Summer's Promise. Irene Brand
to my apartment? I’ll order some food from the deli on the first floor.”
“Suits me. What time?”
Summer glanced at her watch. It was seven o’clock. “Give me an hour.” She told him the name of the apartment complex and her number. Replacing the receiver, she sat on the couch and lowered her head to her hands. She didn’t have time to mope if she wanted to be ready when David arrived, but she was scared. Surely if Spring had understood Summer’s situation, she wouldn’t have asked for that promise.
Rousing after a few minutes, Summer telephoned the deli and ordered large servings of chicken stir-fry and fruit salad, for she remembered David had a big appetite. She showered rapidly and put on blue cotton slacks and a white knit blouse. She didn’t take time to wash her hair, but she brushed it briskly. Although not given to taking medication, Summer suddenly realized her head was throbbing, and she took a couple of aspirin that she kept on hand for emergencies. If she’d ever faced an emergency, it was now.
She arranged floral-patterned mats on the small table and set two glasses in the refrigerator to chill. She checked to be sure she had enough cheesecake for dessert, and when the deli delivered her order, she put the food in the small oven to keep it warm. She had barely finished her preparations when a buzzer sounded. She pushed a button to release the door when she saw David’s smiling face through the peephole.
“Come in, David,” she said cordially, although her throat was dry. “Your telephone message surprised me.”
He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
He wore a wine-colored blazer, gray trousers, a brick-striped dress shirt and a silk tie that matched his blazer. David had wide soaring eyebrows and a straight nose. A long profile kept him from being overly handsome, but Summer had never seen a better-groomed man. His short, straight hair, extending backward from a high forehead, was neatly trimmed to his nape. She understood why he would make a good detective, for his brown eyes, steady in their scrutiny, seemed to take in every detail of her apartment and her appearance with one swift glance.
“Can your business wait until we’ve eaten?” Summer asked. “I had a light lunch, and I’m hungry.”
David removed his coat and laid aside the briefcase he carried. “Sounds good to me. I had a meal between Atlanta and New York several hours ago. You’ve got a nice apartment,” he added, as she invited him into the kitchenette.
“My living quarters were pretty bleak when I first came to New York,” she answered with a low laugh, “but my recent job promotion came with a large increase in salary, so I moved into this apartment a couple of months ago. I like living here.”
David gave her a strange, pensive glance as they sat at the table.
“I hope you like chicken stir-fry,” Summer said as she took foil-covered containers from the oven, arranged them on a silver tray and placed it on the table. She set out bowls of fruit salad from the refrigerator. “Would you rather have iced tea or a soft drink?”
“Iced tea, without sugar, please.”
During the two days they’d spent together in Pennsylvania, David and Summer had discussed their respective jobs, so there didn’t seem to be much for them to talk about now. Suspecting why David had come to see her, Summer wanted to forestall the discussion as long as possible.
David couldn’t think of any subject except what he’d come to tell Summer, and how that news was going to burst the bubble she’d built around herself in New York. They’d already covered the weather, so David finally said, “Looks like you’ve adjusted to city life.”
“There really wasn’t much adjustment to make. I’ve always liked to be alone, and it’s easy to lose oneself in a big city.”
She served him a slice of cheesecake, but didn’t take any herself.
“We’re different in that way,” he said. “I want lots of people around me.”
“I learned to find happiness in my own thoughts and company when I was a child. I’m only a year older than Autumn, and she’s prettier and more friendly than I am, so she got most of the attention.”
Not a hint of jealousy in the statement, David noted, as if the favoritism to her sister hadn’t been a problem.
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” David asked. “I like people.”
“I don’t dislike people, but I can be happy alone.”
She stood up and said, “May I get you anything else to eat? More cheesecake?”
“No, thanks. I enjoyed the food. And the company,” he added with a wide smile. David knew she would be unhappy very soon, and he hoped a little levity might cushion the blow. Summer’s eyes were wary, and she didn’t return his smile.
After she loaded the dishwasher, Summer refilled David’s iced-tea glass and carried it to the coffee table. He sat on the couch and motioned for Summer to sit beside him as he picked up the briefcase and opened it. She perched on the couch, several inches from his side, resembling a fledgling about to leave its nest.
Expelling a deep breath, he said, “I got in touch with the supervisor of the school where Bert and Spring worked, and she found their wills. She mailed them to me, and I was so surprised at the contents that I couldn’t think straight for a couple of days. I started to phone you several times, but decided this wasn’t the kind of situation to discuss over the telephone, so I booked a flight to New York.”
He took two sheets of paper from a legal envelope and handed them to Summer. “This is Spring’s will. Since she survived Bert, her will takes precedence, but the requests are identical to Bert’s. You’d better read it for yourself.”
Summer held the document a few minutes before she unfolded it. David watched her compassionately, wondering what her reaction would be.
Summer waded through the first few paragraphs of the handwritten document, and since this was the only last will and testament she’d ever read, the wording seemed rather archaic.
I, Spring Weaver Brown, a citizen and resident of Madison County, North Carolina, being of sound and disposing mind, do make, publish and declare this to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking all other wills made by me at any time.
The will authorized the executor to pay all debts, then Spring bequeathed all of her estate, both real and personal, to her husband, Bert Brown, also named as her executor. Then the document further specified:
Should my husband predecease me, or die simultaneously with me, I hereby nominate my brother-in-law, David Brown, to be the executor of my estate, and in the event he will not or cannot serve, I hereby nominate my father, Landon Weaver, to serve in that capacity.
Should my husband predecease me, I hereby bequeath the care of my two children, Nicole and Timothy, into the joint guardianship of my sister, Summer Weaver, and my brother-in-law, David Brown. In the event that one of them will not or cannot serve, then I ask that the other one assume custody of my children. I request that all of my assets be placed in a trust fund to pass to the children, share and share alike, upon Timothy’s twenty-first birthday.
I further request that my sister, Summer Weaver, and my brother-in-law, David Brown, assume the leadership of The Crossroads, the school my husband and I established in North Carolina, and that they rear our children in that environment.
“Oh, no!” Summer muttered. In her wildest imagination, she’d never expected David to be appointed coguardian of the children. She broke out in a cold sweat, and the room swayed around her. When she rallied, David had his arm around her shoulders, supporting her and wiping her face with a cold, damp cloth. It seemed as if a giant hand had descended upon her chest, and she gasped for breath.
“Did I faint?” she muttered.
“Almost,” David said.
“I’ve never passed out before. Mother taught