Last Wish

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Last Wish

  ISBN 9781419911255

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Last Wish Copyright © 2007 Shelley Munro

  Edited by Mary Moran.

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

  Electronic book Publication December 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Last Wish

  Shelley Munro

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Crowded House: Crowded House Touring, Inc.

  The Lord of the Rings: The Saul Zaentz Company DBA Tolkien Enterprises Corporation

  Chapter One

  “Are you ready yet?” The front door to his house slammed shut loud enough for the neighbor to hear—the one living a kilometer down the road. Swift footsteps spoke of impatience. “Dillon!”

  Dillon Sanderson glanced at his watch and groaned softly. Susan. Well, hell—in trouble again. “I’m in my office. Is it time already?” He scowled at his watch and gave the glass a sharp tap with a forefinger then shook his wrist for good measure. Maybe it was running fast and his sister had arrived early?

  Susan barreled into his lounge-come-office and stared at him with accusation in her blue eyes. “I told you to be ready when I arrived. You haven’t even showered.” The hands planted on her ample hips underlined her irritation.

  He dragged his hand through uncombed hair and leaned back to scratch his bare belly just to annoy her. After all, that’s what brothers were for. Luckily, he’d taken the time to pull on a pair of ratty sweatpants because otherwise he would have really rattled her cage. Another thought occurred and he speared a suspicious look in her direction. “You’re alone, aren’t you?” With his testy words still echoing between them, he craned his neck, attempting to look around his sister to see if there was anyone behind her. Susan kept trying to fix him up with her friends.

  “Chill,” she snapped. “There’s no one with me.”

  Dillon relaxed fractionally but the slight pink tinge in her cheeks brought back a wave of suspicion. He waved his hand in front of her face. “Hello! I’m gay. Not interested in sleeping with women. Remember?”

  “I know you’re gay! I can hardly forget. You told me last time when I visited with Jennifer. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

  A chuckle slipped out. He remembered the occasion and his speechless red-faced sister clearly. Susan’s reaction alone had made his public outing worth it. That and the fact she’d stopped trying to fix him up with her friends. His declaration at the rugby after-match function had set the seal on it. He was officially out, even though some of the women in Sumner were finding it difficult to deal with, there being a shortage of men in the town and all. He stood to stretch. “I told you I preferred to hunt romance on my own. I don’t need help.” He lifted his hands over his head, joints popping and protesting after hunching over the computer for so long.

  “Why aren’t you ready?”

  “Some bastard hacked my computer and left a virus,” he said, anger burning through him again for the umpteenth time. When he got his hands on them… “I’ve been trying to locate the culprit and send the virus back. A mutated one,” he added. Revenge was gonna be sweet. So sweet.

  “That can wait,” Susan said, going into what he called her teacher-parent mode. He just wished she’d stop treating him like one of her children. “Go and shower. We’re leaving in five minutes. If we don’t hurry, all the good things will sell before we arrive at the market. It’s the last one before Mum’s birthday.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Sorry.” Dillon moved, knowing he’d only come off second best if he tried to tangle with her in this mood. Although petite compared to him, her determined jaw and ramrod straight posture told him he’d pushed his sister far enough this time.

  Ten minutes later, fully clothed with his hair semi-tamed, he crammed his body into Susan’s small bubble-shaped car and they headed to the market to buy silverware for their mother’s birthday. Or at least that was the plan.

  Susan drove so fast the scenery blurred during the drive from his house, set in a rural pasture on the banks of the Marin River, to the center of town about ten kilometers away. The town of Sumner was pretty typical as far as New Zealand rural towns went. The main street consisted of a butcher, a stationary and bookstore, a baker, a few cafés and takeaway joints, a hardware store, a post office, a petrol station and a bank. The police station sat on an adjacent street along with the town hall, library and council buildings. A supermarket, church and a real estate agent rounded out the local amenities. Maybe he could have moved like most of his friends had once they’d completed their education, but he liked the place. He liked looking out his window to see the countryside, hearing animals and feeling the cool breeze on his face when he walked along the riverbank near his house. It was a place where everyone knew each other’s business and walked into houses without knocking. Sometimes that wasn’t a good thing, Dillon thought with a quick glance at his sister, but he still loved the relaxed pace of life and had no desire to move to the city.

  The feature that made Sumner different from the neighboring townships was the large grassy square right in the center of town. Perfect for markets, fetes and special town celebrations and a real hub of activity. One of the events was an antiques market held on the third Saturday of each month and designed to bring visitors from the surrounding district into the town and separate them from their money. Susan was positive they’d find something for their mother at this market.

  He glanced away from the sign advertising the upcoming Christmas parade and looked at the oncoming traffic. Bloody hell. His left foot frantically worked the brake but of course the car didn’t slow since he sat in the passenger seat.

  “Someone in this town unleashed the virus on me,” he said hurriedly, talking to take his mind off Susan’s driving and her close proximity to a cyclist. He closed his eyes when they almost took the poor woman out.

  “Will you shut up about your precious computer?”

