Keeping Victoria's Secret (16 page)

So absorbed in her work was she, that the
clearing of a throat coming from the doorway into her office made
her jump. Emitting a high-pitched squeak she swiveled in her chair.
A grinning Jack Conner was right behind her.

“I guess you didn’t hear me knocking? I heard
you on the computer and the music, so I just came on in. Sorry if I
scared you.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Guess I was kind of
pre-occupied. Sorry!”

His gaze settled on the laptop screen.
Immediately she turned, hands flew over the keyboard and the text
disappeared. She reached up and closed the lid.

“Sorry, I should have heard you. Come in.
Would you like some coffee? I’m ready for a cup.”

“I’m good, but you go ahead.”

Embarrassed, she picked up her coffee mug and
slipped past him into the kitchen. Pouring coffee, she called over
her shoulder, “Maybe some breakfast? I was just about to have
something.”

Jack took her cup, set it down, and turned
her to face him. He paused, studying her. Their eyes met and locked
for a long moment.

“Yesterday was wonderful,” he said.

“Yes,” was all she could manage. It had been
wonderful. Eventually they’d even found time to look through the
contents of the old trunk.

She hadn’t any idea just how wonderful and
enjoyable sex could be. All her detailed writing about making love
was simply recycled material from other authors. This new
experience could only enhance her ability to put it into words.
That in fact, was precisely what she’d been doing when interrupted
by Jack.

In the clear light of a new day, they were
both hesitant, unsure of how to begin.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make
something?”

“No, Victoria. Listen, about yesterday,” his
words trailing away.

“You were… Well you were very nice, very
gentle. Jack, I had no idea…it could be so fantastic.”

“Victoria, don’t get me wrong. It was great.
Really great. What I’m trying to say is that I’m not ready to make
what you’d call a commitment.”

Icy fingers of dread crept along her spine as
she froze, digesting his meaning. Jack was trying to let her down
easy. She was falling in love with him, but the feeling apparently
wasn’t reciprocated.

“Jack, come on. Did you really think I was
expecting a marriage proposal this morning?” Turning away she
sipped her coffee.

He shifted, unsure of how to reply. “Vicky,
I’m sure you feel...,”

“What?” She smiled, unwilling to let him see
her pain. “We’re both adults. You don’t owe me anything. We’re
going to stay out of each other’s way, remember? You take care of
the farm and I’ll take care of the house. No problem. Really,
Jack”

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t like
you, Victoria. I do. I like you very much, and yesterday….”

She sat down at the table with her coffee.
“Listen. Yesterday was wonderful Jack, but now I’m so ready to just
move on. It’s history. Please don’t try to sugar coat the fact that
it was just a one-night stand. I realize that. You did poor little
Vicky a favor. Well thanks, Jack. Now let’s just forget it.” She
continued to go through the motions of drinking coffee.

She hadn’t intended to become angry but she
couldn’t help it. I was a fool to let him into my life. I knew what
he was. Why did he have to go and ruin everything this morning?
With regret, she realized that she was falling in love with him,
but none of that mattered now. Jack didn’t want her and she might
lose the farm. I could just cry. My morning started out so nicely
and now....

The old rotary dial telephone on the kitchen
wall rang, startling them both. They stared at it, neither moving
to answer.

“Not many people even have that number. Doc
and Fred, maybe a couple of other people. Who’d be calling so
early? Want me to get it?” asked Jack.

“No, this is my house, I’ll answer the
phone.” She strode to the other side of the kitchen and yanked the
receiver from its cradle. “Hello?” she barked and then listened in
silence.

“All right Fred, I’ll tell him, and thanks
for everything.” She hung up the phone, turned and walked stiffly
to the sink, staring toward the apple trees in the distance.

“Fred?” he asked. Frowning she glanced over
at him. Jack thought her expression strange, as though she were
seeing him for the first time after waking from a bad dream.

“Yes, it was Fred. I’m afraid it’s bad news.
Last night Van Winkle’s lawyer in Albany faxed Fred some documents.
There’s a copy of the original will from my great-grandparents,
Alexander Willet’s military records, birth records for Van Winkle
and his father…. Fred says it’s ironclad. Van Winkle is the
rightful heir, legally. He says we can still contest it but there’s
not much chance. He wants to see me later today. Oh, and he wants
you there too.”

