Antique Legacy: An Alicia Trent Mystery

Dedication

To my Mother, who taught me the wonder of books.

One

Iwoke up groggy and feeling like I had a fever. I hadn’t been sleeping well for the last few months. I knew why and knew that it was past time to confront the problem. Automatically checking my bedside clock, I remembered Barry was in Clifton, Arizona, appraising a collection, and I was supposed to be taking care of business at the store. It was already eight o’clock, and the door to Eclectic Treasures normally opened at nine. I crawled out of bed and stumbled to the shower, hoping it would help wake me up.

Like nearly every morning for the past several months, I stood under the spray of water and thought about the reason for my restless nights. Five months ago, Lawrence had kissed me. Even to me that didn’t sound like a big deal, but I knew it was. It was an even bigger deal that we still hadn’t spoken about the passion that had fueled the kiss. When Lawrence and I were together in a group setting, things seemed normal, as though our relationship were fine. When we were alone together, which we’d been making sure almost never happened, it was a different story. I was losing my best friend, and by my unwillingness to deal with the situation, I’d been letting it happen.

With Barry out of town, we’d arranged to do what we always did when one of us took an outside job—we’d asked Lawrence to work at the shop. We’d employed him some time ago for this very reason. So today, for the first time in five months, he and I were going to be spending an extended period of time together. I had resolved to settle things between us before we stupidly destroyed our friendship forever.

When the kiss had happened, I was on vacation with my boyfriend, Nick, at his dude ranch, the Desert Experience. Lawrence was seeing Laudine Ravenel, another very good friend of mine, and they were both at the ranch so we could all enjoy some time together. We were also dealing with a complicated situation because of a discovery we’d made on the ranch. Since that time, Lawrence and Laudine had decided against a romance but were still good friends. I wasn’t sure what was happening to my relationship with Nick, but things were rocky. A week ago, Nick had proposed to me, expecting an enthusiastic yes. Remembering how I’d felt during the kiss I’d shared with Lawrence, I hadn’t been able to give him an answer.

All this time, I’d avoided coming to terms with the situation, but thanks to the two gifts Mrs. Hall had left for me when I’d appraised her large collection of antiques for her son, Jed, after her death, I might be able to get some help figuring out what the future held.

Even though Mrs. Hall had left me my two items quite some time ago, I was still struggling with the concept of magic, but I was getting more comfortable with both the swirling bottle and the future clock. The time had come to use the tools available, because this was May first, and the most recent prediction from the future clock was May 18, 2014: you’ll have to make a big decision. There will be death—old death and new death. One will be more than you want to bear. Don’t forget your friends. The clock had never been wrong, and if it was right this time, I needed to have my life in order before I had to face whatever was coming on May eighteenth.

Now that I was no longer sidestepping my problems, I was eager to consult the swirling bottle. Finishing my shower and dressing for work quickly, I sat on the edge of the bed, reached over, and picked up the three bubbles of funny-looking glass that I called the swirling bottle. Its warmth and light blue swirls, which my touch almost always brought forth, seemed soothing. This was a first. Always before, even though I had learned to trust the bottle, holding it had made me a little nervous.

I asked the obvious question first. Should I talk to Lawrence about the kiss?

The bottle filled with gray, yellow, and orange swirls. This was a combination I hadn’t seen before, and I wasn’t sure how to interpret it. I didn’t think I was going to get a verbal answer, but after a short pause, I did. Since the bottle had changed from responses written in the smoke to verbal answers, my heart always skipped a little when it spoke. This time, when I heard the disembodied voice, I wasn’t confused about what the unusual colors indicated anymore. The emotion was sadness. It said, One should always talk to their friends while they still can.

It was nearing the end of winter, and most of the country would consider the sunny seventy-one degrees outside spring. The house was perfectly warm. The temperature didn’t stop the words and their tone from giving me a chill that seemed to lodge in my bones. I wasn’t soothed now and didn’t want to ask my next question, but I had put it off too long already, so I asked, Will I have to choose between Nick and Lawrence?

I didn’t want to lose either of them from my life. I wasn’t reassured when the voice said, There are choices and choices. Sadly they sometimes aren’t ours to make. Sometimes there are no right choices, and the heart that breaks is the chooser’s.

This was getting worse and worse, but I had one last question to ask, and I was determined to finish. Is it wrong that I love one more than the other?

A little of the orange of agitation remained, but almost instantly most of the swirls turned angry black. Even the tone of voice reflected the change of mood. There was no sound of doubt when the voice said, Love is never wrong. Never!