  Dillon looked back and saw the vicar’s wife wobble to a hurried stop. Still in one piece. His breath hissed out in a soft sigh of relief. “It’s my job, my livelihood. How can I write and design adventure comics when my computer has a virus?”

  Susan snorted rudely. “Get another computer.”

  “I’m not made of money.”

  “You would be if you went back to practicing law.”

  An old argument and one his sister wasn’t going to win. He ignored her dig. “The person is going to pay.”

  “How do you know it’s someone from Sumner?”

  “Because through a stroke of good luck I managed to track down the Internet service provider, but so far I don’t have a name. A couple of my friends have contacts in the right places. It’s Two Gates, a local place, which means it’s possible the person lives here in Sumner—quite probable actually with the big computer club at the local college.”

  “Yeah, all right. Don’t go on about it. Concentrate.” Susan pulled into a vacant space in the car park on the far side of the square, stopping about two inches away from the neighboring car’s bumper. Dillon had no idea how the driver would get out if they wanted to leave first. He shrugged and climbed f
rom the car. Not his problem. More important things to worry about.

  “Right,” Susan said. “Here’s the plan. Since we’re late, we need to split up. Mum collects anything silver but likes teapots most of all. You know how to tell it’s real silver, right?”

  “Yeah. I look for the silversmith’s mark. Teapots. Got it.” She’d only mentioned it about ten times when they’d first discussed the idea. He was tired of the lecture.

  “And you’ll concentrate on silver, right? No more virus talk. Don’t get distracted if you meet one of your friends. It’s no big deal.”

  No big deal? No big deal? “The virus has screwed up my hard drive,” he howled loud enough to attract the attention of a trendy young woman towing a kid by the hand. She took one look at his contorted face and made a wide detour. He inhaled deeply and strived for calm.

  “You need to get a life,” Susan retorted. “Then you wouldn’t need to worry about hard drives.”

  Easy for her to say. Susan had snagged her man already and that had made her complacent. There weren’t many eligible males in Sumner, which was why he ended up engrossed in work instead. They entered a market area crowded with eager customers. A Christmas carol about reindeer and Grandma rang out while several of the stalls had a Christmas theme going with flashing lights and gaudy strands of tinsel. The aisles were thick with people, not a clear patch of grass visible.

  Susan deftly applied an elbow to an unlucky passerby in an attempt to enter the flow of foot traffic. “Damn, I knew I should have told you an earlier time. We’re going to miss out on the good buys. Oh…looks like that guy selling both vegetables and antiques is here again. I’ll get him to keep me one of the mixed boxes before they all sell. They’re organic and very tasty.”

  He scowled, scanning the locals and strangers crowding the open market area. One of these people might be responsible for giving him the virus.

  “Silver,” Susan said in a firm voice, obviously reading his mind. Her teacher-parent persona again.

  Dillon grimaced and attempted to shove his problems aside to concentrate on buying a gift for their mother. “Yeah, yeah. Teapots. Got it.”

  Susan hurried off, leaving him to his assignment. He weaved between the stalls and customers browsing them, scanning each one when he passed and assessing the goods for sale. Thank god, he was tall. This was an occasion when his height and size became an asset.

  “Hey, Dillon.”

  “Matthew.” He nodded at the president of the computer club, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You shopping?” Was he the bastard who had set a virus on him? The young man had the knowledge and probably the incentive, given that his girlfriend had decided Dillon belonged in the husband category. A shudder of horror worked down his spine when he recalled the blatant come-on from the woman. The embarrassment. He barely resisted the need to wipe his mouth again even though it had been almost two weeks since Matthew had seen his girlfriend plant the lip-smacking kiss on him. With tongue. Yuck!

  “Nah, helping my uncle out with his stall. I’m looking forward to your class. We all are. See ya later.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you there.” Dillon watched the departing nineteen-year-old closely, more leery than ever. Matthew attended the class he taught on computers for the computer club and their use in comics. He was doing it as a favor to the tutor and had enjoyed the classes he’d given so far this term. He stared after Matthew for an instant longer before an elderly woman dug him in ribs with her elbow and managed to run over his foot with her shopping cart while she busily apologized. Oops. At least the pain of a vegetable-laden shopping cart reminded him of his mission. Susan would do more than dig him in the ribs if he turned up empty-handed. He kept moving, scanning the goods for sale. Pottery. Glassware. Leather. Tacky plastic watches. Hell, he thought this was an antiques market. Obviously the word “antiques” was a loose interpretation of the goods on sale. Jewelry. Coffee tables. More leather. His footsteps slowed. Maybe he’d check out the leather afterward. That jacket looked as if it might fit him. With real regret he kept walking. Jewelry in a different style. Art. Sculptures. He reached the end of the aisle. Nothing. Frowning, he turned and spotted a small row of stalls off to the side. They weren’t very busy, probably because they’d already sold out. Worth a try. Dillon wandered over, taking the opportunity to study the crowd.

