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  Who

  Copyright© Nanette L. Avery 2021

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN (Print): 978-1-09833-469-7

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-09833-470-3

  Also By Nanette L. Avery

  The Colony

  Out of the Rabbit Hutch

  Orphan in America

  A Curious Host

  Sixty Jars in A Pioneer Town

  The Fortune Teller and Other Short Works

  Once Upon A Time Words

  My Mother’s Tattoo and Other Stories for Kids

  First Aid for Readers

  For

  Mom and Dorothy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 1

  Dear Madame/Sir,

  It has come to the attention of Tilddler and Associates, that you and other injured parties of similar circumstances were victims of grievous injustices for which you paid dearly. Although we cannot redeem or salvage stolen time, our law firm intends to recoup compensation for wrongdoings placed upon you. Please accept our invitation to attend an all-expense paid weekend where we can discuss our services and commitment towards reclaiming what is rightfully yours. We maintain you will not be disappointed. If you choose to accept our offer, please call the number listed below for further instructions.

  Best regards,

  Hubbard Tilddler, Esq.

  ***

  The invitation lay on the desk with the other mail. It hadn’t arrived early nor late; it arrived in the afternoon directly after the first pot of tea was brewed. Goldie Hildebrandt was a slight woman, and though getting along reasonably well on her husband’s railroad pension, she found life could be disappointing. She had been bitter at first, but as time passed, she tried not to dwell on its frailties. She had no children; there hadn’t been time. Prison does that to a person, and she often wondered if her same mistakes happened today would she have been sentenced to the maximum.

  She sipped her tea and reminisced. She had been a curious child, fair-haired, light eyes, and ever-so-bold. Perhaps if her mother had been a bit stricter, she wouldn’t have found herself in the predicament that stole so much of her youth. The press didn’t highlight the personal side of the story; it was the wickedness that fascinated the public. The trial may have dissolved all her dreams, but it was the look on her mother’s face that left her emotionally scarred.

  ***

  A few days had passed since Mr. Wolfe walked up to the post office to fetch his mail. He wasn’t much for going into town, so the errand twice a week was more than sufficient. Loba, his wife, always enjoyed going along, which made this outing somewhat enjoyable. But times were changing, and despite the couple’s healthy diet and fresh country air, Loba was beginning to slow down. “The hips are the first to go,” reminded the doctor. So, the afternoon Mr. Wolfe carried the invitation home; his wife had stayed behind.

  She was loyal, the newspapers said even to a fault, and to this day, Loba never believed her husband received a fair trial. The jury was biased, tainted with prejudice and circumstantial evidence. The victim, a sickly grandmother, further corrupted his chances of an innocent verdict. It was only by luck and sloppy police work that even now, the whereabouts of the body remain a mystery, all of which saved Mr. Wolfe from a lifetime behind bars.

  ***

  Norman was the biggest baby the town had ever seen. “He’s the size of a watermelon!” gasped the midwife. Dr. Francois had been away treating another patient in the next village, and upon his return, declared the infant the largest the town had ever recorded. At first, Norman was considered a cute little tyke; however, his growing spurts were so quick and so unpredictable that he soon became the brunt of the town’s jokes. This hefty toddler was turning into an enormous child. Soon anything that went wrong was blamed on Norman. If vegetables were missing from the gardens, the town’s children would tattle on him. If a chicken got out of the coup, the fault lay on Norman. Broken toys, fights on the playground, any infractions were all blamed on the super-sized child. And as time grew, so did Norman until he stood at over 6 feet 8 inches and confirmed by the doctor as “a giant.” His young adult life saw little change while his behemoth size accompanied an undeserving reputation as lazy and dolt-like. Such an unfair characterization followed him unjustly when a cunning neighbor, Jack Spriggins, framed him for grand larceny. So it was that Norman began his jail sentence as a fair-haired young man and paroled as a greying middle-aged man. Prison changed his appearance, but it also changed his opinion of justice.

  When Norman received his invitation, he looked over the envelope several times and even shook it to his ear. He was not in the habit of receiving mail, and for several minutes, he wasn’t sure if he cared to open it.

  ***

  Each recipient received the same note. None returned the call right away except Mrs. Hildebrandt, who had not been away on holiday for many years. Her instructions were to take the midday train on Friday and get off at Hillbury, the last station on its route. From there, she would take the ferry across the sound. Here she would be greeted by the lighthouse keeper, Mr. Jay, and driven by way of a coach to the mountainside lodging.

  Mrs. Hildebrandt scribbled the information down on a piece of paper and read it over. At first, it seemed more trouble than it was worth, so she slipped it into the desk drawer until she pulled the calendar towards her. There was more than enough time to make a decision, but what does one wear? She mulled over her wardrobe and decided that it was almost summer, so it would be entirely suitable to wear white. But then, perhaps white would not do. A linen suit would undoubtedly show any speck of dirt, and sitting for so many hours would surely give the fabric too many wrinkles. No, the white linen was a poor choice. Her blue shirtwaist would be much more travel friendly. She opened the drawer again and decided to call back. She would leave her name and say she was attending.

