MAX SKINNER

Yes, it is an elegant Inn. Yes, the amenities are extravagant and definitely four star. Yes, I understand the reasoning behind offering a man such as myself a free weekend. But bloody hell, I am not a skier. There is absolutely no cosmopolitan city of interest within miles and face it, except for France, I’ve never been a man to take a leisure holiday. I’d only accepted Mr. Biebe’s generous offer to visit his Inn so that I could speak with Mr. Pullo regarding his nearby vineyard. Practicality, man. Practicality.

I’d managed to sidestep dining with Biebe the night I arrived, found an acceptable eatery in Stowe but except for breakfast, when the man is seldom around, I have been dining at his competitor’s dining rooms for dinner. I circular-filed his invitation to talk last evening in the pub … pity that, as the place is inviting enough. And I already have plans to skirt him until I visit Pullo again this afternoon.

Why does Biebe wish to speak with me so vehemently? Only one reason comes to mind. Money. The place is so beautiful and extravagant; he obviously is in need of investors. He will need to look elsewhere. Although I am sure a Vermont Inn rakes in revenue all winter, it is dead as a church mouse under my grandmum’s broom during the summer. I can see that without even looking around.

Four days into my free stay and I do admit feeling a thrill of success. I check out of the 1876 Manor at Mount Mansfield in forty eight hours … two more days of slipping through Mr. Biebe’s fingers and I’m home free.

JOHN

Riles was getting ready to take her morning jog, I should have already been off to check on Mitchell and the plumbing fiasco but there I was, still sitting around the apartment.

“Nathan Terrence,” Riley said and the kid jumped to his feet all excited. “Ready to go see Aunt Natalie?”

“AuntAllie! AuntAllie!” he jumped up and down and I opened the front door. Nat’s apartment is exactly across the hall, less than eight feet away and we always keep the child gate across the top of the stairs incase of roaming kids. Nathan toddled across on his fat little legs and knocked on the door, one continuous rumble of two fisted pounding. I laughed and turned to reach for my running shoes.

“Salvo, little one.” I heard Antony’s voice and poked my head out to see him climb over the extension gate. “Seems you have an escaped prisoner, John,” he smiled and Nathan, always a sweet kid, wrapped his arms around Antony’s thigh and squealed hello just as Natalie opened the door.

My son scurried inside; retrieving his big plastic truck that was sure to be the brunt of argument between him and the twins. Natalie grinned and waved before closing the door.

“Hey handsome,” Riles shuffled passed us for her run. “Damn, nothing like a good General in the morning. Later, guys,” she chuckled and was gone.

“Coffee,” I offered, hoping this wasn’t going to take long; I had a plan this morning.

“Ah … no, no. I wish to take a few days off, John.”

“Sure, when?” It was about time. Antony had never asked for time, the only span where we were without his security care was during his bout of chicken pox. I was figuring he’d ask for a week; maybe take Claudia away before the new construction really started.

“Today through Monday perhaps. Claudia is not well and I think I’ll care for her.”

“Claudia’s sick?”

“Not the pox! Thank the gods. She says it’s a summer cold, but I still would like time to sit with her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Why not?” But there was a why not. We have three guards on three shifts covering twenty-four hours. Doing double shifts wasn’t acceptable and against all of Terry’s advice, I never got around to setting up an agreement with a local security firm to bring in personnel for situations like this. I covered when Antony was sick … guess I’ll be covering now while Claudia has the sniffles. “No problem.”

“Actually, I have a suggestion,” he shifted from one foot to the other.

“Shoot.”

“I notice that Roberts has not left the Inn.”

“Yeah?” Oh, I knew where he was going and there’s a good reason this dude was a General.

“Well, I surmise he has not left because he is … fielding through the information about the Portals and needs time to swallow it all. I am also thinking that he may be starting to feel a bit … over-vacationed?” Antony grinned. “Give him something useful to do. He’ll have privacy and time to think.”

“That’s brilliant, buddy!”

“And …”

“And?”

“And, this will free you to deal with your Skinner dilemma. Rumor has it he has been spending time with Pullo at the vineyard.”

I dropped into a chair and tugged on my shoes. Maybe instead of running with Riley like I’d planned, I’d just take a jog over to Pullo’s place. “Is he there now?”

“No, not as I’m aware, but it had been confirmed by Pullo that Skinner will spend the afternoon at the vineyard. Good luck, John.”