  Now that was a nice-looking ass. An attractive blonde woman saw him looking and wrapped her arm around the man’s waist. Aw, damn shame. Looked as if he were taken. Not much luck in the love-life department, not since Jack had left to live in Australia.

  Dillon strode past the stalls before coming to an abrupt halt. Silver. At last. At least he thought it was silver. He peered into a cardboard box and pulled out a tarnished saltshaker in a garish greenish-black color. He turned the shaker upside down, stroking his thumb across the base so he could read the mark on the bottom. Yeah, that looked like one of the marks Susan had shown him. He pulled out two different-sized goblets.

  “Ah, there you are,” Susan said, appearing suddenly from the other direction. “Found anything?”

  “This box of assorted stuff. I don’t think there’s a teapot but Mum might like the goblets.”

  “Buy it,” Susan said. “I’ve found a teapot.” She patted a shopping bag dangling off her arm. “Dillon, can you make your own way home? Jennifer is here and we thought we might go out for brunch.”

  “Fuck, is she frightened I’ll bite?” he asked when he noticed Jennifer hovering a few stalls away.

  “Be nice,” Susan said, patting his hand.

  “Yeah, okay. Should I clean the worst of the grime off these before I pack them for Mum?”

  Susan peered into the box. Cobwebs and what looked like mice droppings covered most of the articles inside. “Buy the whole box,” she said in an undertone. “The salt shaker and goblets are nice. Mum will like them. Just wipe the worst of the dust off. Let Mum do the real cleaning. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

  “Okay. Ah, here’s the stallholder now.”

  “Later,” she said, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the cheek before speeding away.

  Dillon turned to the stallholder, an elderly man who teetered toward him with the aid of a walking stick. “How much for the box of stuff?”

  The man gave it a cursory glance and sniffed. “I picked the box up at an estate sale. I can give it to you for one hundred and fifty bucks.”

  “One-fifty? For this?” Hell, he wasn’t sure he had that much money in his wallet. “How about one-twenty?” He knew he had that much for sure.

  “Done!” The man grinned, flashing a large gap where two front teeth were missing. The gleam in the man’s eyes made him wonder if he’d made a mistake in offering that much. Too late now. He grabbed his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans and handed over the money. The man grinned again and Dillon noticed one of his bottom teeth was missing as well. The man stuffed the money in his pocket and started to pack up his stall.

  “Are you leaving already?”

  “My work here is done,” the man said, his rapid moves belying Dillon’s initial guess at his age. He didn’t lean as heavily on his stick. It was as if he were in an almighty hurry. “Here. Take your box.” The man’s curt words confirmed it.

  Dillon placed the saltshaker and the goblets back on top of the box and lifted it. In bemusement, he watched the man load his fold-up table, a chair and his remaining stock into the back of a utility vehicle. He shook his head, wondering at the man’s weird behavior. Still at least he had the silver and was in Susan’s good books. For a change. He smirked and moved out of the man’s way, coughing at the wave of dust kicked up by the vehicle when it sped away. Turning away, he juggled the box on his hip. The contents shifted inside, clinking together with a metallic ring. The distinct rumbling of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten for a while. He’d grab brunch at one of the cafes in the square before heading for home and tracking down the rogue who’d loosed the virus on his computer.
Revenge was gonna be sweet.

  Dillon took two steps and the bottom fell out of his box. Metallic pieces rained down on his feet and hit the ground, rolling in all directions. The saltshaker plopped onto his right boot. “Ow. Bloody hell.” He hopped on one foot and scrambled to gather his new purchases, hoping like hell he hadn’t dented anything too badly. Susan would kill him, and it wasn’t as if he could hide the evidence. She seemed to know—probably her mother skills coming out. Unfortunately he seemed to end up on her radar system no matter how hard he tried to extract himself.

  Not a single stallholder in sight. Not a box or a bag within snatching range. With an impatient sigh, he started to assess the damage. Using the hem of his T-shirt, he rubbed pieces of grass and dust off the blackened silver, giving each piece a perfunctory glance. Finally he stood. Yep, he’d managed to grab them all. Apart from one. He squatted and picked up the piece, a slow grin of delight curling across his lips when he turned it over in his hands. Well, heck. What do ya know? A teapot. A strange-looking one but definitely a teapot his mother would love. When it came to collecting, unusual was good—according to his mother at any rate.

  The pot had four chubby legs and a long arching spout. Small hidden hinges attached the lid, and the body of the pot matched its chubby legs. Dillon picked it up and stood to check the bottom for silver marks. He rubbed it briskly and softly exhaled when he saw the requisite symbols. Bingo. He rubbed a fraction harder across the belly of the pot to clean off a smudge of dirt. Without warning a puff of smoke curled from the spout. He blinked. The smoke grew in volume. Multicolored in pink, red, silver, gold and green, it reminded him of a fireworks display but on a smaller scale and without the accompanying explosions. Slowly the dazzling smoke coalesced into the body of a man. Dillon blinked again but when the muscular man remained, he wanted to lick his lips. Oh yeah. Why the hell couldn’t he meet a man like this in Sumner?