The Recluse

I jettisoned the last bit of the cigar into the lake and sat back a bit to observe the coming incursion into my well designed solitude. The voices were getting clearer and it seemed there were at least three or four females, laughing and challenging one another as they wended their way along the old, mostly abandoned, trail to the lake. Stepping out into the late morning sunshine the quartet, for so it proved itself, stopped in momentary silent appreciation of the view before the cacophony began anew, giving me a moment to appreciate the view of a gaggle of female forms.

"Well Darla, this is better than you promised. It really is quite lovely!" the voice belonged to a nearing middle aged woman, whose bright silver hair was the first remarkable thing about her I noticed. She also had a nice full figure, slightly taller than average perhaps, with nice slim legs protruding from khaki walking shorts and a well filled out peach coloured tee shirt.

"Told you, it's a gem Angeline! When we were still living at home dad had a little row boat out here and he'd take me for rides around the pond. The best part is that nobody ever comes out here. It's like a small private retreat. There used to be an old guy who lived at the far end in a log cabin, but he was much older than dad and I would guess he must be long dead and gone by now, too." Darla was shorter than any of the other women, and a bit chunky, but with lovely blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

"So, Darla, no beach. How do we get safely into and out of the water? I'd love to get a swim after all that hiking." The third of the three more mature looking women, her height was near that of the lady named Angeline, but she was slim in bust and hips. She reminded me of a distance runner, and had her dark hair cut short in a pixie cut.

"No sweat, Trish. The path should take us out nearly to that point and there is a gravel bench there that goes out for a short distance between the rocks. You can be swimming by the time you are twenty feet from shore. Come on, I'll show you."

So, I now knew three of the four names, at least. Angeline, Trish, and Darla. Darla seemed to be the guide and, I assumed, she must be one of Bill's kids. Who the fourth gal was I still had not discovered, but she might be a daughter to one of the first three, as she was much younger. It seemed likely that I would discover much more about the quartet fairly soon if they were indeed bent on a swim. Their view of my home was currently obstructed by the very point of land jutting out into the lake that Darla had just referred to, but that would change when they approached the headland. I debated whether to reveal my presence before possibly embarrassing the ladies, but as I dithered the decision was made for me.

Coming back out from among the trees the four women, whom I surmised ranged in age from about my age down to the youngest, who I had yet to identify, being perhaps in her early twenties, immediately began divesting themselves of clothing, preparatory to entering the water. Fortunately, they stopped the strip show at bras and panties and with giggles and moans at the chill water began their descent into my crystal clear pond. They had been splashing around for several minutes that I admit I quite thoroughly enjoyed when the youngest, and the most adventurous swimmer, cleared the point and looking up beheld my home across the lake.

"Mom, did you say there was an old cottage across the lake? Look at this, that is no old cottage, it's a mansion, and it sure doesn't look like it should be deserted."

"What mansion, Chris?" Darla, using a strong and confident stroke was soon out beside what was evidently her daughter. "Oh, my, that is certainly not what I remember! Someone must have bought old Mr. Willis's place. Maybe we should get out and dressed before we're discovered."

The last remark was met with laughter and a few slightly inappropriate comments.

"We, are still on granddad's land, aren't we?" The girl I assumed was Chris queried.

"Well, actually I don't know." Darla responded. "I know dad sold some of the land off a few years ago, but I don't recall what parts. I think this is still ours..."

"I guess we find out tomorrow when they read the will, eh?" Trish offered.

"Yes, I suppose," Darla answered. "Wonder what Jim will want to do with this place. I doubt either of us can afford to keep it all, although I'd love to."

"Well, I shouldn't speak for my husband, but I don't think he'd work to keep it in the family. I'll tell you one thing more, I sure don't want to live out here!" Trish said with a note of finality in her voice.

Angeline laughed in response and my attention was drawn to her just as she stood, waist deep in the lake with the water pouring down off her bra and what were clearly a pair of very nicely shaped breasts. She reached up to squeeze the water out and I had a momentary vision of reaching out to assist her. It was a nice thought.

