Summer In Iron Springs (30 page)

              As soon as they were on the highway, Phoebe turned to Billy and gave him an
Explain yourself stare
.

             
Billy glanced at Phoebe before returning his eyes to the road. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

             
“Can you please tell me what just happened?” Phoebe folded her arms and stared hard at Billy.

             
“What do you mean?”

             
“Ummm, well, we can start with how you own Hall Properties.” She made air quotations with her fingers. “Mr. Hall called her and offered her Ted Anderson’s job. Then, we can move on to you explaining why you never bothered to tell me you’re a gazillionaire.”

             
Billy chuckled. “First of all, I don’t own anything. I own this truck—actually, the bank owns this truck; I’ll own it in about twenty two more months. And, secondly, you never asked. I have no idea how much money your father makes, and I’m not offended. And third, I am not a . . .” He paused for a moment. “What did you call it? A gazillionaire? And by the way, I’m pretty sure that’s not even a word.”

             
“Billy.” Phoebe paused and massaged her temples with her fingers. “Your family owns Hall Properties?”

             
“Not my family.” Billy chortled. “My dad.”

             
“What!” Phoebe shook her head. “Wait a sec. Your dad owns Hall properties. You’re Billy Hall, of Hall properties? Owner of a bazillion resorts?”

             
“I am Billy Hall, owner of nothing,” Billy said, chuckling “My dad, William Hall, is the owner of Hall properties.”

“
Still, you are the son of the owner of Hall Properties. And, since that’s the case, why didn’t you just tell Ted who you were when we met with him?”

             
“I thought about it, but that would have put him in a defensive position. He would have known his job was in jeopardy, and he might have reacted differently—he might not have told us where he got the cameo. This way, we got the information, that slime ball got fired, and Gracie got an even better job.”

             
“That’s true. But you should have told me. I mean, all this time . . . we’ve been hanging out, and I haven’t known who you were or what—

             
“Feebs, I am me. I’m the same person I was before you found out about my dad. He’s the successful business man. I’m just a poor working kid.”

             
“Well, at least you should have told me who you were when we went to the inn that you own it. I can’t believe you didn’t mention that at least.”

             
Billy blew out a breath. “Feebs, listen to me. I don’t own the inn. Honestly, that was the first time I’ve ever been there. And, it’ll probably be the last time.

             
“Did you know your dad got Gracie her job back?”

             
“Actually, Scott, my brother, did that. And, yes, I knew.”

             
“Why didn’t you just tell me about that?” She folded her arms in front of her and gave him a curious stare. “I still can’t believe you’re a gazillionaire.”

             
“Feebs, I’m not. My dad is. Now stop, or I might just drop you off right here and make you walk to the infirmary.”

             
Phoebe glanced out the front window. “All ten yards? I dare you.” They shared a laugh before turning into the parking lot.

The infirmary was a large stone building with soaring wire fences surrounding it. “Don’t you think it’s weird that this place has more security than the prison?”
she asked Billy as they entered the building.

             
They were immediately directed to a desk with a large hanging sign above it that said “VISITORS”.

             
An over-weight, balding man looked up at Phoebe. “What can I do for you today?” After hearing the cheerfulness in his voice, Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he’s nothing like the guard at the prison.

             
“Well . . . Frank . . .” she said after reading the name on his badge. “I’m here to visit an inmate. Mike Smith.”

             
“Alrightee.” Frank smiled. “Your identification please.”

             
Phoebe reached into her purse and felt around for her wallet. Her hands shook as she retrieved her ID from her wallet.

             
“Don’t you have a government issued ID?” Frank asked, after examining her school identification card.

             
“No. I don’t,” Phoebe answered, kicking herself for not getting a driver’s license. She was eligible but chose not to after her dad challenged her to. It was a rebellious move on her part and something she now regretted.

             
“I have a driver’s license,” Billy said. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

             
“You family?” Frank asked.

             
“No, just friends.”

             
Frank took Billy’s driver’s license and examined it and Phoebe reminded herself to exhale after realizing that she had been holding her breath for far too long.

             
“It’ll be a second. Just take a seat and fill this out.”

             
They sat on the overly hard plastic chairs in the waiting room. Billy filled out the form as Phoebe reviewed the document Jenna had given her.

             
“By the way, thank you,” Phoebe said, leaning over and kissing Billy’s cheek.

“For what?” Billy asked, smiling.

“For taking care of Ted and getting Gracie her job back.”

“Does this mean you forgive me for not telling you about my dad?”

Phoebe nodded. “Look at this,” she whispered, holding the document up so he could see it. She looked around the room to make sure nobody was listening.

