The engine of the battered, old Ford laboured as it made its way up the steep, rutted drive. Thick undergrowth on both sides blocked their view. Two red-headed men sat in the vehicle, silent as they made the last part of their journey. The younger one, at the wheel, wore a hopeful expression on his handsome face, in spite of the condition of the track.

They rounded the last curve and a large house came into view, neglected and forlorn. Paint peeled from every surface and the front stairs sagged. Around the once-grand mansion, wilderness was beginning to reclaim the land. The engine shuddered to a halt. For several long minutes no sounds broke the silence, other than those made by the birds, disturbed by their presence, and the ticking of the engine as it cooled.

“Is this it?” asked the younger man. “It’s not exactly what I was expecting.”

His father passed a tired hand over his eyes before replying, “It’s the right house, Jim. But this isn’t what I was expecting to see, either.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “I’m sorry.”

He wrenched open his door and eased his way out of the pickup. A brief rummage in the back produced his walking stick and he set off to take a closer look at his son’s inheritance. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was a far cry from the high hopes he had entertained when they set out this morning. As he pulled the door of their dingy apartment in Rochester closed for the last time, he had imagined a better life for the two of them in Sleepyside. That image seemed, right now, to be just another in a long string of broken dreams.

“Dad, wait!” called a voice behind him. Win turned to look at his only son, his only family left in the world. “Let me help you.”

With a ghost of a smile, he consented. In a moment, Jim had caught up to him and placed a steadying hand on his upper arm. Together, the two moved closer to make their inspection. Only half of Win’s mind was on the problem at hand. Try as he might, he could not push away the bundle of regrets which had haunted him for the last twelve years.

“Maybe it’s not so bad on the inside.” Jim’s voice broke into his dismal thoughts. “You wait here, Dad. I’ll take a look.”

Win watched as his son gingerly stepped onto the bottom stair. It creaked dangerously, but held firm. The second stair let out a loud cracking sound and Jim jumped back to the ground just as it split in two.

“Let’s try the back,” the twenty-year-old suggested, with a grin. “Maybe, if I can make the place fall down, it’ll save on demolition costs.”

Their assault from the rear yielded far better results. Jim found the right key and the door opened with a loud creak. A musty smell filled Win’s nostrils. Dust motes swirled in the light that spilled in through the open door, but further inside disappeared into the gloom. Jim flicked the light switch next to the door, to no effect.

“Power’s been switched off for years,” Win noted. He tapped his walking stick on the floor a couple of times. “Seems okay.”

He stepped over the threshold, biting back a gasp of dismay as he saw further into the house. The last time he had been here, the house had been beautiful: elegantly decorated and immaculately clean. Now, chaos ruled. Rubbish lay strewn across the filthy floors. Cobwebs hung from walls and ceiling. A mouse skittered across the floor.

“The land’s worth some money, right?” Jim asked, and Win heard the note of worry in his voice.

“It is.” He took two more steps and the floor-boards creaked and groaned. “But I’d hoped that the house would add to the value, not detract from it.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jim suggested, as they passed into the dining room, whose every surface had been buried in junk. “If we got all these bottles and cans and newspapers out…” He sneezed. “We can’t stay here, can we? What are we going to do?”

Win thought, with longing, of the days when he’d been able-bodied and he and Jim could have enjoyed camping on the land. The plan they had set out on this morning had been to live in the house while they readied it for sale, then to buy something more suited to their needs in Sleepyside or one of the nearby towns. He had to report to his new job in the morning and right now his wallet held about five dollars. Jim had given up a good, if rather unchallenging, job with the hope of finally starting college. They could not afford this setback.

“We’ll take a look at the other buildings first,” he decided, without much hope. “Maybe the barn or the summerhouse will be habitable for a night or two.”

“I’ll do that, Dad,” said Jim. “You don’t want to get too tired.”