And luck was sure as hell what I needed. That and a good run to clear my head. I knew Riley’s route and figured if I moved at a good pace, I’d catch up with her along the trails. We have several trails on the property, but she preferred the one circling the pond and skirting the tree line. As I jogged, my head didn’t seem to settle into the tempo. It was fucking racing miles ahead. Skinner was point blank avoiding me. Did he know I needed to talk and want nothing to do with me? With the importance of my message? Or was he just being his obnoxious self, moving like he always does and totally unaware that I have important shit to explain to him? The situation was driving me fucking crazy. Then … there were other things in my head, all racing at different speeds. Finally, I spied Riles and kicked it up a notch.

“Hey!” I shouted, catching her off guard and she jumped, stopped and held her chest, laughing.

“Are you nuts?” she gasped.

I took her hand, pulling her into the small, shaded alcove I always like to sneak her into when we run together. Yeah, doing that lowers our heart rate, but what I do after helps get it up a bit. I laughed and tugged her close, planting a deep kiss on her lips until she melted against my sweaty chest.

“You are nuts,” she sighed, “but in a good way. What did Antony want?”

“A few days off.”

“Oh,” she fingered my hair and pushed it from my face. “Guess you’ll be sitting in the security room all night, huh.”

“Nope. Gonna get Richie to do it. But … I hear Skinner’s going to be over with Pullo this afternoon. Gives me one more shot at talking to him.”

She left the alcove, me following and we walked slowly. “John, don’t make yourself crazy over Skinner. If he refuses to listen, it’s on him.”

“No. That’s not how it works, baby. The Portal was clear. No one can even think about going back or we might all be going back. I’ve got a responsibility to get the word out. Skinner’s the last hold out; I’ve talked to everyone else. Everyone. That prick is not giving me a minute to open my mouth!”

“Maybe it’s not your problem to make him hear. Maybe … maybe let Pullo or someone else tell him. You can’t possibly be expected to do it all, John. Sometimes you take on too much, you know.”

“Well, I’ve gone this far. If I can get Skinner to hear me out and understand the ramifications … we’re home free … until the next arrival. Hell, Riles, I don’t even know if he understands that he’s from a fucking movie yet.”

She shrugged. “Try again today. But if he still avoids you, I think you need to call in the troops.”

I snorted, trying to hide those strains of jealously always hiding in my voice. “Ain’t like I’m a General … Riles.”

She stopped and turned a glare that quickly altered into laughter. “You idiot. You are a General. You’re the leader of this family, you goof. I was talking about YOU this morning, you fool.” And she shot ahead.

Yeah, I felt like a stupid shit.

NATALIE

Siggie’s office looked just the same as before: certificates and diplomas mounted on the wall in non-descript black frames, tall oak shelves lined with books, a small desk in one corner, large windows with beige mini-blinds. It was a bright, comfortable space which I’m sure was designed to put his clients at ease. Well, as much at ease as you can be when confronting your innermost demons and attempting to slay them.

It had been some time since I was last here. Our last official session was just before my wedding last year. So at first, we exchanged the usual pleasantries, “Hi, howya doin?” That sort of thing. But Siggie was never one to waste time on small talk. He was much more like Jack’s Nelson, a ‘go straight at ‘em’ kinda guy.

“So, Nat, why are you here?” he asked, getting right to the point.

I gulped. Hemmed and hawed. Why was I here? After all this time and all I’ve been through, did I really think I couldn’t handle a husband and two little babies? Was I that weak and ineffectual? Hell, yeah!

Ever since I met Colin and joined the family so many years ago, never once was I truly alone. Even during those dark months after my break-up with Colin, there was always someone (usually John) watching my back. But, there’s no family in Maine. No one close by to gossip with, to laugh with, to call when the twins do something cute, to cry with. No one but Jack and while his shoulders are strong and wide, are they enough to carry the entire burden of a wife and two rambunctious babies?

I explained all this to Siggie in great detail. His response was actually rather callous.

“There’s always the phone; Maine is not that far away; you’ll make new friends there, establish a new support system.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I argued, “I know all that. But, it won’t be the same. And, it’ll take some time to make all these new friends.” I grinned, “I want it all now, dammit!”

Siggie chuckled. “Patience was never one of your virtues, was it? So, here’s the choice as I see it … you can move to Maine, start a new life with your husband and daughters … or you can stay here where you feel safe and protected.”