He nodded, his face darkening and hands
balled into tight fists at his side. “I told you Victoria, I’m not
going to roll over and give up. I’ll fight this one way or another.
Van Winkle will only get this place over my dead body. We’ll talk
to Fred later about our options. Why don’t you come over to my
apartment and I’ll fix you something to eat? I’m sorry I got off on
the wrong foot with you this morning. I didn’t mean to sound like
yesterday meant nothing to me. That’s not it. Please let’s start
over, okay?”

“All right.” Vicky nodded and started for the
door. He followed her as she marched through the back porch and
down the steps, screen door banging behind them. Neither spoke a
word until they’d climbed the flight of stairs to the apartment
over the garage.

Vicky looked around the big room, which was
surprisingly neat and uncluttered.

“What do you think? Kind of nice, isn’t it?
How about I make you some eggs, bacon, toast and coffee? Don’t
think of it as a late breakfast, but an early lunch instead.”

“I’m not very hungry, toast would be fine.”
Vicky looked for a place to sit, choosing a chair at his small
table.

“I guess you’ve never been over here, have
you?” he said.

“No, of course I haven’t. Well I was never
invited, was I?”

“No, I guess you weren’t.” Her face had gone
ghostly pale. “Victoria, I’ll make you the best breakfast you’ve
ever tasted. Please stop worrying. Things will be okay, you’ll
see.”

“I know Jack. That’s what you keep saying,
but I’m having a hard time believing it.”

As he busied himself in the kitchen area in
one corner, she made a slow circuit of the room.

“You have quite a library going on here. Lots
of poetry, a complete works of Shakespeare, and some of the
classics,” she said

From the corner came a sizzle as he tossed
bacon into a large skillet. Buttering English muffins, he slipped
them under a broiler.

“You’re very domestic.”

“Yeah, well.” He lifted his shoulder. “I
try.”

While he worked, she continued her circuit of
the room, reading the spines of books on his shelf. In spite of her
barely contained emotions, she was still curious about Jack
Conner.

“Oh Jack, you’ve got the “Freddy the Pig”
series by Walter Brooks. Have you read all these?”

He looked over his shoulder at her for a
moment and shrugged. “The Freddy books were what got me started
reading as a kid. I kept them because I figured someday my own kids
might like them.”

Ignoring his remark about children she asked,
“Have you read all that poetry?”

“Yeah, I read a little poetry now and again,
but don’t tell anybody.”

“My lips are sealed. Won’t tell a soul,” she
said reading more titles.

When the bacon and eggs were done, Jack
removed the muffins from the broiler and filled their plates. The
bacon smelled delicious and she realized that she was hungry after
all. Arranging everything, Jack brought it to the table. “Get ‘em
while they’re hot,” he said motioning for her to join him.

She looked down at her plate and began to
nibble a slice of bacon. “Now I know your little secret and I guess
you know mine.”

“What secret is that?” he asked.

“The fact that I’m, or I was…. I had no
experience with men. Not until yesterday.”

“Victoria, I am really sorry about the way I
approached everything earlier. I just didn’t want you to get the
idea that I was....” He ducked his head and studied his plate. “I
don’t know what I was thinking.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

She got up and brought her empty plate to the
sink. “I’m sorry; I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at Fred’s office and
we’ll figure out just what we’re up against. Thanks for
breakfast."

“I’d like to take you to Fred’s office, I
mean; I'll drive if that's all right.”

She didn't seem to hear him, but stared out
the window. “I guess if I’m going to… If we’re going to lose the
property, I can always go back to Jersey. I have family there, my
dad's family. I thought about New York too. I have a few friends in
the city. This whole experience was like a dream. It seems like a
nightmare right now, but yesterday it was a sweet dream. Some
dreams are just like that I guess.”