Sighing with resignation, Win accepted his fate.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Sunshine filtered into the old barn through cracks and crevices, as well as the half-opened door. The summerhouse, if it still existed, had been impossible to find among the wilderness that had grown up around the house. The barn was in pretty poor condition, but it would keep out most of the rain, if needed, and shelter them from the early morning sun.

Win stretched and looked around. The makeshift beds that Jim had made for them last night, by laying an ancient tarpaulin on the dirt floor and covering it with sheets, had been rather uncomfortable. Jim’s bed was empty. The faint smell of smoke in the air led Win to hope that breakfast was under way.

Ten minutes later, he found his son tending a cooking fire in a clearing. A small amount of water was almost at a boil and food sizzled in the pan. To one side of the clearing, a fallen log provided a handy seat and a nearby tree offered some shade.

“Morning,” he called as he approached. “That smells good.”

“Oh, hi, Dad.” Jim set out two old mugs, dumped a quantity of instant coffee powder in the bottom of each, and set two plates next to them. “It’s all almost done. Go and sit down. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

“Thanks,” Win replied, doing as he was told and taking the opportunity to prepare his medications. “Any idea what the time is?”

Jim checked his watch. “Just about six o’clock. I thought we’d eat early, while it’s cooler. I’ve found a few things to set up a shower near the well. There’s plenty of water, and it’s clean enough – if you don’t mind frogs and newts – but it’s pretty cold.”

Win only nodded. A moment later, Jim handed him a steaming cup of black coffee and a plate of food – eggs, tomato, some kind of fried processed meat and bread fried in the fat – along with a mismatched set of cutlery. The two ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“I’ll drop you at work, when you’re ready,” Jim told him, when his plate was almost empty. “I’ll need to run some errands, pick up a few things.”

“Don’t spend too much money,” Win warned, thinking with dread of the long wait until pay day.

Until Jim found another job, his wage was all there was to live on. There had been some money, as part of the inheritance, but Jim had insisted upon using a large proportion of it to discharge his father’s debts. Most of the rest he intended to use to pay for his college education, with a tiny amount left to ready the house for sale.

“Dad, I’ll be fine. I can look after myself.”

“I know,” his father agreed. “I’m sorry I got us into this.”

“I’m not,” Jim answered with a grin. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

The setting sun glinted on the Hudson as the old Ford wended its way home. Win felt satisfied with his day’s work. The new job he had secured in nearby Pleasantville looked even better than he had imagined. The position much better suited his qualifications and experience than the old one had and his co-workers and working environment seemed more than satisfactory.

Jim whistled softly as he drove, a sure sign that he was in a good mood. For a moment, Win considered the potential reasons for this, before deciding that the best way to find out would be to ask.

“How was your day, Jim?”

“Fine,” he replied, sounding a little surprised. “I found a builder who could come out straight away and take a look at the place. He thinks the house is in good enough condition to salvage. He’s sending me a quote for some of the repairs. I met the neighbours. They seem nice. I bought us some supplies; I’m going to borrow some others.”

“Borrow?”

“From the Beldens, who live down in the hollow. Camp beds, pots and pans, that sort of thing. They offered, I accepted.” There was a smile in his voice as he continued, “You told me not to spend too much money.”

They took the turn into the driveway and fell into silence as the vehicle struggled up the steep slope. Emerging at the top, Win found that they had some visitors, two young women. The first was scrambling to her feet, blonde curls tumbling in confusion and shorts smudged with dirt. The second had obviously remained standing, as her clothes appeared neat and clean. Over beside the house lay an untidy heap of what looked like camping gear.

Win let out a quiet groan and said, “Please don’t tell me you’ve been picking up girls already?”

“Dad,” Jim ground out, with customary reproof. “They’re our neighbours. One of them lives right next door and the other is from the house on the next hill. And I don’t ‘pick up girls.’ They just want to take a look inside. I told them we’d be back about now.”

Leaving the familiar argument for another time, Win eased himself out of the vehicle and started towards the two. The taller, slimmer girl stepped forward at once and began to introduce herself and her friend. Jim hovered somewhere behind Win’s shoulder, apparently anxious to get moving. As soon as greetings had been exchanged, Jim ushered the group towards the back door.

