your door. His accounts have been changed, and your name is not within a thousand miles of them. Let me make this
absolutely clear
: if you go near that young man again, for any reason, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Do you understand me?”

“Bullshit! You can't do that! It ain't legal!”

“I most certainly can, and it most certainly is. Good day, Cooper.”

The sounds of screams and profanity could be heard two blocks away. “What a piece of shit,” James heard his secretary mutter as she walked into the office, carrying a bundle of files demanding his attention. “Poor kid.”

“I know,” the little man said, sinking back into his chair. “I don't think we've heard the last of Cooper, either.”

Chapter 7

“Come on, guys, its freezing,” Evan said as he held the saw in his gloved hand. “Which tree?”

Remy stared at the array of trees before him. The little group was miles from any tree farm or overpriced lot; rather, Evan had taken them into the woods to actually find what he called a “real” Christmas tree. Next to him, Josh was bouncing on the balls of his feet, brimming with excitement.

“That one,” the eighteen-year-old cried, pointing at a tall, fat Douglas fir with several branches missing.

“Josh,” Evan said patiently. “I don't think it'll fit in the house, do you?”

“Sure it will! We could just…we could cut it high, not so close to the ground.”

“That would kill the tree, and be a waste,” Remy said. He walked up to a smaller white pine. “This one. I like the softer needles, and it wouldn't poke Sam when he runs into it.”

“Well, how do you know Sam would run into it?” Josh challenged, looking put out.

“Good point, Remy,” Evan seconded. “How
do
you know?”

A scowl crossed Remy's face. “Okay, I don't. But the needles on Josh's tree are hard and prickly. Someone could get them stuck in their skin, or their eye if they were to trip and fall. The other one's safer. And it looks prettier.”

“Mine is pretty,” Josh pouted.

“I think we'll let Remy win this one, Josh. Yours won't fit on the top of the van. His will. Practicality wins.” Evan knelt down and began sawing, making sure the others kept their distance. Soon the tree plopped into the soft snow with a
whoomph
, and the three of them worked to carry it to the waiting transport.

“Wonder what kinds of ornaments there are,” Josh said. His eyes were glistening with glee. He liked Christmas. “We always put popcorn on our tree at home.”

“You strung it?” Remy asked.

“Yeah! It was really hard, though—Mom usually put it on the string, but then I would take it and go round and round the tree and make sure it was setting even. Then we'd put white lights in the tree.”

“We used blue ones, as well as white,” Remy said wistfully, remembering past Christmases. “Mom liked making her ‘ice tree' where all the ornaments were blue or white, with the blue and white lights. Dad and I did a little one with colored lights for the kitchen table.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, we did. It was fun, usually.” Remy broke out of his reverie. “So, Evan, what's the plan now?”

“Well, I thought we'd take the tree home, then I'd send out for pizza while I watch the lot of you decorate the tree,” he said. “I sign up for driving, cutting, and ordering. My work is done.”

“But what about ornaments?” Josh cried.

“Rachel has ornaments. And I think you'll be making some today as well. Every student that lives with her makes two—one to keep, and one to stay. There's a pretty good amount of them now, and I've been doing this with her for five years now.”

“Really? Five years?”

“Yep. Five years. That reminds me, tomorrow night I'm heading into town to finish my shopping. Either of you need to get a few things?”

Josh shook his head. “Mom is gonna pick me up on Saturday. I'll get my stuff then.”

“Remy?”

Remy shrugged. “I've got Sam, and you, and Josh. I still need a couple for Rachel and Libby.” Libby was his on-again, off-again girlfriend. At the moment, Libby was definitely on.

“Make sure you're ready when I pull in. I need to hit a few places before they close.” The town of Otter Lake had only one department store. Most of the businesses were small shops and tourist traps for the summer crowd. While the merchandise was usually better than the department store, they tended to close by six.

“Or…we could sign me out early, and leave at noon.” Remy looked up at Evan with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

“Tomorrow's Monday?”

“Yeah.”

“You caught up in class? And before you say ‘Yeah,' remember, I can find out.”

“I'm caught up. Well, except for my résumé. We're still trying to find that on Mr. Everson's flash drive.”

Evan smiled at the mention of his friend. “I know. José has a habit of losing stuff.”

“Yeah. Boy, was he
pissed
when he thought he lost the keys to the supply closet! Mrs. Rosales was about to slap him upside the head, and she's his aunt!”

“He almost lost the keys to the supply closet?” Josh parroted, as though he'd missed the conversation.

“We just said that, Josh.”

“Man, he loses
everything
! I heard one time he lost fifty bucks walking out to his truck.”

“You'd remember losing fifty bucks,” Remy countered.

