CHAPTER TWO

The flight from England to America is a long one. Fortunately, mine was a direct flight. I silently thanked Garner and Garner that my seat was in first class, and that it was not too crowded. The attention given me by the flight attendants did cause me some embarrassment. I am positive that they were whispering about me; trying to figure out if I was someone famous or important. I quietly, and politely, declined their offers of tea, of reading material, a headset for the in- flight movie…I did enjoy the breathtaking view of being high above the clouds. It reminded me of miles and miles of snow covered lands, bright with the brilliance of the sun; the blueness of the sky. I did not realize that I had fallen sound asleep until the plane landed. Immediately, my mind went into overload. I murmured my thanks as I left the plane. With the help of another kind individual, I retrieved my suitcase and went in search of the car and driver.

According to my research, Collinsport was located about 50 miles southeast of Bangor. I climbed into the back of the black, sleek sedan. I am not used to being chauffeured, but again was grateful for this thoughtful service. As we hurtled through the darkness, I felt myself getting drowsy. I awoke to the sound of the driver opening the boot to retrieve my suitcase. He carried it into the inn, assured me that a tip was not necessary, and promised to return at 2:30pm. The gracious, charming innkeeper, Mrs. Fillmore, led me upstairs to a comfortable room, and promised to have tea, a cheese sandwich, and beef broth sent to my room immediately even though the kitchen was closed for the night. I was utterly famished. I rang Miss Jacky to tell her of my safe arrival. The clock read 3:33am when I at last tumbled into bed, and once again fell asleep. If I dreamed, I do not remember. I woke to blazing sunlight pouring through the plain, muslin curtains at the window. At the same time, there was a gentle tap at the door. My wake-up call. I pulled my robe closed, and opened the door to admit a tall, lanky teenager who told me that his name was Dusty, and that he had brought fresh tea, toast, eggs and juice for my breakfast. I thanked him, and offered a tip, but he just grinned, and said it was unnecessary.

"Nan would skin me alive if I took money from a guest! I been coming to help every year since I was 10. I'm 16 now. Saving up money for a car. Lots of people come and stay at the inn during the summer."

"Oh! Is that Mrs. Fillmore's name? Nan?"

"Oh, no!", he laughed. "She's my Nan. My Nana. You know, my grandmother. I like your accent. You're from England?"

"Yes. London."

"Cool! Well, welcome to America! I better get going. I have six other rooms to check after. See you later!"

I smiled to myself as I closed the door. Welcome to America.

A few hours later as I sat in the small, but tastefully furnished lobby of Garner and Garner, I wished that cheerful Dusty sat behind the receptionist desk, and not the cool, redhead who professionally ignored me after offering me a seat, and a cup of coffee. The coffee was excellent. While I sipped, I silently thanked Miss Jacky again for picking out my outfit. I did not look like a ragamuffin, even if I felt like one. I had even taken more care with my hair than I usually did. It was held back with a leopard print headband, not my usual ponytail. I was wishing for a chocolate biscuit when I realized the receptionist was standing in front of me.

"Mr. Garner will see you now. Follow me, please."

Her voice was as cool as her demeanor. I managed to set the cup and saucer on the table. My insides were so knotted and twisted, I was not sure if I could actually walk down the hallway after her. Then she knocked on a door marked, "Randall Garner," and ushering me in, quietly closed the door behind her. I could hear her high heels tapping away into silence.

"Ms. Collins!"

"Please. Miss Collins."

"Miss Collins. Randall Garner. Please, please, have a seat."

The man who pointed out a chair for me to use, looked to be in his early 50's. His office, though small, was just as tastefully furnished as the lobby.

"Coffee?"

"No, no thank you. Your receptionist kindly gave me some while I waited."

"Good, good. I am sorry that my associate, Elliott Spencer, is unable to join us today. He had to go to the main office in Bangor for a deposition. Did you have a good flight? How are they treating you at the inn? Anything you are lacking, or have need of?"