  ***

  Norman was not in the mood to travel. He had grown weary of life’s disappointments and explained away the invitation as a fast shuffle. On the other hand, there was one useful take away from the offer he couldn’t dismiss. Tilddler recognized the injustices against him and was taking an interest in the messy affair. Only a law firm would invest their time, especially if there were an opportunity to make money with multiple claimants.

  Norman called the number. He decided he had little to lose.

  ***

  Mr. Wolfe did not open his invitation; instead, it was his wife, and when she read it, she didn’t bother to discuss it with him. She had made up her mind; he was going.

  ***

  The train to Hillbury arrived at the station on time, but Mrs. Hildebrandt did not. She was not in the habit of being on a schedule, and when the cab arrived, she was still finishing her te
a. The driver, a timeworn man with an agreeable disposition, was also not in a hurry and took his time loading her bags into the trunk of his car. When both were ready, he helped her into the backseat, where she settled into the corner. And, like a pair of Sunday drivers, they chatted about the weather and the sights along the way. When there was nothing new to talk about, they started over. It had been some time since Goldie had ridden in a car, and she was feeling quite content.

  Mr. Brooks was a conscientious driver, and she told him so when they arrived at the station and waited until a porter offered to help with her bags. Had it not been for a dignitary taking the same train, the baggage handler stated, it would have left ten minutes ago. The traveler found this to be a lucky sign. With someone of such importance also on board, it made her all the more giddy. “Who is it?” she wanted to know.

  “As much as we’ve been told,” whispered the porter, “an emissary and his entourage. Never seen so many bags just for one man.”

  “I suppose ambassadors don’t travel light.” She made a sour face and assumed a sudden dislike for whoever it was. “They’re all the same,” she mused, “thinking they’re better than the rest of us. As soon as I settle into my compartment, I’ll find a cup of tea.”

  ***

  The dining car was not full, and although it was nearing 4 o’clock, not everyone practiced the tradition of teatime. “Such a lovely ritual has seen better times,” she muttered overhearing the woman at the adjacent table order coffee.

  She tilted her head towards the window and glared at the landscape of grey rowhouses and telephone poles taking up most of the panorama. Clotheslines of pinned sheets and streets lined with parked cars followed the train, making the expression of her mouth pout downward. “Your tea, extra lemon on the side, and honey.” The waiter placed the teapot and teacup on the table, offered her a napkin, and quickly padded away. His rushed demeanor compelled her to follow his silhouette to a private table. The waiter bowed slightly at the waist and handed a menu to a thin, bearded gentleman wearing a strange-looking hat. Three younger men, each sporting a mustache, sat down at a table behind him. At once, the dining car became lively with chatter. It was apparent that the ambassador was present.

  Mrs. Hildebrandt sipped her tea as she wondered what all the fuss was about. He wasn’t anything particularly special, except for that hat. “And you would think he would take it off in the dining car,” she scorned to herself. She lowered her eyes and watched as the waiter brought him a plate of pastries and a cup and saucer. Several indecisive moments were spent waiting for the emissary to vacillate over the platter; until finally, he selected an apricot filled pastry and a lemon curd. He folded the napkin on his lap and then, using a knife and fork, cut the pastries into smaller mouth size pieces. Each bite was relished with a slight groan of approval, all of which Goldie found quite annoying. “What’s in the cup?” she asked the waiter as he poured her more tea. He looked at her with questioning eyes until she pointed with her chin towards the man.

  “Hot chocolate.”

  “You don’t say,” she remarked.

  “More lemon?”

  “No, I’m quite fine, thank you.”

  The waiter slipped from table to table, nodding with great approval, and flashing his sparkling smile. Goldie screwed up her nose with the thought of cocoa and watched the emissary pat his mouth and toss the napkin aside. The three men, as if on cue, stood up and waited while the ambassador straightened his hat and moved slowly away. Then two followed several paces behind as the third gentleman removed his pocketbook and lay several bills on the table. Goldie glanced about as the entourage filed out of the car like tin soldiers. She twisted around for the waiter, but he was busy serving a table of six at the far end of the car. Having drained the last of the teapot, Goldie swirled a teaspoon of sugar around the bottom of the cup before enjoying the last swallow. A nap before dinner would be nice, she thought and dipped into her change purse and counted out a few coins, stacking them on the tablecloth.

  The coffee drinker at the next table had already left, and it remained unoccupied. “I wonder if her view was any better than mine?” Mrs. Hildebrandt wondered as she took her time towards the exit. She stopped at the emissary’s table and eyed his empty cup and plate. She imagined how shocked people would be if they knew a man of his distinction drank coco like a child. She laughed to herself, and then, she reached over and snatched the bills off the table, crumpling them up in her gloved palm. “Old habits die hard,” and wholly detached from the rest of the car, Goldie faced straight forward, sighed contently, and walked out.