I shook my head. “Safe and protected? You make it sound like I’d be hiding.”

“It could be, depending on your reasons for staying. Tell me Nat, what’s so frightening about Maine? What are you really afraid of?”

Yep, that’s my Siggie, cutting straight to the chase. What was I afraid of? I took a deep breath. “Failure. What if I fail?”

“How could you fail?”

“Something could happen to the twins and it’d be my fault. Something could happen to Jack and I’d be responsible. What if our marriage can’t handle the strain? Whose fault would that be?”

Siggie’s eyebrows rose. “Whose fault would it be?”

“Mine. Always mine.”

“Always?”

“I’m the one that broke Colin’s heart. What if I fail again and break Jack’s? The family would never forgive me.” I paused a moment, then quietly added “I would never forgive me.”

“Have you ever forgiven yourself for Colin?”

I couldn’t answer.

“Don’t you think it’s about time? What happened with him wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t his fault. It was life, Nat. Sometimes, people just aren’t compatible even though they love each other. And honestly Nat,” he leaned forward in his chair, “until you’re able to understand this, you’ll always feel insecure and afraid.” He stood, “And now, unfortunately, our time’s up for this week. How about meeting again next Tuesday?”

I made the next appointment and went home in a daze. Where did all that stuff about Colin come from? Had I really forgiven everyone but me? Siggie was right; I had to sort this all out before it got out of hand.

EMILY

I didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence spoke for itself.

Sitting on my desk this morning was a folder that Kim had put together regarding the missing linens and various other items that have been disappearing around and from the Inn. Invoices from the laundry service carrier, copies of recent requisitions showing how many new bath and bed linens were ordered from our supplier, reports of items missing from the guest suites; nothing belonging to the guests, but a solid trail of smaller items, like candlesticks, tea sets, coffee makers … and then the printout form eBay showing these items for sale by an individual who listed her account name as House of Phyllis.

I felt a hole gnawing itself in my stomach, embarrassed that I hadn’t seen what Kim so clearly identified from the beginning. I had stood up for Phyllis when he voiced his suspicions about her, accusing him of being mean hearted. I was so certain that he was mistaken, but here it all was in black and white; our head of the housekeeping staff had been stealing the Inn blind and Kim was leaving me with the duty of firing her.

I’ve never fired anyone before, not even when I was managing the gift shop. My biggest issue back then was making sure we had enough coverage during peak season. I never had to question anyone’s honesty back then, really! The more I looked over all that Kim had put together, the angrier I became; I had really liked this woman! I thought she was just being grandmotherly and sincere when she behaved so friendly towards me, and here she’d been playing me for a fool all along. I picked up the phone and told Marla that I wanted to see Phyllis right away and asked her to have one of the girls in Housekeeping track her down and have her report to the office immediately.

I couldn’t sit still in the meantime. I was growing more agitated as I thought about all that had been stolen – that we knew of so far. I’m sure there were other things that had gone missing, and I wondered how long it had been going on. Phyllis had already been employed here at the Inn for some time before I arrived, and I cringed when I considered just how much she could have gotten away with.

I tried to imagine what Kim would do if he were in my shoes. I realized that he had busied himself somewhere else besides the office this morning, giving me the opportunity to handle the situation as I best saw fit, but I had no idea how to go about actually firing someone. Do I notify the Sheriff and file a report and press charges against Phyllis, or do I just tell her that her services would no longer be needed? Do I call Antony and have one of the security staff escort her off the premises?

There was a knock at the office door a few minutes later, and when Phyllis popped her head in, all smiling and cheerful, I swallowed hard and decided to get it over with.

KIM

Maybe I should have stayed and offered Emmy some moral support, but I really felt that this was something she needed to handle on her own. As much as I want to protect her, I have to remind myself that where business is concerned, she needs to wield her authority and make her own decisions. The housekeeping staff is her responsibility, and I don’t want to take that away from her.

I kept myself busy that morning by checking on the plumbing problems in the left tower and meeting with Chef Chris. Things are slow right now because it’s the off-season, and it gives me a chance to touch base with everyone and make sure things are in place when the fall and winter approaches. By the time I made my rounds and returned back to the office, two hours had passed. Plenty of time for Emmy to send Phyllis packing.

I found her sitting at her desk, her back to the door and staring out the window. Phyllis’ file was open in front of her, and there was a box sitting on the chair across from her desk holding what looked like several housekeeping uniforms. She turned around and smiled as I walked into the room.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” I smiled. “How’d it go?” I sat down across from her and waited for her answer.