Even after the short time they had been there, a path was beginning to form. Win noticed that some of the vines and bushes had been torn away from the house since he left that morning. These small changes somehow made a big difference to the scene.

“Come in, everyone,” Jim offered, throwing open the door. “Mind your step,” he added to the taller girl, who had introduced herself as Honey. “It’s kind of messy in here.”

“You’re not kidding,” her friend commented. “I knew it would be dirty, after sitting empty all this time, but this is–” She waved her arms expressively. “It’s a lot worse than I thought it would be.”

The younger three wandered into the front part of the house and Win left them to their tour. When they had inspected the house the day before, the staircase had been boarded over. Jim’s curiosity must have been piqued, as some of the boards had now been removed. Win squeezed through the narrow opening and carefully made his way upstairs.

Memories washed over him in waves as he reached the top. There had been a time, shortly after his parents’ divorce, when he was very close to his aunt and uncle. He had spent a lot of time in this house, between terms at boarding school. Downstairs, the house bore little resemblance to the gracious, immaculate home he remembered. The upper floor was almost as dirty, and every bit as time-worn, but the furnishings remained in the same places as they once had been, unmarred by the piles of junk which dominated the lower level of the house.

For some time, he wandered from room to room, noting familiar spots as well as the damage done by years of neglect. Finally, he reached his aunt’s room. A few minutes’ inspection told him that his uncle had not touched this space since the day she died, eighteen years ago. On a small shelf under her bedside table lay three paperback novels by her favourite author, the uppermost with a bookmark protruding about a third of the way through. Win turned away from this personal reminder of his aunt’s character. He picked up a cameo from the dresser and examined it for a moment.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he knew that his son and company would join him soon. He set the cameo back where he found it and turned to leave this sad place. One of the girls was giggling. It jarred on Win’s nerves, clashing with his sombre, reflective mood.

“Oh! This is just so sad!” Honey’s voice became hushed, as the three entered the upper part of the house. “Did he just board it up and leave it like this when she died? It’s kind of romantic, in a twisted sense.”

“I always thought he was an old grouch,” the one called Trixie contradicted with a sniff. “He used to wear funny old clothes and he’d yell at my brothers and I, or our dog, if we came anywhere near here. Even when he was in the nursing home, we heard he used to tell the nurses to call us and warn us not to set foot on his land. If you ask me, that’s not even a little bit romantic.”

“But just look at this wardrobe,” Honey disagreed. “If these were his clothes, he must have been very well dressed in your aunt’s lifetime.”

“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “I never met him. At least, not that I remember.”

“I never saw him, either,” added Honey. “Trixie’s dad went to check on him a few days before we moved here and took him to the hospital.”

Win quietly slipped back down the stairs. He knew, of course, what had happened five years ago when his uncle had been found, sick and dehydrated, by Peter Belden. The old man’s anger at being confined to hospital, and later a nursing home, had not been lost on his nephew. Even from across the state, Win had been painfully aware that his uncle did not want to be forced to continue living. The old man would much rather have stayed in his own house and died there. The matter had increased the estrangement between him and his uncle, especially when the older man discovered that the reason Peter Belden had gone to see him was because Win had written and asked him to.

Deliberately setting the negative train of thought aside, Win made his way to the barn to see about something to eat. By the time Jim joined him, almost an hour later, he had built a small fire and was engaged in lazily stirring a pot of stew.

“I was going to do that.” Jim sounded more than a little put out.

“You were busy. It needed to be done.”

Jim’s frowning face and stiff shoulders clearly showed him to be unimpressed, but his father did not care. At times like these, it riled him to be treated like the child in this relationship. There were times when his son’s concern and assistance were a comfort, but the circumstance of simply preparing a meal was not one of them.

“So, how did you come across those two girls?” he asked, knowing it would annoy Jim.