  Chapter 2

  “I’ve done many things in my life, but going to the top of a lighthouse is one I’ve missed.” Norman straddled his suitcase between his legs as he spoke. The keeper leaned his head up towards the sky and then back again, setting his chin in motion with a nod of understanding. “I know what you’re thinking. A man of my size couldn’t get up and around the stairwell. But you’d be surprised what I can do. I was quite athletic in my day.” He patted his stomach and grinned. “Maybe more out of shape now but still, quite agile when I need to be.”

  The lighthouse keeper sighed. “I hadn’t paid much attention to your size, but now that you brought it up, you are a big fellah.”

  “A giant.”

  “Giant?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been called a giant so many times that I sometimes forget my real name.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Norman.”

  A cool breeze blowing off the water seemed to lighten the moment. The lighthouse keeper, a crusty man with a day-old beard, appeared more annoyed about having been taken away from his usual chores. He walked with a slight limp, and though riddled with arthritis, he was careful not to complain lest a younger and more fit man was to take his place. “Please to make your acquaintance. I’m Jay.”

  “Perhaps when I return, you might take me up?”

  “Perhaps.”

  A face at the window disappeared just as Norman glanced up at the magnificent structure. He wasn’t ordinarily superstitious, but as he followed the old keeper down a path to the coach, he began to sense something was amiss.

  ***

  Wolfe was outraged that his wife had taken it upon herself to make the arrangements without his knowledge. But as always, his bark was bigger than his bite, and when she dropped him off at the station, he had calmed down. He didn’t like to travel far from home; he was a creature of habit, enjoying his meals at the same time, and taking evening walks around the same park he had done for years. But after brooding and then quiet contemplation, he couldn’t find any real fault in following up with what this Esquire had to say. Everything in the weekend was included, there was no outlay of money, and a few days of relaxation among others who had endured similar adversities would do him good. That’s what Loba said after she kissed him goodbye and drove away.

  He offered his bag to the porter and hoped his wife had remembered to pack his red ascot. “A hell of a time to think about that,” he thought as he stepped up into the train. He followed the conductor into his car and tried to ignore the feeling someone was staring at him. From a side glance, he noticed an elderly woman duck inside her compartment as he approached. All the males in his family had the same effect on people, and since he had inherited their strong jawline, long pointy nose, and deep-set black eyes, assumed it was because of his appearance. He wasn’t ugly, just gruff looking. And for that reason, he found it difficult to make friends. The conductor stood in the doorway as Wolfe pulled the window shade down to avoid platform loiterers from looking in. “After we get going, the dining car will be open,” the trainman said.

  “Thank you, but I prefer to have my dinner served here. If that’s okay?”

  “Certainly, Sir. I’ll have someone come around to take your order.”

  Wolfe smiled back his approval, which appeared to have triggere
d the conductor’s hasty retreat. Loba often warned him that sometimes his smile showed a bit too many teeth. “Next time I’ll just grin,” he thought.

  ***

  The ride to the manor house was out of a fairy tale; a vintage coach pulled by two harnessed horses steadily climbed the inclined road. The coachman mumbled and grumbled as he tried to swat away the flies with a handkerchief. His was a meager attempt at discouraging the pesky insects. Mrs. Hildebrandt felt no ill effects of the bumpy ride, enjoying the plush interior and a basket generous with snacks. She set the cloth napkin on her lap and fingered the scones as she decided which one to eat first. “Scones,” she thought, “I haven’t had these since before prison.” Such an unpleasant reminder made her snarl.

  It had been a long day of travel, and as she brushed the few crumbs off her dress, she hoped they would arrive soon. She peered out the small window and smiled. It certainly was a lovely view, for as the horses lumbered upward, the seascape grew smaller, and the land around her became more lush. It made her reminisce about her childhood; it never occurred to her until she was older that growing up in the woods was considered out of the norm. It all seemed perfectly natural, the cottage, the picket fence, and the animals: rabbits, squirrels, hawks, deer, and of course, bears. Mrs. Hildebrandt closed her eyes, and then, in a matter of what seemed only a moment, she heard the driver fiddling with the coach door. A pungent odor of manure penetrated her nose just as she heard him say, “We’re here, Ma’am.”

  ***

  She slowly trailed the coachman’s steps up to the house, a large brick building overlooking the sound. He set the suitcase down on the front stoop. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you here now,” he said. He had a crooked mouth and appeared to lean to the left, favoring that side of his body. “Maybe it’s because he carries so many heavy bags with his left hand,” Mrs. Hildebrandt thought as she watched him totter back to the coach and lift himself to the top of the cab. She tried to decipher how old he was, but to Goldie, everyone seemed younger than her. The oak door, sturdy and rustic, presented a large brass knocker. She peered at the doorframe, hoping for a doorbell, but there was none. She stood for several moments and backed away from the portico to reassess her position. She had learned to be leery of unlocked doors, which often came with false welcomes. Then she gained her courage and pulled back on the ring, striking the door with several bold raps. Almost immediately, the door opened with what seemed to be an enormous man taking up the entire entranceway.