"No, no. Everyone has been most helpful and accommodating. I slept most of the flight. Thank you for making all the arrangements…"

"Our pleasure I assure you," he interrupted. "I am sorry that you were horribly rushed under the circumstances. We didn't even know of your existence until recently. I do apologize at the strangeness and abruptness of it all."

"Yes. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that I am here in America concerning an inheritance. I assume you do know that I am an orphan, Mr. Garner. Does, does the inheritance have to do with my parents? Do you know who my parents are, Mr. Garner?"

Randall Garner hesitated. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning," he said. "Do you know anything about the history of Collinsport?"

"No, I'm afraid I do not," I replied.

"Quick lesson then. Collinsport was founded by Isaac Collins in 1690. There has always been a Collins in residence since that time until seven years ago. Seven years ago, the current Collins family held a family reunion. Not that many Collins ever left Collinsport, but there were a handful scattered here and there. None, as far as we knew in England. The last of that branch came to America in the late 1960's and left for parts unknown in the early '70s. I assure you when you walked through my door, I could instantly tell that you were a Collins." He cleared his throat. "As far as we can gather, the reunion was to last a week. Miss Collins, sometime during that week, everyone simply disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes, disappeared. Extra staff had been hired to help with so many guests. The extra help did not stay at Collinwood, that is the name of the current estate, but when they arrived one morning they found the front doors opened and not a single man, woman or child in the entire house. Naturally, the grounds are quite large and it was possible that the entire party was simply out and about, so no alarm was given. When it was discovered that the Collins pleasure yacht, The Secret, was not at it's dock, still there was no alarm. Many of the Collins are fine boatmen. The yacht is a large craft, and could easily carry all of the Collins clan. But…it never returned. The Coast Guard searched and searched. The entire acreage of Collinwood, and the village of Collinsport was searched. Not a single clue was found to tell anyone what had happened. We are not even sure how many people were actually at Collinwood."

"I still don't understand why I am here," I replied.

"The law states that seven years must commence before a person can be declared legally dead. Tomorrow is the final day, Miss Collins. Then everything that had once belonged to the Collins family, the land, the houses, the cannery, the jewels, every last box, bottle, and book is up for grabs, to put it bluntly. We have represented the Collins family for generations. For the last seven years, Garner and Garner has searched and searched for the remotest possibility that somewhere there was someone left to inherit. We had given up hope until last week."

"Last week?!"

He nodded his head, as he stood up from the desk, and came over to sit beside me. He stared intently at me with kind, grey eyes.

"Miss Collins, we have been given information, documentation, stating that you, and you alone are the legitimate heir of Collinwood."

The room became even smaller, and the pattern on the carpet came swiftly to meet me as I pitched forward in my chair. Fortunately, Mr. Garner grabbed ahold of me before I made a complete fool of myself by fainting. He himself went out and brought me a fresh cup of coffee, and a glass of water. I refreshed myself, as he opened a window.

"I am so sorry for…"

"For being completely blindsided by fantastical news? It is fantastical. Truth is stranger than fiction, they say. I would say they are right. I know this is a lot for a young woman to be given. Would you like to go back to the inn, now? We could finish up tomorrow…"

"No, no, I'm feeling much, much better. Thank you. I know if I left now I would be climbing the walls wondering what else you had to share with me."

"Very well. There is not too much left to share. As I just stated, you are the legitimate and only heir of the entire Collins estate. The property is extensive with several houses, all the furnishings, large tracts of land… it has its own harbor, and there is the cannery, of course. Not to mention all the monies, jewels, stocks, investments…Miss Collins you are a very, very wealthy young woman."

I hesitated to ask the obvious. I cleared my throat.

'When you say very, very wealthy, do you mean, like, millions?"

"Billions, Miss Collins. Billions."

This time, I did faint.

