Necessary Evil (19 page)

I wrapped my arms
around my waist, suddenly very tired. “Yeah, maybe. But you have to remember,
others have tried to crack this letter and failed. I’ve got fields and trails
pockmarked with abandoned attempts to prove it. Now, doesn’t
that
make
you
think that if there ever was a treasure, maybe someone already found
it? Someone like Avery Chase who was living in the same house as Alexander, and
no doubt would have known about his hobbies?”

It was a good
point, better than my average on a late night like this.

Randall frowned
and drew back, taking the letter with him.

“You know what I
like best about you, Warwick?” he asked, deftly folding the letter.

“No.” I leaned
forward. “Enlighten me.”

“Your boundless sense
of optimism,” he said, annoyed. “Good night.”

Saturday came soon
enough. After my early morning run, I had two lessons simultaneously – both
little girls around the same age. It went smoothly enough, until one of the mothers
asked me about getting a refund for the summer camp.

“Elizabeth can’t
make it?” I stammered.

Elizabeth’s mother
looked surprised.

“I just assumed
that with Lindsay gone, it was cancelled,” she said, running a hand through her
red hair. It glowed like polished copper in the early morning sunlight, and I
found myself wishing that I had time to go to the hairdresser before tonight’s
date.

“Oh no, we’re
going ahead with the camps,” I assured her. “We’ve got a new stable hand,
Jacob, a new lesson plan, and I’m really excited about having a more active
role in the camps.” I paused to help her daughter cinch the saddle, then turned
back to the mother with an expression of helpful innocence. “Of course, I’d be
happy to refund your fees anyway, but the other girls would really
miss
Elizabeth. So would I.”

She seemed
doubtful, but said that, of course, Elizabeth would come. She was sorry that
Lindsay wouldn’t be there, but she wouldn’t want to disappoint her friends. I
agreed, sending up a prayer of gratitude for the narrow escape.

I entered the
house hot, hungry, and wondering where my new stable hand actually was. Aunt
Susanna had arranged his schedule for me, a schedule that had him starting at
8:30 on Saturdays. It was nine a.m. and he was still absent.

“
Kids
,” I
muttered, as I kicked off my boots at the door.

Randall stuck his
head around the doorway. “Did you say something?” he asked.

“Just talking to
myself. Have you seen Jacob?”

“He’s in the
study,” he replied. He was making himself a cup of tea, with the hot water in
one hand and a pint of milk in the other, looking for all the world like a
proper English butler. “Something hot to drink?”

“Not unless it’s
coffee,” I said. “What’s Jacob doing in the study? He’s supposed to be helping
me in the stables today.”

“He came in
looking for you, but I, also, had a list and I knew you were with a client, so
I grabbed him and put him to work.” He put down the milk and began to
rhythmically dunk his tea bag. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I do, as it
happens. We’ve got a truckload of work today and I want to get it done early as
possible,” I snapped, grabbing a mug and a granola bar from the cabinet.
“Besides, I thought he was hired as a farmhand, not a research assistant.”

“Bit of both,
actually. The boy needs help with his history, and I promised him that if he
would condescend to helping out with farm chores, he would, also, have access
to one of the finest minds in American History.” He said this with a
self-satisfied grin, his attention remaining on his mug.

I grunted. “Well,
when David McCullough shows up, be sure to get his autograph for me. I loved
the miniseries.”

It took a second,
but when the jibe sunk in, Randall lifted his head and exclaimed, “Hey!”

I waved it off,
and decided that Jacob’s time wasn’t worth fighting a war over. “Seriously,
when can I have him?”

“If it means I’ll
get my tour sooner, anytime you want,” he said.

I’d almost
forgotten about the promised property tour. I checked my watch while quickly
considering my schedule, and nodded rapidly. “All right, all right. Give me a
half hour with Jacob and I’ll take you around the place.”

His face lit up.
“Excellent!” he said. “I’ll gather my maps!”

“Professor!” I
called after him, as he hurried with his mug to the office. “How do you want to
go? Afoot or horseback?”

He made a face.
“Very funny,” he said.

