Chapter Ten
The last time Mollie visited Oliver Cameron’s home had been over six years ago.
She was still in college and had gone with her great-aunt to a Chinese-Mexican fusion dinner of stir-fried veggies and fish tacos—a feast prepared by Mrs. Hernandez, the live-in housekeeper.
Though the house occupied a vast amount of square footage, the interior felt cozy.
Warm in the winter and pleasantly cool on a June morning like this.
The style could best be described as country modern with plenty of windows, high ceilings and hardwood floors.
Mrs. Hernandez greeted Mollie at the door with a big hug.
Like the house, she hadn’t changed much.
Still wore her long gray hair in braids wrapped around her head.
As always, she dressed in jeans and a cotton blouse with a lightweight sweater and a lucky moonstone pendant.
When she looked into Mollie’s eyes, a tear dribbled down her weathered cheek.
“I miss your auntie,” she said. “I always hoped she and Mr. Oliver would get married.”
“Me, too,” Mollie said.
“What about you?” She swabbed the tear with a hankie. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Erin popped up beside her. “I think she’s crushing on Spence.”
“Stop,” Mollie said. “I only met him yesterday.”
“And that’s what we call love at first sight.” Erin gave an emphatic fist pump that was immediately copied by her four-year-old daughter, who repeated her mother’s phrase.
Mrs. Hernandez squeezed Mollie’s hand. “I approve. We’ll talk later.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Mrs. Hernandez herded them to a dining room with a tin ceiling and a contemporary farmhouse table with ten chairs.
Bethany sat in the right chair nearest the end.
Oliver stood at the head and gestured for them to approach.
“Welcome, ladies. I wish we were meeting under more joyful circumstances. It would have given Irma great pleasure to see the three of you together again.”
Erin and Amy gave him a hug and a kiss. Then it was Mollie’s turn.
She wrapped her arms around the distinguished white-haired gentleman.
His build reminded her of Spence. Long and lean, but Oliver had a comfortable potbelly, showing his appreciation for Mrs. Hernandez’s good cooking.
From what she’d seen of shirtless Spence last night, he had defined abs as chiseled as the tin ceiling overhead.
Oliver’s striped shirt and button-front cashmere cardigan smelled like cedar. His hug felt safe.
She kissed the prickly stubble on his cheek. “I missed you.”
He peered into her eyes with a deep, probing expression that, again, reminded her of his grandson. “Your great-aunt Irma and I talked about you often and shared good memories of you and Madison chasing each other through the forest. Together you were half of the Four-Leaf Clovers.”
“Faith, hope, love and luck,” Bethany said as she always did, pointing out the significance. To Amy, she added, “That’s what the four leaves stand for.”
“But there’s only three of you,” Amy said.
“There’s four,” Mollie said firmly. “Madison just isn’t here right now.”
Bethany’s full lips pinched together. No doubt she was thinking that they should give the child the facts. But Erin nodded emphatically at Mollie and backed up her vague reference, pointing out to her daughter that she’d seen Madison in photographs.
Mrs. Hernandez gestured to the buffet arrayed on the side table opposite the tall windows. “Help yourselves to coffee, tea, cocoa, lemonade and ice water. There are also bagels and croissants. If you’re hungrier, come into the kitchen and I can whip up a chicken salad sandwich.”
After already eating breakfast and downing two cups of coffee, Mollie was too full to contemplate more food or caffeine.
Instead, she opted for a sugar rush from the home-squeezed lemonade.
While she filled her glass and added ice cubes, Spence came up behind her.
Though she didn’t turn her head and look at him, she sensed his presence.
Leaning so close that his breath tickled her ear, he whispered, “We need to talk. Now.”
“As soon as we’re done here.”
“I have new information.”
She heard the edge in his voice and turned to face him. Whatever he’d heard must be urgent. She’d never seen him so rattled. Not when running from gunmen in Denver or dodging a sniper’s bullets in Oregon. “What is it?” she whispered.
Before he could reply, his grandpa joined them. Oliver placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Though he smiled, his words held the weight of unquestioned authority. Nobody defied the patriarch of the Cameron family.
“Sorry, Spence, but I have to ask you to leave,” Oliver said as he hooked Mollie’s arm through his. “You can wait in the hallway. I’ll be done with Mollie and the others in less than half an hour.”