An orphan turned heiress does not happen every day. When I came out of my faint, Mr. Garner had luncheon delivered and urged me to eat as he answered my numerous questions.

"How did you find me? How do you know that I am a "true" Collins?"

Mr. Garner was quiet for a moment. "Please excuse my hesitation. Yours is a particular situation. I am searching for the right words to share, but not share all at the same time. My firm has been given documents, historical documents, that show that you come from a line that has never, ever in the Collins long history been considered."

I looked at him questioningly, and he continued with his narrative.

"Apparently, unbeknownst to all, you descend from Abigail Collins."

"Abigail? Why, that's my middle name!"

"Indeed. All records show that Abigail Collins died in 1795; a spinster. No issue. There have been many reports that she may have been affianced at one time. Also, rumors of a possible relationship with a pirate. Yes, a pirate! A pirate who also may have given her a treasure trove of jewels that may have been confiscated by her family." He coughed delicately. "Through our investigators, and the documents presented to us, we were able to trace through the centuries with most certainty that you are indeed a true Collins."

I was inordinately pleased at the possibility of being, at least in part, a Yank. Then something more vital pushed itself to the forefront.

"Then you must know who my parents are! Please, who are they? Are they still alive? Where are they?"

Those grey eyes looked at me with profound pity. His warm hand covered mine.

"Miss Collins, I am so very sorry, but that is one of the stipulations of this inheritance. I am not at liberty to discuss your parentage with you."

Tears sprang to my eyes. My mind whirled frantically trying to understand.

"I don't understand…," I whispered.

Mr. Garner looked discreetly away while I made use of his handkerchief. "That is just one of the stipulations enforced. Another is that you must stay on the estate for a minimum of three years."

"Three years!" I jumped up. "Mr. Garner, I am expected in Alexandria, Egypt this winter! I'm hoping to be there for many years. I can't stay here. Why must I stay?"

"Again, that is just how the inheritance is written out. It would be the same regardless if another were to inherit. The Collins were an extremely close- knit family – even if they did have a lot of secrets from one another. They took every precaution that a Collins would always preside over this estate. I am sorry about your plans for Egypt, but should you pursue them, you must forfeit Collinwood and all that it entails." He smiled. "You are young. Three years is not a long time. You may always go to Egypt after the restriction has expired. Remember, you would then have immense wealth at your disposal. You could have people working for you on a dig, not the other way around."

I must admit I was intrigued by that idea.

"Who put these stipulations in place? No one knew of my existence. It doesn't make any sense to me. Will I be able to know about my parents after three years? Just what am I suppose to do around here for three years?"

"I sympathize with your frustration. I wish I could answer you your questions about your parents. I can certainly answer the last one. As I have mentioned, the estate is large. It has been left unattended for nearly seven years. With this stipulation, you are in reality a steward for three years. You will be given a generous allowance each month. You have unlimited access to monies in association with the upkeep and improvement of the estate. There is much for you to do concerning the buildings and the grounds. The cannery has never stopped working, and Jeremy Haskell has been running the entire operation for the Collins family for decades. The fishing has been unusually prosperous; hence your wealth has grown and continues to grow. You may leave all of that in Mr. Haskell's capable hands. I will set up a time for us to drive over and meet with him. You should learn as much as you can about the business, even if you are not involved in the day-to-day. Not only Collinwood, but Collinsport needs your attention. Yes, I believe you will find much to occupy your time. If you are in agreement with these terms, at the end of the three years you will have access to your full inheritance. I am positive the hope of the family is such that the heir, or heirs, would share the same pride and commitment to their ancestral home as they did." He leaned forward.

"As I stated before, we have been searching for beneficiaries for quite some time. We have a crack team of investigators. Though we have only found you recently, we have thoroughly checked your background, your schooling, your very character, Miss Collins. I feel confident, that should you choose to stay, to accept these terms, you would make the Collins family proud that you share their name."