“They saw me up here and came to find out who I was,” his son replied, on the defensive. “I didn’t do anything, except be neighbourly, and you can’t possibly object to that.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” Win answered mildly, giving the pot – and his son – another stir. “I just thought that you were getting on very well with them, and wondered how it started.”

“Dad!” The exasperation in Jim’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Nothing has ‘started.’ Nothing is happening – to answer your next question. And I didn’t set out to pick up girls!”

“I don’t remember saying anything about picking up girls.”

“It was the first thing you said when we got here,” Jim reminded him, his temper evidently getting out of hand. “It’s always the first thing you say, when you see me within half a mile of a member of the opposite sex.”

Win tapped the spoon against the side of the pot, before placing it carefully on a nearby plate. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow?”

The younger man let out a loud breath, his face displaying a mixture of annoyance and relief. “Cleaning up, mostly. We’re going to start sorting through all the junk downstairs.”

“We?”

Jim let out a mild curse. “Dad,” he warned. “Leave it alone. There’s nothing going on.”

“I never said there was,” Win replied to his son’s back as the latter stalked away, hopefully to make them some more comfortable beds. A thoughtful smile settled on his face. Life had not been so interesting for a long time.

The next morning, Win again awoke alone. This time, however, he could not smell any breakfast being prepared. He stretched and rose, then had a poke around to see where Jim might have gotten off to.

The sun was still low in the sky, so perhaps it was earlier than it had been the previous day. With an inward sigh, he promised himself that come payday, he would get a new battery in his watch. Pushing that thought aside, he strolled around to the other side of the house, where a gap in the bushes allowed a view of the house down in the hollow and, beyond that, glimpses of the mansion on the opposite hill.

Off to one side, a flash of movement caught his eye. As he watched, first a black horse, then a dapple grey and finally a bigger black horse cantered in and out of sight. And, if Win wasn’t greatly mistaken, the rider of the third horse was his own son.

He limped back and leaned against the house for a minute, seized by an uncomfortable mix of emotions. How long had it been since he’d been in the saddle? Since he’d had to say goodbye to Midnight? Since he gave up on the idea of ever riding again? He didn’t want to stand in Jim’s way, but he couldn’t help a stab of envy, with a side-order of self-pity and bitter regret.

“This is probably why he didn’t tell you,” he muttered to himself, while walking back to the barn.

He poked through their supplies, trying to figure out what Jim had planned for breakfast. Without refrigeration, their options were limited. He shook his head. How long would they be able to live this way? How long until his health, always a bit precarious, began to decline?

He picked out the most likely items and set off to prepare them. The water for the coffee had just reached the boil when Jim arrived in the clearing.

“Good ride?” Win asked, as he carefully poured the boiling water into two mugs.

Jim stopped short and a flash of guilt crossed his face. “Uh, yeah.”

“Whose horse was that? Reminded me a little of Midnight.”

His son nodded. “His name’s Jupiter. He belongs to Honey’s father.”

“And he’s okay with you riding him?”

Jim sat down and peered into his coffee cup. “Apparently, he’s mostly ridden by their groom. They’ve got five horses in the stables, so that Trixie and Honey, and Trixie’s older brother and another friend could ride together, but the other two aren’t around so much now and none of the four of them can handle Jupiter anyway. The groom, Regan, was more than happy to have someone else around who’s strong enough to handle him.”

“You haven’t been on a horse since you were ten,” Win could not help but point out. “That’s half your life.”

His son shrugged. “Regan had me try out one of the easier horses first. And when he was satisfied, he let me try Jupe in the fenced paddock. It wasn’t until I proved I could control him that I was allowed out.” He sighed. “It didn’t seem like half my life ago. It seemed almost like yesterday.”

A surge of longing washed over Win, a longing for the life they’d had and the things they’d lost. He kept his eyes on the food he was still tending, to avoid looking at Jim. Deciding it was cooked, he started serving it out.

