Wilderwood Ch. 07

It stays busy for the rest of the afternoon, so at the end of the day I hang back to help Steve close up once the last of the customers have gone. Tina usually does this, but I volunteer today and she gives me a bright smile as she leaves. Zack is already gone. Lucy came by just before we finished and they head out together.

Lucy looks so great, with her long straight black hair falling down the back of her red leather jacket and her ass shining in her black pvc pants. I'm feeling kind of envious of Zack as he walks out with her, and it's not really because Lucy is hot. She is - probably the hottest of the Coven - but Emma is so much more my type.

If I'm envious it's because Zack gets to go and hang out with his super-hot girlfriend at her new place in the college district - where they'll probably spend the whole night having wild, kinky sex - and me and my sister still have to skulk around in secret. It would be so much easier if I was seeing someone else. Anyone else.

Except that I don't want to be seeing anyone else. Thinking about it, I have trouble imagining being with anyone else because I know there just wouldn't be the same connection that I have with Emma.

Steve is at the cash desk, reckoning up the takings for the day. I pull the shutters down then come back inside and walk over.

"Hey, I've been wondering. Why is Alex Trowley banned?"

Steve doesn't even look up, replying in his usual disinterested tone. "I have a low tolerance for lunatics, except if they're trying to kill Batman."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Only to your sanity if you listen to too much of his drivel." Steve glances up. "Tina's a nice girl who thinks the best of everyone, even of Alex Trowley. I don't."

He finishes up with the receipts and walks down to his office at the back of the store to put the takings in his safe. He'll take it to the bank tomorrow morning, or send one of us. When he comes back he's pulling his coat on, and after he sets the alarm I follow him outside.

"Why the sudden interest in Trowley?" he asks as he finishes locking up. "Something going on?"

He stands there, jingling the keys in his hand. In spite of his loathing of Funko Pops there's a mini Harley Quinn hanging on his keychain.

I have this sudden urge to tell him about it. Not all of it, not about me and Emma, but at least about Trowley skulking around asking questions. I turned 18 a while ago so I'm an adult now, but I still have this irrational urge to confide in someone who's more of an adult than I am, or at least has been an adult longer.

Steve's also not from around here - he's only been in town about five years and so he's one of the few older people I know who looks at me as an individual rather than as a representative of the Wilderwood family name - and he's a good guy.

Okay, he's actually an asshole to everyone, in that weird Brit way, but everyone seems to like him anyway.

"It's nothing," I say.

"Fair enough." He shrugs and pockets his keys. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

When I get home I check Trowley's channel, but his only new video is one of his political rants. These are straight to camera monologues intercut with meme images and clips from the news. Trowley sits in near darkness but he's still wearing his sunglasses and I can see his monitors reflected in the lenses. Maybe I'm biased, but he seems even more unhinged than usual and I give up around the point where he starts claiming that certain politicians are lizard people.

At least I know the Wilderwoods aren't reptillians. I'm sure I'd have remembered if there were egg chambers.

= = =

The next day Emma drops into Pop! around midday and we go out to get lunch together. We could have eaten there but I'm feelling really observed at the moment and so we go somewhere else, where we're less likely to run into anyone we know than we would be at the store.

"I don't think we should tell anyone about this."

Emma side eyes our surroundings, taking in the soft, chintzy furnishings, the flowery menu board, the lace drapes at the windows and the watercolors of places of historic interest hanging on the walls.

"I guess it's not our usual scene," she says with a smirk, "but it's not that bad."

It's a little cafe - actually they call it a tea-room - just off main street It's the sort of place that caters to old people and tourists, and we're not exactly blending into our surroundings. I suppose I'm only noticeable for being the youngest person in the room, but Emma, in her glossy black leather jacket, studded belt slung over shiny leggings and bike boots, is definitely out of place. Not that she seems to notice, or care.

"I don't mean it like that," I say. "I mean we shouldn't tell anyone about Trowley being in Conway. Not even Zack or Lucy, or Lauren."

"Why not?"

I shrug. "Who knew we were out there? He must have heard it from someone."