Spence didn’t argue or complain. Breaking eye contact with her, he obediently strode toward the closed door of the dining room.
She glared at his back and yanked her arm away from Oliver’s grasp.
Who did these guys think they were? When she was younger, she would have gone along with what they said, but Mollie wasn’t that docile girl anymore.
She’d grown into a woman who could live under threat and survive.
Something bad had happened, and she wouldn’t be able to sit still until she knew what was going on.
She dashed after Spence. Was it something about her twin? Or WITSEC? Or her father? She stepped in front of him, blocking the door. In a low, intense voice, she demanded an answer. “Is it my father? Has something happened to him?”
“Not that, Mollie. Your dad hasn’t called.”
Dad’s rules were simple: He contacted them. Not the other way around. Mollie wasn’t in the mood to play games or exchange secret passwords right now. “Tell me the new information. Who did you talk to?”
“Agent Jamison.”
Hadn’t they just decided not to contact him? Apparently, Spence changed his mind without consulting her. “What did he tell you?”
“The local police have already reviewed the surveillance footage from the airport.”
His grandpa interrupted. “Spence, I need to have this meeting. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” he acquiesced. “May I ask a question?”
“Only one,” Oliver said.
“Does this meeting of the three primary beneficiaries satisfy the requirements of Irma Winchell’s will?”
The older man raised his thick eyebrows and pursed his lips.
Then he gave a quick nod, appearing somewhat pleased that his grandson had made a cogent legal point.
Oliver cleared his throat. “I hadn’t considered that particular issue, but I’d have to say yes.
This meeting covers the stipulation that Mollie must be physically present when she learns of her inheritance. ”
“To be clear,” Spence pressed, “she is free to go after this meeting? She will still receive her bequest in full?”
“Indeed, she will.”
With an air of finality, Spence said, “It might be necessary for her to make an immediate departure from Cloverdell.”
She stood between the two generations of Cameron men who stared at each other in a test of wills. They seemed to have forgotten she was there. She spoke up. “Whether I stay or go is my decision, gentlemen.”
“Of course,” Grandpa said.
“What do you want to do?” Spence asked.
“First, I want to hear what Oliver has to say.”
Though eager to hear Spence’s news, she needed to start calling the shots, to take control of her life.
She pivoted and marched back to the dining room table, where she took her place opposite Bethany, Erin and Amy.
The empty chair beside her should have been occupied by Madison.
Maybe someday it would be. Maybe today after her meeting at the clubhouse.
The last twenty-four hours had changed everything.
Initially, she hadn’t wanted to come to Oregon with Spence, but now she truly wanted to stay.
She realized how very much she’d missed the moist air and lush greenery of the place she called home.
Being on the run, looking over her shoulder and expecting an ambush—that was no way to live.
As she gazed across the table at Bethany and Erin, her fears lifted. Like Bethany said: Four-Leaf Clovers stood for faith, hope, love and luck. Together, they could withstand any storm. “I’ve missed you two so much.”
“What about me?” Amy piped up.
“Most of all, I missed you.”
Bethany frowned, causing parallel creases between her perfectly shaped black eyebrows. “Perhaps it’s better to tell Amy the truth. Stick to facts.”
“Nope.” Mollie shook her head. “We have our whole lives to ponder the facts. A bit of fantasy now and then can’t hurt.”
“You used to be more serious,” Bethany said.
“Maybe I’m channeling Madison.”
Erin threw in her opinion. “I’m all for that.”
Oliver Cameron took his place at the head of the table. A stack of documents was arrayed in front of him. He peeled off a single sheet of paper for each of them. “Oregon Rules of Evidence state that I need your consent to record our meeting. Sign these papers and return them to me.”
Mollie scanned the tabletop. “I don’t see any recording equipment.”
“Over there.” Bethany pointed to the antique English pine breakfront behind Oliver’s back. “Second shelf from the top, there’s a camera and microphone aimed at the table.”
“Whoa,” Erin protested. “You haven’t already been recording us, have you?”
“Not without your permission,” Oliver said. “That’s why I need for you ladies to sign these papers and give verbal consent, as well. I use these recording devices often when I work from home.”
“This isn’t his first rodeo,” Bethany said.
Obviously, the business-oriented Bethany had more dealings with Oliver Cameron than either Mollie or Erin. She’d always been the responsible Clover, the sort of person who planned ahead and maintained intelligent focus.