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” Jim murmured, still not looking at Win. “I just…” He shook his head. “I’d missed it. And when Honey offered…”

“They’re not bad memories,” Win assured him, handing him his breakfast. “And I miss it, too. Selling Midnight was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

Jim nodded and began to eat.

“Go and enjoy it,” Win urged. “Don’t let my disability stop you from living your life the way you want to live it. And please don’t avoid things because you think they’ll upset me. I’m not made of glass.”

This time, Jim smiled. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Days passed and the two settled into their new environment. By the time the weekend arrived, Jim had made quite a comfortable home for them in the barn. The worst of the holes in the roof had been covered over and he had made some makeshift repairs to the door, giving them a little more security.

The house had received some attention as well. A skip had arrived and Jim was well on the way towards filling it, with the help of his two new friends. Slowly, the old familiar rooms were emerging from under their layers of junk and dirt.

Win finished drying the breakfast dishes and put everything away on the rough shelves that his son had made along one wall. From what he could hear, Jim was already hard at work in the house, accompanied by at least one female helper. He shook his head in disbelief. Despite his earlier teasing, Win really did not think that his son was the sort to pursue shallow relationships.

He closed the barn door and headed for the main house, with a view to helping with the clean-up. The back door opened easily, evidently having had some attention from Jim. Win followed the sounds of voices to the formal living room, where he found Jim and Trixie sorting through mountains of old newspapers, magazines and pamphlets.

“I still don’t see why we can’t just dump it,” he heard Jim mutter. “He had to tell them where he’d hidden the money when he went into the nursing home. I’m sure there’s nothing else here.”

“You saw the place,” his companion disagreed fervently. “There was all that stuff upstairs that he’d just locked away. He probably did the same down here. If you just throw it all away, you’ll never know what he might have hidden here.” At that moment, she gave the last newspaper in the pile a violent shake, sending up a cloud of dust and causing something which sounded metallic to bounce across the floor. She pounced on the object and held it up for him to see. “Like this!”

“An old key.” Jim was clearly unimpressed. “What use is that?”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “We won’t know until we find what it opens. Let’s try it!” She bounced up so quickly that she almost knocked Win over. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Frayne. I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, taking a step back. “No harm done. I was just coming to see what you were up to.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Trixie has me sorting through all this junk, looking for hidden treasure.” He waved a hand at her find, which she was still holding up triumphantly. “No luck, so far.”

In response, Trixie poked out her tongue and continued towards the door. “You’ll see, Jim Frayne,” she called after herself. “It’ll be worth our while, just you wait and see.”

Win watched in amusement as his son gave a shrug and followed the young woman away. The sound of their footsteps faded into the background. The newspaper which had held the key lay on the floor, right where Trixie had been standing. It had been neatly folded, though Trixie’s treatment had left it in disarray. With difficulty, Win bent down and retrieved it. His brow creased as he noted that it was dated twenty-one years ago – three years before his aunt’s tragic demise.

A quick check of the other newspapers confirmed that they all dated from the time since his aunt’s death, and before his uncle’s departure from the property. Most seemed to be between five and ten years old. Why, then, was this paper with them?

He carried the thick Sunday edition carefully to the kitchen and gently spread it on the kitchen table. The yellowed pages cracked at the seams as he examined them, but no clue presented itself. With a sigh, Win gave up and refolded the paper neatly. I’ll keep this, he decided. Maybe the key will give me a clue, if they ever find out what it’s for.

By the time the pair returned, disappointed, Win had carefully tucked the newspaper away among his own belongings in the barn and started on sorting through the study. So far, he had found nothing of any value, but a lot of things to throw out.

“What are you doing, Dad?” Jim asked, with a note of surprise in his voice.

“Helping with the clean-up. I thought that was the plan. Or have I missed something?”

“Well, no.” Jim looked at him in uncertainty. “Are you okay?”

Win frowned. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jim ignored the question. “Trixie and I are taking a break from the papers and we’re thinking of emptying out this room to clean it first.”