I must have looked overwhelmed, for he smiled at me and said, "Garner and Garner are here to help you. Jeremy Haskell is here to help you. We will do everything we can to help you succeed in this incredible venture life has opened up for you. Now, I will call our driver to take you back to the inn."

I had to wait until well past one in the morning to make my calls to London. Both Miss Jacky and Mr. Breck agreed that I must stay in Collinwood and receive my inheritance. Mr. Simmons felt the same. I know to most people I probably appeared foolish to be so upset about missing a dusty dig in Egypt when I was literally rolling in cash. Again, my life became a blur. I did meet with Mr. Haskell and he showed me every nook and cranny of the cannery. I liked him instantly. He was a quick, and energetic man. He explained all the various operations, the products created and shipped out all over the world, and how it also impacted the economy and lives of the residents of Collinsport. Many people worked at the cannery. It made me a little nervous to think that so many people would now depend on me for their livelihood. I explored the docks, the warehouses, and even went out on one of the fishing vessels. I found it exhilarating. Perhaps it had something to do with the possibility that my ancestors crossed over the sea. Perhaps had been even pirates!

Elliott Spencer, Randall Garner's associate, drove me all over Collinwood after his return to Collinsport. He seemed too young to be a lawyer, being not much older than myself, with bright blue eyes behind horn rimmed glasses. The estate was completely fenced and gated, and security measures had been in place since the disappearances, but everything was heavily overgrown, and an air of neglect was very noticeable. I made notes as he talked about the various buildings. It was funny, but it almost seemed like my entire life had prepared me for this, once I had gotten over my shock and surprise. Because of my work at the foundling home and tea shop, I was organized, focused, and diligent to detail. I had plenty of imagination and creativity to recognize beauty and to want to restore it. Plus, now I had unlimited money to do just that. We did not stop and enter any of the buildings that day, but I was awed by the austere grandeur of Collinwood, the romanticism of The Old House, and the quiet quaintness of The Cottage. There were other houses, gardens, stables, cemeteries, greenhouses, orchards, pastures for livestock, acres of woodland, and the cliff overlooking the pounding sea. I pinched myself over and over. It was all mine.

So was all the paperwork that followed. It seemed I spent hours, and days, signing my name to various legal documents not only in Collinsport, but also in Bangor at Garner and Garner's main office. There were also bank forms, government forms, insurance forms…so many forms! My fingers ached from the cramping. I opened a bank account, and with some of my allowance I went on a shopping spree. Well, most women would not call what I did a spree. I had not known that I would be staying in America for such a length of time, so literally only came with the clothes on my back, and my interview outfit. I sent the suitcase back to Miss Jacky filled with various edibles from the local shops. I knew she would enjoy sampling the local honey, jams, jellies, and Trask Damson Plum Preserves. I sent a variety of pickles and cheeses which I discovered at the Collins General Store to Mr. Breck. Shopping at Brewster's, I did find some basic items such as jeans, casual summer tops, skirts, sandals, and several sundresses. Plus, unmentionables, socks and pajamas. I did the rest of my shopping in Bangor. I purchased a couple of dressier outfits there, as well as khakis, shirts, and sturdy boots for working on projects around the estate. I made a note to myself to do another "spree" at the end of summer for the fall and winter months. I also bought a car. Dusty was very impressed with the car. I had managed to find a black Mini Cooper with the Union Jack emblazoned on the roof. It definitely reminded me of home. Now that transportation was supplied, I had to next figure out where I was going to live. I enjoyed the cheerful hospitality of the Collinsport Inn, but there were an abundance of tourists filling the other rooms now, dispelling the peace and quiet of when I first arrived. I was also running out of room for the books, ledgers, plans, and notebooks that I was quickly accumulating. I made an appointment with Mr. Garner the next morning, and told him of my dilemma.

He laughed at me.

(This writing has nothing to do with Dan Curtis or Dan Curtis Productions. This is only the vivid imagination of a small town girl.)