Stuart Woods - Palindrome

"Let's get going, Aldred," Liz said. "The Jeep awaits us."

Hannah handed her a canvas bag. "Here's his swimsuit and towel and whatever else he wanted to take with him." Liz said her good-byes. "I'll have him back at the inn for supper," she said.

She hustled the boy out of the inn and into the Jeep. When they had cleared the dunes she stopped and pulled him into her lap. "Okay, Aldred, now you're the driver. Here's the gear stick."

"I know, I know, you put it in drive," the boy said, and she did it for him. "Now, I'll work the pedals, and you steer." They meandered down the beach, the boy squealing with delight.

"Faster, faster!" he said. Liz pressed the accelerator, and the Jeep moved down the wide beach at forty miles an hour, a delirious child at the wheel, and Liz ready to grab it if he strayed too far from the center.

Late in the afternoon, sunburned and sand encrusted, the two made their way on foot from the beach through the dunes toward Stafford Beach Cottage, Aldred running madly ahead. Where, Liz wondered, does he get the energy? She was exhausted, and he hardly seemed tired at all.

"Can I have a Coke?" Aldred called back to her. "Sure, run on ahead. The house is unlocked, and the Cokes are in the fridge." He sprinted down the last dune and up the steps to the deck. She paused at the top of the dune to catch her breath and watched as he ran through the living room toward the kitchen. Then he stopped. She wondered what could keep him from a cold soft drink. He stood in the door for a long moment, then he turned and walked slowly back through the living room and waited for her on the deck.

"What's wrong?" she called to him as she trudged up the steps. "Aren't you thirsty?" He looked confused.

"Liz," he said, "there's somebody in the kitchen." Now she understood his confusion. She took a deep breath. "Well, let's go and see who it is," she said, wondering how she was going to explain this to him. Hand in hand, they walked through the living room and stood in the kitchen door.

There was a half-empty bottle of beer on the kitchen table, but no one was there. Liz sighed. "Liz," the boy said, "I… I thought that was my dad, but it wasn't, was it?"

"No," she said, "it wasn't." She led him back into the living room. "Sit down for a minute," she said, "and I'll try and explain this to you. But we're going to have to keep it strictly between you and me, all right?"

"All right," he said, climbing onto the sofa beside her. And so she tried to explain to Aldred Drummond about his father and his uncle. The boy took it amazingly well, she thought. As the light was failing Liz heard a car stop outside the cottage. Gently, she moved the sleeping Aldred's head from her lap, tucked a cushion under it, and started for the door. She met Hamish Drummond there before he could knock. "Hi," he said. "I thought I'd come and take him back to the inn; save you the trip."

"Come on in," she whispered, pointing at Aldred. "He's all tuckered out."

"You haven't spent much time around kids, have you?" He laughed. "We'd have to try hard to wake him, now."

"In that case, can I offer you a drink?"

"Sure, thanks; got any bourbon?" She fixed them both one and they went out onto the deck. "I didn't hear your plane come in," she said. "I usually hear what comes and goes from the airstrip."

"I had some shopping to do on the mainland, so I took the Aldred Drummond back this afternoon." He sipped his drink. "You've settled in here very well," he said. "Looks like you've always lived here."

"I'm a nest builder," she said. "I could make a jail cell seem like home in fifteen minutes."

"That's a God-given talent; I could live in a suite at the Connaught Hotel for a year, and it would look like a jail cell." Liz remembered how Keir had made a home in the attic of Plum Orchard. Maybe there were some differences between the Drummond twins after all. "What's your situation here?" he asked.

"My situation?"

"Well, Eleanor Ferguson had a lifetime lease on this cottage, and, after what happened to Ray and Eleanor, I guess the lease has expired."

"Oh." That had never occurred to her.

"And I may be an unwelcome guest, you mean?"

He smiled. "I doubt it. Grandpapa seems to like you; if he'd wanted you out he'd have been around here huffing and puffing before Ray and Eleanor were in the ground."

"You think I should speak to him about it?"

"No, let it ride. He likes what you're doing here-the book." He grinned. "And apart from the book, well, he's behaving like a teenager about you."

"I'm flattered," she said, though she couldn't quite imagine Angus behaving like a teenager.

Hamish frowned. "If he should die suddenly, though-and God knows he could at any moment, at his age…"

"Who would I talk to then?"

"It could get sticky, if Grandpapa dies without a will."

"Sticky? Would you and Germaine want me out?"

"No, certainly not, please don't misunderstand. It's Jimmy Weathers."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"If Grandpapa dies intestate, Jimmy will be an their; he's a grandchild, just like Germaine and me."

"I've never understood about that; just whose son is Jimmy?"

"My father had a younger sister, who died some years ago. Jimmy is her son. The way old Alfred Drummond set up the estate originally, if the inheritor-that's Grandpapa, at the moment-dies intestate, his children inherit. If the children are dead, as in this case, then the estate is divided among the grandchildren. There are no guidelines as to how the estate would be divided, so Jimmy could make a great deal of trouble. He wants to develop the island, so naturally, he'd want the beach front property. Germaine wants the inn, and I want Plum Orchard, so I'm not sure we could keep the best of the beach out of Jimmy's hands. That would mean this cottage, of course; everything would have to be negotiated."

"Perhaps your grandfather will make a will and save you all a lot of grief."

Hamish shook his head. "I'd like to think that, but every time Germaine or I mention it, he gets angry. We've brought it up so often, that it would be just like him to neglect to do it, just to spite us."

Liz was tempted to mention Angus's new will, but again, she felt he would tell Hamish and Germaine when he wanted them to know. "He doesn't strike me as a spiteful man," she said.

"Willful, let's say. He never liked anyone to try to persuade him to do something."

"He loves you both, I think he'll do the right thing," she said.

"I think he will, too," Hamish said, "but I worry about it."

Liz said nothing more. The family's problems fascinated her, but she felt she should keep quiet.

"Well," he said, downing the remains of his drink, "I'd better get that boy home and get some supper into him." They went back into the living room, and Hamish picked up Aldred gently and laid his head on a shoulder.

Liz got Aldred's bag and walked them out to the car. "I've loved having him," she said.

"He's loved it, too." Hamish smiled. "I can tell by how unconscious he is."

"Can he come back again?"

"Well, he'll be off home soon; I'd like to spend what time he has left with him."

"Sure, I understand. When he wakes up, tell him I enjoyed myself as much as he did."

"I will. Thanks for the drink." Hamish laid the boy on the front seat, got into the car, and started it. "Don't worry about the cottage," he said. "If it comes up, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," she said. With a wave, he turned and drove toward Greyfield. Liz was back in the house before she remembered what Hamish had said: that if Angus Drummond's children were all dead, then the grandchildren would inherit. But Angus Drummond's children were not all dead. James Moses was alive.

Sergeant Lee Williams stood in the staff cafeteria at Piedmont Hospital and looked for Mary Alice Taylor. He found her alone at a table, eating what looked like a diet meal. "Hi, Mary Alice," he said, "Remember me? Lee Williams?"