Chapter 2

Earlier in the morning. Village Centre, Offices of Miller and Miller Inc.

The town came alive at 06:00. People were up and about earlier, but the town shops opened between 06:00 and 09:00, whenever each specific business would be in full readiness and operation.

At the offices of Miller and Miller Inc, Sally was readying the tasks for the day, not that there was much going on. It took her about fifteen minutes to get everything in order. Then while the kettle boiled, she sat down and started to file her nails.

Edgar Miller, the senior partner, walked in at 09:05, clutching his ever-present briefcase as he walked down the hallway to his office.

“Morning Ed. Jasper phoned that he was delayed in Cape Town and would see us around twelve,” Sally said.

“Yeah, I can think what the delay of that husband of yours could be. Why don’t you just divorce the no-good, skunk!”

“Don’t speak so evil of your brother. He is good to me.”

“That’s your side of the story,” Edgar said, and made to go into his office when Sally stopped him.

“I had a visitor yesterday.”

“And who would that be?”

“He did not say his name, but he was asking after Morningside Meadows and the reserve price on the property.”

“And?”

“Well, I told him to speak to you, but then seemed to lose interest when I told him you were not available.”

“An out-of-towner?”

“I assume so. I’ve not seen him before around here.

“What does he look like?”

“Tall, not thin, neither bulky. Dark brown hair and a moustache.”

“Dammit Sally! You could have described ninety percent of the Greyton population!”

“Sorry. Oh, he had brown eyes.”

“I rest my case...” Edgar said, throwing up his right hand in the air, turned and went into his office while Sally continued to attend to her nails.

As he sat down at his desk, Edgar’s thoughts ran wild. Now why would an out-of-towner come and ask about the farm? How did he know about it? The auction was only published in the Caledon Herald. Law states that any auction must be published in a local newspaper, but says nothing about larger-market papers. The Caledon Herald is a very local newspaper, and the distribution is not very wide. This guy must be local then.

Edgar took out his cell phone. He refused to use his office phone. The small-town mentality that the landline phones are not private still persisted.

“You called?”

“Houston, we have a problem...”

This time around, I opted for a slice of lemon meringue tart with my coffee. Andrea told Mandy that she would be back around lunchtime. Lunchtime around Greyton is 12:00 sharp. But like I know women, they will always be a bit late and flustered, and will cite all kinds of excuses for wasting your time.

As I waited, I glanced at the rather elaborate menu for a country-style café. Cape Town Kugel, a combination of smoked salmon, avocado, poached eggs with a hollandaise sauce, served up with an English muffin, caught my eye.

That delicacy was on the breakfast side of the menu, and I was disappointed when I realized that fact. But then my eye caught the fine print: “Served all day.” Yes! That would do. I was not that hungry thanks to a huge breakfast at the hotel.

I looked over the café, over the surrounding garden, and the oak tree lined street. I found it funny that in this small side street, three cafés were located so close to each other. Across the street was Oak and Vigne Café and next door to Vanilla Café was Von Geusnau’s Chocolaterie.

Being something of a chocolate freak, I made a note of visiting the chocolaterie. Dark chocolate is good for heart health. If you don’t believe me, Google it. There’re various studies conducted that prove it to be true.

Also, on the subject, chocolate comes from a cocoa bean. A bean is a vegetable, and your mom always told you to eat your vegetables! So, eat your vegetables!

With a little puff of blue smoke, a BMW 325i stopped in a parking spot next to the café. On seeing the puff of oily smoke, I wondered about the condition of its valve stem seals. German cars usually blow their valve stem seals. Today I noticed the licence plate number. CAM 1324. Each town has its own registration, and Caledon was “CAM.”

Andrea got out and with a thundercloud obscuring her ubiquitous smile, she stalked over to where I was waiting at the table. I got up.

For a moment her face lit up, and she said “Hello, Dusty. Sorry, I was a little delayed at Caledon.” Dressed in a long sleeve white blouse, faded blue denim shorts, and white high heal shoes. She sat down on the chair I drew out for her. I could not miss her long slender legs. Hmm... (Get your mind out of the gutter! But I am a man after all.)

“Stressful day?”

“Stressful is an understatement. I am furious!”

“You want to tell me?”

“I can’t bother you with my problems, Dusty. You’ve done too much already.”

“Well, if I don’t know what is the matter, I can’t help to soothe you.”

“Soothe me? Why?”

“Come on, Andrea! Sometimes you just have to relax, smile more, and watch the shit goes by,” and then I added: “You’re pretty, but you’re beautiful when you smile...”

“Thank you, Dusty...” And for a moment a weak ghost of a smile played on her lips.

“What is good to eat?” She changed the subject.

“I am going for the Cape Town Kugel. It sounds good. Not too much on the plate, and the flavours sound divine.”

“Maybe some chips for me...”

“Take the menu and get what you want. My treat.”

“You can’t go on spoiling me, Dusty.”

“Oh, but I can! You’re my guest.”

“Here we go again...”

“Skirmish number two declared in my favour ... So, get what you want. Your ‘uncle’ has spoken.”

