Free Faerie Tale by Raymond Feist

some minor problem with his citizenship, but other than that he was a model member of the community. He married a girl named Helga Dorfmann and had one son. He built a furniture factory, competing with the larger manufacturers over in Jamestown. His furniture was sturdy and cheap, and he made a lot of money. One of the more interesting stories is that he had a fortune in gold buried somewhere on the property.”
    Gloria laughed in delight. “Buried treasure! Let’s start digging!”
    Gary grinned his toothy grin. “You’ve a lot of property. It could take some time. Besides, it’s only a story.”
    “My interest,” commented Blackman, “was in theKessler library and any other oddities lying about, the ephemerides of the days of Fredrick Kessler’s youth, so to speak.”
    Gloria glanced at Phil, who said, “I’ve only glanced at the books in the library. The broker had no idea what was in the house. When Kessler died, he owed a lot of back taxes, and the state was in a hurry to sell it. The court appointed Kessler’s bank executor. I got the impression things were left a little informal. The loan officer I dealt with was pretty obviously in a rush to unload it; they’d halted the foreclosure and hurried the sale. Anyway, he said there was no family, so he tossed everything into the deal, including old clothes, dishes, the furniture and books. I don’t know a tenth of what’s there. You’re welcome to drop in and borrow anything you’d like.”
    “I was hoping you’d invite me. Perhaps in a few days. I’ll tell you what: If you don’t mind Gary and me prowling about for a while, we’ll catalog the library as we go, so you’ll have a full inventory when we’re through. And if anything strikes my fancy, give me first chance to buy.”
    “You’ve got it.”
    Gloria said, “There’s a bunch of old trunks in the attic and basement, too.”
    Gary’s eyes almost lit up. “Wonderful. Who knows what odd bits of treasure lurk in the dark!”
    Gabbie laughed. “Jack said the woods are haunted; now buried treasure. You sure know how to pick ’em, Dad.”
    Agatha reappeared and demanded assistance, so Jack drafted Gabbie and the two went off to set the table. Gary mentioned a film of Phil’s and the talk turned to stories of Hollywood and the frustrations of filmmaking. Gloria settled back, letting the conversation slip by her. For some reason the talk of buried treasure and haunted woods had made her uncomfortable. And for some unexplained reason she wondered how the boys were.

12
    Dinner was superb. True to Jack’s promise, Agatha Grant was an exceptional cook. She produced an elegant meal, each dish prepared with an attention to detail guaranteed to make it a treat. Even the twins, who tended to be fussy eaters, finished their food with no complaint.
    Gloria had noticed they seemed somewhere else, and occasionally caught them glancing at each other, as if sharing something between themselves. She inquired if they had enjoyed themselves, and they agreed Aggie’s farm was pretty neat. “Barney showed us the lambs,” ventured Sean.
    Phil said, “Who’s Barney?”
    “He’s a man,” said Sean. “He was fixing the plumbing.”
    “Ya, and he smells like Uncle Steve,” said Patrick as he impaled a broccoli spear with his fork. “Uncle” Steve Owinski was another screenwriter and a close friend of Phil’s, and he was a chronic drinker.
    Jack rose and quickly cleared away the dinner plates, carrying them to the kitchen. Agatha said, “Barney Doyle. He’s the local handyman.” Seeing a small look of concern on Gloria’s face, she added, “He’s a bit of a tippler, but completely harmless. From what I hear, he was a ripsnorter as a young man, but swore off drinking years ago. Suddenly he’s drinking again. I can’t imagine why.”
    Gary said, “Well, you know what they say about alcoholics never being truly recovered.” Gloria nodded.
    “Anyway,” said Agatha, “he’s a fine fix-it man,