“Whoa, little one!” the stranger said, quickly releasing the child as the dog growled and started to bark, putting himself between the man and the child. Almost instantly two other men were right there, shielding the children; it wasn’t hard to see the family resemblance between them. Both had dark hair and dark eyes, like the older boy.

“Joey, are you okay?” Fenton demanded, without turning around, as he sized up the newcomer; his face hardened and his breathing was a bit heavy after the sprint he’d just done from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” the man apologized before the child could answer. His face paled and he stammered – obviously unnerved by Joe’s reaction. “I – I didn’t mean to scare him. He—”

“Cecil? Cecil Mouland?” Gertrude called out as she saw the man at the door. She moved by her mother and sister-in-law to get to the door, as a badly shaken Joe fled to Laura for comfort, Frank right behind him. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

“You know this man?” Fenton was confused and glanced at his father. The senior Hardy shrugged his shoulders, having no more idea than his son, as Sam stood beside them, growling softly in warning. A mere shake of Francis’s head and the dog quieted.

“Of course I do,” the woman scoffed as she pushed past her brother. “This is my male friend Cecil.”

“I was planning to surprise you,” the man replied, his face twisted in regret as he looked at the upset little boy. “I was just getting ready to knock on the door when it opened…I didn’t mean to scare the child—” he repeated, “but I don’t think he saw me standing there…”

“Why’d you grab him then?” Frank’s voice interrupted. He was standing next to his mother and brother, his dark eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion; his hands on his hips…a picture of six-year-old formidability.

“I didn’t want him to fall,” Cecil defended as he glanced back towards the landing behind him, “the footing is a bit slippery and he’s nothing on his feet but socks!”

“Okay,” Agnes said, having heard enough to figure out what had actually happened…an unfortunate misunderstanding. Taking charge of the situation she instructed briskly, “Laura, take Joey and Frankie into the kitchen. A warm glass of milk and one more cookie should help remedy the problem without ruining their bellies for supper.”

As her daughter-in-law ushered the children out of the room, the older woman continued; her tone brooked no nonsense: “The rest of you come into the living room and close that door. I’m not paying to heat the whole state. Gertrude, don’t be rude, take your guest’s hat and coat – I’ll get some fresh coffee and we can properly greet Mr. Mouland.” She glanced once more at her husband and added, “And for pity’s sake, Francis, let that dog outside before he soils the flooring!”

Gertrude flashed her mother an appreciative look as the older woman hurried out of the living room.

 

“Cecil?” Fenton whispered to father, as he stood by the door and waited with the older man for Sam to finish his business and come back inside. “Who’s Cecil?”

“I dunno,” the ex-cop whispered back, glancing over his shoulder at his daughter, who was fussing over this ‘Cecil’ character, “I was hoping you could tell me!”

“A male friend?” Fenton raised his eyebrows suggestively – using Gertrude’s words – and his father frowned at him.

“Mind out of the gutter, son. Your sister’s not like that!” he chastised.

“Oh, and why not?” Fenton asked, arching his eyebrow and barely keeping from grinning at his father’s horrified look.

“Because she’s my baby girl and I say so, that’s why!” Francis snapped softly. “This conversation is over…right now!”

Fenton stifled a snicker at his father’s indignation and pressed – he loved goading the old man, as it was an opportunity so seldom afforded him. “So you think Mom knows who Cecil is?”

“Undoubtedly,” Francis assured him as Sam came charging back into the house, shook himself and then hurried into the kitchen to find the children.

“What makes you so sure she does?” the young detective challenged, his dark brown eyes sparking in the dim light of the doorway.

“Because,” now it was the older Hardy’s turn to smirk, “your mother knows everything!”

* * *

“Are you okay?” Laura asked the boys after she got them settled at the table with two glasses of milk.

Frank looked at Joe who just shrugged and took a small sip of the hastily-warmed milk.  “We are,” he answered for them both and then scowled, “but he shouldn’t have grabbed Joey!”

“Would you have rather your brother slipped and maybe hurt himself?” Agnes’s voice came from behind them, much softer than was usual for her. She had come into the kitchen in time to hear her grandson’s admonition.