“You are not going to forget that, are you?”

“Just teasing...”

“Okay, Uncle Dusty, can your ‘niece’ get a farmhouse breakfast?”, and her smile returned. Not 1000-watt, but a smile at least.

“One farmhouse breakfast coming up!” And I indicated to the waitress that I was needing her again.

Orders placed, I looked over at Andrea. She sat with her open hand under her chin, supporting her head. Her hair was hanging half over her face and chest She was looking out towards the mountain towering over the village, lost deep in thought.

“I see a storm raging in a pretty girl.”

“The audacity!” She fumed.

“What?”

“I was with my dad’s lawyer this morning.”

“And?”

“Well, he told me in so many words that I do not have a chance to go up against the Cape Town Investment firm!”

“Why not? We can interdict them and suspend the auction,” I said.

“One can do that? Why did Uncle Arnold not say so?”

“Because it costs money, and he thinks you don’t have it.”

“He’s right, I don’t have it!”

“Calm down. Tell me, what is the size of Morningside?”

“Six-hundred and eighty hectares. Why?

“I’m just thinking...”

“What are you thinking?”

“At between thirty thousand and forty-one thousand Rand a hectare, the farmland is valued at between twenty and twenty-seven million Rand. That is not counting the farmyard buildings, the house and the farming equipment, and certainly does not include the livestock.”

“Dusty?”

“My question: why would they want to foreclose on a little four hundred thousand Rand loan, sell the farm on an auction where they can make, let’s say twenty or twenty-four million Rand? Will they be paying out the difference to you?”

“Dusty? Did you just work that out in your head?”

“I’m a pilot. I need to do calculations in a flash.”

She gaped at me.

“Just enjoy your meal and let me figure out the crap involved here.”

“You are on vacation ... Why help me?”

“Because I hate it when people try to swindle other people out of their rightful stuff,” I responded and sat back in my chair.

“Not because you ... Never mind...”, and she looked away.

“You’re a friend, Andrea. Well, I consider you a friend...” She looked back at me.

“A friend?”

“Yes. We’ve been running together since yesterday. By this time you are a friend...”

“Thank you, Dusty...”

“The pleasure is mine,” I said and Andrea reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. An electric shock wave shot up my arm.

“What do I do now?” She asked. The clouds in her eyes lifting, but not totally gone.

“Like I said, we will get an injunction, and stop the auction.”

“Must I go back to Uncle Arnold?”

“No. Let me handle this. I have an idea, but I’ll tell you later. Let’s eat our lunch and then go out to Morningside. I want to go and look at my grandfather’s old place,” and for the first time I saw Andrea relax a bit. The clouds lifted from her blue eyes.

“Okay...” She sighed.

“Good! We’ll take my car.”

“You still don’t trust my car?”

“Nope! I see you need valve stem seals.”

“How did you see that!”

“The oily smoke out of the exhaust as you stop or pull away.”

“Damn!”

“Pretty girls don’t say damn.”

“You don’t know me. I am a sort of tomboy.” Giggle. “I do say the odd word now and again.”

And there’s that giggle again.

Our lunch came, and we tucked in. The salmon was good and fresh. I did not know Andrea was hungry, but she demolished the plate before her. That made me wonder if the girl ever ate well the last few months, but I let it slide.

While we were having our lunch, a guy in a semi business suit walked in. He must have spotted Andrea, because he looked at her while not watching where he was going, and nearly tripped on the low garden decorations next to the gravel walkway.

Well, I would also have looked, because the little creature across from me was stunningly beautiful.

“You know that guy?” I asked and Andrea looked over to mister suit.

“Oh, that is Mister Miller of Miller and Miller Attorneys.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Does he know you?

“Vaguely. Why?”

“Just asking.”

In the meantime, Mister Suit had recovered his composure, turned on his heel, and headed out of the café grounds, back to the street.

A few minutes later. Village Centre, Offices of Miller and Miller Inc.

“You say the girl is in town, and she has a stranger with her?”

“YES!”

“Calm down. Nothing can go wrong at this stage. All is under control.”

“But what if...”

“There’s no ‘what if.’ The auction goes on as planned. My men are in place and will bid on everything. We get to keep our money and gain the farm. You just do the conveying after the auction.”

“BUT!”

“No ‘buts!’ I tell you everything is under control. Just stick to your part and all will be fine.”

“Okay...”

“Good. Now start to act normal. If you run into this guy again, play natural. We don’t know who he is. He can be her boyfriend for all we know.”

“He’s much older than her. He is not a boyfriend, that is for sure.”

“How much older?”

“A lot older! He is at least ten years her senior.”

“Well, some girls like older men. More experienced and all that. Older men’s egos are also soothed by little vixens giving them attention. So, don’t get rattled and stay calm.”

“Yeah, true, but what are they doing in Greyton?”

“Where is a better place to break away for some sexy fun?”

“Well, some around here know the little bitch...”

“Edgar, sit tight, and see if you can find out who he is. Even if you just get his car licence plate number, we can trace him.”

“Okay.”