“There’s not much here worth saving,” he noted, nodding his agreement to the plan. “Do you want me to move? Or are you asking for help with lifting things?”

His son’s eyes widened in alarm. “No, Dad. We’ll be fine. Honey’s lent us some trolleys. We’re going to start with those barrels.”

“Are you throwing them out?” Win asked.

Jim shook his head. “Just their contents, I think. I was going to put them in the barn, if I can find a space.”

At that moment, Trixie wheeled a trolley inside and manoeuvred it over to the nearest barrel, which was filled with bottle tops. Win stood aside as Jim tilted the barrel into place and the pair moved it out, Jim pushing and Trixie holding it steady, to an accompaniment of tinkling sounds as some of the bottle tops spilled over the top.

Win moved into the space revealed, running his hand over the barrel behind that one. He’d counted twelve of them in the house and had to wonder just where they’d come from. Outside, Trixie whooped with glee and a crashing sound told him that the barrel had been emptied of its dubious load. He peered into this one, which only had a few odds and ends in the bottom. No clues here as to what it might have once held. As far as he could see, there were no markings on it. He took a quick sniff, but only smelled dust and mice.

“I’ll take that one next,” Jim told him, coming up behind him.

From outside, he could still hear the clink and tinkle of bottle tops being moved.

“Trixie’s still looking for hidden treasure,” Jim explained. “I’ve left her to it and I’m moving the rest of these. I think it will make a big difference when the windows are uncovered.”

“Take the one from there, first, then,” Win directed, pointing to the one which blocked the most light.

Jim’s strong arms heaved the barrel down from atop another and wriggled it onto the trolley. Daylight flooded into the room, highlighting the dust, but revealing details that had previously been hidden in the gloom.

“Empty,” Jim noted, with some relief, his focus only on the barrel. “I’ll just take this to the barn.”

Win nodded and let him go. A flash of memory of this room led him to examine one of the walls more closely. He ran a finger across the dusty surface until he found what he was looking for: a tiny hole which would have been invisible in the low light. Just one of the pictures had been removed. The rest hung, dust-covered and forlorn, from their accustomed spots.

“Now, why did he do that?” he wondered, thinking of his uncle. “Why that picture?”

He did not have an answer.

In the afternoon, the two young people went off for a swim in a lake which was apparently not too far away. Win had a vague recollection of swimming there once or twice as a teenager, but had the impression that it had technically been trespassing. He wasn’t sure what had changed in the time since.

With the house to himself, and tired of the study, he looked around for something to occupy his attention. Finding a chair, he carried it into the living room and began work on sorting through the papers there. It was dirty, dusty work and every last page was landing in the discard pile. His mind kept straying and he had to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Then, something outside caught his ears. To Win’s surprise, he could hear someone approaching the house with a firm and heavy tread. The visitor slowed as he – for a step that forceful should surely belong to a man – reached the front stairs. Apparently deciding against trying his luck on them, the man knocking loudly on the side of the house and called, “Hello? Anyone home?”

Win stepped into the hall, threw open the front door, which Jim had only just unstuck the day before, and stared at the newcomer. “Why, if it isn’t Matt Wheeler!” he cried, astonished. “What brings you here? I haven’t seen you in… oh, it must be at least twenty-two years.”

“My daughter told me she’d been visiting here and I was sure, from her description, that it must be you,” Matt explained. “I thought I’d drop by and see if I was right.”

“It’s very good to see you.” Win glanced over his shoulder. “I just wish I had some hospitality to offer you. We’re still in a bit of a mess.”

“I don’t need a thing,” Matt answered. “But if you’re willing to let me indulge my curiosity about this house…”

“Come around to the back door,” Win invited. “We’re still working on getting the place liveable at the moment and I’m afraid these stairs aren’t safe.”

“So, this must be your uncle and aunt’s place,” Matt mused, as his friend ushered him inside. “The ones you used to live with? They’ve both passed away, then?”