“It was unpleasant, but she really couldn’t do or say anything in her defense. I mean, we had all this information on her. I still don’t understand what was going through her mind when she decided to do this kind of thing.”

“Greed, I reckon.” I’d seen more people bring themselves down using greed as their motivator. Hell, it had happened to me as well once upon a time.

“Yeah, and now I need to hire a new head of housekeeping. At least this is happening now, during the slow season. Gives me plenty of time to find a suitable replacement.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Talk to Clari and see if she’d be interested in receiving a promotion. I like her; she’s one of the most no nonsense employees I’ve met here at the Inn and I think she’d do well in the position. She’d certainly keep her staff in line.”

Emmy seemed to consider my request, her brow furrowed and nose twitching in that funny way it does when she’s concentrating.

“I’ll give her a call a little later this afternoon. But in the meantime, would you do me a favor?” She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and I would have given her the world at that moment.

“Of course.”

She got up from her chair and came over to stand in front of me. “I need a hug.”

I reached out and pulled her onto my lap. Hardly professional behavior, but one of the perks a bloke gets when he’s dating his PA. “You gonna be okay?” If I wasn’t careful, this could become a habit.

She kissed my cheek and nodded, wrapping her arms tight about my neck. But it only lasted a moment before she jumped up off my lap and reached for the phone.

“Hey, where you going?” I was just getting used to having my arms around her.

“I’m going to call the Sheriff and talk to him about pressing charges against Phyllis. I don’t think it’s right for her to have the chance to find work with one of the other Inns and start stealing from them as well. She has a taste for it now and I really don’t think she’ll stop. And it will set an example for any other employee who might be having the same ideas.”

I nodded in agreement. Looks like Emmy is coming into her own.

CORY

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it’s being so far away from Hollywood, but feeling like I was in a Hollywood movie. I’d been relentlessly following Wade around, trying my best to capture the high and not-so-high points of his campaign for sheriff when I suddenly realized it really was kinda like making a movie. Granted, I’m no reporter but I knew … I was telling a story that was unfolding right in front of my camera lens. A ‘from outlaw to sheriff’ Cinderella story.

My project didn’t have super high priority and I wasn’t commissioned to break news or anything like that. But I wanted this documentary to be good. Really good. Back in college I won awards for my documentaries. That’s what got me the coveted position with a sure-to-please television show. I’ve grown past chasing ghosts, now I was chasing something else. Ben Wade.

Following him was fascinating. He had a way about him. The teenage kids reacted pretty radically to him. One look from Wade and they’d tug their pants up from their hips, lower their heads and scurry off … the other way. People loved to stop and talk with him on the street. Most times, he was congenial, actually a damn good fake when you get right down to it. If they brought up an issue he wasn’t aware of, he’d do a fancy verbal sidestep and turn the charm on full throttle. Ben had charisma oozing out his pores! Could I have asked for a better subject? Nah.

But Daisy was right, I was getting under the man’s skin and besides, I had a life too, right? So every fifth day or so, I’d just back off, do something else. Today was one of my self appointed days off. I headed to town around noon with a plan I sorta lost track of. I was supposed to be looking for an apartment for me and Daisy. Staying at the Inn is great, but come winter the Biebe’s are gonna need the room. But on my way to the real estate office, I got side tracked.

No clue why I did it, but I did. I never look at antiques, never really cared much about them. To me, antiques are things people should’ve tossed out years ago but have some illusion that they’ll someday have some value. So why I stepped into the antique shop is a mystery to me. A mystery that started a bigger mystery than I ever expected.

What originally caught my eye was a mannequin in the window. It was a man wearing a white shirt, summer tweed jacket and a hat. Pure 1950’s, something my granddad wore ‘til the day he died. Even the hand painted tie was perfect. The shopkeeper was a good sport; let me try on the whole set up, including the brown leather wingtip shoes and brown slacks. If the stuff didn’t fit perfectly, I’d have probably laughed all the way out of the place … but it looked like it was made for me. The only thing wrong was my earrings. Other than that, I looked like Eliot Ness. Like Dragnet, My name’s Friday. I’m a cop. Like Bud White! Fuckin’ A, I looked damn good!

And … I bought it. All of it.