“Good, now be a good boy and start acting like an attorney.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, Edgar...”

Edgar Miller sat for a few minutes without moving. Then he picked up his phone again. He dialled a number and waited for the answer.”

“Yeah, Pappie. You miss me?”

“Not really. But listen. Do you know Andrea Louw, or what she looks like?”

Long, drawn out whistle over the phone. “Yeah! Jeepers Creepers, what a knock-out!”

“Well, she’s having lunch at The Vanilla Café with a guy. See if you can follow them and find out who he is. Maybe just get his car licence plate number.”

“Okay, Daddy-o, let me get splashing!”

Edgar Miller hung up on his son. Let the moron go do his work for him.

Back to Dusty and Andrea.

The inner human was satisfied with the meal; just some fuel to tide me over till supper, but the Cape Town Kugel went down tastefully. Sparkles in Andrea’s eye told me she was good too.

We took her car back to the hotel, and there swapped it for mine. Five minutes after arriving at the hotel, we were out by the gate again. Destination, eleven kilometres out on the Riviersonderend gravel road.

Just outside of Greyton, we were surrounded by wheat and canola fields. Some Marino sheep were grazing in green fields, and here and there we spotted horses and a donkey or two.

As we got nearer to Morningside Meadows, Andrea became quiet. That I understood completely. I tried to make small talk and point out a few funny shaped trees, but this elected just a “hmm,” or a “yeah” from the girl.

As we passed the main entrance to Morningside Meadows, I saw two tough looking security guards inside the farmyard. One even had a dog with him. Andrea just looked, but said nothing.

I drove another hundred metres or so, then stopped at Andrea’s direction at a newish looking steel farm gate.

“I’ll go open it,” she offered. Then she got out, went over, fiddled with the lock and opened the gate. I drove through.

“This part of the farm is rented out to other farmers, so no-one will wink an eye if we go in. Those clowns at the main yard will think we are just visiting our crops,” she explained as she got back into the car after closing the gate.

“Let’s hope so. That dog looked mighty fierce.”

“Fleabag...”

“Well, I’m not going to challenge that fleabag!” I retorted and drove on for about another two kilometres.

We arrived at the old two-story house sitting on the side of a slight incline. Some windows were gone and the holes were boarded up. A few shutters were hanging askew, and some have fallen off, lying on the red-brown rusted corrugated iron roof of the wide porch. The front door looked solid. The oak door had survived fifty years of neglect.

I cast my eyes over the building and just took in the sight. The thatched roof was decayed in places, but still covered about ninety percent of the building. The once white, lime-washed walls were turning yellow, and in some places green, the sign of moss and mildew on the walls. A porch ran the complete length of the front of the house.

I sat just staring out the car window at the place.

“If I can get Morningside back, somehow ... I’ll have this place fixed up to its former glory,” Andrea softly said.

“And why would you do that?” I asked.

“It’s just a waste to have this grand old house go to ruin, and you would have a place to come crash if the world becomes too much out in Cape Town for you...” She replied, but not looking at me.

“Yeah, it would be nice...” I sighed and got out of the car, Andrea following me. Together we walked up the incline to the house. “Come, let’s go explore.”

We went up the steps to the old porch. The concrete stoop floor was cracked, and in some places big chunks were gone.

I pressed against the oak front door, expecting it to be frozen solid on its hinges, but to my surprise it swung open, creaking on its copper hinges.

I stepped into the house and noted that the floorboards were still reasonably good after fifty years. Here and there a floorboard was missing, leaving a deep hole where one could get a foot caught, especially the size-four feet slightly behind me. I reached out and took Andrea’s hand and guided her around the obstacles.

“Watch out! Some of the floorboards are missing, and if you fall into that gap, you’ll lose cell phone reception,” I warned her.

Giggle. (Nervously.)

Right in front of us the old wooden staircase led up to the top floor. It looked relatively intact. Here and there a balustrade or two were missing.

“It’s a huge place,” Andrea whispered to my side.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Just now we wake up your grandfather’s ghost...” She whispered back.

“Well, if his ghost is here, and he showed himself, I could ask him why he sold this old place,” I chuckled.

“I always thought this place was haunted, therefore I never came here.”

“I thought tomboys would have explored all things?”

“Not this one...” A nervous giggle.

Posthouse Hotel, the same time.

Mandy was about to go check the supper preparations when the front door opened and Leonard Miller stepped in.

“Hello Auntie Mandy,” He greeted Mandy.

“Hi, Len. Have you been keeping out of mischief?”

“As always, Auntie Mandy! As always.”

“So, Len, what brings you here?”

“I believe Andrea is here?” He asked, taking his cap off his head.

“Yeah, she is staying here. Why do you ask, Len?”

“Can ... Can I speak to her?”

“I know you two went to school together, Len, but she is a guest here and not to be disturbed. Besides, she’s not here. She went out.”

“Oh, sorry, Auntie Mandy. I just wanted to speak to her.”

“I’ll tell her you were here, asking to see her.”

“Thanks, Auntie Mandy. I’ll be going now...”

“Okay, Len. Stay out of trouble.”