Chapter 26

Social Lies

Wesker produced a key ring from his pocket and motioned for her to follow him up the stairs.

The planking on the porch was new, and smelled of a coat of fresh stain. So fresh in fact that she wondered if they'd arrived only minutes after the final coat had been applied. She half expected to see a troupe of Wesker's handyman henchmen darting through the trees to get out of her line of sight if and when she happened to turn her head.

Too bad I don't puff cancer sticks, she mused. Spark of a lighter or a toss of a match, little flick of red tipped ash, and all Wesker's money-POOF-up in smoke!

"The original structure was built in the late eighteen hundreds," Wesker pointed to the facade, "notice the symmetry of the dormer windows, the gabled roof, the length of the porch, all classical examples of typical farmhouse design from the period."

Now, he's an architect. Good god.

"The realtor mentioned the previous owners were descendants of a doctor who had served in the confederate army during the civil war. I expressed a desire to discover more about this doctor to Mrs. Pennington and she assured me that she would provide me with a written discourse when her time permits."

And an armchair historian. What next? Is he a closet Steven Seagal fan as well? She shuddered internally. Could be worse. What would be worse? Dynasty binge watcher? First season would be doable. Lord help me if it's season nine.

"Claire," Wesker said.

"Huh." Please anything but season nine.

"You are unusually silent."

Say something sassy.

"Are you planning on writing a book on American farmhouses? Perhaps you should stick to what you know, murder, kidnapping, and mental torture."

"Could you stomach my memoirs, Claire?"

"Depends. How much am I paying to be sickened by all of your scummy deeds? And will there be a paperback version? Us po' folk can't afford hardback."

The hint of a smile creased the corners of his mouth.

Hold up. He has no qualms at all about me calling him out for his deranged, and highly psychotic, tendencies but if I were to have the audacity to tell him I could give two shits less about some confederate doctor and his family there would be hell to pay. Good to know. Never tell him when he's boring.

"While in my company you can consider yourself the wealthiest woman on the continent."

"Oooh, is there a monetary hierarchy for evil overlords?" She brushed back her hair, straightened her shoulders, lifted her head and said, in the most snobbish, droll, voice she could muster, "Tell me darling, where do we rank? How many politicians can we afford?"

Without blinking Wesker replied, "All of them."

"Really? All of them."

"Really," Wesker said.

Claire gulped. Politicians. Men in power. Organizations. Who?

Wesker leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Do not trouble yourself. The threads are much too intertwined for you to individually unravel them all."

"I wasn't-"

"You were. You have the face of an unblemished apple, until a certain spark flashes in your eyes and the bells of thought begin to clang." He snapped his fingers. "And suddenly the rounded bloom of youth ever present in your features re-forges itself into arched eyebrows, crow's feet, and a hardened jawline that would make a gunslinger proud. Fascinating and frightening at the same time."

"You aren't frightened of me Wesker," Claire scoffed.

"Cornered rats are surprisingly self destructive. They will gnaw at their own tails to escape traps."

Her reply was interrupted by the sound of a horn honking its way up the drive.

Wesker and Claire backtracked down the porch steps and watched as a beat up pickup truck approached the house.

"One of yours?" Claire asked.

He seemed offended when he answered. "Hardly."

The picked rolled to a stop and a middle aged man exited the driver's side and a middle aged woman exited the passenger side. They walked in excited unison to within arm's length of Claire and Wesker.

"Mable down at Driscoll's Corner Mart said she thought she saw a car headed up this way. Me and the Mrs. here have been keeping an eye on the old place, until the new owners arrived. Lots of drifters wind their way through the valley. Gotta keep a watch out for, you know, squatters and such," the man rambled.

His wife chimed in. "Too many squatters. Ran one out of here just a few months back. Setting up shop like he owned the place."

"Darn right," the man said. He held out his hand. "Ted and Barb Dillion. Nice to meet you."

Wesker stared down at the man's hand but made no move to extend his own until Claire nudged him with her elbow.

"Adam and-" Wekser paused and then his eyes opened devilishly wide.

