TFRoot - The Elixer Read online

  Suddenly, Yukon's happy barking took a slightly ominous turn, becoming interspersed with low growling. He strained against the leash, and Tom had to struggle to hold him back, which he did, but just barely.

  "What is it, Yukon? What's the matter, boy?” Clearly, something was really bothering him now. What could it be? Tom looked around. He found himself and Yukon at the bottom of a gently-sloping hill, at the top of which, on a lot completely enclosed by a six-foot high white wooden fence, stood a spacious, well-maintained center-hall colonial. Built into the fence were two swinging-door entrances, one of which was open and was at the foot of a pathway leading to the front door of the house. Standing at the front door was a woman, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She was rather tall, quite a bit taller than Tom, in any event, and he was about the height of an average woman. She was wearing a very long, coral-colored, floral-patterned dress and a wide-brimmed, floppy canvas gardening hat. Underneath the hat she wore a pink scarf, wrapped entirely around her head and under her chin—like the bandages on someone who had suffered a head injury—in such a manner as to show only her face, which was even further obscured by a pair of round, oversized, opaque sunglasses. Perched about her shoulders was a black cat, which seemed to be eyeing Tom and especially Yukon, with definite trepidation.

  "I thought that was supposed to be a service dog,” the woman called out to Tom, in a cultured voice that bore the slightest hint of an English accent. “He looks to me like a wild animal!"

  "No, heis a service dog,” answered Tom, reciting one of Carole's stock replies to any question of the propriety of Yukon's presence, “he's just not working right now. Actually, he belongs to my wife. I'm only walking him."

  "Well, if you can't control him properly, please walk him elsewhere,” she said, rather imperiously.

  Tom was annoyed. An attack on Yukon was like an attack on Carole, and right or wrong he would defendher to the death. Besides, Yukon had been behaving just fine until this woman and her cat had appeared.And just who does she think she is, anyway? This is a public road! Wait a minute ... why would she ever think to ask me if Yukon were a service dog?

  "Have we met before?"

  "No, but we do know each other. I'm Lucinda Hobson."

  "I'm sorry, but I can't really place the name."

  "Why you most certainlyshould ! You happen to be living in my house."

  Tom was momentarily baffled; then it came to him. He recalled the real estate agent asking him to make out the check for the first and last month's rent and the security deposit to her, instead of directly to the owner, which had struck him as unusual. He had had to press her a bit before she had finally disclosed the owner's name: Lucinda Hobson!That was it!

  "Oh, well, Ms. Hobson, it's nice to finally meet you,” he said, trying to sound conciliatory.No use getting off on the wrong foot, or at least let's not make it any worse than we already have. “Actually, Yukon here is usually very well-behaved, especially at home.”No, this animal won't destroy your house, lady. Tom forced a smile. “Believe it or not, my wife can handle him better than I can. As I said, he's her dog, and he really is quite well-trained."

  "Yes, Alison told me all about the dog, and your wife, and her condition. What is it called, RSD?"

  "Right, that's it,” said Tom quickly, nodding affirmatively. He did not really appreciate discussing his wife's health, not with this woman, anyway, and he was eager to change the subject. “Well, as I said, Yukon is a service dog, and he is normally quite well-behaved. I think maybe it was your cat that set him off just a bit.” He forced another smile. “I happen to like cats myself; but Yukon, well ... he's a dog. But when he's working, as I said, he's fine, no problem.” The woman stared at Tom unblinkingly, cocking her head to one side slightly but definitely, her superior demeanor exuding condescension.I really don't like this person; I certainly hope that I won't have to have too much to do with her! “In any event, I will try to keep him away from your house—this house. Well, it, uh, was ... nice to finally meet you ... Ms. Hobson. We were headed for the park, actually, so I suppose we'll get going. Come on, Yukon!” With that, Tom and Yukon started to walk away.

  "That's not a very good idea,” she called out after him. “Dogs are not allowed at the park here.” She smirked. “Unless, I imagine, they are service dogs that are in factworking at the time."

  By this time, Tom had become quite irritated with this woman's attitude. Had she not been his new landlord, he probably would have told her, and rather forcefully, to mind her own business. He considered ignoring her, but decided that would be too impolite.

  "Oh, really; well, thank you for the information,” he said blandly, turning his head slightly and lifting his free hand to acknowledge her while he and Yukon kept walking. “I suppose we'll check out the beach, then."

  "Yes, interestingly enough, dogsare allowed on the beach here."

  "Good to know,” he called back at her, without breaking stride.

  "Do you know something else? Alison never mentioned what a handsome little fellow you are."

  Tom stopped suddenly.What did she say? Did I hear her correctly? He turned around to speak, but she was gone, having seemingly vanished into thin air.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "That is so odd,” remarked Carole after Tom, over dinner at M.D. Armstrong's, a venerable eating establishment named after a local Civil War hero, had finished relating the story of his meeting with Lucinda Hobson earlier that day. “I remember that Alison told us that the lady had no problem with Yukon. Of course, legally she can't do anything, right? Technically, he is a service dog."