So, it seemed that Bill must have passed on recently. I hadn't heard anything, but I hadn't been off my property for several weeks now. These ladies were all apparently relatives, at least three of them certainly, mother, daughter, and by my guess a sister in law. I decided it would be a good time to fade out of sight before the women were embarrassed by further leaving the water in what were sure to be very revealing underclothes, so I slowly moved back off my perch and rejoined my trail around the lake. Just when I assumed I had made a clean get away, I rounded a corner to come face to face with a suddenly very startled young woman wearing jeans and a very damp tee shirt that clung to her figure quite suggestively and leaving no doubt that the wet bra was somewhere other than on her chest.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing on our property? Mom! There is a guy out here, hurry and get dressed!"

In an effort to calm the young lady I held my hands out in front of my chest, palms out, "To answer your questions in order, my name is Brad Willis. Sorry to startle you, but in fact it is you who are on my property. I purchased all this land from Bill Howell starting nearly ten years ago. You should have seen the no trespassing signs a quarter mile back along the trail you came up on."

The young woman looked at me in some confusion and disbelief, but was spared further disquiet by the simultaneous arrival of her three companions, all tugging damp clothing into something resembling modesty.

"Mr. Willis? Related, I assume, to the old Mr. Willis who lived at the end of the lake?" Darla spoke out, taking charge from her daughter.

"Yes, my grandfather, Jerome. I inherited the place and live here now. I assume you are Darla, Bill's daughter?"

"How do you know my name?"

"I bought a bunch of land from you dad over several years. This particular piece, which goes back about a quarter mile, I bought about nine or ten years ago, as I was explaining to this young lady. Then I bought another chunk about four years ago. Over the years your dad and I have become kind of friends as well as neighbours. I haven't seen him for a while though."

"Oh, I am guessing you haven't heard, but Dad passed away four days ago. Massive heart attack, died right in his bed."

"Oh, so sorry! No, I didn't know. Haven't been off the property for a while, I guess. Please accept my condolences. He was a nice guy."

The lady named Angeline, with the very lovely figure, had been studying me intently for the past several minutes. Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Did you say your name was Brad Willis? Would that be Bradley F Willis, by chance?"

"Yes, should I know you? I'm sorry but I don't seem to recall..."

"No, of course not. But you are THE Bradley F Willis, the famous author! I've read all your books! I love them, especially the last one! I recognized you from the picture on your book cover! Trish, I know you have some of his books, don't you? The Filigree in Amber? The Samarkand Paradox? Oh, and Geraldine's Dream!"

"Yeah, sure! Imagine this, meeting a famous author in the woods in wet underwear!"

"Trish!" Darla coloured. "Whatever with Mr. Willis think?"

"Oh, you were enjoying my little lake! I assure you I take no offence. Signs to the contrary aside, beautiful women are usually welcome." I hastily replied.

"Your lake?" Chris asked, breathlessly. "You own the whole lake?"

"Well, actually yes, I do, and a couple of acres around it. You've been trespassing for quite a while, but don't worry, I don't tend to shoot trespassers, at least not the pretty ones! In your case I probably won't even press charges," I smirked. "In fact, if you ladies are up for a bit of a walk, I'd like to invite you up to the house for some iced tea."

"Oh, no, we couldn't." Darla responded with a note of finality. "We should have been back at the house quite a while ago. The others are probably worried we got ourselves lost."

I could see that Angeline was ready to dispute Darla's edict. Her ample bust, encased in a very wet bra, was heaving with her clear disavowal of Darla's intentions. A stern glance from her companion however silenced her mutiny before a word was uttered.

"I understand completely," I smiled. "I am sure there is a lot to do in cleaning thing up at the house. What about a little later?" I really didn't know why I was doing this. Who needed this kind of aggravation? "I'd love to have you all over for cocktails this afternoon if it suits?" Who was saying this crap? My well ordered and shielded existence was designed to avoid intrusions even by family or social acquaintances, never mind total strangers trespassing on my property.

Trish spoke up before Darla could again demure. "Well, if it isn't too much of an imposition, Mr. Willis, I'm sure we'd love to come over. What time would be suitable?" Darla shot her daggers while Angeline beamed.

