Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy

I’d also have fun carving some of the pumpkins to set them along the front porch for Halloween while leaving some unpicked until the last minute so I could use them as decorations for Thanksgiving.

I was just coming around from the side of the house to the front with two pumpkins in hand when a black pickup truck came up the driveway. I smiled when I caught the sign on the side… Strathmore Builders and saw William Strathmore in the driver’s seat.

I was amazed every time I saw him. Seventy-five, yet he looked like he was just about entering his sixties, white hair, gleaming white teeth, not a stoop to his broad shoulders or tall height or the slightest paunch to his stomach. The wrinkles on his face were just enough to add even more appeal to his good looks. It was easy to see who Burke had inherited his handsome features from, though William was not the ladies’ man his grandson was. It was well known how much he loved Cam, his wife of almost fifty years and that he had been and still was a faithful husband to her.

“Heard you needed a new deck,” William said, after getting out of the truck and walking over to take one of the fat pumpkins from me to set down on the porch. “Need more help with the pumpkins?”

“Four hands are always better than two,” I said with a smile and William helped me gather a few more before we settled on the back deck with a mug of coffee for him, tea for me, and slices of banana bread.

“Your Aunt Effie would be proud of what you’ve done here,” William said. “She always loved this place. She was a gorgeous and gracious woman. She had some great parties here and brought real class and style to our little neck of the woods.”

Listening to him, he sounded as if he had thought her more than a friend.

William rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I can finally admit after all these years that I had a severe crush on your aunt. She may have been twenty years my senior, but she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known.” He laughed. “Cam knows how I felt about her and how she always had a little piece of my heart. A young boy’s crush that never went away. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way about her. I think most of the men in Willow Lake felt that way. After all, not everyone got to live near an international model.”

“You built this deck for her, didn’t you?”

“I remember the day well. It was spring and she told me that she wanted a big deck for parties and family and boy did she have parties. I loved seeing her in town or at local events. She didn’t just wear clothes—she gave them life. There wasn’t a time she didn’t look glamorous or that she wasn’t smiling. Will there be parties at Skunk Hollow once again with the new deck?”

“That was my thought, though I was thinking of extending the deck and adding a pergola in one section.”

“I thought the same myself,” William said. “A nice fire pit with a seating area off to the side that you could enjoy in fall and winter would be something you might consider.”

I chuckled. “It’s like you read my mind.”

We discussed ideas and William took measurements and promised he’d have plans and prices for me in two or three days.

Mo’s frantic barking from inside the house—his favorite dog program keeping him glued to the TV—had me and William both turning and seeing the big dog rushing at the French doors while continuing to bark.

“Someone that he doesn’t know is here,” I said to William and, as if on cue, a man came around the end of the house.

“Don’t mean to intrude,” the man said.

I sized him up pretty fast, expensive suit and shoes, not a wise choice in the woods, gray hair neatly kept, slim, and wearing a fake smile—maybe a salesman.

“I think I took a wrong turn,” he said. “I’m looking for Willow Lake Lodge.”

“The next right down the road,” I said, wondering if I should have William make me a sign that read… THIS IS NOT THE TURN FOR WILLOW LAKE LODGE. He was the third person in far too short of time to make a wrong turn, but then the other two had been on purpose. Could this one be as well?

“And you are?” I asked.

He stuck out his hand and his smile spread so wide it reminded me of the Grinch’s smile.

“I’m Martin Sands, a friend of your new neighbor. Have you met Ian yet?”

Martin Sands was not a friend of Ian’s. He was his ex-agent and I wondered over the lie, but then maybe the man still considered himself Ian’s friend. Though from what Ian had told me about the guy, he was far from a friend.