I took Jacob out
into the barn, where we sorted and put away the supplies that were dropped off
Friday night. Several riders were around the stables, taking advantage of the
bright morning, and they were very pleased to be introduced to Jacob. He grew
more effusively polite as he realized that most of our clients were pretty
young girls. It would be difficult to keep his mind on shoveling manure and
cleaning stalls, but perhaps his presence would inspire my volunteers to keep a
more rigorous schedule.

Aunt Susanna was
in the kitchen when I came back to collect Randall. Despite the warmth of the
day, she was wearing a long sleeve shirt and long pants, and she looked white
and tired.

“Feeling all
right?” I asked. When she nodded, I continued: “I’m taking Randall on a walking
tour. Want to come? It’s a nice day.”

“I think I’ll stay
inside,” she said quietly.

Randall came out
of the office then, carrying a notebook, some folded pages, and his tablet.

“Where do we
start?” I asked.

“Let’s walk around
the perimeter,” he said. “I understand that it hasn’t changed much since the
eighteen-sixties.”

“Oh, it hasn’t,”
Aunt Susanna said. “Of course, there were more fields in those days. When the
family gave up farming, the trees grew back like weeds.”

“Not all of it is
very walkable,” I said. “You might want to change into boots or something.”

“I don’t own
boots,” he said.

I sighed and shook
my head. “Of course you don’t. After you, Professor.”

“Oh, Professor!”
Aunt Susanna stopped, blushing. When we turned to her, she continued, “I mean,
Gregory
,
will you be having lunch with us today?”

To my surprise,
the professor stiffened and looked as though he’d gone on his guard. “If it
isn’t too inconvenient,” he said, glancing towards me.

I shrugged. “Might
as well,” I said. “Are you cooking, Aunt Susanna?”

“I was in the mood
for grilled cheese,” she said evasively. “And while you’re out, shall I just
tidy up the office? Or maybe you need some filing or…”

“No,” Randall said
firmly, and we both did a double take. “I mean to say, thank you for your
offer,” he said, in a gentler tone. “But I’d appreciate it if you left
everything as it was for now. It’s untidy, but it suits me - and if you should
put anything away, it would set me back hours. So no, thank you.”

Aunt Susanna
looked more disappointed than upset, and she pushed him until he agreed - over
my protests of her physical limitations - that she could dust the room, if she
really wanted to. My warnings went unnoticed in her eagerness. She grabbed her
cane and began limping for the office while the professor opened the door and
ushered me out.

“What was
that
about?”
I demanded, as soon as the door swung shut behind us.

Trusty, who had
been following Jacob all day, spotted us and raced over, her tail a flurry of
happy motion. She ran up to me, then jumped up at Randall, who seemed to have
difficulty holding on to his maps while attending to her. Finally, he managed
to calm Trusty down enough to pet her and still hold on to his work.

“I’ve been meaning
to talk to you about your aunt,” he said, straightening up, and I immediately
went on the defensive. If he had
one word
of complaint…

“What?” I asked
warily.

He took his
glasses off and hung them from his collar, then rubbed his nose. “She’s a
lovely woman,” he said, and held up his hand when I opened my mouth. “A
genuinely lovely woman. She washes my socks. She makes me breakfast, lunch, the
occasional dinner. She puts flowers in my room. She arranged that the bathroom
should have my preferred brand of toilet paper…”

“Toilet paper!” I
couldn’t help exclaiming.

Again, the hand.

“She won’t play
loud music, and she won’t allow her friend to exercise in the living room
unless she’s cleared the noise level with me. She’s even given up her TV time
to let me have control of the TV at night, when I’m finished work,” he said,
his impatience mounting with each word while I stood completely confused. “In
short, she’s done everything in her power to be the perfect hostess.”

“And?” I
interrupted.

He rubbed his nose
again. “And, my dear Madeleine, she is driving me completely mental. She won’t
leave me alone! She asks me how I feel, if I’m hungry, if I’m too cold, too
hot, too tired, too bored. She wants to clean my room, help with my research,
maybe even clean my car if I’d let her. She’s around all the time, driving me
to distraction and keeping me from my work.”

“She’s friendly,”
I said.