  "Well, I was in no mood to start debating the Americans with Disabilities Act with her. Besides, even if you win, you lose. Who needs all that aggravation?” Tom took a sip of his Bass Ale. “Look, I know it would be a pain, but if you want to get out ... well, all we have, really, are our clothes...."

  "Um, and all my pills, and medicines, and all Yukon's stuff, and...."

  Tom chuckled. “Oh, Carole, I'm not exactly low maintenance either, you know! I probably have just as much clothing, and toiletries, and other ... stuff ... as you. I guess for a man...."

  "...you'd make a great woman!” she said, completing his sentence, as they often did for one another. They both laughed.

  "Seriously, though, I mean it. If you want to go back..."

  "No! I want to spend the summer here! This is the first real vacation we've had since we've been married. And you know how I love the beach."

  "There are plenty of other places in the world with beaches—we just came from one!” Tom looked at her intently. “You know, Carole, we can live just about anywhere we want now. I thought that coming back to the Northeast would be good for us, that it was something that we've both always wanted."

  "Younever wanted to leave to begin with, did you? You were doing pretty well with Ran Holloway's firm on Park Avenue."

  Tom shrugged. “I suppose I never would have left if my mother hadn't been sick. But everything worked out for the best. Of course,” he added with a smile, “if I hadn't gone to Florida, I might never have met you."

  "Or Mr. Novello,” said Carole with a wink. “The late Mr. Novello.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You'd have never known it to look at him, would you? What was it, two hundred million dollars?"

  "Closer tofour , actually,” Tom said, trying to sound cool. “No wife, no children, no living relatives, left it all to a trust for his old girlfriend..."

  "...and named you executor,” said Carole. “He knew what a great lawyer you are."

  "I don't know aboutthat ,” Tom demurred.

  "I do,” Carole said proudly. “How many lawyers get rich from just one client?"

  "Oh, he just hired me because he likedyou ."

  Carole smiled. “Don't we make a great team?"

  "Yes, we do,” Tom agreed. “But we're not reallyrich now, remember that!” he said in gentle admonition.

  "No?"

  "No,” Tom repeated. Then
, grinning slyly, added: “We just don't have to work if we don't want to or worry about money ever again."

  "As long as we don't go overboard, right?"

  "Right. It is nice, though, being able to go anywhere we want. I know you wanted to move back up here, too, Carole. Besides, you should be closer to your family."

  "Well, remember, we don't have to be that close,” she said, jokingly. “No, this was definitely a good idea, living up here for a few months, at least.” She smiled. “I'm starting to like it already. We'll relax for a little while, and then one weekend we can drive down to my sister in New Jersey and look at some houses around there. It's about a four hour drive, right?"

  Tom nodded. “I called my friend Gene Daniel in New York, and he said we could spend a few days with him, so we can look around there, too.” Tom paused. “I would also like you to make an appointment to see Dr. Michael while we're there; I mean, if you would be comfortable with that. What do you think?"

  Carole let out a little sigh. “Oh, I suppose. But that can wait a while. Let's not think about that now.” She took a sip of her hot chamomile tea. “Actually, I've been feeling pretty good, lately."

  "Did you find it a bit chilly today?"

  "A little bit, yes. I imagine that we're just not used to it anymore."

  "Did it bother you?"

  "Not too much; I'm a little achy. I feel all right, though, I guess, especially considering how busy we've been.” She paused. “I'm fine, really!” she added.

  "Good,” Tom said, nodding his head and pressing his lips together firmly. “You know I worry about you.” He extended his hand across the table and placed it on top of hers, patting her affectionately. “Youlook great."

  "Thank you,” said Carole, smiling sweetly.

  "Of course,” he continued, grinning appreciatively, “youalways look great, Natasha."

  "I'm ‘Natasha’ again?"

  "You'll always be Natasha to me."

  Natasha was one of Tom's pet names for Carole, a moniker he had whimsically bestowed upon her on their very first date, one that to him evoked the mysterious glamour of a gorgeous female Russian secret agent in a James Bond-style fantasy. He was always reminded of this whenever Carole had on her long, black leather coat, which she was wearing tonight over a lavender mock-turtleneck sweater and black slacks, the whole ensemble perfectly pulled-together by the small gold cross on a slender chain around her neck, one of her favorite pieces of jewelry, which Tom had bought for her last Christmas.

  "Natasha? I thought that your name was Carole!"

  Tom and Carole, startled, looked up to see hovering at their booth a tall, slender young woman wearing a rather expensive-looking light gray jacket with a matching long skirt, a black silk blouse, and a pair of stylish, high, black, leather boots. “Well, aren't you going to introduce me?” she said to Tom.

  "Oh, of course, I would,” Tom stammered, “but, honestly, I'm afraid I can't place...."

  "Lucinda Hobson,” said the woman, quite cordially, extending her hand to Carole. “I'm very pleased to meet you. I already had the pleasure of meeting your husband this afternoon."