“That’s right.” Win gave a short nod. “Aunt Nell went eighteen years ago, Uncle James just a few months back. My son inherited the place and we thought we’d take a shot at doing the place up before he sells it.” He drew a breath between his teeth. “I can tell you, when we got here we thought we’d blown it.”

A frown crossed the other man’s face. “Your son inherited?” Quickly, he waved the question away. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” Win answered, as they walked together from room to room. “It’s all water under the bridge, now. It really must be more than twenty-two years since I’ve seen you – that’s how long ago Uncle James cut me out of his will.” He cringed slightly at the memory. “You could say we had something of a falling out. We never did really make it up.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew told him.

Win shook his head. “Doesn’t matter any more. I made my choices. The old man thought he knew better. In hindsight, maybe he was partly right, but it’s far too late to go back now.” Clapping his hands together, he changed the subject. “So, how have you been all these years? You’re looking well.”

“I’m doing very well for myself,” Matt admitted, with a grin. “Lovely wife, equally lovely daughter, nice country place here and an apartment in Manhattan; business is doing well, too. How have you been?”

The enquiry was well-meant, but Win did not feel the need to be completely open in his answer. “I’ve had my ups and downs. My wife Katie passed away about six years back, which was one of the hardest things to bear. But things are looking up, now, which is the important thing.”

“I’m sorry to hear about Katie,” Matt replied, his expression sad. “I had no idea. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

“In the end? I think she just gave up on living.” He sighed. “First, she had measles, of all things. She was working in a diner, to help make ends meet while I had some health issues. I had a couple of years where I wasn’t working a lot and the medical bills were piling up. We think she caught them at work. And it only got worse from there. It was one illness after another and that turned into organ failure and one winter morning she just faded away before my eyes.”

Matt shook his head in sympathy. “What a terrible waste. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”

Win shrugged. “It’s not the life I imagined for myself, but like I said before, things are looking up, now. I’ve got a new job, which suits me a lot better than my old one. Jim’s going to start at the community college. And he’s got work to do on this house, to keep him out of mischief.”

“He’s just graduated high school?” Matt asked, eyebrows rising. “I thought he might have been a little older than Honey.”

“He’s just turned twenty,” Win answered. “But until this inheritance came through… well, there wasn’t money to spare, so he had to wait. I’m not sure he minded all that much; it’s given him some time to think about what he wants to do with his life”

His old friend nodded. “I sometimes think we expect too much of teenagers. I didn’t have a life plan when I was eighteen.”

Win laughed. “And the plan I had was completely unrealistic. Do you remember when we first met?”

“I’m not likely to forget it. You called me a capitalist pig and a destroyer of the planet.”

“Nothing is as simple as you think it is when you’re eighteen,” Win commented. “I’m sorry, now, that I was so hard on you.”

“I’m not.” Matt laughed and pointed out the nearest window. “I own almost everything you can see out there, other than the Beldens’ holding, your son’s and one other little patch. And while I admit that it does get hunted on, it’s done in a strictly sustainable manner. I have you to thank for the fact that I even considered the idea of sustainability. You had a big impact on me, Win; bigger than you know.”

“And you had a big impact on me. I didn’t understand anything financial before I met you.” They had stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Do you want to see the upper level, too? It’s not so junk-filled as down here, but it’s just as dirty.”

“Lead the way.”

Win had noticed his old friend’s glances at him as he limped about, but his pride prevented him from making any explanation. Finally, just as they reached the top of the flight, Matt’s curiosity must have overcome him for he asked, “You carrying an injury?”

Reluctantly, Win nodded. “Lost a leg below the knee about ten years ago.”

Matt’s brow furrowed. “Below the knee? And you’re still limping, and this unsteady when you walk? You should see someone,” he asserted, “and I know just the man. Friend of mine from my riding squadron told me about him. I’ll get his name for you.”

His host reddened. “I can’t afford that at the moment.”

“Nonsense. I owe you a favour, if you don’t remember – matter of timely information that saved me a packet. I don’t know the exact amount, but I’d guess by now it’s added up to a few hundred thousand or more.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Win disagreed.