Strolling the street, I noticed that a lot of people didn’t think that much about it. I was just another man walking down Main wearing a grey fedora and smoking Marlboro’s. So what, I liked it. I got a cup of coffee at the café and paid the girl.

“Thanks, doll,” I grinned and winked and left. Fuck, when had I ever winked? This was weird … but it got even weirder. Walking past the courthouse I noticed one of the affluent Stowe attorneys, a scummy prick who had the look of a rat sniffing shit behind a dumpster. Frank Waters. I stepped close, pretended to be checking out the ever present stack of business cards in my wallet. All television producers, directors and distributors, some friends, some acquaintances, some just people I just wished I knew. Then I heard it, drifting over my shoulder like putrid mud. That shit bird was up to no good, I could smell it.

“It’ll all work out fine, Mickey. The Mayor retiring in nine short months. No more Sheriff Mike, this town all gaga over that idiot Wade. Once that man’s in office, we’ll have the whole enchilada. Just sit tight. I know these things,” and he grunted a laugh.

With him was the head of the county zoning commission, Mickey Slade. Man, I may have uncovered something big here … and me, without my camera. I hurried back to the Inn to make a few notes, but on the drive, I decided not to talk with Ben about it. Not just yet. This might give me two advantages … first, with time and diligence, I’d maybe have more to discuss with the new sheriff if and when he gets elected … and second, I just might get a chance to see what Ben Wade is really made of.

“What the hell are you made up for?” Daisy snorted when I walked into our suite. She had an hour before she needed to be down at the pub. My pretty Daisy was lounging on the sofa in a pair of short-shorts that made her ass look like Marilyn Monroe’s in Some Like it Hot. I tossed the hat aside and lowered to suck a kiss.

“Hey, doll.” My hand went right to the crotch of those soft white cotton shirts. No panties, am I a lucky fuck or what? I grinned, hauled her over my shoulder and carried her, squealing and kicking all the way to the bed. There she bounced down to the mattress while I loosened the tie, my eyes burning on hers.

“Oh my,” she sighed and that sound rippled right through me. We were off to the races.

JESSIE

Lachlan showed me the pictures of the Fuller house from the realtor’s internet site and he’d rambled on non-stop about nothing else for the past several days. His eyes lit up every time he mentioned the place and while his enthusiasm’s contagious, I really hope that he’s not going to end up being disappointed. If the owner is as eccentric and difficult as he and everyone else claims, we may be getting our hopes up for nothing. I was trying to be cautiously practical as I pointed this out to him, but I’m afraid his mind was already made up.

“The house may need a lot of work.” We were sitting on the bed, surrounded by real estate brochures and the morning paper. Kahlua lay in the center of it all, his tail twitching happily as Lachlan scratched his chin with the tip of his toe. “If the foundation is solid and the plumbing not too ancient, and provided there’s no termites or a lot of dry rot or moisture damage, I know we can handle whatever needs to be done. Mitchell’s already promised his services if we need him and Kevin said he’d be interested in taking on the job. He’s had his eye on this place ever since I can remember.”

“Has Kevin ever made an offer for the place?”

“Not officially, but he did try to talk Mrs. Fuller into letting him see the inside, but she wouldn’t have any of it.”

“Maybe she’s one of those hoarders; you know, you read about them all the time. The city gets called in to clear away garbage and discovers every room is piled to the ceiling with all kinds of junk; newspapers, trash, 300 feral cats …”

He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t believe that. It’s been sitting empty for the past five years, ever since Mrs. Fuller moved into her apartment in town. She’s an odd old bird for certain, but I’ll wager she’s got all her marbles about her.”

“Then why go to the bother of putting the house on the market, only to turn down every offer? Sounds more like she’s playing games.”  If this woman thought she was going to play games with Lachlan, then I may just have to give her a piece of my mind. I don’t care how old she was.

“Well, if she is, then I won’t be the first one she’s toyed with. There are other houses on the market here that I’m interested in, but this one’s worth haggling over. At least want to give it a go.”

“I just don’t want to see you disappointed.”

He scooted in behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist and shoulders, his body comforting and warm against my back. “I’ll be fine. But if I don’t at least try, we may never know either way.” He placed a noisy kiss on my ear before letting me go.

“Our appointment to see the house is at noon. Think you’re feeling well enough to make it?”

Morning sickness has been putting a real cramp in my style these past few days, but at this point I was curious and wanted to see the place for myself.