“No, it's true. Happened the year before you started at the school, Remy. José had a fifty-dollar bill in his pocket along with his phone. He pulled out the phone, and the fifty went sailing into the wind. We were laughing at him for
hours
because he looked like a lost cat chasing its tail. Apparently that story still gets around.”

“So, about leaving early tomorrow…”

Evan sighed, a deep melodramatic sigh. “Yeah, all right. I guess I could argue I'm teaching you about shopping and handling money, right?”

“Well, that's what I'm telling Miss Rachel. You know how she is about people skipping class.”

“That's because you shouldn't be skipping class. What's the point of going to the school if you're just gonna skip?”

“Good point.” The smile on Remy's face was a mile wide. It was shaping up to be a good Christmas after all.

* * *

“Gift cards? Really?”

“Really,” Sam said. He could hear the rush of foot traffic plodding through the snow-covered sidewalks along Otter Lake's shopping district. “Easiest thing to send my brother and sister. I use Amazon and eBay for my grandparents and my aunt and uncle, and my cousins…” He turned his head, a little sheepishly. “I really don't shop much.”

“Good thing you came, then. We'll have to make it a point to have you do the shopping more.” Rachel stopped near the large plate glass window of Kern and Sons, eyeing up the pairs of emerald earrings and strands of pearls. “Let's stop in here a minute,” she said, her hand gently pushing Sam's left shoulder toward the door. “Mind the step.”

“I got it,” he said, trying to take extra care not to hit the rows of jewelry cases he couldn't see.

Inside, the room sparkled with glitter and twinkling lights. Rows of earrings stood sentry in a revolving case while watchbands glistened under the protective glass. An older man, reminiscent of a miniature Santa Claus, came up to them. “Good afternoon, Rachel,” he said, giving the redhead a hug. “Cold enough for you out there?”

“Oh, yeah. Evan took the other two to get the tree. Sam had to finish his shopping.”

“Hey, I didn't forget,” Sam said, a grin plastered on his face. “I just…put it off.”

The old man shook his head. “I remember coming to Tree Day with my Stephanie,” he said, a small smile on his face. “She loved it. I still have the ornament she made.” He was working hard not to let a tear fall from the corner of his gray eyes, and he turned toward the young man who couldn't see him cry.

“Me too,” Rachel said, her throat getting thick. Clearing it, she said, “I was hoping you could help me find something for Evan.”

“Getting serious, is it?”

“You could say that,” Sam said. He could feel the eyes staring at him. “What? It's true.”

“Well, okay…” Rachel blushed. “I was thinking a new watch, maybe. That one he has needs an update.”

Sam smiled to himself. He knew Evan kept an old wristwatch for work, one he had gotten when he'd moved to Otter Lake. The band had been replaced three times, and the latest one was so worn and frayed Sam feared touching it because it might break.

“I know the band he has isn't going to last much longer,” Simon Kern said. “I said as much when he was fixing the back cases two weeks ago. I never would have guessed that all the hinges needed was something to loosen them up.” He walked the pair over to where he kept his better selection of watches. “Have a look at some of these. Considering his line of work, you'll want something that will last a while.”

Rachel was looking at the prices. “Simon, they're beautiful…but I'm a teacher's assistant. These are banker's watches.”

“The nice thing about owning the store: you can decide when to significantly lower the price on an item or two for a deserving customer.” Wide brown eyes crinkled merrily, and a neatly trimmed silver beard grew an inch on the outsides with the jeweler's smile. “Before you protest, my dear, I daresay you and that young man of yours have done more for this town than any of the so-called ‘bankers' you think can afford the going retail markup rate on these pieces.”

The young lady stood there, speechless. Sam reached over and poked her with one of his long digits. “Are you there, Miss Rachel? I can't hear you…”

“I…I…thank you, so much!”

“Take your time. Now, Sam, is it? You say you have a few things to pick up yourself?”

“I do. Jewelry is not really my thing, though. Can't tell what looks good.” Sam leaned against his stick with a smile.

“Nonsense. Here, I'll show you.” Simon led the young man toward the workshop part of the store, encouraging Sam to use his fingertips as a guide. He placed a small object in Sam's hand. “Now, tell me what that is.”

Sam rolled the cool round piece in his palm a few times, and then took his fingertips around the outer rounded top. There were little dots across it, like Braille, but smaller. “It's a ring,” he said finally. “Are there stones in it?”

“No, there's not. What you're feeling is the trace bits of metal from engraving. There's a message written around the top of the band.”

“What does it say?”

Simon told him.

“He's really gonna do it?”

“Seems serious enough. I asked that very same question when he came in two weeks ago to place the order. Can you keep it under your hat?”

“Sure!” A chime beeped, and Sam pressed a button on his watch. It told him that it was four o'clock.