Marked Masters (34 page)

"No doubt." Sophia raised an eyebrow and
turned piercing black eyes on Kate. "I had no idea you were going
to act so quickly, Mummy. I would prefer strangers not paw through
Father's things."

Amelia waved the comment away like an
irritating insect. "Daniel was an open book about his possessions
and loved to share them. I know he would welcome Kate to this
project."

Sophia folded her arms. "We need to discuss
this. There are a number of things I can't locate of Father's, and
I don't think having a stranger—"

"Nonsense. Missing items give more credence
for needing Kate's expertise. My decision has been made, Sophia."
Amelia's light blue eyes turned icy. "Which reminds me. I have
Charles Webster Walker coming later."

"Your lawyer?" Sophia uncrossed her arms.
"Why?"

"I'm making a few revisions to my will. With
Daniel gone it's the responsible thing to do. Your father and I
agreed on most things, but how we distributed our estate was always
a compromised affair. Now, of course, I can do things any way I
like." Amelia displayed a frightening smile that personified the
Grimm Brothers' "better to eat you with" line.

Kate shivered.

Bending to pick up the tray, Kate freed
herself, both physically and figuratively, from the scene by
saying, "I'll take these tea things into the kitchen. Or would you
like some, Sophia? The pot feels heavy enough for another cup."

"No, thank you."

"Well, it's nice meeting you." Kate nodded
as she passed the angry young woman on the way out the door.

"And you," Sophia returned, arms again
locked across her chest, her gaze trained on Amelia.

The large kitchen was the only clutter-free
area in the house, likely due to heroic efforts by Mrs. Baxter.
Kate was convinced the mansion had been purchased solely because it
was the only residence in town large enough to accommodate the
extensive Nethercutt collection. The place brought to mind an eBay
warehouse.

She dropped the tray a bit too heavily on
the tiled island, near a sleek crystal vase holding fragrant lily
of the valley blooms. Because the outside of the teapot still felt
warm, she used a small towel to cover it in case Amelia wanted
another fortifying cup after dealing with her evil stepchild. Two
steps to the sink, and she was soaping her fingernails one more
time. She knew all lingering dust and grime was probably gone,
but…

"Hi."

Startled, she jumped back and upset the tall
vase with an elbow. The clear glass rocked at the counter's edge,
and Kate, heart in her throat, grabbed the base, making the rescue
just milliseconds before a shattering disaster.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm
Danny."

The vase was safe, but Kate felt lingering
adrenaline still pumping. She snatched a towel from the countertop,
then swiped at her hands and took two deep breaths. Feeling calmer,
she turned and smiled at the teen who filled the back doorway. "Oh,
hello, I'm Kate McKenzie."

Danny looked about sixteen, at the gangly
stage where all the pizzas and junk food in the world couldn't
possibly fill out that final burst of height. He wore baggy jeans
and a flapping flannel shirt over a T-shirt imprinted with the
multi-washed logo of a local heavy metal band. He removed the lid
from a Hansel-and-Gretel styled cookie jar and added, "Saw the
Wicked Witch of the West go in the front door, so I slipped around
back."

"You mean—"

"My Aunt Sophia." Danny bit into a chocolate
chip cookie. He poked the rest of the cookie in his mouth and
lifted the jar, offering a muffled, "You want one?"

"No, thanks." Kate waved a hand over the
tray. "I had tea with your grandmother."

He made a face. "Did she give you the awful
stuff?"

"It was Lap—"

"Yeah, that's the awful stuff." He stuck out
his tongue. "She always drinks it too strong."

Kate couldn't resist. "There's a little more
in the pot if you'd like some."

They both laughed.

"Well, nice to meet you, Kate McKenzie." He
snatched three more cookies from the jar and clunked down the lid,
then nabbed a can of soda out of the refrigerator. "My dad and
uncle should be here soon. Gramma gave me her old roadster, an MG,
and Dad wants Uncle Thomas to check everything out before I drive
it." He flashed a dark look. "'Course, that wouldn't be necessary
if Gramma would buy me a new one." Then he flashed Kate a grin like
he was kidding all along.