"Say, four o'clock? I will open the gate. My drive is just about a half mile up the road from Bill's place. On the right, of course. I look forward to seeing you all. By the way, how many others will there be?"

"Oh, my husband, Jim, who is Darla's brother, and Tony, Darla's husband, and my son Gerald, if he decides to join, but I doubt we'd be able to get him away from his game centre," Trish again responded.

After a few more vague pleasantries we parted company until later. I knew I'd have to make good time to get home and have the house ready for company, never mind a quick trip into Culpepper to stock up on some appetizers. Must remember to leave the electric gate open, and put the security system on standby.

Chapter 2

What on earth had possessed me? Sure, there were four quite attractive ladies, but at least two of them were married, one was not much more than a teenager, and the fourth was a fan! Crap! This just wasn't me at all. The fleeting and random thought that my mother would be so pleased only further served to aggravate me.

By three-thirty the house was presentable, the wine was chilling, the appetizers were plated, and I was thoroughly disgusted with myself for a total lack of foresight. My anxiety level was climbing in direct proportion to the moving hands of the clock in the kitchen, resulting in a near constant muttered monologue endeavouring to bolster my near shredded self-control. Wandering around the huge great room one last time berating myself I finally sank into my favourite chair with a sigh and a small glass of Scotch, albeit a 25 year old Bunnahabhain. I had just closed my eyes and settled for ten seconds when the gate bell rang annoyingly. Oh crap, I had forgotten to leave the gate open! Old habits die hard. I sprinted, yes really, across the room to the kitchen and pressed the release button to open the darn thing. Ok, that means they are on the way, get ready. You can do this, right?

Two cars pulled up to the house a few minutes later. Darla and a middle aged man I assumed must be her husband Tony hopped out of the first car with Chris crawling out of the back seat. The driver of the second car was the spitting image of Bill Howell. It didn't take much to assume he had to be Jim, especially when Trish gingerly stepped out of the passenger door as Angeline got out of the rear seat. As advised, the son Gerald was nowhere to be seen. Bonus, no cranky teenager to deal with!

Once introductions were complete and everyone had settled on my expansive open veranda the final details of who belonged to whom were established. Angeline Turner, it turned out, was Trisha's sister and one of Darla's best friends, even though they lived several hundred miles apart. While it was really not a tightly knit family group, they were, somewhat reluctantly it seemed, brought together by Bill's death. In only a few minutes I got the impression that while Darla truly mourned her father's passing they had not been close for many years. As for Jim, his main concern seemed to be the planned reading of the will tomorrow.

When I explained how, over the years, I'd bought up a lot of Bill's land Jim got quieter and quieter, allowing others to carry the conversation, which Tony and Angeline seemed more than prepared to do. Tony, actually Antoine Duceppe, was from a French Canadian family and had met Darla when she enrolled in a cultural exchange program in collage, taking her to Quebec City for three months of in depth language study. They now lived just outside Philadelphia, where he ran a mid-sized trucking company and she worked as a midwife. Chris was enrolled at Brown University, studying pharmacology. Obviously one smart girl, Brown being an Ivy League collage with great credentials and a less than ten percent acceptance rate.

Jim was a partner in a real estate agency in a Baltimore suburb while Trish worked as an office manager for a small private accounting firm in Columbia, Maryland, where Gerald, their son had just finished his final year of high school. Trish's sister, Angeline was a CPA working for James River Holdings, a property development company in Richmond. Having something in common, Angeline and I exchanged ideas about the property business after she found out I was not only a "famous" author but that the F in my name stood for Foster and that I was part of "That Willis Family". The dialogue between the two of us was pleasant and insightful, and I found myself relaxing in her company.

"So, the old man sold off most of of the land and squandered our inheritance! Should have figured that out sooner!" Jim suddenly erupted in the midst of the conversation.

Everyone looked around uncomfortably for a minute before Darla tried to calm him down. "Jim, we don't know that, and even if it's true, it was his money to use as he saw fit."

Jim stood up and went to the side table to pour himself another vodka martini, "Fine for you, sis. You're set financially. Tony's done very well for himself, obviously, and you got everything you wanted handed to you by dad. Some of us weren't quite so lucky."