Fuck me.

"Eveline Ackerland," Wesker said.

"Isn't that precious," Barb said. "We've got us an Adam and an Eve."

Asshole!

"Take it you're the new owners," Ted said.

"We are," Claire replied.

"Welcome. Welcome. The more the merrier in our neck of the woods. What brings you out this way?" Barb asked.

Wesker seemed to be struggling to come up with a timely answer. Perhaps Mr. Perfect Planner hadn't counted on a run in with a local so early in his isolationist endeavors.

My turn Asshat!

"Inspiration." Claire hooked her arm around Wesker's arm. "My husband is researching American farmhouses for his next novel, and we thought what better way to research than to experience. Voila! Here we are."

Barb grinned. "Here you are," she repeated.

"Writer. Wow," Ted said. "Anything I'd be familiar with?"

"I very much doubt it," Wesker replied.

Claire beamed a wide grin and leaned into Wesker. "He's much too modest. His last book about English Country Houses received excellent reviews and was mentioned in several architectural digests."

"A house man. I like it," Ted said. "Take it your a family man too?" He queried. "Me and Barb got three boys."

"Fifteen, twelve, and ten," Barb said.

"Newly wedded," Wesker responded, pulling Claire closer. "We are hopeful though that our parenthood journey will begin soon. Perhaps the scenery will also inspire us to turn our duo into a trio."

Claire's stomach churned. In two weeks this duo is a pair of singles and never will our paths cross again.

Ted motioned to the house. "You've got the space for it. Plenty of room for a whole brood. Gotta admit me and the Mrs. have been dying to check out the renovations after seeing all the workmen over the last couple of weeks. Mind if we take a peek inside?"

Wesker shook his head. "My apologies. My wife and I have had a long drive and would like to get settled before we entertain company. You understand."

"Sure," Barb said. "We'll pop back in a few days to catch up with you folks. Maybe bring the rest of the crew."

Ted extended his hand again. "Welcome home, neighbor. You need anything you just drive about three miles down the road and take the second dirt lane to the right."

"Second dirt lane to the right," Wesker repeated.

"That dirt road will take you to the state highway," Barb said. "Ten miles on there's a Walmart."

"A what?" Wesker said.

Ted threw back his head and laughed. "Me and you are gonna get along just fine, Adam. Can I call you Adam?"

"I would prefer-"

Wesker was interupted by Barb thumping Ted's arm. "I almost forgot the pie."

She turned on her heels and raced back to the passenger side of the truck. She opened the door and ducked inside the cabin.

"Be a shame to forget the pie," Ted said. "Barb makes the best pies. County fair blue ribbon winner four years running."

"Impressive," Claire said.

"Awfully convenient," Wesker mumbled.

"She's been practicing for the town festival." Ted said. "We got pies for days strewn all about the darn kitchen. Took a chance on the meet and greet after Mabel called."

Barb returned with a glass dish covered with a tin foil top. "Meat. Potatoes. Fresh garden peas. Tiny bit of cheese. Gosh, I hope you aren't lactose intolerant. I could run back down the valley and grab a cheese-less if you are."

Wesker grabbed the dish. "Not necessary. This one is fine."

Barb winked at Claire. "You be sure to let me know what you think and if you like I can share the recipe next time we get together."

"I will be sure to ask," Claire said. "It smells wonderful. I can only imagine how it'll taste."

Barb blushed and grabbed Ted by his arm. "C'mon. Let's leave 'em be for now. Plenty of time for talk later."

Ted nodded, and together he and Barb made their way back to the pickup and fired up the engine. A cloud of gray smoke billowed out of the exhaust pipe. They both waved as Ted did a three point turn and drove away.

Claire and Wesker stood in stunned silence for a moment, watching the truck vanish in the distance.

"Eve," Claire said. "You couldn't do better than Eve."

"Eventually that man will ask for a copy of a book I have written based on my extensive knowledge of Country Houses."

"Don't suppose you can just whip up a novel in a few days."

"Do you intend on attending cooking class with Barb?"

"No."

"There is your answer."