The Caretaker of Lorne Field

“Amazing. I’ve been here three years and never heard a word about any of this.”

“I don’t suppose you would. We usually don’t talk about it with outsiders.”

“With outsiders?” He raised an eyebrow. “I guess after three years living here I’m still considered an outsider?”

Minter waited for Lydia or Helen Vernon to contradict him. When neither bothered to, he chuckled softly to himself. “Your husband’s still weeding that field?” he asked.

“Never missed a day.”

“And his ancestors have been doing it since 1710?”

“Best I know.”

“This is all fascinating, but what can I help you with?”

“I need to know if that contract’s legal.”

“I’d have to think so.”

“But how could it be? The United States didn’t even exist back then!”

“US federal courts have in the past upheld land grants made by King George II which also predates the Declaration of Independence,” he mused. “As crazy as this contract is, I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t be valid. Of course, there are clauses within it that violate both state law and the constitution and couldn’t be legally enforced, but yes, as long as the field is weeded according to the specifications laid out in the contract, your family should be able to continue to maintain the residence granted by it. I hope that puts your mind at ease.”

“No, it don’t. What I want to know is if there’s anything you can do to get that contract revoked.”

Minter pursed his lips while he studied Lydia Durkin. “Now why would you want me to do that?”

“Because as long as that contract exists, her husband’s going to keep weeding that field, leaving Lydia and her family living in poverty!” Helen Vernon volunteered.

Minter folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, the springs making a slight creaking noise. “There might be a better way to handle this,” he said. “It seems to me that both you and this town are sitting on a potential goldmine.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

“It’s very simple. What we have here is a small, scenic New England town with a three-hundred-year-old legend of monsters growing out of the ground and a Caretaker who protects the townsfolk from them. People eat that kind of stuff up. Do you realize how much tourism Salem, Massachusetts, rakes in each year because of their history with witch trials which, by the way, didn’t even occur in Salem?”

When both women continued to stare blankly at him, he smiled knowingly. “A lot of money,” he said. “I’d have to think you have the same potential here.” He nodded slowly to himself as he thought it over. His tongue darted past his lips, wetting them. “This could definitely work. Imagine the Caretaker’s cabin turned into a museum with an attached gift shop selling tee shirts and replicas of this book, along with plastic models of monsters and God knows what else. We could even laminate the weeds and sell them too. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Picture tours to Lorne Field where we let people watch while your husband pulls little monsters out of the ground. Pipe in some unearthly screaming noises, along with some visual effects like monsters shooting past people’s heads. This could most definitely work. This could make all of us very wealthy, Mrs. Durkin.”

“How wealthy?”

“I’d have to think millions.”

“Millions…” Helen Vernon whispered.

“Jesus,” Lydia said.

Minter pulled himself forward, a sheen of excitement flushing his round face. “Mrs. Durkin,” he said. “There’s quite a bit of work needed to get this started. We’re going to have to get approval from the town council. Also we need to line up investors and bring in the right business people. It’s going to take me a few days to consult with people and draw up contracts, but we should be able to talk more about this early next week. How does all that sound?”

Lydia started to nod, then made a face as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “My damn fool husband’s not going to go for this.”

“Of course he will,” Minter said. “I’ll talk to him. Why don’t we wait until I have more information and the contracts drawn up. Then I’ll sit down with him. Don’t worry about anything.”

He shook hands with Lydia and Helen Vernon. When Lydia reached for the items she had brought, Minter asked if she could leave them with him.

“I can’t do that.”

Minter raised a dubious eyebrow. “Why not?”

“He’d throw a fit if he knew I’d taken those. Nobody else is supposed to know about his secret hiding place.”

“I’m sure it will be okay.”

“No, it won’t be. I need those back. And you can’t let on that I ever showed you them.”

Minter opened his mouth to argue but saw it was useless. “I’ll have copies made instead,” he said. “Why don’t you wait here. I’ll let you know when they’re done.”

Minter gathered up the contract and book and left the room. Lydia sat back down in the chair. She looked down and saw her hands shaking. She couldn’t stop them.

“I’m shaking like a leaf,” she told Helen Vernon.

“I don’t blame you.”

“Pinch me. Make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming, hon.”

“You think he knows what he’s talking about?”