“A bit too
friendly,” he growled. “I was looking for Yankee hospitality. Here’s your bed,
here’s your meal, leave me in peace. Instead, I’m under constant scrutiny and
investigation. Doesn’t she have anything to do during the day? Any friends, any
hobbies, a volunteer project, or
something
? I just can’t get my work
done with her constantly underfoot!”

I bristled. “Now,
look here…”

But we were
interrupted.

“Hello, Ms.
Warwick!”

Shannon Granger, a
bright sixteen-year-old with crazy curls and a blindingly pink polo, waved from
the hitching post in front of the stables. Her mount, the placid Sarah Anne,
barely twitched an ear at the sound, but the same could not be said for her
human companion. Shannon’s sister, the more bookish Erin, was holding Sarah
Anne’s bridle and burying her face in the horse’s flank.

As we looked,
Shannon waved even more eagerly. I was confused about her enthusiasm. Shannon
is an excitable girl by nature; but being Lindsay’s student, she had only a
passing acquaintance with me. I knew that I was viewed as distant and difficult
by most of the students, so I couldn’t explain her friendly overtures until
Shannon turned and poked her sister in the ribs. When Erin looked up, the older
girl pointed to us and giggled. Erin turned pink, but couldn’t help grinning in
return, and that’s when it hit me: they hadn’t seen Randall before and they’d
never seen me with a boyfriend. Being excitable, hormonal teenagers…

“Oh, for heaven’s
sake!”

I turned,
exasperated, and found Randall waving back.

“
What
are
you doing?” I hissed.

He looked at me
with exaggerated innocence. “Being friendly,” he said and waved again. A chorus
of giggles tripped through the summer air.

“Don’t encourage
them!” I said, pulling his hand down.

“That’s your job,
equestrian,” he said jovially. “Shall we mosey on over and say hi?”

I knew that would
do no good. Say what I might about Randall being here for research, the Granger
girls would think what they wanted and only the presence of a true boyfriend
would convince them otherwise. Quelling the rumors was yet another reason I
needed to invite Joe over for a ride when Randall was out. And, well, any
excuse to have him close by…

“Maddie?”

Randall waved his
hand in front of my eyes, frowning in confusion, and no wonder. One minute I
was ready to kill him for waving to a pair of students, the next I was standing
stock still, grinning like I was a teenager confronting my first serious crush.

I wiped the
idiotic grin off my face and shook my head.

“Forget it,” I
said, and stamped off the porch. My boots sounded like they meant business and
Trusty - who’d danced off to yap at the girls - came running back over to
follow me. “Come on, Pro-Vincent, let’s finish our walk.”

My voice echoed
off the stable wall and judging from the chorus of giggles, the girls heard
every word. They were sure to tell everyone they met riding today that the
stern Ms. Warwick was walking with her
boyfriend
in the woods; and if
they didn’t jokingly stress the word, “walking”, someone else would do it for
them. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind.

“It’s a lovely day
for a stroll,” Randall observed, a bit too cheerfully.

“What did you want
to see?” I asked.

“Everything.”

“Right.”

We cut across the
clearing, heading towards the trail. In the clearing, you can hear the rush of
roadway traffic, chattering voices, and whinnies from the busy paddock, but
behind the curtain of trees and struggling brush, everyday noises are hushed.
Grandfatherly old maples spread their thick roots, disturbing the tumble-down
rock walls that irregularly lined the trail. Tall pines, their tips so sharp as
to seem to slice the sky, reached toward the sun and sheltered the old road
under their gently green boughs, yet light gets through, enough to feed clumps
of weeds and flowers that struggle to live in the ancient wheel ruts and hard
packed dirt. Squirrels chittered, chasing each other around the tree trunks,
while birds took up the chorus that the tree frogs left off at morning light.
The Chase Farm was a busy place; but here, under the shadows, life fairly
pulsed within every square inch.

Despite recent
history on these trails, I always breathed easier here than anywhere else. I
used to hide here as a child, wandering up and down the rutted path, out of
sight - but never too far out of reach: hidden, yet close to the doings of the
farm. The woods had sheltered and comforted me as a child and there was a short
space of time where I might have believed in wood nymphs, had I known about
them then.