             
“He’s dying?” Billy’s eyes widened.

             
Phoebe pointed to the sentence which explained Mike’s illness.

             
“Brain cancer . . .” Billy’s voice trailed off as the words sunk in.

             
There was a short silence as Phoebe realized the seriousness of Mike’s illness. She wasn’t sure how to react to the information. A pang of guilt chastised her for what she was feeling. The man she was certain had killed her mother was now dying himself. Why don’t I feel bad? Is there something wrong with me? As she examined how she truly felt in that moment, she decided she didn’t feel happiness or sadness. She just didn’t feel anything.

             
“You okay?” Billy asked. “You seem a million miles away.”

             
Phoebe forced the thoughts from her mind. This was no time to worry about such things now. She needed information from Mike, and that was all she could afford to focus on. “I’m fine.”

             
Billy finished filling out the form just as Frank motioned for the two of them to follow him.

             
“This is it.” Billy took Phoebe’s hand in his and followed Frank to a small office. “Have a seat.” Frank said, pointing to two chairs that sat before a large wooden desk.

             
“What are we doing here?” Phoebe asked, her eyes scanning the bare office.

             
“My supervisor needs to speak with you,” Frank said. “He’ll be right out.”

             
Phoebe’s mouth went dry. She looked at Billy. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

             
“It’ll be okay.” Billy patted her hand. “Try not to worry.”

             
After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only minutes, a tall thin man wearing a dark suit entered the office and took the seat across from Billy and Phoebe. He glanced up at them, cleared his throat and spoke with a flat, uncaring tone.

             
“Mr. Smith is in no condition for visitors.” The monotony in the man’s words matched the emotion-less expression on his face.

             
Phoebe squirmed in the chair. She glanced at Billy and then at the man behind the desk. This can’t be the end. After everything, I’m so close. And now, this man, who knows nothing

Phoebe’s eyes welled up with tears
, and she blinked hard to force them away.

             
“This is very important. Is there any way we could talk to him for just a few minutes?” Billy gave Phoebe’s knee a gentle pat.

             
“Well, suppose you tell me what this is regarding.” The man stared at Billy like
he
was a criminal.

             
Billy explained the entire story while Phoebe sat silent, listening, hoping, and trying to control her emotions. She watched the man’s face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but there was nothing. Even as Billy talked about the burglary and Bessie’s death, the man didn’t even blink an eye. Billy may as well have been talking to a rock.

             
“I see.” The man straightened a stack of papers that sat on the otherwise empty desktop. “Well, I am sorry but we cannot allow it. Mr. Smith is very ill. Good day.” The man stood up and motioned for them to leave.

Twenty Five

“Ugh!” Half the clothes she owned were strewn across the bed, and the other half were on the floor. She held the pink dress from Hildi’s up in front of her and examined her reflection in the mirror. “Nope. Too sweet.” She searched the pile on the bed for the hundredth time, throwing items of clothing over her head when she determined they would not be appropriate to wear to Billy’s parent’s house. Then, she remembered the red and white gingham print dress Jenna bought for her. Phoebe had tried it on at Jenna’s insistence but decided not to buy it because she needed every cent for the cameo. When Jenna said she would buy it for her, Phoebe protested, but, as usual, it did no good. She put it one and, despite her foul mood, she was happy when she checked her reflection in the mirror.

             
As they headed toward Billy’s parent’s home, Phoebe did her best to bolster her confidence. She was all but convinced Billy’s parent’s wouldn’t like her but—as she had reminded herself at least a dozen times—she was doing this for Billy, not his parents.

             
Thirty minutes after leaving Anna’s house, Billy exited the freeway and droved for a few more minutes before veering off the main road onto a long winding driveway that led to a tall wrought iron gate. He stopped the truck, lowered his window and reached his arm out to press a button that was mounted on top of a stone pillar. A beep sounded, and Billy talked into a speaker.

             
“It’s Billy, Margaret.” Billy said to the voice coming from the speaker.

Phoebe’s jaw dropped as the tall gates slowly opened. “This is where you live?”

              “Nope.” Billy chuckled. “This is where my parents live.”

             
In the distance, beyond the long stretches of lush gardens, sat a Victorian style mansion built of white granite. Billy drove into a circular cobblestone driveway.

Before Billy could even turn off the engine, a man dressed in a black tuxedo style uniform hurried to open his door. Another man, dressed in a matching uniform, opened Phoebe’s door.

              “Welcome to the Hall family home, ma’am.” The man offered his hand and assisted Phoebe in stepping out of the truck.

