Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(24)

Jack glowered at him. "Hope just wanted her one drink and a little conversation. She wanted a little peace," Jack said. Looking around the room, he added, "And who could blame her?"

"And she wanted to fix up the town," Preacher put in, moving a badly tarnished silver tea service all the way into the kitchen. He came back directly. "I think she did that because she was bored, and because she thought she was about the oldest resident of this town and had a stake in it. You know--leaving it better than she found it."

As Paul wandered off to check out the house, the men settled in at a now-cleared, round dining table. Noah pushed the strongbox toward Jack. He opened it as if expecting a bunch of coiled snakes to jump out. Then he flipped the lid all the way back. "Wow. Appears she had one area of neatness in her life. Files. Labels." He pulled out one that clearly said Birth Certificate. Then he pulled out one that said Marriage License. He couldn't resist--he opened the file. "Whoa. She was married in 1941. Either Hope was lying about her age or she was about ten years old." Under the papers lay an old black-and-white photo, which he pulled out. "Jeez, she was a looker," he said, passing it around. She was a beautiful young blonde wearing an elaborate satin gown and gauzy veil and she stood next to a much older man.

"Grab a look at that birth certificate, Jack," Preacher said.

Jack did so and nearly blanched. "Good God, she was older than she let on, born in 1925. She was...what...?"

"Eighty-six. Sixteen when she married," Noah said, studying the photo. "And this guy, for a guy in '41, I bet he's at least fifty, which back then wasn't considered young like it is now."

"Fifty is considered young now?" Jack asked. "That's encouraging.... Well, here's a death certificate for the old boy. He died in...in... Here it is. He died in '61. Fifty years ago. Hope was only...only..."

"Thirty-six," Noah said.

"Are you going to keep doing that?" Jack asked irritably.

"At least until you can add and subtract faster," the minister replied good-naturedly. He smiled at Jack.

Jack went through the files some more. One was labeled Deeds, one labeled Police Officer, one said Midwife. Jack peeked in that file--Hope's contract with Mel, the position that brought his wife to Virgin River. Finally he passed a file that was labeled Will. "Oh, boy, here we go." He pulled the folder and it was suspiciously thick. "This is a mess of papers."

"Good," Noah said. "She wouldn't have any use for a lot of paperwork unless she had an idea what she wanted done with her remains and property."

Jack didn't feel like wasting time. He pushed the folder toward Noah. "Knock yourself out." He passed the file labeled Deeds to Preacher. "Have a look in here. It's probably records of property she sold off, that kind of thing."

Noah chuckled at him and began leafing through the papers. "Interesting," he muttered. Upstairs came the sound of a few thumps; Paul was pounding on walls to locate studs. "Amazing," Noah said. Paul knocked on more walls. "Well, I'll be..." More knocking sounded from upstairs.

"Care to share anytime soon, Your Worship?" Jack asked.

Noah smiled. "Mrs. McCrea had an attorney--Jacob Stanley of Eureka--and set up a Virgin River Trust so that whatever she left behind wouldn't be eaten up in taxes but could benefit the town."

Preacher was stacking up papers and spreading out a map that had been neatly folded in the file.

"Anything else?" Jack asked. "Any idea what she wants done with her possessions? Or her remains, for that matter?"

"I have to read a minute," Noah said, flipping through documents.

Preacher appeared to be comparing deeds to the old map, moving them from one side of the map to the other as if checking them off. Noah was passing the pages he perused to Mike Valenzuela, Paul was upstairs banging on walls and Jack was starting to twitch.

"Oh, boy," Preacher said finally. "Okay, near as I can tell from this, old Percival McCrea had a lot of money and bought himself just about all the land under what's called Virgin River. Have no idea where he got his money, but it seems it was a long time ago and construction started on this house when he was a young man. Took three years to build and was finished in 1921. Whew. It looks like Hope started selling off the land in parcels right after he died. How old is this town anyway?"

"Was all of it his?" Jack asked, pulling the map closer. It had been divvied up in different colors and some of the names printed on the map he recognized. Bristol, Anderson, Givens, Fishburn. "Holy cow," he said.

"Looks like there were some homesteaders back a long time ago," Preacher said. "But whatever wasn't homesteaded, old Percival bought up. Then he shared it with his sixteen-year-old bride. Then she disposed of it. I'll have to research a little, see what the land values were when she did these deed transfers, but it kinda looks like she let 'em go cheap. Hope built a town. Cool."

"Jack?" Noah said. "Here it is, Jack. She's left everything to the town. Her husband left her everything he had, and she left it all to the town." He passed the document to Mike, who passed it to Preacher.

"No surprise there," Jack said. "According to Hope, she didn't have anyone else."

"And you're in charge of it. You were named the executor."