My courage for asking questions was gone, but my decision to confront Lawrence and get an understanding once and for all about how he felt toward me was set in stone. I’d known for several weeks that none of the logical reasons mattered. I was in love with Lawrence. It was the reason I couldn’t commit to Nick. Oh, it was the reason for so many decisions I’d made lately. I didn’t care about the age difference. He was my best friend, my most trusted companion, and he stirred a passion in me that no one else ever had. I intended to tell him just that and then force him to admit how he felt about me.

I marched up to the door of Eclectic Treasures like a soldier going to war, gave the door a mighty shove, and almost broke my nose on the glass. The door was locked, and looking inside I could see the rooms were dark. Lawrence wasn’t here yet. I was impatient for our talk, but I could wait a little longer. Lawrence would show up—he was always reliable—and we had all day to talk.

I opened the shop, and between walk-in customers I did some paperwork I’d been putting off. By ten o’clock, I’d begun to wonder if Lawrence hadn’t shown up because he wanted to avoid being alone with me or if maybe I should be worried about him. By eleven I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I called the house he’d bought in Scottsdale to use when he came up from Casa Grande to visit or work. The man who worked for him and lived in the house full time to take care of things answered the phone. I’d talked to him a few times before and knew his name was Oliver Weld.

When I asked for Lawrence, he gave me a phone number and said that Lawrence had requested I call that number. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on. I called the number, and a voice I recognized answered the phone. Somehow I had reached Lawrence’s son, Jed. We knew each other well since it wasn’t that long ago I’d done an appraisal job for him. He was one of Lawrence’s two sons.

I said, Jed, hello. I’m not sure how I got through to you. I was looking for Lawrence, and Oliver gave me this number. I should have recognized it as yours, but I was distracted. Lawrence didn’t show up at the shop this morning, and I’m trying to track him down.

Jed said, Ali, I hate having to tell you—God, I don’t even know how to begin!

The chill I’d felt earlier settled in deeper, and I began to shake. I heard Jed take a deep breath before he continued. Lawrence showed up in Phoenix late last night. By the time he got to the house, he was barely coherent, but he handed me an envelope. The papers inside were entitled, ‘What to Do If I Get Sick Again.’ He had very specific instructions about what and how he wanted things handled if his bi-polar disease reappeared. When I took him to his doctor, Dr. Rose told me that, for some reason, the new medicine isn’t working anymore. Dad is completely back to not being able to relate to the world around him.

He was doing so well that I never expected anything like this to happen! Where is he? I need to see him right away! He’ll need his friends now.

Jed was quiet for so long I wondered if our connection had been broken. Finally he said, That’s the thing, Ali. His number one instruction on the list was that you were not to see him and could never know where he was unless he got better again. He was determined that you would never see him sick.

He can’t do that, can he? Of course I have to see him.

I was nearly yelling, and I knew I was getting hysterical. In spite of my panic, I was aware that Jed must be equally upset at what was happening to his father, but he sounded completely calm as he said, I am so awfully sorry. I know this is horrible for you. Dad valued your friendship so much, and believe it or not, he made a lot of these rules to protect you. He wanted you to remember him the way you two were together. He did all this through his lawyer weeks ago, and they tell me it’s legal. I don’t know if he had a premonition of what was coming, or if he was just preparing for the worst. He left a letter for you. I’ll put in the mail this afternoon, so you’ll probably have it tomorrow or the next day.

I knew I was on the verge of falling apart. I quickly said, I’m sorry you had to be the one to tell me, Jed, and I am so sorry you’ve had such a short time to get to know your dad. Call me now and then so I know how things are.

I didn’t wait for an answer. I did manage to hang up the phone just moments before I collapsed on the floor sobbing out loud and screaming inside. I don’t know how long I lay there, but eventually I ran out of sobs and let the waves of pain wash over me. Several times the phone rang, but I never considered answering. After what might have been minutes or days, the bell on the front door jangled. Barry’s wife Susan walked in, called my name, and then came through to the back looking for me.

I looked up at her from the floor and said, What do you want? I’m really not in the mood for company.

If she had tried to give me sympathy, I would have physically thrown her out, but she had sense enough to know I couldn’t handle that yet. Instead she said, Both Barry and Nick have been trying to call you. When Jed called to tell us about Lawrence, Barry asked me to come by and check on you. How about letting me help you to the car, and I’ll drive you home.

I didn’t resist. Home was the best place I could think of to hunker down and lick my wounds. Once we got to my house and I finally got her to leave I locked the door, and that was the last person I saw for several days. The next morning, Lawrence’s letter, forwarded by Jed, arrived.

I held it in my hands for hours before opening it, knowing it might be the last time I ever heard from him. Finally I tore open the envelope and read.

