Keeping Victoria's Secret by Melinda Peters Page A

when a single woman shows up with pies,
cakes, and stuff it usually means she’s angling for something.”
    Turning to him on the porch, she said, “Yes
of course. I’m sure legions of women must beat a path to your door
bearing gifts.”
    Jack held up his hands. “I'm sorry. I was
totally out of line. Can we just call a truce? We’ll probably need
to be working together.”
    “I know you’re right,” she sighed. “There’s
no reason we can’t manage to be civil to one another.”
    “I’ve got a bad feeling about Van
Winkle.”
    She looked up in surprise. “He just drove by
a few minutes ago. He stopped on the other side of the road and
just stared for a while. I have to tell you, it sent shivers up my
spine. The guy creeps me out." She looked down at her mail sorting
through junk, bank statement, and… “What's this?” She stared at an
envelope and then frowning slowly opened it. Removing a single
sheet, she read it over and dropped it on the table as though it
were a poisonous snake. “Oh my God,” she said softly sinking down
into the chair.
    “What is it Victoria? Bad news?”
    Dazed, she shook her head. “It’s Van Winkle.
A letter from his lawyer.”
    Jack snatched up the letter and she made no
move to stop him. Quickly he read it, glaring at the page. When he
finished reading, he dropped it back onto the table by the
laptop.
    “Looks like they’ve started proceedings.
There’s a lot of ‘lawyer speak’, but the gist is they claim
Jonathan is rightful heir and owner. We need to talk to Fred
Douglas right away. You have his number?”
    Without a word, she dug her cell from a
pocket, scrolled through the address list, and punched the send
button when she reached Fred. She handed the phone to Jack.
    “Want me to talk to him?” he asked.
    She nodded, unable to speak. There was a knot
in her stomach.
    Jack’s conversation with Fred was brief. He
closed the phone and handed it back. “He wants to see the letter.
I’m on my way to town and I’ll take it straight to his office. Fred
says he’ll want to meet with you soon, but it’s not necessary right
now. Want to come along anyhow?”
    She shook her head. “No Jack, if you don’t
mind I’ll just hang out here a while. Guess I need to do some
thinking. Tell Fred to call if he needs to tell me anything.”
    “Hey, we’ll work this out. Like I said the
other day, I intend to fight this thing and I want you to help me.
You’re the legal owner of this property, at least for now. Don’t
crumble on me and give up, okay?”
    “All right, Jack. You know the last thing I
want is to lose my Nanna’s home. Go on and take the letter to
Fred.”
    Jack actually jogged down to his truck and
floored the gas pedal as he turned into the road with squealing
tires laying rubber.
    She sat staring across the road into the rows
of apple trees feeling the gentle breeze fan her face. Jack’s a bit
of a hot head, but just maybe it’s good to have a hot head in my
corner now.
    While Jack was gone she sat, thinking about
Nanna and wondering what it was like when she lived here as a young
girl tending her flower gardens or baking apple pies in the autumn.
It's so peaceful here, it's a shame someone had to come along and
overturn the apple cart. She smiled to herself considering the
irony of that analogy.
    Roused from her reverie by the sound of tires
on the gravel driveway, she looked up expecting to see Jack
returning. Instead, she realized with a feeling of dread in the pit
of her stomach, that it was Van Winkle’s truck. She watched as he
slowly got out and made his way to the porch, a lecherous grin on
his plump face.
    “Morning there. Uh. Is it Victoria? That
right, Miss Victoria Bundies?”
    She didn't bother correcting him. He mounted
the steps and as he had on his first arrival, pulled one of the
wicker chairs around and sat uninvited and much too close. She drew
back and froze, fear gripping her as Van Winkle stared at her
malevolently. He reached