Emma frowns. "You really think he's heard something about us from Lauren, or Zack? I mean really?"

Actually I'm thinking he heard it from Lucy, but I don't say that since the look on my sister's face is already telling me to back away from this subject.

"I'm starting to worry that you're getting paranoid, little brother."

She reaches a hand out across the table and brushes her fingers lightly over the top of my hand. I actually flinch and snatch my hand back, almost knocking over my coffee cup as I do so.

"Sorry."

"Jeez, you are jumpy." For a moment my sister looks startled, but she covers it up by taking a long sip of her own drink. She ordered a chocolate milkshake, in a glass about a foot high. They brought it to the table with two straws...

"Okay," she says eventually, "I won't tell Lauren."

She's got that expression on her face that I used to see a lot back when we were growing up and she was about to tell me off for something stupid I'd said or done. I usually deserved it. I was kind of a jerk when I was a teenager.

This time though she doesn't go off on me, but changes the subject. "You know this thing on Friday is being held at the hotel?"

"I heard."

"Dad was talking it up this morning at breakfast, after you'd already left. He's really excited about it."

"I guess so." I'm really not looking forward to it. Since Emma came home from college our parents havent dragged us out to any family events like they used to, but that was always too good to last and we're all going to be at this one.

"It'll be fun," Emma says, in an only slightly sarcastic tone. "You can hang out with the mayor and the rest of the old guys who run things." She toys with her straw. "You can talk to the Dean of Wilderwood College over cigars and ask him to make a call upstate and smooth out the paperwork for a transfer."

"You're kidding, right?"

Emma grins. "He will be there. I've seen the guest list, for the event on Friday. He's on it, " she smirks and starts ticking off names with her fingers, "and so is the Mayor, most of the town council, the Lakes, the Danforths..." She laughs. "I think Lauren is the only resident of Hamilton Hill who hasn't been invited."

"Really?"

"It's her Dad's place really, and he's not in town, and he's not originally from here. Lauren says at least one generation of a family has to die in Wilderwood before they stop being seen as outsiders."

"Lauren doesn't actually like it here, does she?"

"She can't wait to get back upstate. I think she's already started packing."

"Have you?"

I say it casually enough - kind of as a joke really - but Emma just shrugs. "I haven't decided if I actually am going back upstate."

It's the first time she's really suggested that she might stay in Wilderwood and not go back upstate, and it only takes one look into her eyes to know that she's serious.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds," she says. "I've been thinking about it. If I was the one who transferred, to Wilderwood College, then Mom and Dad couldn't object to that, could they?"

I think the answer to that might be yes, but I don't say so because I want to see where this is going.

"I could get my own place off-campus, in Trinity Cross." Her foot rubs against my leg under the table and I'm too focused on what she's saying to even look and see if anyone has noticed. "You could come over and help me study."

"Sleepovers?"

"Uh huh." My sister lowers her voice and leans in closer to me across the table. "I've still never woken up next to you, little brother."

Now my eyes instinctively flick to the side to see if anyone is in earshot, which they're not. Emma gives me a wicked grin, like she was waiting for that reaction, maybe even pushing for it. My sister is more confident than me, but she's more reckless too and I do think she gets off on seeing just how far we can push things without being found out.

I change the subject. "You're not working on Friday, are you? I mean that would be kind of weird if you were."

"Oh god no. Harold said it would be 'quite inappropriate' and had my schedule changed without me even having to ask."

"That was nice of him."

"He's a total snob, and I am a Wilderwood." Emma grins. "My friend Vic says if I murdered a guest in their bed Harold wouldn't do anything except ask me if I changed the sheets afterward."

"Yeah, but we're not really The Wilderwoods, are we?"

My sister shrugs. "Aren't we? I mean sure, everything was left to Uncle Nathan, but he never married so it's not like there's anyone else to inherit, and it seems like he and Dad have made up whatever differences they had now. So why wouldn't the Dean, or anyone else, do a favour for one of The Wilderwoods?" She gives me a teasing smile. "Don't you want to be the Master of Wilderwood Hall one day?"