Mollie signed the document and studied the older gentleman whom she’d grown up with and considered to be a sort of grandfatherly figure.
In spite of his familiar grin and his cozy-looking cardigan, Oliver was all business as he gave the time, date, location and names of those present for the recording.
“In her will,” he said, “Irma Winchell requested this meeting prior to the formal reading of the many bequests to friends, employees, family and charities. You three cousins are the primary beneficiaries, and she wanted you to have a chance to discuss terms with me, her executor, without complications from others. Feel free to stop me at any time for clarification.”
Bethany spoke for all three. “We understand.”
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll start with Erin because her inheritance is the easiest to explain.
In broad terms, Erin Eckhart receives sole ownership of Cloverdell Orchards, including the two-hundred-acre hazelnut orchard as well as the processing operation and adjacent farm with livestock, farmhouse and outbuildings. ”
Erin’s jaw dropped. “All of it?”
“As we used to say in my day,” Oliver said, “the whole kit and kaboodle. Since you already live in the house. That’s no surprise.
As soon as we can implement the transition, you will be CEO of operations.
You’ve been part of the hazelnut orchard all your life.
Therefore, you are uniquely trained and prepared for this position. ”
“But I never expected to own it.” Erin shot a glance toward Bethany. Then toward Mollie. “Are you guys okay with this?”
“Absolutely,” Bethany said. “As you know, I’ve been acting as chief financial officer for the past three years, paying all the bills and your salary. You’ve done an excellent job. Aunt Irma agreed. If you want me to stay on, I will. But I’d be happy to shift those responsibilities to someone else.”
Oliver held up his hand, signaling a stop. “Until all the paperwork clears probate, the current arrangements will continue unabated.”
“Except I’m the boss.” Erin rose to her feet, planted her fists on her hips and tilted her head back. “I’m a doggoned hazelnut heiress. Yowie. Hot dog.”
Mollie saw more mature expressions than “hot dog” flickering behind Erin’s proclamation and figured that her cousin kept the language clean to discourage Amy from mimicking. She offered, “Congrats, Erin.”
Her curly-haired cousin raised her coffee cup, took a sip and announced, “I need champagne.”
“When we’re finished with this meeting.” Oliver changed his focus to her. “Mollie, it’s your turn.”
She straightened her posture. Somehow, her lemonade had gotten to her place at the table. When she picked it up, the ice cubes clinked against the glass. “Ready when you are.”
Oliver flipped open a folder that lay beside his stack of documents and removed a sheet of lined notebook paper. He held up a pencil sketch of Irma Winchell. “Your great-aunt appreciated your artistic talent.”
Though touched that Irma had bothered to keep a casual sketch, Mollie couldn’t accept the praise. “It’s a hobby.”
“Understood,” Oliver said. “Irma also appreciated your devotion to your studies before you disappeared into WITSEC. In keeping with your dreams, she is leaving you the Rainy Day Art Gallery in Salem, including all the current works on display and on consignment, and the Gargoyle Building it occupies.”
Though Mollie had heard that money can’t buy you love or make dreams come true, this outrageous generosity came close. For a magical moment, she allowed herself to believe this could happen. The owner and proprietor of an art gallery. Was it possible?
Needless to say, she hadn’t been there for the five years she’d been in WITSEC. Three years before that, she’d helped Irma set up the operation, including the wildly successful one-woman show by Selma Firebird. “Is it still located in the Gargoyle Building in the Salem Historical District?”
Oliver sorted through his stacks of papers and pulled out a copy of a deed.
“You would also be the owner of the four-story stone building with a full apartment on the second floor. As with the hazelnut orchard, the gallery and the building maintenance would continue as currently handled until otherwise designated by probate court.”
She’d need to visit as soon as possible. Was the apartment available? Who were the artists? At one time, she and Irma talked about opening an art school in one of the adjoining spaces.
Wait! She slammed on the brakes. Her plans and questions came to a screeching halt. She and her father had been in hiding. The threat to her continued. “I’m not sure I can do this. I’ve been hiding in the shadows for five years. It might be dangerous to step into the light.”
“The actual reading of the will is scheduled for Thursday,” Oliver said. “You have until then to decide.”
When she launched herself to her feet, she felt lightheaded. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me.”
Forcing herself to stay upright, she stalked to the door. Talking to Spence was necessary. Might as well get all the bad news over with in one swoop.