“I’ll pack crackers and ginger ale.”

Lachlan grinned. “That’s my girl.”

LACHLAN

I reckon you can say that I’m obsessed with the notion of owning the Fuller mansion. I’ve had my eye on the old place for a few years now; ever since I first visited here in Vermont.

Back then, I used to take long walks in the woods surrounding the Inn. It was one way to cope with all the stress and changes that my life had taken; going off by myself to think, enjoying the scenery, exploring the way I used to do as when I was a nipper. There’s so much history here and I think that’s what attracts me; especially now when I’ve had to question the validity of my own memories. Borrowing comfort from the things left over from the past is something a lot of us do; it gives us something familiar to hold onto while we try to face what fate’s placed before us. I think this old house represents all that to me and more.

Our realtor, Jackson Pringle, didn’t place a lot of faith in Mrs. Fuller accepting any offer we make for the house, but I think he’s hopeful all the same. Not just because he’ll get a nice commission out of it if she does agree to sell, but because I think he wants to see the house properly taken care of. Too many of the old homes in town have fallen into ruin. There are laws preventing developers from turning them into apartments or condos and with the market the way it is, most folks who are able to afford a home go for something more modern and closer to town. The old houses just end up abandoned and deteriorating from lack of care.

The afternoon was sunny and warm; perfect for house hunting. As I turned the car down Nightingale Lane I saw the roofline of the house loom into view; glancing over and pointing this out to Jessie, her eyes lit up and a smile beamed across her face as we pulled closer.

“Wow.”

Wow indeed.

“The pictures you showed me sure don’t do this place justice. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality and I reached across the seat for her hand. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?”

We parked the car at the entrance to the long driveway, where Jackson was already waiting for us. His thinning hair stuck up around his head like a halo as he waved and made his way over to greet us.

“We’re in luck. Mrs. Fuller is here and she’s actually agreed to meet with you.” He reached to shake my hand and looked over at Jessie. “How’s the morning sickness?”

She smiled and held up her baggie full of crackers. “I’m armed and ready.”

“Good to hear. Let’s go around to the front porch; she’s up there waiting for us.”

Jessie glanced over at me and I winked as I took her hand in mine. “Sounds like we’re off to a good start, reckon?”

As we approached the front of the house it seemed to loom up before us, almost as if it was taking a deep breath and standing up tall to greet us.

“You know, this place kind of reminds me of the house in that old horror movie … Burnt Offerings.”  Jessiewinked as she caught my eye. “Remember, with Bette Davis and Oliver Reed? It was this big beautiful old house and the family who bought it had to agree to take care of the mysterious old lady who lived up in the attic bedroom?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jackson grinned. “A production crew from one of the big Hollywood studios was scouting the area for a location to film the sequel a few years back, but Mrs. Fuller had the sheriff run them off. I promise you though, there’s nothing ominous or spooky about this house, despite what some of the kids say.”

As we climbed up the steps to the porch a gravelly voice called out. “Mr. Pringle, I’ll thank you not to go about spreading tales.”

We stopped in our tracks and Jackson blushed from embarrassment. “I was just reassuring your prospective buyers that the house was sound.”

Perched atop an ancient gray wicker settee was Mrs. Fuller. Even though she was barely five feet tall, she had a formidable presence in this setting, as if she were a queen greeting her court. She was dressed all in black from her high-top old fashioned boots to her taffeta dress to the little pill box hat that sat atop her head. I couldn’t help but wonder how old she really was.

“Thank you for allowing us to see your beautiful home, Mrs. Fuller.” I thought I’d make the first move, since Jackson seemed to shrivel in her presence. I went over to where she sat and held out my hand. She looked at it for a moment and then brought her eyes to meet mine; gray as a stormy sky but sparkling nonetheless. She may have been the eccentric town mourner, but there was intelligence behind those eyes. “My name is Lachlan Curry and this is my fiancé, Jessie Dalton.”

She made a harrumphing sound, but placed her small hand inside mine. Her skin was cool and creepy, her fingers twisted from arthritis. I was careful not to press her hand too tightly.

 “Tell me young man; why should I allow you to buy my family home?”

A fair enough question. Jessie and Jackson kept their distance near the porch stairs as I considered my answer. Actually, it was rather easy. I knelt down so we were at eye level and told her the truth.

“I’m about to become a father for the first time and I hope to have a few more children after this one is born, I’d like a nice big old house to raise them all in.”

I thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitch just a little, but it lasted for just the briefest of moments.

“Why this house, Mr. Curry? There’s plenty of other old houses in the area that would meet your needs.”

“Because I fell in love with this house from the moment I first came across it five years ago. I always thought that it looked a bit lonely; it seems to cry out for a family of children and cats and dogs to bring it all back to life. I imagine that there used to be a good number of parties held out on the lawn; I can see a game of croquet, hide and seek and tag, and there were probably a few weddings as well out there in the garden.”

“There were. My husband had six brothers and two sisters and five of them, ourselves included, were married out there where there used to be a gazebo. We had vegetables growing off towards the back there; tomatoes, green beans, snap peas, carrots; wild onions still grow off that way and when the breeze is right, you can smell ‘em.”

“I love the smell of wild onions.”

She gave another harrumph, but this time I didn’t imagine it; her lip did twitch, like she was trying to keep from smiling. “You’ll probably want to remodel the inside of the house into some sort of modern monstrosity and paint the outside some un-Godly color, like red or purple.”

I shook my head. “I don’t take to the notion of folks stripping a house of all its history and character. If any work needs to be done to the inside, I want to keep everything as close to original as possible. As to the color, I think white becomes this old girl. But what do you think about forest green shutters and trim along the windows?”

Finally, a smile. “How did you know that when my husband’s father originally built this house that it had forest green shutters?”

“I didn’t. But I always imagined that it might have, once upon a time.”

She cocked her head and seemed to consider me closely and then her eyes darted off over my shoulder and focused on Jessie. “And is this your wife?”

“She will be very shortly.”

She raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes as she turned her gaze back toward me. “Putting the cart before the horse, are you?”

Her intent was clear, and I hoped that our being pregnant before the wedding wouldn’t inspire her to change her mind. “All the more reason to want the perfect home to raise a family.”

“How many kids do you think you’ll have?”

I leaned in so Jessie and Jackson couldn’t overhear. “Well, Jessie’s agreed to three, but I’m going to try and convince her to go for four.” I gave Mrs. Fuller a knowing wink and she actually laughed.

“And I have no doubt that you’ll succeed, young man. Do you know, you remind me a bit of my late husband; he loved children and wanted a big family, but the good Lord only blessed us with one; a son. Phillip Walter Fuller, Jr. We lost him during the Viet Nam war.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be; it was a long time ago.”

A moment of awkward silence passed between us.

“I guess I’d better let you see the inside then, that is if you’re still interested.” It was her turn to wink. “Mr. Pringle, don’t just stand there; do your job and show this nice couple around.”

Jackson looked as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. “Um, certainly, Mrs. Fuller. Right away.”

She waved him off as he came over to thank her. “Don’t be silly. Just do what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She then turned her attention to Jessie and waved for her to come closer. “You and your young man make a lovely couple, my dear. You want a word of unsolicited advice?”

Jess grinned and nodded as she slipped her arm through mine.

“Think about letting Lachlan have his way and consider having four children.”

I wasn’t sure how Jess would take to such a personal remark, but she only nodded her head and smiled. “We’ll see.”

The afternoon was a complete success. The inside of the house wasn’t full of junk or 300 cats, and while there would be some work that needed to be done to a couple of the chimneys and some of the woodwork would need repairing and refinishing, it was something that we could handle. And, the kitchen counters were just the right height.

The Fuller mansion is about to become the Curry residence.

PULLO

“It’s a viable proposition, Pullo,” Skinner said as he walked the rows of vines beside me.

We’d been talking for days, reviewing the analysis of my soil and the placement of vines. His advice and counsel was invaluable and I felt good about the vineyard for the first time since leaving Maximus and his winery in Sonoma. I nodded my head and Skinner kept talking. He was trying to explain a concept in his head and I was listening hard to understand.

“Look, mate. That property there,” he pointed over the horizon, “isn’t for sale right now, but for the right price, I can get it. For the right price, one can purchase anything.”

“We’ll be … neighbors?” I glared. Vulcan’s dick! I asked this man for guidance and now he intends to swallow me up with his larger, more well informed and productive vineyard … butted right at my back door?