Or being a smart-aleck
teen.
Obviously someone in the Nethercutt
family was trying to instill a little character in the lad. Despite
the grin, she noticed the humor never reached his cloudy green
eyes. Aloud, she asked, "Is Thomas your Aunt Sophia's
husband?"

Danny snorted.

"Sophia would never live with a man who
doesn't mind grease under his fingernails." Danny shook his head,
slipping the cola under an arm to free a hand for the doorknob.
"Besides, Auntie is into old geezers who die quickly. Has her
current husband locked away right now, drooling in his oatmeal and
telling his private nurse about his childhood during the Great War.
Uncle Thomas is Gramma's son. You should see us all together at
family holidays."

I think I'd rather not.

The door slammed shut, and Kate smiled,
wondering about this teen and his talkative nature, and she
couldn't help but suspect he was up to something. He demonstrated
none of the antisocial, sullen behavior other moms warned was in
the not-too-distant future for Kate with her own twins. However,
she didn't completely trust this first impression persona was the
dominant one for Amelia's grandson either.

Her twins! If Danny was
out of school, then her daughters Samantha and Suzanne had already
been dismissed as well. What kind of organizational expert didn't
keep track of the time? She should have checked her master list.
Kept up with the time. Too many things to remember, so much running
through her head. She took a deep breath and snapped the rubber
band on her left wrist.
Number five for
today.
Sanity restored, she inhaled one
more time.

The corner cuckoo clock set her in motion, and she
pulled the daily master list from her pocket. No stops on the way
home, just hurry to relieve her husband, Keith, from his
after-school parental responsibilities, get dinner on the table,
and send him off to his job on time. She scooped up her purse and
dashed through the swinging kitchen door, offering the women in the
parlor a hasty goodbye before streaking out the front, with Amelia
calling, "Hug those sweet darlings of yours for me."

Yet, even as she hustled to her blue van, Kate
relished for a moment the heightened view boasted from the Tudor
mansion's lofty setting, the tiny town below gaining a doll-like
quality. She saw the distant radio tower for local talk station
WHZE, where Keith was evening sports anchor. The station was small,
but the management's commitment to New England sports was rock
solid, and as a homegrown hockey hero, Keith was approached for the
job soon after the new format became public. The four McKenzies had
moved to his hometown of Hazelton, Vermont six months earlier, and
lived a few miles from his parents. The move had been a good one so
far. With Kate's parents deceased, she appreciated having a doting
set of grandparents nearby to help out, and the girls loved being
spoiled.

Keith had played B-string goalie ten seasons
with various major league hockey teams, eight while the couple was
married, before blowing out a knee and calling it quits. The timing
had definitely been right. All the moving and politics kept a
steady strain on their marriage. Before the move she only knew
Hazelton from sporadic Currier and Ives-like Christmas visits, but
loved its winding rural roads and the picturesque Main Street that
unfolded in open friendliness as travelers emerged from a
centuries-old covered bridge at the town's eastern boundary. Kate
also found being married to the returning prodigal citizen
automatically made her a local. Or close enough, anyway.

Unfortunately, sports-talkers in small New
England cities did not make what even moderately-successful hockey
players did. With the twins in school all day, Kate finally
persuaded Keith to take on more duties around the house and allow
her time to start a business. He'd balked at first, but she'd found
an advocate in her mother-in-law. Once Jane McKenzie stepped into
the discussion, her son didn't have a chance. When he'd looked to
his father, George, for moral support, the elder McKenzie just
shook his head and ducked out the back door with his pipe.

Kate smiled as she merged into traffic for
the short drive home. It's always said men marry their mothers. At
first, she'd felt a little uneasy about the idea, but no
longer.