Frank frowned and the older woman continued as she moved towards the cookie jar and liberated two large, round chocolate chip treats. She offered one to each child. “The entranceway was slippery and with socks on, Joey would have fallen if Mr. Mouland hadn’t ‘grabbed’ him – as you say.” She smiled softly at Joe and then crouched down at the table next to them, speaking to Frank, “Your brother might have gotten hurt. You wouldn’t have wanted that would you?”

“No!” Frank immediately answered, his eyes as large as saucers at the mere prospect of that happening.

“Well then, I think Mr. Mouland did the right thing, don’t you?” she asked the children pointedly and then waited for an answer.

“Well,” Frank looked at Joe again and then sighed, “when you say it like that—”

“When your Nanny says it like that—”  Laura said as she sat down at the table across from her sons, “I think we owe him a thank you for keeping Joey safe and an apology for our hostility.”

“It’s just so tricky—” Joe sighed, speaking for the first time since the incident, “this stranger thing….”

“Yeah, it is!” Frank jumped in. The two women exchanged amused glances, surprised by the previously unseen protective streak in the older boy. “How are we supposed to know when a stranger is a good stranger or a bad stranger? We gotta thank this one – and ‘pologize? How are we supposed to know?” 

“I’m not saying that how Joey reacted was wrong,” Laura clarified immediately, seeing the children’s dilemma. “What he did was right – someone he didn’t know grabbed him so he yelled for help—”

“Screamed like a baby,” the five-year-old grumbled, his face flushing in obvious embarrassment. His mother smiled gently and reached across the table to grasp his cold hand.

“You did the right thing,” she assured him and then continued. “It is very hard to tell whether or not someone is nice when you don’t know them, but that is what Mommy, Daddy, Poppy, Nanny and Auntie Gertrude are for. We’ll let you know if the stranger is a good stranger or a bad stranger and how you should act around them.” She saw the children’s faces fill with understanding.

“In this case the man didn’t mean to scare you,” Agnes added, “but the next time, it could be a bad man.” She looked from one boy to the next.  “So if this kind of thing ever happens again, I want you to do the same thing. Okay?”

“Okay,” the boys chorused as their grandmother stood.

“Good,” she said, and then moved towards the coffee pot and started putting mugs on the large serving tray. Laura moved away from the table to stand beside her.

“Gertrude’s ‘male friend’?” the young blond woman commented quietly to her mother-in-law, surprised when she saw a sad smile grace the older woman’s face as she stopped what she was doing and nodded.

“Yeah,” Agnes admitted. “He’s been courting Gertie for about three years now.”

“We’ve never heard of him before,” Laura said, masking her surprise that Fenton’s sister had had a boyfriend for so long and it had been kept a secret.

“No, you wouldn’t have known,” Agnes said and then sighed, “and neither did Francis. That’s the way Gertrude wanted it…”

“Oh.” Laura had no idea what else to say. Her mind was flooded with questions but she didn’t feel it was her place to ask them.

Agnes suddenly looked very tired and old as she sagged against the counter and let out a heavy sigh. Her eyes roamed over the children as she spoke. They were talking quietly between themselves and not paying any attention to what the woman were saying. “Laura, have you ever wondered why Gertrude never seemed to be interested in boys? Why she never married and had children?”

“I just thought she hadn’t met Mr. Right yet, to be honest,” Laura admitted. Although Gertrude wasn’t what anyone would call beautiful, in the traditional sense, she wasn’t homely either, so the younger woman had just thought it was a case of being unlucky in love.

“Well, that might have something to do with it,” Agnes conceded. She paused and for a moment Laura thought she wasn’t going to say anything else. But then she did. “Gertrude hasn’t wanted to get involved with anyone – she feels she can’t offer a man the proper chance at a loving family so she’s shut herself off in self-imposed spinsterhood, instead of taking the risk of falling in love, only to be rejected in the end.” The old woman snorted softly, “Until Cecil Mouland came along, that was…”

“I don’t think I understand,” the young mother admitted and she didn’t, but as Agnes continued, a horrific comprehension filled Laura…and a new understanding of her sister-in-law seared her heart.

“When Gertrude was a young girl, she was badly injured in an accident,” Agnes paused and then finally admitted the secret truth about her daughter:  “Laura, because of that accident, Gertie can never have children. She has no womb….”

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.