             
Billy walked around the truck and took Phoebe by the hand. A look of astonishment grew in her eyes as she scanned the area surrounding the enormous home.

“Are you okay?” Billy asked.

              “This is where you live?” she repeated her earlier question.

             
“No, I told you. I don’t live here. My parents live here.”

Phoebe had no idea what to make of Billy’s lackadaisical attitude. Her eyes widened as she glanced around the sprawling estate at the lush rolling hills, beautifully manicured gardens, and winding stone walkways. “This is where you live!”
             

“Feebs . . .” Billy put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I do not live here. My parents live here. Please don’t make this into a big thing. This place is not me. If I wanted this life, I would still live here. I don’t—that’s why I moved.”

              “Uh-huh. Okay.” Phoebe could scarcely hear his words for the astonishment she felt as she followed Billy through the large wooden entry doors and down a long hallway. Sparkling crystal chandeliers hung from cathedral ceilings and lighted wall sconces adorned beautifully decorated walls. Phoebe stayed close to Billy but walked as slowly as possible in order to absorb the beauty of her surroundings. She reached up and touched the ornate frame of a painting before recognizing it as an original Monet. The blurred pink water lilies that lay in still blue water revealed—almost as much as his signature—that it was not a fake. “Billy, this is a Monet!” She whispered urgently. “A Monet!”

             
Billy gave a chuckle. “Yep.”

             
“Why didn’t you tell me your parents own an original Monet?”

             
“I forgot about it.”

             
You forgot about it! Phoebe’s eyes were glued to the painting. “Billy, how could you forget something like that?”

             
Billy laughed as Phoebe’s excitement overflowed. He held his hand up, palm forward. “From now on, I promise to tell you whenever my parents buy an original Monet.”

             
“Funny.” Phoebe gave Billy a playful punch.

They stepped through the open patio doors and onto a stone veranda. Phoebe’s eyes were drawn to a waterfall that cascaded gently over large stones before falling gracefully into a glistening swimming pool. “Why would anyone move away from here?”

Billy took hold of Phoebe’s hand. “Come meet my mom.”

A tall slender woman stood up from her chair on the large patio and headed toward them. She was dressed in a beige linen skirt and matching shirt and wore a large brimmed hat. Oversized sunglasses covered almost her entire face.

              “Hi, Mom.” Billy leaned in and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Happy birthday.” He turned to look at Phoebe. “This is my girlfriend, Phoebe.”

             
“Hi, Phoebe. I’m Glenda. It’s so lovely to meet you.” The woman removed her sunglasses and looked at Phoebe through caring eyes.

Those are Billy’s eyes
.
Phoebe noticed the physical resemblance that Billy had with his mother and, judging from the kindness in her eyes, she guessed Billy also inherited him mother’s demeanor.

“Billy has told me so much about you,” Phoebe said. She offered her hand
, and Glenda accepted it in daintily. Then, Glenda leaned forward and gave Phoebe a kiss on the cheek before inspecting her from head to toe.

“What a lovely young lady you are, Phoebe. And this dress!” Glenda reached out and touched the white silk trim. “Why, it’s just gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” Phoebe blushed. “And, happy birthday, Mrs. Hall.” Phoebe gave herself a mental pat on the back for choosing the right outfit.

             
“Oh, thank you, Phoebe. You’re so sweet; and please, call me Glenda.” She smiled at Phoebe before turning her attention to Billy. “Your father will be here in a few minutes. You and Phoebe relax by the pool until he gets here, and then we’ll have brunch. I need to finish getting things prepared.”

             
“Can I help with anything?” Phoebe asked.

             
Glenda’s face lit up. “Why yes. That would be nice; if it’s alright with you, Billy.”

             
“Of course it is.” Billy nodded his head and gave Phoebe a quick wink. “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He put his arms around Phoebe. “Thank you,” he whispered softly.

             
Phoebe followed Glenda through the patio doors and across the wood floor of a beautiful and fabulously decorated great room. She ran her hand along the wood of a grand piano before entering the large kitchen. The room was white, completely white; white walls, white appliances, white counter tops, white floor, white ceiling. Phoebe was temporarily blinded by all the white.

             
“We’re making asparagus quiche Phoebe. It’s my husband’s favorite.” Glenda said sweetly as she began assembling the ingredients. “You could cut the asparagus.” She handed Phoebe a white-handled knife and directed her to the white cutting board atop the glistening white countertop. “Trim off the ends and then cut the rest into one-half inch pieces.”

             
Phoebe did as she was instructed while Glenda removed some bacon from a pan on the stove and crumbled it. “So, how do you like Iron Springs? Billy tells me you’re just visiting for the summer?”