A red Jeep parked at the head of their
cul-de-sac barred her from entering. The vehicle was Keith's, and
he had the neighborhood kids whooping and hollering as they used
the paved circle for an impromptu Rollerblading rink. Two teams,
players distinguished by the mismatched shirts they wore of either
blue or red, battled a hard rubber puck with street sticks toward
opposite goals. Kate's blond-curled daughters were the masked and
dueling goalies. She parked and took her place alongside other
parents watching their helmeted offspring, all clapping and
whistling over the triumphs and groaning for the mis-skates.

Meg Berman, hair fiery bright in the spring
sun and still wearing garden grubbies, waved Kate over and called,
"You just missed Sam dive for the puck. She saved the red
team."

Kate's daughter Samantha turned at the words
and waved at her mom. The puck flew Sam's way again, courtesy of
Jeremy Hendricks, daughter Suzanne's crush of the week, and this
time the hard plastic flew unhindered into the net.

"Blue team wins!" Half the kids cheered,
skating to form a middle line for the best-sportsmanship handshake
Keith always mandated.

Her husband took off his helmet, his wavy
brown hair tumbling free, and joined one end. "Congratulations,
blue team. Red team, nice effort on your part, too. Sam, we have to
work on that attention span, though. Don't forget."

"But, Daddy, Mommy is here."

Keith turned his hundred-watt smile Kate's
way. Even after almost nine years of marriage she felt the familiar
flutter in her heart.

"Hi, honey. We're about finished." He
reached out and grabbed a twin with each hand.

"That's fine. I'll go in and start dinner.
It's sloppy joes, so hurry." Kate pointed to her watch. "You don't
have much time."

The other kids and parents dispersed. Kate
walked with Meg. "Looks like you've been gardening." She motioned
toward her friend's gloves and the claw-like hand tool.

"The only way to stay optimistic that
something flowery will eventually come up is to keep acting like
Mother Nature is on-track." Meg sighed, slipping her hand under one
arm to remove a glove. "It's been too chilly this year, but I have
faith the pastels will pop out soon. More important, what's the
Nethercutt mansion like inside?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "You're not going to
believe it. Let me decompress for a bit, then I'll try to find
words to describe the place."

"Maybe I could come help you on the job and
see it for myself," Meg coaxed, wiggling thin brows in a hopeful
look that made her freckles dance.

"You can't imagine what you're volunteering
for."

Meg's two boys,
five-year-old Ben and eight-year-old Mark skated up, their wheels
making a sizzling sound across the asphalt, then silence and
synchronized
thunks
as they jumped in tandem to the sidewalk. Ben might have been
smaller, but was already a match for his big bro.

"Mom, can we go out for pizza?" Mark begged,
screeching to a stop just inches from Kate's toes.

"Please, Mom, since Dad's not gonna be home
tonight?" Ben backed him up, his head just grazing Mark's shoulder.
Meg's husband, Gil, a columnist for the Bennington paper, covered
state government and often had to stay in Montpelier.

Meg frowned, but Kate saw a tiny smile
fighting to break free. "How can I say no when you tag team me like
this?"

"You're welcome to come share sloppy joes
with us," Kate said, knowing how much the boys loved to talk hockey
with Keith.

"Can we?" they chorused.

When their mom nodded, Kate sent everyone
toward her house. "Just let me get the van in the garage."

Five minutes later it was controlled chaos
in the kitchen. The kids alternately relived successes and defeats,
filling Kate in on the action she'd missed while she browned
hamburger and laid out the other ingredients. She handed Suzanne a
stack of place mats, then frisbeed paper plates to the boys. "You
guys set the table together, okay? Get extra napkins, Sam."

Everything was simmering nicely, both food
and conversation, when the business line rang.

"Stacked in Your Favor. Kate McKenzie
speaking."

"Mrs. McKenzie," an acid voice responded.
"This is Sophia Nethercutt-White. We met today. You were working
for my stepmother."

"Yes." Kate noted how the woman's greeting
neatly put her into her place. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, no," Sophia said. "And my
stepmother no longer requires your services, either. The police are
here. Amelia Nethercutt is dead."

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