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“That’s actually the opposite of what Dudley wanted. And what makes you and our parents any better suited to live out here an hour away from the city? You’d hate it.”
“Well, we’d keep the other house silly. We were thinking of renting this out as an Airbnb if you must know. We’ll have to pave this hideous gravel driveway though, and switch out that eye sore of a door. Yeesh,” Fiona said, taking an abhorred glance at the brass embellished front door. The only part of the house I had originally been drawn to my first day here. I was almost insulted by her critiques, as if the place was mine.
“So,” Fiona continued. “Where’s that fat inheritance check? Have you spent any of it yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Good. We’ll want to collect that along with the house. We can probably work something out to split it four ways.”
“Fiona, let me get this into that little pea brain of yours. You are not getting this house. And neither are our parents. Even if I don’t stay, there’s another interested party and I know for a fact they will pay way more than you guys could ever afford to get it.”
“Another interested party?” Fiona put her hand to her chest. “Who?”
I wasn’t about to reveal that the bidder was Brenton. I didn’t even want to sell it to him after all that he’d done, but I wouldn’t tell Fiona that. Not that I had any power over who it was sold to if I couldn’t find that damn journal. But once I did, I’d find someone else to buy the house. Someone who wasn’t my selfish, conniving family.
“Thanks for stopping by Fiona. It really was such a pleasure. I have some things to tend to for Dudley now. Bye!”
I turned my back to my sister, grabbing my grocery bags from the car and making my way inside. I looked out the front window a few minutes later and she was gone.
I went to the kitchen, wishing to bake my frustrations into some muffins. While they were in the oven, I did more sleuthing around the house. There was a closet underneath the stairs that I had yet to search. Among a bunch of random papers, I found some old blueprints of the house’s layout and dimensions from when it was first built. Dudley must have remodeled the front entrance and the kitchen since these were drawn up because they looked different. Aside from that, the layout looked basically the same.
In another box, there were a few digital cameras with no SD cards. I dug further and found an envelope with some developed photos inside. I rummaged through the photos, noticing many of them had notes written on the back. A few were of Dudley standing among trees, others showed forests that housed rows of apples, others were close ups of bark and leaves. Notes detailed the dates these photos were taken and what seemed to be the species of tree depicted in each. It appeared Dudley was almost as obsessed with apple trees as Brenton was. I guessed it would make sense that he had worked for TruFruit with these interests.
Aside from the photos of trees, Dudley had amazing photos from his travels. There were pictures of the Tower of Pisa, some quaint Italian cafes, cramped streets with cars driving on the opposite sides of the road, colorful city markets underneath cloth and tents, and even the Taj Mahal.I knew Dudley was a traveler!That explained all of the rare artifacts I had found around his house thus far. He must have collected them on his trips.
There was one other box buried in the back of this closet. In it were more envelopes, which I expected to house more photos. Instead, I found dozens of seeds and some bark samples. The envelopes had scribbles all over them like they had once been labeled, but most of the markings were blacked out and many of the envelopes were opened and spilled. I wasn’t sure what type of seeds any of them were and I had no idea what trees the bark was from. Brenton could probably tell me, but after Fiona’s pleasant visit, I had made up my mind to steer clear of him. I could uncover Dudley’s secrets without him. And, if I was being honest, the jealousy I felt when Fiona touched and flirted with him scared me. I needed some time to rein in my emotions.
I shuffled through a few more photos I had found stuck to the bottom of one of the boxes. I was surprised to see a familiar tree in one of them. In the middle of a field of grass and flowers stood a single tree with apples hanging from it. It looked just like the tree in Dudley’s backyard. On the back of this photo, he had written:
07/11/, 2001, Kashmir, India
I noticed that there was no breed listed for this tree, and I wondered if it was the same tree he now had in his backyard. It looked like it, so he either imported the entire tree or he was able to get seeds and grow it here. Having discovered Dudley’s connection with TruFruit, I wasn’t entirely surprised by his interest in apple trees. Based on what I had collected, I figured Dudley traveled the world in search of these apple trees he had photographed. What did surprise me, though, was the extent of his interests in these trees. He had so many photos and notes about them, and samples from what I could only assume were apple trees. With this much knowledge and world experience, how could Brenton’s dad have fired him?
I could not believe how mysterious the California apple business was turning out to be. Then suddenly, inspiration struck.
“Ha!” I squealed at my genius. It was all too juicy, too curious. It would make an amazing mystery novel! And, who better to write it than the sleuth herself? I smiled, excited at the revelation. I finally had ideas for a novel, and as I dug, I was sure I’d find more to write about.
After my search, I felt like I was left with more questions than answers, but at least I was making progress in my findings. It reinvigorated my search and my newfound writing inspiration reinvigorated my passions. I spent the next few days growing used to my new routine. I would wake up and walk the hill that Dudley and Brenton’s homes rested on. Then I’d spend most of my day working from home, taking some time out of the work day to jot down story ideas. I’d spend my evenings searching Dudley’s property up and down. I found more photos and travel records, but no journal yet. I felt like I was getting closer, though. The journal had to exist and I was going to find it soon.