I hope you never read this letter, but off and on these last few weeks I have been feeling strange. In the past that’s always been a bad sign, so in case the worst happens, I wanted to write you this while I still could. I think you already know that I love you. I have known for some time now. I don’t know why life has such bad timing, but it doesn’t change the way I feel. I was so afraid when I kissed you that you would decide to end our friendship. You can’t imagine my joy when you responded with equal passion. Knowing and understanding you the way I do, I don’t believe you would have given in to those feelings unless they were real. I should never have waited so long to discuss these feelings with you. Now, because I may be facing another bout of illness, I can only tell you that I love you in a letter. If fate gives me the chance, I will tell you in person at the first opportunity. I hope with all my heart we have the time to follow wherever our feelings lead.

BUT, in case that doesn’t happen, there are some things you need to know. First the personal issues. You need to understand that if I relapse back to the way I was before, I won’t remember how I feel about you. I won’t be the person you know, and I might/probably won’t ever be again. I hate that you will remember what I won’t and that you will grieve, but you must not, I repeat, must not waste the rest of your life in pursuit of something impossible. Don’t follow in Bernice Hall’s footsteps. Move on, live your life, because I expect no less of you. If a relapse occurs, I’ve made all the necessary arrangements. First and foremost of those is that you will not be able to visit me. I am selfish, and want you to remember me the way you knew me. Don’t fight this. It is best for us both.

On a practical note, if anything happens to me, I have arranged for everything I have to be yours. My sons are both rich in their own right, and they are aware of and approve of this decision. I have already given them the things I wanted them to have. Should the time come, use my gifts to live a full, rich life. I love you.

Lawrence

His letter temporarily drove me deeper into depression, but I would treasure it forever.

The only trip I made outside the house was next door to the neighbors’. I only stayed long enough to ask them to keep my dog, Watson, for a time. As always they were delighted and didn’t question my reason for wanting to leave him. I felt bad about abandoning him again, but he knew something was wrong and wouldn’t leave my side. I had no reassurance to give him. During the following days, I made sure that every other day when I recognized Barry’s number on the caller ID to pick up and say, I’m all right, leave me alone. Then I’d slam the phone down and continue giving in to my misery, sorry for Lawrence and oh-so sorry for myself. Nick called almost every day, and I was sure one or more of my friends had warned him to give me some time before showing up on my doorstep. I didn’t answer most of his calls, but eventually I picked up when he called and told him I needed some time alone. I promised to call him soon, but I didn’t know if I was telling the truth or not. I only knew he wouldn’t wait much longer to visit unless I asked him not to. I went through all the phases of grief and ended up sad and wondering how the world could treat someone like Lawrence so poorly. I don’t know how long I would have isolated myself from the rest of the world, but after what I later learned was almost two weeks, Laudine showed up. She still had a key from when she’d stayed with me when she first came to Scottsdale. This was the first time I’d ever been sorry I hadn’t asked for it back. She didn’t waste any time. She walked through the door, came up next to where I lay on the couch, and said, "Go take a shower and get dressed. We are going out to eat, and I mean we, even if I have to drag you by the hair."

I knew her well enough to know she meant what she said. It was easier to do as she requested than try to fight her, so I went to the shower. On the ride to the restaurant, neither of us said a word. To keep from looking at Laudine, I glanced out the window and was roused out of my stupor long enough to become furious that the world was still here and Lawrence wasn’t. I wanted to hit someone and scream until my lungs burst, but I wasn’t quite crazy enough yet to hit Laudine, so I just sat and smoldered.

For this forced meal, she had chosen a small restaurant we’d visited before. She knew it was a favorite of mine, and she also knew that at two in the afternoon it would be empty enough so that if I made a scene, there wouldn’t be anyone around to notice. She could have saved all the thought she’d put into choosing a restaurant, because my anger was fading and hadn’t left enough energy behind for me to cause any trouble.

When the waitress came, Laudine waited patiently for me to order. When I didn’t, she ordered for me. She chose soup, salad, and half a turkey sandwich for each of us. I had no appetite even though I hadn’t eaten a real meal in days. The smell of the food when it arrived nearly caused me to faint. Since I’d heard the news about Lawrence, I hadn’t eaten anything I couldn’t grab off a shelf or out of the refrigerator. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even bothered with that. I ate everything the waitress brought, including the lemon meringue pie Laudine ordered for dessert. Along with that I drank three cups of coffee and several glasses of water.

When I’d finished the food, I said, Okay, you’ve proven I still know how to eat, so can I go home now?

"If it helps you to take your anger out on me, go ahead, but in the long run I don’t think it’s going to make you feel better. I know you think no one understands how you feel, but some of us do know how much you’re hurting. Let me tell you a story you may not have heard before. Back when Lawrence and