“You’re right, Mr. Willis,” I said sheepishly. “It’s a fine idea. And I suppose they couldn’t really publish the thing without me in it somewhere. I must be the world’s greatest authority on Aunt Dimity.”
“You are indeed,” said Willis, Sr., with a contented nod. He glanced down at the paper on top of the stack, then continued. “You shall have one month—that is, thirty days from the time of your arrival at the cottage—in which to do the necessary research and writing. I shall contact you periodically to confer with you and to ask certain questions Miss West-wood has prepared.”
“Questions? About what?”
“The questions concern the contents of both the letters and the stories, Miss Shepherd.”
“I should be able to answer questions about the stories right now.”
“Undoubtedly, but we shall follow Miss Westwood’s wishes nonetheless. At the end of the month, if you have answered those questions satisfactorily and completed the introduction in the manner described by Miss Westwood, you shall receive a commission of… let me see…” He ran his finger down the sheet. “Ah, here it is.” He looked up and smiled pleasantly. “You shall receive a commission of ten thousand dollars.”
“Ten thousand…” My voice cracked. “Isn’t that a bit much?” I added faintly.
“It is the value Miss Westwood placed on the task. It was, I understand, very close to her heart.”
“It must have been.” My mind flew to the stack of bills that was threatening to engulf my apartment at that very moment. I had expected to be paying them off with my Social Security checks, but now … ten thousand dollars. For one month’s work. I sank back on the couch and raised a hand to my forehead.
Willis, Sr., peered at me worriedly. “Great heavens, I’ve done it again. Please, allow me to pour you a glass of sherry. You’ve gone quite pale.”
While Willis, Sr., poured the sherry, I tried to gather my wits. It wasn’t easy, since visions of hundred-dollar bills kept them fairly well scattered. But by the time he returned with the sherry, I had at least calmed down enough to listen attentively.
“Here you are, my dear. Drink that down while I continue.” He waited until I’d taken a sip, then referred once more to his notes. “You need not depart for England until you are fully prepared to do so. Miss Westwood felt that you might require some time to take leave of your friends, make the necessary arrangements with your employer, and so on.” Folding his hands, he added, “Miss Westwood also hoped that you would accept our hospitality and reside here at the mansion until it is time for you to leave.”
“Is that a condition of the will?”
“No, Miss Shepherd, but it coincides with my own wishes. I should be only too happy to welcome you as a guest in my home for as long as you wish to stay.” He leaned toward me and added confidentially, “It brings me great pleasure to have a fresh face in the house, especially one belonging to someone who is neither studying nor practicing the law.”
I laughed. “I can understand that, Mr. Willis. Thank you, I’ll stay, as long as it’s no trouble.”
“None at all.” He consulted the notes and continued, “Funds have, of course, been made available to pay for your travel and for any expenses incurred before or during your visit to the cottage. These expenses need not, I might add, relate directly to the writing of the introduction. Miss West-wood wanted you to be able to concentrate, you see, and felt that you would be able to do so only if your ancillary needs and desires were satisfactorily met. Anything, therefore, that ensures your comfort and well-being shall be considered a necessary expense.”
A bottomless expense account. I could pay the bills, take care of the rent, buy some new clothes—of my own choosing—without even touching the commission. I was so dazzled that I almost missed Willis, Sr.’s next words.
“…also for your convenience, Miss Westwood specified that the arrangements for your trip and the disbursement of funds be directed by my son.”
A mouthful of sherry nearly ended up on Willis, Sr.’s immaculate waistcoat.
“Bill?” I gasped.
“Indeed. Miss Westwood did not wish to trouble you with the day-to-day details of travel and finance. My son, therefore, shall be responsible for looking after you from now until you have completed your task. He shall supply your transportation, oversee your expenses, and accompany you to England to act as your… facilitator, for want of a better term.” The expression on my face must have alarmed Willis, Sr., for he added reassuringly, “His role shall in no way limit your access to the funds, Miss Shepherd. You have only to ask, and you shall be given whatever you require.”
“By Bill.”
“Miss Westwood is quite specific on that point, yes.”
“You mean that, without Bill, I can’t do anything else?”
“I fear not.”
“But why him?” I asked. “I’d much rather work with you.”
“That is very kind of you, Miss Shepherd. I should be only too happy to be of service to you, but…” Willis, Sr., sighed. “I fear, alas, that my health will not permit it. I have for the past year been beset by some minor difficulties with:—”
“Your heart,” I broke in. “Bill told me about it—”
“Did he?” said Willis, Sr.
“This morning. And, like an idiot, I forgot. Of course you can’t go off globe-trotting. Please—forget that I mentioned it.” I scowled at my shoes for a second, then asked, “How much does Bill know about all of this?”
“I enlisted his aid in locating you, but other than that, I have told him nothing. Indeed, I have not yet informed him of the part he is to play in Miss Westwood’s plan. I felt it would be best to withhold that information until I was certain of your participation.” Willis, Sr., hesitated. “I do not wish to pry, Miss Shepherd, but do I detect a note of dismay?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, my chin in my hands. “I think you could put it that way.”
“Might I ask why?”
l turned to face him. “Do you know what your son did?”
“I tremble to think.”
“H,thought clothes for me! A whole closetful!” It sounded so trivial, now that I’d said it aloud, that I was afraid Willis, Sr., would laugh, but he seemed to understand exactly what I was getting at.
“Without consulting you? How very presumptuous of him.” After a thoughtful pause, he added, “And how unlike him. If you will permit a personal observation, Miss Shepherd, my son has always been most reserved with the young ladies of his acquaintance.”
“Reserved?” I said. “Bill?”
“I would go so far as to say he displays a certain degree of shyness in their company. I cannot imagine him selecting apparel for them.” Willis, Sr., leaned toward me. “Tell me, has he done anything else you deem noteworthy?”
“He took me up on the roof this morning to look at a meteor shower.”
Willis, Sr.’s jaw dropped. “He took you to Arthur’s dome? Oh, but that is extraordinary. Unprecedented, in fact. The students have access to it, of course, but I have never known him to invite anyone up there, aside from myself. I cannot think why…” He frowned for a moment, clearly at a loss.
I wasn’t at a loss. It stood to reason that Bill couldn’t play Handsome Prince games with the rich and polished “young ladies of his acquaintance.” What he needed was a Cinderella, a grateful orphan girl to mold as he pleased. Just thinking about it made my blood pressure rise all over again, but it wasn’t something I could explain to his loving father.