I roll my eyes. "When you make me sound like one of the characters in those books you used to read, I really don't."

My sister read a lot of romance novels when we were in our early teens. I remember that all the covers looked the same, since they always had a big dark house in the background and a woman in the foreground looking anxious.

Emma laughs. "You say that like you didn't read them too."

I don't know why, seeing how we are now, but I'm still not willing to admit to my sister that I did sneak a look at a few from time to time. Really I just flipped through looking for the sexy bits, but it seemed like the scene always ended just as they were about to get into it and eventually I gave up on them.

"There actually was one called The Master of Wilderwood Hall."

"Really? I don't remember that one."

"I probably hid it from you, and definitely from Mom." She rolls her eyes. "It was about us."

"Us?"

"The Wilderwoods. James Wilderwood, and his one true love, Emma."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

One of the old ladies at a nearby table gives me a disapproving look and I realise I probably said that a lot louder than I intended to.

"It was really romantic," my sister says, tongue literally in cheek.

"Do you still have it?"

Emma shakes her head. "No, I got rid of those books years ago. They got to be kind of embarassing to have around." Meaning they didn't fit in with her image during high school, when she was dating guys like Greg Jackson.

She pushes her milkshake across the table and angles the second straw toward me with a tap of her finger. "Try this. It's actually really good."

I hesitate, but I don't want to appear any more paranoid than I already have, so I lean forward and take a sip. Emma leans her elbows on the table and pushes herself up to catch the other straw between her lips and we make eye contact across the milkshake. I see my sister's lips twitch around the straw and then we both dissolve into laughter.

We lean back in our seats and Emma nudges the glass again. "Have some more."

I slide it back across the table toward her. "It's your milkshake."

My sister pushes it back again, grinning. "It's not mine. It's ours."

As we slide the glass back and forth between us I catch a glimpse of the same old lady that was wrinkling her brow at my language a few minutes ago. She has this soppy smile on her face now, and I just know she's thinking what a nice young couple we are.

= = =

So we have options. I can't decide whether it would be better for me to go upstate or for her to stay in Wilderwood. Upstate seems like the safer choice, but I think we both know that only means it takes longer for people to find out about our relationship than it does if we stay here.

We've already been caught once, and we lucked out that it was only Zack. Emma told Lauren, and later Lucy, and I guess that worked out okay as well, even if I'm still kind of nervous that Lucy will let something slip by accident.

I don't think we'll get that lucky again, and what happens then? The 'safe' choice isn't upstate or Wilderwood, it's to stop doing this, and that is not an option.

I'm not so sure about Emma's theory that after Friday we'll suddenly be able to flex our family name to get whatever we want from anyone in town, but I guess maybe it's not that much of a stretch. Somebody had to say yes to all those statues being put up, after all. The Wilderwoods have definitely had a lot of influence in this town, and until recently I thought we still did, until Henry told me about our great grandfather writing our side of the family out of their inheritance.

I'm still curious about the other things that Henry said, about the family history. I know now how little info there is about us online, but I figure that the Wilderwood Gazette will have written a lot about us over the years, and the next day after I finish work I go to the town library to see what I can find.

The first thing I see when I walk in is the bust of William Wilderwood. It's not that it's that prominent in its position in the entry hall of the library - I've probably walked past it any number of times without even looking at it - it's just that I'm so conscious of my family's presence in the town at the moment that I find my eyes drawn to it.

He's got one of this bushy hipster beards that were the style in the 19th century, and he looks very serious. I guess they always looked serious back then. There's a plaque underneath to say who he is, like having the actual library named after him isn't enough recognition. There's times when my family's need to have their name all over town feels a little obsessive, though since it's the lack of public records of William's grandson Richard that brought me here I guess that's ironic, or something.

It occurs to me that I don't actually know where the newspaper archives are, or how to search them, but that's okay because one of Emma's friends, Rey, works here, and I find her in the main room of the ground floor.

Rey - it's short for Audrey, but she's been Rey for years and hates it when people ask her if she's from a galaxy far far away - is slim and athletic looking, with bleach blonde hair that just brushes the collar of her open necked white blouse. She doesn't have that distinct - and hot - Coven look, except for a subtle leather knotwork choker around her neck. I guess maybe she dresses down for the library.