"Jim, dad paid for my collage, and he would have for you, too, but you wanted different things. I know he put an equal amount into your first house, so let's leave that dog alone, ok? I know the real estate market is suffering a bit this year, but you've been through worse. Remember 2008? Well, you survived that."

"Survived, yeah. Just. But we are still trying to rebuild the hundred grand in equity we lost."

"Jim, please, this discussion is for a different time and place. Mr. Willis invited us over as a mark of respect to your father. Please leave it alone," Trish quietly remonstrated.

"Sure take Darla's side. What else is new?" Jim huffed as he rose from his seat and walked across the balcony, looking out over the lake. "Nice view you have here Brad, must be worth a bundle. Hope you gave the old man a fair deal," he smiled at Brad, then continued, "or was he desperate enough that the developer in you could rape him properly?" Jim sneered at me and walked to the end of the balcony, down the steps, and around the house to his car, driving off without another word and leaving his wife and sister in law behind in embarrassed silence that hung in the air reminiscent of an open septic tank.

"Thank you for having us, Brad," Darla finally murmured. "I apologize for my brother's rude behaviour. I suspect that he rather expected a significant inheritance from Dad's land, and now he's frustrated, disappointed, and is getting bitter. That's no excuse of course! Trisha, Angeline, we can scrunch together on the way back, so just come with us."

Embarrassed goodbyes were said all around. Just before they departed Tony hesitated and then took me aside. "Sorry about that, Mr. Willis. My brother in law has a bit of a drinking problem, and he started before we got here. He tends to get a bit mean spirited when he over indulges. Poor Trisha gets the brunt of it I'm afraid. Thanks again for your kindness and hospitality."

As they drove off I couldn't help thinking that Bill's family was at least as dysfunctional as my own. Maybe all families were to some extent. This fiasco would teach me to cavalierly act on some half baked instinct. Stay aloof and stay safe. Don't invite intrusions into your life that are beyond your control. I remembered an old adage, "The more you cultivate people the more you turn up clods." Certainly seemed true in the case of Bill's son.

After cleaning up the detritus of the aborted cocktail party I wandered into the kitchen and noticed the pile of mail I had studiously been avoiding for the past two days. Mail usually contains 80% material that I could burn in my fireplace and 20% stuff I really wanted to avoid, like briefing notes for the upcoming board meeting or nauseating requests from my publisher or fan club. Who the hell ever started that anyway, I wondered. A fan club for shit sake! More people wanting a piece of my soul just for having read a few books. Yes, the books paid the bills, not that it was an issue, but why could they not just read the books and either enjoy them or pan them. According to Adele, my publisher, the self-proclaimed president of this fan club was a sixty something year old school teacher from Ohio. She had actually written a very nice letter once, asking if I would consider coming to address her school English class. Arghhh!

Among the letters I was preparing to anoint my fireplace with I belatedly noticed an official looking document from the office of a local law firm in Culpepper. The letter was, as it turned out, an invitation to the reading of Bill Howell's will, which was to take place, as I already knew, in the law firm's offices at two pm tomorrow. Now, I pondered, why would I be invited to what I supposed was a more or less family event. My curiosity almost had me convinced to attend, just to witness Jim's behaviour, but prudence overruled idle fascination and I occupied the day with sketching out another fifty pages of plot details and forwarding them to my publisher for her review. It was a format I'd begun years ago and it seemed to work for the most part, as it helped me focus. Adele, my long time friend, never really made any comments other than to encourage me to carry on, trusting my instincts implicitly, as she understood, probably better than I that the exercise was solely for my benefit, not hers.

It startled me out of my concentration on the plot summary when the gate buzzer announced an unwelcome interruption to my day at just after four in the afternoon. Switching the computer screen to the gate camera I glanced at the image before me. The sisters, Trish and Angeline, were waving at the camera from the front seat of Jim and Trisha's sedan.

"Hello, Brad, can you hear us?" Trish asked self consciously.

"Good afternoon ladies, what can I do for you?" I responded cautiously.

"Well, Mr. Willis, you could invite us up," Angeline suggested with a smile.