  "And Yukon, I hear,” said Carole, taking her hand politely but arching one eyebrow.

  "Oh, yes,” said Lucinda, nodding. “He is a beautiful dog. A Siberian husky, isn't he? I am quite fond of animals, you know.” Tom and Carole exchanged mutual glances of bemused disbelief. “Actually, when I saw your husband here, I felt I had to come over and explain.” She turned her attention to Tom. “I want you to know that I was rather upset when we met earlier, and I really wasn't quite myself, so if I behaved badly or said anything at all that you found offensive, I do so want to apologize."

  "Oh, thank you, but no, I took no offense, not at all, Ms. Hobson,” said Tom, trying to sound diplomatic but with a slight hesitancy that betrayed his confusion.

  "Please, call me Lucinda, or Lucy. People seem to prefer that these days.” She smiled broadly. “Now, why don't you two allow me to welcome you to town by buying you dinner?"

  "Oh, no ... Lucy” Tom protested, “thank you, that's very kind of you to offer, but no."

  "I absolutely insist,” said Lucinda.

  "Are you all alone tonight, Lucy?” asked Carole, trying to be friendly.

  "Yes, it's just me."

  "Well, okay, we accept your offer, but only if you'll join us,” said Carole, looking across the table to Tom for corroboration.

  "Oh yes, of course, please join us,” said Tom, catching his waitress’ eye while pointing, first at Lucinda and then to his table, indicating that they would be dining together.

  Lucinda sat down in the booth next to Carole and across from Tom, who tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her. She was an extremely attractive woman, perhaps beautiful even, he thought, though not exactly his type—if nothing else, she would have been way too tall for him—with fine, well-sculpted patrician features, large, clear blue eyes, extremely fair skin—almost ghostly, in fact—and long, thick black hair that cascaded in smooth, loose waves half-way down her back. In any event, the rather unusual combination of her coloring made for a dramatic visual impact. But what Tom found most striking about her was her age. She seemed to be just about the same age as him, or younger, even—at the very most, no more than her early forties—while the woman he had encountered earlier had seemed so much older, both in appearance and demeanor. Of course, he had not really gotten that good a look at her; she had been practically in disguise, wearing dark sunglasses, a scarf, and a hat, but still, he would have sworn that this was a different person had it not been for her voice and the fact that she so clearly remembered having met him and Yukon.

  "You seem to know quite a bit about us, Lucy. You must have gotten some information from Alison,” Tom said finally, referring to the realtor who had rented them Lucinda's property.

  "Well, not that all that much; she told me your names, that you've been married about three years now, and that Carole is a physical therapist and you are a lawyer."

  Tom and Carole looked at each other and smiled knowingly.

  Lucinda took note of this. “Am I missing something?"

  "No,” said Tom, “it's just that neither one of us plans to be working while we're here. Actually, we couldn't anyway, with state licensing requirements and whatnot."

  "I see. May I ask what does bring you here, then?"

  "Just an extended vacation."

  The waitress, a well-scrubbed, slightly plump, pleasant-looking teenager, approached the booth. “Would you care for something to drink?” she asked Lucinda.

  "My usual, Carrie. Oh, and I'll have the scrod tonight, with whatever vegetables are freshest.” The waitress nodded and left with Lucinda's order. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Well, I always wondered where people from Florida went on vacation."

  "Actually, we're both from the Northeast, originally,” said Carole. “Tom's from New York—Long Island—and I'm from New Jersey. We are planning to buy a house this fall, we haven't decided where exactly, but somewhere in the New York area."

  "I see. Will you be starting a new job?"

  "You could say that,” said Tom.

  "Actually,” said Carole, “Tom has always wanted to be a writer, and I think he's going to try that, at least for a little while."

  "Oh, really! How intriguing.” Lucinda paused. Reflexively, she began to finger the small, shiny green charm that hung from a thin gold chain around her neck. “I knew a writer once,” she said quietly. A wistful, faraway look crossed her face, and her eyes suddenly began to well up with tears.

  The waitress arrived with a cup of what looked to be herbal tea and placed it in front of Lucinda, who immediately picked it up and took a sip. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled, quickly composing herself. She looked over at Tom and smiled. “Perhaps you can let me read some of your work some day,” she said brightly.

  "Hopefully, some day,” said Tom. “Right now, I don't have anything finished, but I have a few good ideas. At least I think they're good." />
  "Oh, yes,” said Lucinda, nodding knowingly. “I understand.” She turned her attention to Carole. “I hope he doesn't expectyou to support him while he pursues this little adventure of his,” she said jocularly.

  "No,” said Carole, turning to her husband, an appreciative look on her face, “my Tommy has been quite a successful lawyer. He can provide for me, for us both, very well.” She beamed at him lovingly.

  "I've done all right,” Tom confirmed quickly, not wanting to discuss the subject in any depth.

  "So tell me, Tom,” Lucinda asked, “in what areas of law did you practice?"

  "Trusts and Estates, mainly."