She recognises me.

"Oh hey, you're Emma's brother, right?"

Of course.

I tell her what I'm looking for and she takes me upstairs to the room where the newspaper archives are.

"I hope you know what you're looking for," Rey says. "The index is really old school, " she nods to a row of wooden filing cabinets made up of dozens of small square drawers, "and some of the older issues are either misfiled or missing."

"Oh?"

She grins. "Alex Trowley was up here a few days ago. You know, Mr. Conspiracy? He was here for hours but I don't think he found what he was looking for since when he came back down he told me that the archives had been compromised. That was the word he used."

"Did he say what he was looking for?"

Rey shakes her head. "I didn't ask. Maybe something from the late '30s or early '40s. That's where he was looking."

I'm looking for something from the '70s, and Rey shows me how the archive is laid out then leaves me to it and goes back downstairs. One of the few pieces of information we could find online about Richard Wilderwood was the date that he died, and it doesn't take long to find his obituary in the Wilderwood Gazette of the following day.

It runs to a full page but there's not much to it, and all I really get from it is a few more basic facts than I already had.

Born 1895, died 1973. Second of four children of Andrew and Julia Wilderwood. Married twice. Divorced twice. Two sons, James and Nathan. Generous supporter of many local institutions and good causes. Died at home in Wilderwood Hall attended by his son James and other members of the family.

I don't know exactly what I was expecting to find other than something more than what's there on the page. After rereading the obituary a couple of times I flip idly through the other pages of the paper but I'm not really reading, just wondering what Trowley was after when he was here a few days ago.

It could be anything, and I should feel reassured that maybe he's not homing in on me and my sister if he's looking up things that happened eighty years ago. I'm starting to think that Emma is right and I let myself get spooked too easy.

Then I find another article, in the same copy of the paper.

'Elsewhere in today's edition of the Wilderwood Gazette, you will find the obituary of Richard Wilderwood, who has died after a long illness. He closed his eyes for the last time in Wilderwood Hall, where he had lived all his life, attended by his eldest son James and his family. I have asked the Editor if I might record a few words of more personal reflection than those that comprise his official obituary. A meditation, if you will, on the life and legacy of one of the most prominent citizens of this corner of New England.'

I glance up to the top of the article. It's by someone called Leo Hayes. I don't know the name.

'Richard was the last surviving representative of his generation of the family. His elder brother, Jack, fell in World War One, and his sister, Jane, and younger brother, Joseph, also died young. He was married twice, and divorced twice, and it was his second marriage that brought him his sons, James and Nathan.

'Richard came into his inheritance only a few years into his 20s, and with the exhuberance of youth brought all the glamour of the jazz age to our quiet town. The Hall was the scene of many glittering events at which state senators and captains of industry mingled with socialites and movie stars, and a witticism of the time suggested that the Wilderwood Hotel was so named due to having been built to accomodate those of Richard's friends for whom there were insufficient guest rooms at the Hall.

'Sadly no golden age lasts forever. Just as the last fading melodies of this halcyon age were to be stilled by the grim drumbeat of world war, so did the clouds gather over Wilderwood Hall. Jane Wilderwood died in London during the Blitz, and neither Richard nor his brother Joseph ever quite recovered from the death of their beloved sister. It was perhaps Joseph who felt the loss most keenly, and his grief was to overshadow the rest of his own, tragically short, life.

'By the end of the war the party was truly over. In contrast to the days of his social preeminence Richard led a more retiring life at the Hall. While not as public in his beneficence as his grandfather, William, he remained, in the discreet and private way that was characteristic of his later years, a generous contributor to the good of the town.

'So it is with sadness that I write this final farewell to Richard Wilderwood. Yet I take some comfort from knowing that he will, at last, be reunited with the siblings whose loss he felt so keenly these past three decades, and furthermore from the knowledge that the legacy and the future of the Wilderwood name is in the safe and steady hands of his son, James.'