It was Matt’s turn to redden. “Yes, I do,” he said, quietly. “Maybe you didn’t make the connection at the time, but when you tipped me off that the girl I was seeing was cheating on me, you saved me from paying maintenance on a child that wasn’t mine. I was going to sell some particular shares to pay her. Because of you, I kept them – and they’re worth a whole lot more now than they were then; not to mention the ways that I’ve used them as leverage in the meantime. So, how about we agree that I owe you and forget about why, okay?”

Embarrassed, Win nodded.

“I’ll let you know the details, you can set up an appointment and I’ll get them to send me the bill, okay?”

“Thanks, Matt. I don’t know what to say.”

His friend patted him on the back. “You don’t need to say anything. Remember: I owe you.” Without preamble, he changed the subject. “You can probably do me a favour. I don’t suppose you’re wanting to buy a lot of furniture for this place when your son’s intending to sell. Can I interest you in some used furniture? Madeleine’s redecorating for about the twelfth time since we bought here and the attics are about to burst! There just isn’t that much of a market for used furniture around here and it often costs more than it’s worth to send it somewhere else.”

“I guess so,” Win replied, in surprise. “I hadn’t really thought about it too much, but I don’t think we do want to be buying furniture right now.”

Matt grinned. “I’ll have the estate manager look over what we’ve got that’s excess and she’ll send you a list.” He patted his old friend on the back. “I can see that renewing this friendship is going to have benefits for both of us.”

Win thanked him, but he couldn’t help thinking that the benefits seemed to be mostly on his side, at the moment. He would have to think of what he could do to change that.

Jim returned alone, just as Win was starting on dinner. The younger man’s face bore just a hint of annoyance at being too late to do it himself, but Win ignored it.

“How was the lake?” he asked.

“Refreshing,” Jim answered. “I feel cleaner than I have since we left Rochester. Maybe you should try it yourself. Honey’s Dad owns it and he doesn’t mind us using it. Honey told me so about six times.”

“I’ve just discovered that he’s an old friend of mine. He dropped by while you were out and I showed him around the house.”

Jim’s face showed his astonishment. “Where on earth did you meet him?”

“School.” He laughed. “After my parents split up, I got sent to boarding school. Matt’s room was right next to mine, even though we’re not quite the same age. Did we ever fight, those first few weeks! And then, suddenly, we were the best of friends.”

“He’s offered me a part-time job,” Jim admitted. “Assistant game-keeper.”

Win glanced over at him. “You’re taking him up on that offer?”

Jim nodded. “I have the necessary skills. It’s something I think I’d like to do. And it comes with several perks, like getting to ride Jupiter several times a week.” He hesitated. “And I’m negotiating some arrangements with him, to do with this land.”

“What sort of arrangements?”

“Nothing permanent, for the moment,” his son assured him. “Not until I make a final decision on what I’m doing with the place. But it’s going to be along the lines of neither of us worrying too much exactly where the boundaries are between my land and his.”

“Sounds reasonable.” He watched Jim for a moment. “What’s the catch?”

“I think he intends to buy it. But I don’t know what that means for my plan to fix up the house. I think he just wants the land and not the buildings.”

“The barn’s about ready to be demolished,” Win pointed out. “And I think the summerhouse already has been.”

Jim shrugged. “I’m not worried about them. It’s the house I’m thinking about. I’m starting to think I might like to keep it.”

“How are you going to afford that?” Win asked. “The upkeep alone is going to be a lot and the property taxes around here are astronomical.”

Jim sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Win laid a hand on his shoulder. “But if you really want it, there are ways to make it happen. I take it this means you’re glad we came to Sleepyside?”

His son nodded. “Yeah, I am. Things are looking up, now. And for the first time in years, I’ve got hope for a better future.”

Win smiled his agreement, because no words could express the hope that he, too, felt. After twelve years of wandering, they were home.

The End

---

Back to Janice’s Alternates Page.