“No, mate. Not at all. Look,” he stopped, loosened his tie and ran a hand down his chin. “I’m proposing a partnership. That area I’ll buy is fresh … this land,” he pointed to our feet, “needs rest. We’ll pull together our resources. Pullo, I’ve done my homework on you … you are a formidable and creative vintner. I am a brilliant businessman. We can start with the new soil … in a few years re-cultivate this soil and voila! The largest, most successful vineyard in Vermont, New Hampshire and Upstate New York! It’s a virtual win/win.”

He grinned wide and I was beginning to imagine I could trust him. “What about your Canadian vineyard?”

“I’d sell it in a heartbeat. It’s not that the place isn’t profitable, not that by a long shot. It’s … well … rather uncomfortable in the winter,” he grinned.

“Gets bloody uncomfortable here in the winter too.”

“The longitude alone makes Vermont far more … palatable. Pullo,” he said excitedly, “I have varietals, vines you can go mad with, create any color and flavor wine your heart desires. Paired with your fine grapes … once cultivated on richer soil of course … the sky’s the limit, my man. We will rock the market … oh bloody hell …”

I turned to see John Biebe walking toward us.

“Bugger! What the bloody hell does that wanker want?”

“That’s John –”

“Yes, yes I know. The owner of that fancy Inn where I’m staying … granted on his dime … but the man is relentless.” He took my arm, expecting me to turn my back on John and walk away with him. “Sure as the sun comes up, that bloke is looking for money. Probably overextended and desperate for investors. Come, let’s move on.”

I didn’t move anywhere. “John isn’t in need of investors, Skinner. In fact, he’s got a massive expansion scheduled; construction begins in a few weeks. The Inn is book solid … with the addition … for the next two ski seasons. It isn’t money he wants, mate.”

Skinner blinked, looking at me like I was a traitor. “Then what the bloody hell does he want?”

“Hear him out, just … hear him out.” I waved as John neared. “You really need to hear the man out.”

Skinner glared. I shrugged.

“You don’t hear him out, I have no basis to trust you, Skinner. You want to be my partner … you need to hear what he has to say.”

Skinner cleared his throat, looked toward the property he wanted to purchase then sighed. “Fair enough,” and he reached out his hand as John came closer. “Name’s Max Skinner, Mr. Biebe. You have a beautiful Inn, I must say. Now,” his eyes sparkled and he shot a glance my way. “What can I do for you?”

RICHIE ROBERTS

Well one thing I will say; this is one cool setup. The head of security couldn’t cover his shift for a few days and Biebe asked me if I’d mind. What am I gonna say? No? The guy sets me up like a fucking king in a top notch suite for a week or as long as I want. Not like I don’t owe him something, right?

Then again, even though I’m supposed to be on vacation, I got a lot to be thinking about. That stuff he told me is all fucked up in my head. It’s almost too complex to believe, but this sure ain’t the first time I thought that. Ever since I opened my eyes in a whole new life, I’ve been fighting confusion. At least this Portal shit kinda makes sense … in a bad acid trip sorta way. I gotta laugh though, at first Biebe had no clue that I knew I was from a movie. Hell, the day I arrived, there was nothing but mammoth billboards everywhere for American Gangster. What the hell kinda title is that, anyway?

Two days into it, I get an envelope dropped into my hands. I was staying at a fucking Super 8 in Jersey. Freaked me out that someone knew I was there. See, I went to see the movie. I tracked down that other Richie Roberts. Didn’t talk to him though. I already knew some fucker by the name of Crowe played me in the film so there was no point in getting myself locked up as a stalker or worse yet, a nut case. Luckily, I had cash in my pocket. Enough for a few nights at the motel and an occasional burger and fries.

In the envelope was a note from a man named Dino O’Leary, wishing me luck and telling me I could practice law anywhere I wanted. There was cash in a bank account for me … a lot of cash … and it made me suspicious. I went to the offices of Thorne & O’Leary and asked the secretary if O’Leary was around. He wasn’t. I lived off the money for months until I got a case then started to replenish what I used. I’m not one to take stolen money, man. And I was pretty damn sure it was stolen money. Maybe even drug money.

Then I get the invitation to come, all expenses paid, to the Inn here in Vermont. The pieces are falling together and Biebe says that the money, all of it, is mine. Something the family (as he calls it) had set aside to help me get started. Interesting. Real interesting.

I sat in the security observation room covering for Mr. Antony from four PM ‘til midnight and pondered everything I now know. Somewhere around eleven-thirty, I realized that my head was going somewhere else. My original idea was to finish out the promised few days working security, then head back to Jersey. Now, I had a funny new idea.