             
“Yeah. My aunt lives there. It’s nice.” I wonder what else she knows about me
.
Phoebe carefully trimmed the asparagus exactly as Glenda had instructed. Am I the only one who finds it strange that Glenda’s making her husband’s favorite meal on her birthday? Weird.

“Done.” Phoebe smiled at Glenda after the last of the asparagus was cut. “What else can I do?”

              “That’s perfect!” Glenda said, examining Phoebe’s work. “Now if you can dump it all in the steamer over there.” Her hands were full so she nodded her head toward a pot on the stove. “Once you do that, you can grab the pie shells from the fridge.”

             
“I noticed you have a Monet.” Phoebe scooped the last of the asparagus out of the bowl and dumped it into the steamer. “I saw it when we came in.”

             
Glenda nodded. “Yes, Bill got that for me for my birthday a few years back. Do you like Monet?”

             
“I love Monet. That’s the first one I’ve seen—the first real Monet, that is. I love impressionism—it’s my favorite painting style.”

             
“I love him too. Did you know he started the term
Impressionism
?”

             
“Yeah, it’s derived from his painting
Impression, Sunrise.
It’s a painting of a boat harbor at sunrise. It’s one of my favorite paintings.”

             
Glenda smiled at Phoebe. “That’s very impressive, Phoebe. “Do you paint?”

             
Phoebe blushed. “Sort of; I mean, I love to paint. But I’m no Monet, that’s for sure.”

             
“No need. We already have one. You just be the best
Phoebe
you can be and one day, people will be talking about
your
paintings.” Glenda pointed a wooden spoon at Phoebe and shook it as she talked. “Maybe someday you will show me some of your work?”

             
“Sure. I’d love to.” Phoebe was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was talking to Glenda—it was as easy as talking to Billy. Phoebe saw a lot of Billy in Glenda. No wonder I like her so much
.
There was definitely a physical resemblance but, even more than that was how similar their personalities were. Billy’s easygoing nature, his optimistic attitude, and his relaxed personality were all things Phoebe loved about him. She saw these same traits in Glenda.

             
After the two pies were filled, Glenda slid them into the oven. She set the timer for forty minutes. “There, that’s done. Now, we can cut up some fruit, and we’ll be set.” Glenda retrieved cantaloupe, strawberries, grapes, pineapple and oranges from her large refrigerator and set them on the counter. Phoebe heard the front door open, and her stomach immediately tied up in knots. A few seconds later, a tall, handsome, man wearing a green jogging suit entered the kitchen.

             
Here we go
.
Phoebe glanced at Billy’s father.

He walked over and embraced Glenda and then kissed her on the lips.
“Hi Sweetheart.”

             
“Hi, honey. How was your run?”

             
“Outstanding.” He shifted his gaze to Phoebe.

“Honey, this is Billy’s girlfriend, Phoebe Levick.” Glenda put her arm around Phoebe’s shoulder as she introduced her. “Phoebe, this is my husband, William.”

              “Nice to meet you, and please call me Bill.”

P
hoebe offered her hand, which was immediately swallowed up in Bills large and very firm handshake. “Where’s my son?” Bill demanded, his eyes scanning the room. As soon as he asked about Billy, Bill’s whole demeanor changed. It wasn’t like he was angry, just serious and very firm.

             
“He’s out by the pool,” Glenda answered. “Let’s go out there until it’s time to eat.”

             
Phoebe followed Billy’s parents outside. Glenda’s words rang in her ears. She’d introduced her to Bill as Billy’s
girlfriend
. The thought put a smile on Phoebe’s face. She was happy when Billy introduced her to Glenda that way—but after the Sarah incident, she couldn’t imagine him saying anything else. But, for Glenda to use the word
girlfriend
—it made Phoebe feel even more welcomed.

             
“Hey, Dad,” Billy said dully when his father walked up and stood before him. The two of them shared an awkward hug and then everyone sat down around a marble table that was situated on the pools stone border. “Where’s Scott?” Billy asked, glancing toward the house.

             
“He’s at work,” Bill said. “We’re closing on a property next week, and he’s taking care of the details. “The tension that Billy had told her about was evident immediately after Bill sat down. It was as if a dark cloud had just filled the sky, and everybody was waiting for the rain to pour. Bill glanced at Billy. He opened his mouth to say something, but Glenda interrupted.

             
“So, Phoebe where are you from?”

             
“Seattle . . . Well, originally, Iron Springs. I lived there until I was three, and then my dad and I moved to Washington.”