She stood looking out the window at the
flowerbeds Jack had tilled for her, waiting for the flowers that
would never be planted. She fought back tears as the back of
Nanna’s farmhouse filled her vision, taunting her. Looking into her
bedroom window, she saw the patchwork quilt on her new sleigh bed,
and into her bathroom. She could see it all quite clearly.

“Jack, I can see right into my room from
here. Did you know that? If the curtains are open, like they are
now… Jack?”

He looked up at her startled, wide eyed, like
a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Really?”

“You pig! You’ve been watching me, haven’t
you?”

“Well, I…,” he began.

“You were spying on me like some pervert
voyeur, weren’t you? I can’t believe you did that”

Jack shrugged helplessly.

Just the thought of him watching her from his
apartment, during her most private moments, caused her to cringe.
Striding to the door she opened it turned and said, “Just be at
Fred’s office at one o’clock.”

The door slammed behind her and her footsteps
receded down the stairs. He didn’t get up. A moment later, he heard
the screen door at the house slam shut. When he did look at Vicky’s
window, he saw that the curtains were drawn and shades pulled
down.

He sighed heavily. Damn, some days you just
can’t win.

“Oh, Dear me,” Elvira said aloud as she sat
back, contemplating what she’d read in the diary. Alone in her room
while reading her mother’s thoughts, she’d found exactly what she’d
hoped to discover. It concerned Alexander Willet, his marriage to
Betsy, and Theodore’s birth.

Would this information assist Fred in his
efforts to help Jack and Victoria? It was all so long ago. She
wasn’t a lawyer, but doubted that the words written in a diary
sixty-five years before carried much weight legally. Uncertain if
she should divulge all she’d learned, she considered her options,
and then decided. We’ll talk with Fred. He’ll know what to do.

When Vicky arrived at his office, Fred rose
and smiled. “Thank you for coming Victoria. Please make yourself
comfortable,” he said motioning her toward the chair next to
Jack.

She tugged at the large chair moving it
farther away. Giving him a frosty glare, she sat down stiffly.

Jack rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m not
forgiven,” he mumbled into his hand.

She glanced his way, glaring.

“What?” asked Fred.

“Nothing.” Jack smiled. “Thanks, I’m
good.”

“Well. If we’re ready....” The lawyer cleared
his throat, eyeing them, as he carefully arranged papers neatly
before him on a large antique desk. This was an unpleasant
business. Sometimes in the course of practicing law, Fred had to
impart bad news to his clients. Unfortunately, this was one of
those times. He didn’t want to tell these young people that the
probability of Vicky retaining ownership of the Willet property was
tenuous at best.

Inhaling deeply, he let his breath out in a
rush, and frowned. What’s happened? They haven’t spoken to each
other since entering my office. Fred looked at Jack’s stony profile
for a moment, shook his head, and then turned to Vicky taking in
the strained look on her face. I always say, youth is wasted on the
young!

“Well then. Victoria, I have copies of all
the pertinent documents, which you are at liberty to look over. If
you have no objection to Mr. Conner seeing them as well, just pass
them on when you’re....” The look Vicky shot him caused Fred to
quickly rethink his statement. “Then again, I have other copies of
all the documents right over here.”

Fred began his explanation. “As you know,
your grandmother, Victoria Willet had an older brother, Alexander.
Alexander was heir to the property known commonly as The Willet
Farm. According to their parent’s will, should Alexander predecease
Victoria, she would become sole heir. We all understood this to be
the case. That is until Mr. Van Winkle entered the picture.
Apparently, Alexander, while in the armed forces was married before
leaving for the Pacific theater. Later his wife, Betsy, had a son
named Theodore, born in September, 1944. At Alexander’s death, the
inheritance would have passed from Alexander Willet to his wife,
and subsequently to Theodore. Here’s where the connection to the
Van Winkles comes into it. Young Theodore Willet was adopted by
Betsy’s second husband, George Van Winkle, when they married in
1947 and took the name Theodore Van Winkle. Our Jonathan Van Winkle
is the natural son of Theodore Van Winkle. Your grandmother was
never the true heir. It puzzles me that my father gave your
grandmother title to the property when Alexander didn’t survive the
war. It wasn’t like my father to make an error like this.
Nevertheless, that’s their case in a nutshell.”